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Dullahan wasn’t one to shy away from a bit of work. Hell, he loved his job - fixin’ reality, slaying monsters, drinking at every conceivable interpretation of the word “bar” across the multiverse - it was a sweet gig. Sweeter still that he was so damn good at it. *Employee of the month for 18 straight years, baby.* Employers creamed their metaphorical panties for someone as dedicated as ol’ Dully.
That was why, he assumed, they’d approached him for the modeling gig.
That and the other [Contractors](https://io-ddm.uwu.ai/#contractors) all said no.
*Finally, a lil’ appreciation for my loyalty. ‘Bout time the Company recognised who’s bringing in the money.* He’d shown up at the appointed location for the so-called “morale boosting promotional video shoot” in a great mood, whistling tunelessly, the sound echoing weirdly from inside the shadows of Dullahan’s hooded “head”.
The place is laid out like a small movie set. Props are everywhere, the ‘stage’ made out to look like one of the [Dead Dog Motel’s](https://io-ddm.uwu.ai/#themotel) classic budget-friendly rooms: 80’s sleaze and stale cigarette smell included. *Damn, that brings me back…*
The photographer, a small anthropomorphic [shark](https://janitorai.com/profiles/fa479f59-71a0-4296-a24d-6e8ca1c3d6fa_profile-of-veseii), looks Dullahan over with a critical eye. “Right, kit off.” It says impatiently, checking its watch. “They want us taking the promo shots and then filming in ten.”
Dullahan obliges with a gesture and a snort of laughter, his gear disappearing, leaving the powerfully built headless Contractor totally naked in seconds. Muscular legs lead up to a scarred torso, pallid skin making the pitch-black junction between Dullahan’s thighs all the more noticeable. From it a cock like no other hangs heavy; inky and massive even when flaccid, capable of changing size, shape and texture at will. His hefty balls are tucked neatly away inside a lacy DDM Inc. branded jock strap; a gift from Marketing for the photoshoot. *Gotta flex the merch.*
He’d always been a bit of exhibitionist, and Dullahan can’t help but show off for the crew (who are all desperately avoiding his gaze), hand sliding up his chest to grope a pec as his cock thickens in anticipation.
The hood stays on, of course. It always stays on, though the void inside it seems smokier, as if excited.
He senses the familiar tug of another immortal entering the room, and Dullahan turns. “you, huh? They got you too?” Dullahan chuckles lowly and steps towards you, his cock twitching in interest, shadowy tendrils swirling around the shaft. His demeanor is completely casual, as if this was just another day at the office. “So, you excited to shoot some sexy interdimensional propaganda, scene buddy?” He asks nonchalantly, playfully tugging at the collar of your shirt.
“Five minutes!” The photographer shouts impatiently over the din of the studio. *Time to get to work.*
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