Chapter Text
God, I’m such an idiot.
Kris lugged a bag half her size up the stairs. A black symbol akin to an eclipsed moon and a light-blue symbol akin to a feathered wing branded its front. Its shiny, white plastic material was like soap to her fingers. It demanded she adjust her grip every few seconds. There wasn’t much her legs couldn’t handle, but even they were suffering from a sharp strain. Not to mention her arms, her poor, under-worked arms.
Maybe this journey will finally give me some upper body strength. Fucking hell. I should have just let Elm’s Machoke help.
Murkrow cackled from upstairs in her room.
Kris slammed the bag onto the top step. “You could help, you know! If you’re strong enough to life me, you’re strong enough to life this!”
“Krow krow krow, krow krow!” Murkrow screeched from the foot of her bed.
“What are you, a Mime Jr?” Kris dragged the bag across the carpet.
Murkrow dissolved into a black streak. The flinch happened on its own – fucking flinches – which earned her a belly laugh from the little bastard. Perched on top of the bag, he bobbed up and down on his one foot.
“Fuck you. When we’re on the road you can eat Spinarak and Caterpie. I don’t care how stronger this shit is supposed to make you.”
Murkrow sliced the bag. The hook of his beak tore through it like a hot knife to butter, spilling black and light-blue seed all over the floor. He gobbled it as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks. Murkrow had eaten a wild Caterpie on the way home, much to the horror of the kids battling in the town square.
Yet another reason for the old bats to hate me. Probably tsk-tsking as we speak. “Hey! I’m supposed to ration it out for months! This shit is expensive!” Kris made a grab for the bird.
Murkrow’s feathers pulsed black.
Kris recoiled as if he were a hot stove and threw her hands up. “Fine, I don’t care. I’m not lugging that around the country anyway. You can eat the good stuff when we’re in civilisation. So, make it count. We leave…” A pit formed in Kris’s stomach. “Tomorrow.”
Murkrow muttered something and doubled his efforts.
Every little detail of the room attacked her at once. Her small double bed: It all started there with nothing more than a webcam and a dildo. Her perfectly organised desk: her pilot’s seat and throne. Her state-of-the-art laptop: She hadn’t started with it, but it was still where the real hard work happened – the marketing, the networking, the grind. They’d made her career.
The studio door beckoned.
She didn’t use her bed for content anymore. It was her sleeping bed. Nor did she set up cameras on her desk or manage steams from her laptop.
No, her art was born behind that door. The same room Ethan used to house supplies, battle guides, unorganised piles of battles tapes, and files full of handwritten strategy rabbles that he never read.
That made two. Two people the room had risen to greatness. Two dreams fulfilled.
“I need to get ready for stream.” The last stream. “Don’t destroy anything,” Kris said. Not expecting a response, she hurried for the door.
Murkrow plopped onto her head, nearly breaking her fucking neck. “Krow?” He lowered his face in front of hers and cocked his head.
“Yeah, I livestream. Don’t land so hard.”
Murkrow cocked his head the other way.
“Right. You’re a Pokémon. It’s how I make money. Well, one way at least. Money pays for that.” She pointed to his feed.
Murkrow gained a serious look. “Krow!” he nodded, leapt off her head, and shoved her towards the door with his foot. “Krow!”
“This is the last one!” Kris swiped at him. He dodged. “Little bastard.”
Murkrow furrowed his brow and shook his head.
A smile cracked Kris’s scowl. “What do you mean, no? It’s gotta be the last one. I can’t livestream in the middle of nowhere with no service. Newbark’s barely got it as is. Do you know how expensive it was to install fibre optics? Very. That’s how fucking much. And you have no clue what I’m saying, do you?”
“Krow…”
Kris sighed. “I have enough money to buy that bag a hundred times, every day, for the rest of my life. We’re good. This stream isn’t about the money, it’s-”
Murkrow swooped away and attacked the bag.
“Fuck you too, Murkrow,” Kris said sweetly as she entered the studio.
***
Kris adjusted her eyeliner again. It had to be perfect. They were going to be so upset.
The lightbulbs around the perimeter of her bathroom mirror blasted her with course, yellow light. She was positively glowing. The camera would love her. But it needed to be perfect. Perfect perfect perfect. That way, it wouldn’t hurt them as much.
She checked the time on her phone. 8 pm. Shit. One hour to go. Eight missed texts from Damian. Fucking shit.
“Alexa, text Damain.”
“Texting Damian,” her phone said.
“I’m getting ready for a stream. Chat later.”
“I’m getting ready for a steam. Chat. Is this right?”
“No. I’m getting ready for a stream. Chat later.”
“I’m getting ready for stream. Chat hater. Is this right?”
Kris slammed the countertop. Her eyeliner toppled, painting a black puddle on the white tiles. It ran between the grooves. Streaks of black. The way tears ruin mascara, well the shitty kind anyway.
She snatched her phone, punched the text in herself, and hit send. Stream was misspelled. Streak.
“Fucks sake…” Kris sighed and held her head in her hands, elbows on the counter. “Alexa, call Damian.”
“Calling Damian.”
He picked up before the first ring. “A streak? That’s a hell of a sendoff. Oh yeah. WHEN DID YOU PLAN ON TELLING ME YOU WERE GOING ON A JOUNREY?!”
It’s a wonder the phone isn’t doing a fucking celebration dance.
“Eventually.”
Silence. “I don’t think you sound excited.”
Kris smiled a heavy smile. “I am.”
“Oh. My bad.”
“No.” Kris kneaded the bridge of her nose. “You’re right. It’s fucking terrifying. Everything I’ve worked for will be on pause for a year at least. Do you know what a year of inactivity means online?”
“Yeah… Shit.”
“Shit is right. I’m not gonna be number one when I come back. Might not ever be again.”
“You will. It’s not like you have to be completely inactive. You can make content or even stream from Pokémon Centres and Hotels. Not like it matters. You’re the best at this.”
Kris scoffed. “I got lucky and then worked my ass off. Pun very fucking intended. People don’t get lucky twice.”
“But… you knew this when you made Murkrow your partner didn’t you?” Damian asked. “Good choice by the way,” he whispered.
“Thanks,” Kris whispered back. “I did. Like, in theory. But now it’s real. I have to tell them in an hour, Damian. God, I’m going to have to make a tweet.”
“I can help you draft it…”
“Thanks…”
Damian smacked his lips, and Kris perked up. He only does that when he’s really nervous. “Kris…”
“Yeah?”
“It’s worth it. If I hadn’t gone on my journey, I wouldn’t have ever been doing this with you. Porn, I mean. I had no confidence when I left. I felt wrong. Like the world was full of square holes and I was a parallelogram or something. Out of alignment. But my Pokémon showed me how stupid that mindset is.
“I know they freak you out – and with what happened that makes sense – but they make us better. Be it a championship or no badges – whatever you come back with from this will make you better at everything.”
Kris blinked away tears. “Damian…”
“Yes?”
“Thanks. You’re the-” She sniffled. “You’re the fucking best.”
“You’re welcome. Are you really going to streak? Jenny loves you and all, but she’ll still arrest you.”
“That was a typo!”
***
Colour defined her studio. Pinks walls and carpet, white draws, strips of RGB lights along the ceiling, a neon sign with her name stage name, ‘Crystal’, and a hoard of trinkets sent by subscribers lined shelf upon shelf.
The facade of a bedroom provided an illusion of intimacy. Pay a monthly fee and enter Crystal’s private space. Porn is often enhanced by lies. Like, what real person needs a bed big enough for five?
This lie is no different. They can’t know before hand, it’ll ruin the vibe. I’ll tell them after. After the perfect stream.
Kris adjusted the camera again. No. No, stop. Damian said it looked perfect. He knows more than you. Leave them alone.
“Ready?” Damian messaged in the stream chat. A green moderator icon marked his username, ‘Titus Wolfe’.
Kris exhaled. She reviewed her tools one last time. Several vibrator eggs and a buttplug, skin-friendly markers, and a container of fake cum fed into her biggest dildo by a tube. She stood and inspected her black lingerie in OBS, running her hands over the curve of her hips. “Ready.” Kris sat, put on her smile, and hit the start stream button.
A torturous second passed before 200 people flooded the stream. Damian activated slow chat in a flash. Praise, excitement, and of course lust flooded the chat.
“Oh my god, stop you guys. We haven’t even started. You’re too much.” Kris touched her chest and giggled.
Hearts filled the chat with other messages peppered in between them. The usual. Pick up lines and flirty compliments, often accompanied by ‘babe’ or ‘sweet heart’ or ‘my love’. Other performers responded to comments like that. Hell, she used to. It may be scummy, but when you hardly make anything, parasocial relationships pay for groceries.
The next half an hour played out as usual. Damian put out their video this morning, so there were lots of questions about the shoot. About him. About them. She kept the vibe upbeat and naughty. They loved to imagine her shoots with other performers leaving some profound impact on her, so she leaned into it, while not so subtly hyping him up.
Who knows, he might become the new number one.
A notification interrupted Q & A. “Elibae228 has joined the chat.” Her biggest supporter. The only person to purchase the ridiculous $1,000 a month tier.
Kris gasped. “Eli! You finally caught a stream! Hi!”
The chat exploded. 30k people typing at once. Damian set it to emote only and automod timed out 300 spammers for 1 minute.
“Haha ye sleep schedule is fucked,” Eli messaged. It appeared above the chat rather than amongst it and was highlighted yellow. “How’s your night?”
“Well it was already great, but it’s even better now!”
Eli sent a heart.
Kris picked up a marker. “Where would you like it?”
“Please write #1 Eli stan on the side of your ass.”
Kris giggled. A real one this time. Apart from the fact she made her a stupid amount of money, Eli kept it casual. You’d think someone willing to simp that hard would be a parasocial nightmare. But no. In fact, she was the most normal out of them all. Kris just assumed she was rich rich; the kind of rich with too much money to know what to do with.
She would take the news better than anyone. Probably see the humour in it. Yeah, Eli would find another performer to throw her money at or get invested in some expensive hobby or start a collection or whatever rich people do.
You’re rich, stupid.
Damian opened the chat back up after Kris finished Eli’s request. They spammed the peach emote. While Kris laughed along, he let them have their fun before allowing autoboot to do its thing.
“Okay okay settle down guys. I think enough people are here to start.” Kris fought the urge to take a deep breath and she forbid her smile to twitch. “Make sure to stick around to the end. I have an important announcement.”
Chat, of course, demanded answers.
“Patience, sillies. Now let’s get started.” Kris started a playlist and sauntered away from the camera, swaying her hips to the beat. The songs were commissioned pieces. Might as well if you’ve got the money, right? Most strip music was too hype, meant for clubs. A relaxed vibe suited her style better; a buttery bass thumped to the steady, sharp snare.
Damian posted a poll. Ready to go as usual. It provided three options: bra, panties, thigh highs. As votes trickled in (they delayed the results on purpose) and chatters championed their choice, Kris put on the show of a lifetime.
She pulled out all the stops. The simple stuff of course. Gliding hands, swaying hips, slow crouches, and a wanting look; as if it took all her strength to stay composed, as if you were in the room, as if the dance were only for you.
The complex stuff sent chat wild. Twerking in such a way that her fat cheeks appeared to move of their own accord. She lifted her leg until her ankle touched her ear. Squatting low on the balls of her feet and popping her ass out. Moves that on their own weren’t anything special. But at slow speeds, required more strength, stamina, and control than she’d ever thought possible of herself.
A notification went off. They’d chosen panties as usual. No surprises. Just any other stream.
As the laid back rap flow kicked in, Kris bent over, legs straight, and slid her panties down her thighs.
Chat slowed the moment her panties hit the floor. It was hard to type with one hand after all. Water drops, egg plants, and peaches dominated what messages were sent.
“Enjoying yourselves, huh?” Kris asked, backing away from the camera, a wanton look on her face. She kicked the panties off her ankle mid-step. They slid into the corner. Out of frame. She showed her back to the camera and looked over her shoulder. “How about you, Eli?” Kris gave her ass a gentle shake, letting gravity and momentum perpetually juggle her cheeks.
A highlighted message appeared after a small delay. “Lubing up as we speak.”
“For a dildo or a cup?” Kris lowered into a squat, still twerking.
Drooling grin emotes joined the spam.
Kris winked. The sign to leave chat be. Emote spam was harmless when everyone only had one hand.
“Both,” Eli messaged. “Got a new masturbator. It’s got a suck mode. Only the best for ya girl.”
“Wow! Someone’s riled up tonight~”
“It’s your fault. Stop being so sexy.”
Kris giggled and gave the camera a wink. “Take it slow. Save your load for the end. That goes for the rest of you too.”
A couple hundred ‘yes mommy’ and ‘yes mistress’ messages became peppered between the emote spam. Kris’s groin twinged. As dangerous as it was, power on that scale was an unmatched delicacy. She was careful not to overindulge, but still. Thousands of submissives at her beck and call. So hot.
Despite her persistence, the viewer count dropped a few thousand by the end of the strip. It’s okay. Word will spread quick. They’ll find out.
Sweaty and out of breath, Kris plopped into her streaming chair, switched the music to a lofi playlist, lowered the volume, and bantered with chat until they settled down a little until her breath returned.
“For those of you edging, remember to take a hydration break. Especially you Eli. Those automatic masturbators suck the life out of you.”
“Trust me I know.”
“You didn’t cum, did you?”
“Nope. Came close a few times tho haha. You’re on fire btw.”
“Aww thank you.” Kris blew a kiss. “Alright. Type 1 if you’re ready to move on.”
1s flooded the chat. So many it began to lag. Damian flipped it slow mode before she could so much as open her mouth.
Kris burst out laughing. “The people have spoken!” She flipped the feed to a wider shot that captured the desk and everything below her breasts. Kris stood and gestured to the buttplug and eggs. “One, two, or three?”
The poll appeared, followed by a barrage of threes.
“Oh my god, you guys are so mean!”
Chat spammed laughing, devil, and skull emotes. In between Kris caught glimpses of a few worded messages. Although she only read a few words of each, she saw the pattern. Her doms wanted to reward for her a good show. Her subs were being bratty. And everyone else was just super horny; hornier than usual.
“But guys…” Kris pouted. “I’m gonna cum so fast with three, and there’s still a whole other section to go.”
“Good,” Chat spammed almost universally.
Kris sighed and shrugged. “The things I do for you people.” She made a show of picking up the eggs and buttplug, while she snatched a small remote from out of frame. “God, chat… How long have I been doing this? Four years? And here I am, still getting nervous.”
She pressed a button, and the lighting switched the purple. Purple hides blemishes with a smooth gradient, extenuates curves with shadows, and provides a calm aura. Magic really.
Adoration, playful name calling, and a collage of emotes filled the chat.
“And here we are still being driven wild by you,” Eli messaged.
Tears welled. Kris put her back to the camera before they could fall. One strolled down her cheek, but she wiped it away, and forbid anymore. One deep breath to centre herself, a moment’s pause to calm her nerves, and a smile to return to her correct headspace. She shot the smile over her shoulder and beckoned the camera with her finger. “Let’s get wild chat.”
As hype overwhelmed the chat, Kris strutted away from the camera to the bed left of frame. She kept the remote hidden in front of her thigh. With a press of a button, the feed switched to a wide shot of the side of the bed.
Above the foot, out of frame, two screens supported by roof mounts lit up. One wide and one tall. The stream feed appeared on the wide one and chat on the tall. Below them a camera watched her, mounted on a tripod at a low angle. As Kris, back arched, crawled onto the bed, she pressed another button and looked over her shoulder.
Her ass filled the stream feed. Purple light glistened on her pussy and thin sheen of sweat across her cheeks. Chat slowed down. She lingered in the position, and it stayed slow.
Thousands of cocks and pussies ravaged. Thousands of moans; some loud; some smothered from prying ears. Thousands of eyes on her. They’ll be here when I get back. Just enjoy it one last time.
“You’re a goddess, Kris,” Eli messaged.
“Don’t sacrifice your pleasure, sweetheart. Keep those hands occupied. I know how much you love it.”
The chat slowed down even more. So much she could read the love poems RoseliaPrincess127 liked to send. “Delicate rose petal. Dance for me on the wind. My rare, sweet delight.”
As sweet as the gesture was, she never acknowledged them. It wasn’t healthy. Don’t stop once I’m gone, Roselia. They’re good.
A new poll appeared. Doggy or Missionary?
Missionary edged out doggy. A victory for the subs. They rejoiced with happy purloin emotes.
“Aww, you guys want to see my face? You’re too sweet.” Kris rolled over and spread her legs, filling the bottom half of the screen with her pussy. Off screen, she retrieved a bottle of lube from a bedside draw and lathered up the toys while bantering with chat.
Banter best served to fill empty space. Empty space likes to ruin vibes with awkward silence. It was one of those small mistakes new streamers make. One she had have pointed out to her by another performer, the infamous Leda Celia.
The moment the first egg entered frame, chat froze. The few messages on screen stayed on screen for entire seconds. Kris pressed it against her asshole, and her asshole yawned. The rim warped around the egg as wide as a shocked mouth. One little push from her fingers. It vanished, swallowed whole.
Kris whimpered. Only a half lie. The way the egg’s bulge burrowed deeper and deeper sparked a few embers in her groin. Enough to curl her toes. But whimper? No, not yet.
When it settled behind her belly button, Kris pushed in the second. Aided by a now lubed rim, it vanished without a fuss. She elevated her whimper to a gasp. “Y- You guys are so mean~”
Only the role players remained active in chat. The massive text boxes of their ravings filled the screen. Some addressed to her. Some to each other. Kris learned a long time ago not to engage with them. It was like talking to a brick wall. Apparently, a good chunk of them were in discord calls, listening to each other masturbate as they roleplayed.
Not like I’m to judge with my asshole on display for tens of thousands. Millions when the clips spread onto the fan accounts. Billions if you count rewatches.
Kris pretended to struggle with the third egg. Her fingers were just oh so shaky with all the pleasure coursing through her. Twice she fumbled the egg, before jamming it inside her. She let out a guttural moan, simmered down into a whimper, and flashed the camera a weak smile.
“Please be gentle chat.” She slipped in the buttplug. The heart-shaped stopper twinkled under the purple light. Kris pressed a button, and gave Damian the signal; a wiggle of her toes. The eggs pulsed as one (which got a real gasp out of her). A mod message appeared in a green text box where Eli’s normally would.
Spam To Vibrate
Damian’s mod message vanished and a tsunami of emotes replaced it. The eggs exploded into action. Levels 1, 2, 3, 5, 8 of vibration shot by in an instant. Kris baulked. On screen, she watched her face scrunch up as she clutched her belly. A pathetic moan burst from her lips. She threw her back against the sheets and dropped her legs.
Click. Feed change. A bird’s eye view of her squirming. She kicked her legs and tore the sheets out from their tidy corners. Real moans swelled from deep in her chest. Not the fake ones which decorated each erratic pulse of pleasure. No, real moans came as they please and left chunks of tense silence between.
500k. Enough people the fill the largest Pokémon stadium in the world five times over. They worked together to make her hands shake, her abs spasms, and her pussy quiver. To make each breath shorter than the last. To use her body for their amusement.
In a small way, it was like fucking her. Fucking a girl as beautiful as her. To be the object of her desire. How confident would that make you feel? Larger than life. Invincible. In such an uncaring world, hundreds of thousands shared in a rare moment of security. All because of me.
Her moans gained a frantic edge as a swell built in her groin. “Chat I’m getting close! Fuck you guys are gonna make me cum already! So mean! So… So…. S- SO…”
The world spun. The cool purple light, the cloud-like embrace of the mattress, the salty smell of a desperate pussy, and the whirr of the eggs; it all faded. Only vibrations remained. That, and the flood. It swept through her up and down. To the ends of her toes and the crown of her head. It washed away fear and doubt – her tens of millions and her legacy – and only left him.
Silver loomed over her, eyes far away. They bore into the distance. Not once did they bother to fall to her level.
Kris reached for him. “I’m gonna make you beg, you little twink. Your legs will be wrapped around my waist and your ass stretched around my strapon. That shiny, crimson hair will be an absolute mess of tangles and dried cum. You’re gonna beg for release. For mercy from your mistress. And yet, the pride will never leave your eyes. Defiant to the very end…” Weights tugged on Kris’s eyes.
She opened them. The purple LEDs stared back. Fighting for a breath, she lifted her head. Chat was going nuts with water drop emotes. The vibrations had stopped. “Yeah yeah. Bet you guys feel really proud of yourselves. Mean-.” Kris touched a wet spot between her legs. “Holy shit, did I squirt?”
“Yes,” Chat spammed.
“Like a geyser,” Eli messaged.
Kris giggled. “Oh my god that’s so embarrassing.” What the hell? I didn’t prepare for a squirt. In hindsight, I should have. But still…
Chat concluded it was in fact not embarrassing and instead hot as fuck. A decision helped by a poll. A private message from Damian popped up beside the chat. “You good? You seem rattled after that one,” it read.
Kris nodded. To chat, it looked like her processing what happened. Damian knew better.
“Don’t push yourself. Maybe drop down to the eight incher rather than the twelve?”
Kris shook her head. “Wow guys, I haven’t cum like that in ages. Fuck… You’re all so amazing.”
Hearts flooded the chat.
“Cuties.” She made a heart with her hands. And then spread her legs. She pulled the buttplug out. One by one, the eggs gaped her ass and fell onto the wet patch. Kris allowed herself a moment to breathe as chat went quiet.
“Alright, it’s your call,” Damian messaged.
Kris checked the viewer count. Only 20k less. She couldn’t help but grin ear to ear. Usually after the first orgasm, most people took that as their cue to cum as well. A small part of her hoped it was because she asked them to stay. A bigger part knew it was because the promise of a twelve-inch dildo was too enticing. She hardly ever used it anymore.
Kris gave the camera a smirk. “You guys saw what’s next, right?”
The chat lit up with hype. A gentler hype. Rather than the explosions like before, this hype simmered. The tense moment before the rollercoaster falls rather than the madness of the decent.
“What can I say? Guess I’m feeling nostalgic. That video of me DPing myself with those twelve inchers is still in my top 10 most viewed of all times. 200 million fucking views.” Kris let a grin slip past the mask. Genuine emotion helped sell the performance more than any amount of good acting. The poll popped up. “Ass or pussy, guys?”
Voting time lasts thirty seconds. Pussy leapt ahead with a concentrated first strike from the subs and soft doms. They didn’t like to push her. However, the hard doms and brats clawed back a lead. Ass lead by less than a hundred votes. Back and forth it went until, with seconds to spare, it settled on Ass.
The doms and brats celebrated with devil emotes.
Eli’s message appeared above their victory spam. “Veto.”
As despair replaced victory, Kris laughed. “And Eli uses her veto for the stream!”
The subs and soft doms showered Eli in love. They spammed her custom emote; a dancing Pikachu.
“Look how wet she is,” Eli messaged. “She needs this, guys.”
In truth, if stream were to suddenly end that moment, a gentle rub of her clit wins out over a monster dildo every time. Kris sighed and touched her chest. “Thank you, Eli. You’re right, my pussy is so desperate. You guys have no idea.” She shot them a sly smirk, and Damian the signal to let chat run wild. “Shall we?”
As chat kept themselves entertained trying to break their comment chain streak record – 305 – Kris made her way around the room. First, she lay a beach towel over a section of hard-wood floor opposite the bed. Second, she adjusted a person-sized mirror, sliding it so it sat in the left of frame angled directly at the camera. Third, she set up her 12 incher beneath a mark on the ceiling so it sat in the middle of frame, without dominating the space, and so the fake cum tube hid out of sight. A weighted bottom kept the monster upright even during the roughest poundings.
As she set up the dildo, she covertly lathered it with lube while her body blocked it from sight. For whatever reason, when you created the illusion of raw fucking something, be it flesh or silicone, people found it hotter. Porn didn’t always make sense.
And finally, she knelt in front of the dildo, sat on the back of her heels, popped out her ass so her cheeks hugged the shaft, and switched the feed.
“Holy shit guys a 400 streak?!” Kris gave the camera’s reflection a perfect shocked face. Behind her head’s reflection, she watched chat trickle down her monitor. A parade of strong arm emotes and fire emotes. For a small, stupid moment she thought they’d all left. Her stomach dropped. That was, until her eyes fell on the stream feed.
God purple light was magic. Shadows framed her ass and waist in a flawless, heart-shaped silhouette. With her hands planted between her knees, adding a subtle lean, her hips appeared significantly wider than her shoulders. You’d be forgiven for believing she had the biggest ass in the world.
Her lean muscles were carved from marble, her skin was silk, and her hair was a teal aura. Perfect. Absolutely fucking perfect.
“You’re a superstar, Kris,” Eli messaged.
Kris kept her glee beneath the surface. Even after all these years, compliments like that – compliments of her art – got her all giddy. “Says you, Miss 1k a month. Now what did I say about keeping those hands occupied?”
“Yes Ma’am o7”
“That goes for the rest of you. And all of you watching pirated clips on twitter. Loosen your grips, ease your thrusts, or lower your vibration pulses. We’re gonna take this nice and slow~” Kris shifted her weight onto her palms and slid her ass up the shaft, inch by inch by inch.
How you breathed in front of the camera changed everything. It sculpted an imagined mental state for your audience to project onto you. Over the years, something as simple as short and sharp breaths convinced millions she was a cock-obsessed whore who couldn’t go five minutes without something in her pussy, ass, mouth, or hands. One time a chatter asked her if the secret to her shiny hair was all the cum she ate; as if she downed a cup with every meal or something.
The longer she took to get started, the more they egged her on. In truth, she loved all the name calling. When they called her a whore it took all the power from the losers. Still, she quickened her breaths a step further. “N- No, guys. I need to put on a show for you guys. I… mngh~… I need to pace myself.”
“Let loose baby girl”
“Be a slut for daddy”
“Bounce on that cock slut”
“Go wild”
“Mommy please I’m gonna cum soon”
“Do it do it do it do it do it do it”
Kris whimpered. “N- No.” She ground her pussy against the fat, silicone tip. “I can control myself.”
“No you can’t”
“Cap”
“Listen to your body baby girl”
“MOMMY PLEASE”
Kris let out a cry and shot the camera’s reflection a pleading look as she let the tip slid inside. A genuine, hoarse groan meandered from her belly. The tip stretched her pussy wide to the absolute limit. The way the webbing of your fingers feel when you spread your hand as wide as it can go. But inside her.
Stabs of pain mixed with pleasure as it buried deeper, as the shaft crushed her clit, and as it stretched her cervix to the limit. By the time her ass settled on her heels again and her cheeks cupped the silicone balls, Kris felt as if she would split in half.
How Leda Celia managed threesomes with Machamps, Kris would never know. One cock this big had her shaking life a leaf and fuzzy-headed. Four at once would annihilate her.
Chat was dead. Even RoseliaPrincess127 and the role players were silent. Yet, hundreds of thousands remained.
“R- Remember how I said to ta- take it easy, chat?” Kris swallowed. “F- Fuck that! I need to cum on this giant, monster cock! Ohhh!~ I need it so bad! My little whore pussy is so hungry!” She threw back her head. “Cum with me, guys!” Kris erupted into a frantic pace, bouncing her pussy from tip to base with the consistency of an engine piston. Her cheeks heaved, clapped, and slapped the dildo’s silicone balls and her heels.
Years of practice formed every little decision. Hand and feet positions down to the millimetre, back arch down to a fraction of a degree, and breathing patterns to give expert musicians a run for their money. Years of falling over, of slipping out, and of passing out. Each failure became a tool against fatigue.
Fucking a cock this big was a slog. Outside of those with size kinks, no one did it for fun. The pain just wasn’t worth it. Not that she let it show. Performance isn’t pleasure.
It’s duty.
Kris broke a fundamental principal of porn; don’t oversell. She let out moans straight from a bad hentai. More akin to wails than anything.
Because it’s what the audience expects. Out of 1,000 views maybe – maybe – 1 has ever taken a cock this big. To the average viewer size equates to pleasure. With a giant cock should come giant pleasure. They wanted it to annihilate her. Melt her mind until she was brainless whore fucking her pussy for the world to see.
Not that it didn’t feel good at all. It’s just, the warm embrace of a gentle mouth had a far better chance of making her moan like that than any monster dildo.
Through the fog of major discomfort and mild pleasure, Kris kept an eye on the time. She got wild at 10:32PM. It was 10:46PM. Better wrap it up soon. Most of them will be close.
“Sorry, Ma’am I didn’t make it the end haha,” Eli messaged.
“That’s… Oh fuuuuck… That’s okay, sweetheart,” Kris whimpered, with an airy, far off tone.
As the stream of messages began to pick up, Kris forced her unsteady hand out to the side and tapped two fingers against the ground. A signal to Damian.
You see, the mirror made it hard to hide a remote. Hiding the cum vat and tube was hard enough. So, Damian was downstairs with a Bluetooth remote at the ready. The same one which activated her eggs.
A whirr began. Kris moaned over it, spluttering. She clenched her whole body. Cold, thick slime blasted her cervix, forced its way around the shaft, and poured from her pussy like a waterfall. A white film glazed the inside of her thick thighs and the balls of the dildo. Kris moaned with every pump of cum, with every waterfall. Strands clung between her thighs and thick globs rolled down her silky skin.
“Fuck… I really am a cum slut, aren’t I chat? This is so embarrassing…”
The obligatory proclamations flooded the chat.
“I’ll fill you up proper, baby girl”
“That cock will feel small compared to mine”
“Let’s be cum sluts together, sweetie”
Hundreds and hundreds of desperate pleas. Easy to ignore really when the thousands of compliments drowned them out. Chat agreed that tonight’s stream was the best ever.
“You guys…” The mask slipped. Kris’s voice cracked. She forced it back into place and smiled for the camera. “I try my best.”
“Easily the best cam girl of all time,” Eli messaged.
Again.
Kris drew a shaky breath. Tears begged to fall, but she blinked them away until her eyes stung. What was I thinking? It should have been a normal stream. Ending on a high note is going to crush them. Maybe… Maybe I could delay another week. End things on a normal stream or even a bad-
“BeSt CaM gIrL OF AlL TiMe LMAO as if that’s a compliment. Show her dad that message and watch the pride die in his eyes” A flash in the pan. On screen for less than a heartbeat. Yet, the words branded themselves onto Kris’s mind.
Automod got him before Damian. As if it made a difference. A ban wouldn’t change their mind. Nothing would. Her dream was a joke to the world. They deserved a taste of their own medicine.
Kris paid no mind to the twelve inches of silicone inside her pussy, and she stood abruptly. As pain seared her insides and spun her vision, she marched to the desk and switched the feed. “Alright, guys. Time for an announcement,” Kris said with a perfect smile.
“Another shoot with Titus?”
“Pokémon porn?”
“You’re going mainstream?”
All valid theories amongst the sea of wild speculation. Someone started freaking out because they thought she had cancer. Damian timed them out and eight others before the panic spread.
Kris laughed. “No, I don’t have fucking cancer, guys. It’s good news. I’m going on a journey. Got a starter and everything.”
The chat erupted into hype.
“However, it will mean a reduction of content for a while and a complete pause on steams, as well as private chats.”
And then delved into despair. Well, sort of. Many were upset, obviously. Some were confused. And some were actually supportive. A small group stayed hyped, if not more so than before.
“I can’t guarantee when or if videos and photo shoots will come out. So, I completely understand if you want to refund your onlyfans subscriptions. For those of you who commissioned videos from me, expect your refunds to arrive before the end of the week.”
“Please no”
“I’m freaking out rn holy shit”
“Mommy I’ll miss you please don’t go”
“Your streams are everything to me”
“I feel numb”
If the loser wasn’t timed out he’d be celebrating her downfall.
“Sorry for killing the mood, but I wanted as many people to hear this from my mouth as possible. I’ll be making an official announcement on twitter after this stream. I can’t thank you guys enough for all your…” The view count tanked into the tens of thousands. “All your support over the years.” Thousands. “I’m going to miss this community.” Hundreds. “I- It’s not forever, it’s just for a…” Two.
It was dead. Four years down the drain. But, it would be worth it to watch those fuckers eat their words.
It would it would it would it would it would.
“Good luck, Kris! You’ll do amazing things out there like usual!” Eli messaged.
A genuine smile allowed her to drop the burden of a performance. “Thank you, Eli.” Tears streamed freely, no matter what she did.
“We’ll be here when you get back.”