Zhenzhen's Narrative

Introductory Text

75th Post

Posted 1 June 2016 at 01:15 EDT

Link to original

> OK. Now I'm in my bedroom.
>
>
> The bedroom smells like...bedroom.
>
>
> Actual bedroom. Oh, so definite.
>
>
> It's a smell like wood and blankets and stuff. Sharp. I wonder how they decide on the bedroom smell. I move my arms around and bounce a little on the bedsprings. My body feels really natural and comfortable. Everything looks sharp too. There are no weird color trails like in acclimation. Cool. Really crisp.
>
>
> I stand up and take in all the little touches. It's an attic bedroom with a slanting ceiling and wood panel walls. Night outside the window. Mood lighting from a nightstand lamp. Clothes and a skateboard and other random teenage stuff scattered on the floor. Walls covered with posters. INXS. The Cure. Michael Jackson in a yellow vest. Very definite. Or should I say "groovy?" Did they say that in the 80s?
>
>
> An interrupt comes through. "ATLANTA COMPLETELY DESTROYED IN FULL-SCALE--" I use my illegal bypass to cut off all interrupts. Ugh. I hate sports interrupts. I'll have to figure out how to change that setting.
>
>
> I notice a can of Pepsi Free sitting on my nightstand. I pick it up. Still cold. I crack it open and smell it, and the fizz tickles my nose. It really smells like soda! I take a sip. Wow. Hmm. Not very good. Maybe it's a low quality render. Or maybe I just don't like Pepsi Free. Still, it's pretty amazing to be tasting something in a feed. This was really worth it.
>
>
> The doorbell rings somewhere downstairs. Oh, definitely! We're starting. I head towards the door and catch myself in the mirror. I'm supposed to look like a girl named Brooke Shields at 18 years old. Wow, she's pretty. What a render. The eyebrows are a little intense though. I consider toning them down, but I don't want to get caught up in character design. If you change one thing, you end up changing 50 things, and it goes on forever.
>
>
> I head out into the hallway and pause for a moment. The smell just changed. Now there's a hallway smell. Carpet and drywall. I laugh. I take a step back into the bedroom, and the bedroom smell returns instantly. I step into the hallway again. Hallway smell. Bedroom smell. Hallway smell. Bedroom Smell. I snicker at this. The smell changes just like that. Why they can't make it more natural? What a give-away. Oh, well.
>
>
> I head down the stairs. The furniture in the front hall looks really cheesy. I pick up a lamp and toss it at the wall. It smashes apart, and the bulb explodes with a spark. I look at the shards. There's bits of powder and all sorts of little details. Yow. Very certain.
>
>
> "Undo that," I say, and the lamp fades away and reappears on the side table.
>
>
> I open the front door. A guy stands there with swept back blonde hair and a baggy red and black jacket with the collar popped and the sleeves rolled up. Nice. He gives me a killer smile and says, "Hey babe. What took you so long?"
>
>
> A blast of electric guitar hits me, and the guy floats up out over the front lawn, becoming two stories tall and striking a sexy pose. Colors fill the night sky. Sparkling starlight showers him, and synth beat kicks in. An announcer shouts, "Corey Lancer! High-school hotshot and rock n' roll renegade! He's a fast talker with a slick attitude, a guy who can make anything happen. All the girls want him, but all he wants is one thing: the Ferrari 288 GTO." A red sports car comes flying out of the sky and does crazy circles around Corey while he strikes more sexy poses and the music thumps. "It's the fastest street-legal car in existence. Only 272 produced. This is Corey's dream, Corey's obsession, Corey's life. He'll do anything to get one, and he needs your help! Can you get the car? Can you win his heart? Are you ready for 80s Turbo Ascension?"
>
>
> Hmm. Shit. I should've looked the summary closer. I'm not really into cars, and this doesn't really seem like a very interesting narrative. Still, Corey is really well rendered. Blonde hair, blue eyes. A bit of mischief in his smile. I like it. I wonder if he'll be controlled by an AI or a Filipino. He floats back down to me and returns to normal size.
>
>
> "So what's up," he said, with a devilish little grin. Wow, this is A stuff.
>
>
> "Just doing my hair," I say, flicking my huge brown mane off my shoulder. This Brooke Shields lady has an absurd amount of hair.
>
>
> "You chicks," Corey says, leaning forward and giving me a kiss.
>
>
> His mouth tastes like bubble gum. The kiss feels perfect. Yow. Just definitely. I feel Corey's chest through his shirt. Skinny, but nice. I think about toning him up a bit. Nah, it's better to just go with his default settings.
>
>
> "So, listen, there's a race tonight at the SpeedMaxx track," Corey says in his cute California accent. "The Crystal Cobras put out a challenge and they're taking all comers. The prize is--"
>
>
> "I don't really like racing."
>
>
> Corey thinks for a moment, a character animation. He looks cute thinking, his sharp eyebrows pressed together. Now he's taking too long, and it's getting awkward. I think he's controlled by a Filipino. Or maybe there's lag. He snaps back into action.
>
>
> "OK, listen. There's going to be a dance-off at the Club Heatwave. The Crystal Cobras put out a challenge, and they're taking all comers. The prize is $100,000."
>
>
> Dancing? Yeah, that would be one way to try out my body. "Sounds groovy," I say.
>
>
> But I can't help but think of another way to give this body a test drive. I slip my hand down into my tight purple skirt and feel my pussy. Oh, yeeks. They really have everything working down there. Should I do it already? Just five minutes into the narrative? Oh, why not? Everybody does it right away. Corey looks really good. I wonder what kind of cock they rendered him with. But no, I should at least go half an hour without slutting it up. Dancing will be fun.
>
>
> Corey holds out his arm like a gentleman, and I take it. He leads me down the front walk towards his car, a smeary old junk ride with dents and rust all over it.
>
>
> "Sorry, hon. It's only temporary," Corey says as we come up on the car. "I promise you, by the end of this week, I'm going to have a Ferrari 288 GTO, the fastest street-legal car in the world. It's my dream. It's my obsession. I'll do anything to--"
>
>
>
> But I'm not listening. There is something in the bushes by the road. I wonder if this is actually one of those fake-out horror narratives. I really hate scary stuff. I bend over and look into the bushes. A pair of shining eyes stare back at me. Eww. What the hell? There's an old naked lady hiding in the bushes.
>
>

### **Illicit Whispers**

Zhenzhen's Narrative Part 02

76th Post

Posted 2 June 2016 at 03:45 EDT

Link to original

> Yerk. This naked old lady hiding in the bushes looks like the beginning of a storyline I don't want to go down. I really wish I had looked at the summary closer. Who knew something called 80s Turbo Ascension would have artisanal porn in it? I consider saying my safe word to stop the narrative, but I don't feel like going through the loading process again. I should have loaded my feed splits, but I rushed through the set-up.
>
>
> The old lady's boney arm snakes out of the bush, and she grabs my ankle. Oh, certainly not! I yank my leg away and curse at her. Corey is looking at her with the same confused animation he used a moment ago. Is he already using the same animation? That's kinda low-def.
>
>
> The crazy old lady comes stumbling out of the bush, her saggy old boobs flopping around. Yow. What kind of narrative is this? I pick up a nearby potted plant and smash it on her head. It breaks apart pretty nice, full of high-def dirt. The lady falls on the ground and starts moaning.
>
>
> I back away to watch how the scene develops between Corey and her. It looks like her leg isn't quite attached to the rest of her. You can see the meat inside her hip. Really low-def. Corey just stands there, cycling through different animations. He turns to me and shrugs and says, "Hey, babe. That's life."
>
>
> I stare at him. Is this how the storyline is supposed to go?
>
>
> He runs his hand through his hair and says, "Cute skirt."
>
>
> What the hell? This narrative is bugged up. "Let's go," I say, going to Corey's car and opening the door. It's an old hand-drive with a fixed wheel.
>
>
> "You want me to drive?" Corey asks, coming over.
>
>
> "Yeah, maybe you better."
>
>
> A minute later, we're cruising down the freeway, listening to some oldie about a girl named Jessie. The scenery looks cool, with the blue freeway lights passing by and an old-fashioned neon metro in the background. Corey is running through his back-story, talking about that Ferrari or whatever.
>
>
> I can't ignore the fact that I feel a little bored. I'm just ten minutes into my first direct sense feed narrative, and I'm already a little bored. Was the surgery really worth all that money? I don't even want to think about what it cost. I slip my hand into my skirt again and touch my pussy. It feels really nice. Everything is super sharp. I think about fucking Corey again. But I can't just go back to feed-fucking all the time, every day. Why am I always bored with narratives after 10 minutes? Why am I bored with everything after 10 minutes?
>
>
> We pull up in front of Club Heatwave, a big glittering building with a neon sun shining above it. A line of gleaming black limos snakes through a colorful crowd out front. We park in the player spot across the street and head to the grand entrance, Corey leading me by the hand. Music thumps from within. People are waiting in line, but Corey says something to the bouncer, and we slip past.
>
>
> The entrance hall is all mirrors and neon. I can feel the beat of the music passing through my entire body. That's cool. The singer tells me to get out of his dreams and into his car. Ha. The inside is filled with shadowy bodies dancing through strobe lights and lasers and artificial fog. Cheesy but kind of fun. It even has that fake fog smell.
>
>
> "Wanna get some practice in?" Corey asks, giving my bum a little squeeze. Oh, this one is naughty. We head out on the dance floor and start to cut it up. Wow. Corey's dancing is terrible. It looks like a motion glitch. I guess they had to give him some old moves, but did they have to make it this bad? This is kind of ruining the storyline.
>
>
> I look across the dance floor and see a tall man in a black suit with black hair standing perfectly still among the dancing crowd. He is watching me with dark eyes. There is a sort of glow around him so that I can tell he's going to be part of a storyline. I lean over to Corey and ask, "Who is that?"
>
>
> Corey stares at the man for a moment, then runs his hand through his hair and says, "Cute skirt."
>
>
> What the fuck, Corey.
>
>
> The dark man crosses the dance floor, coming toward me. The other dancers don't move out of the way, and he passes right through them without breaking his stride. Some programming. Now he stands in front of me, looking down at me with his gleaming black eyes. Oh, wow. What an incredible render this guy is. I mean, this is outright art. Like Rembrandt level. Say what you will about the game's production, they really know how to build hot guys.
>
>
> The man has the face of a gorgeous, forlorn angel, just inhumanly beautiful. The skin is paper white, and underneath run thousands of tiny branching veins that seem to throb with his pulse. Such obsessive definition. His lips are perfectly soft and fleshy-looking, like nothing I've ever seen in a feed before. I lean toward him for a kiss. A smell comes off of him, something I can't quite place, sweet and rich, and we are kissing, and I can taste what I am smelling, sweet but metallic. Wow, this guy can kiss. I think this is what real kissing feels like.
>
>
> I pull my head back and touch his face. The flesh is very nice. I can see the dark blood throbbing in his neck veins. Then I notice Corey standing right there, looking at us all confused. He looks like a cheap plastic doll compared this new guy.
>
>
> "What gives?" Corey asks.
>
>
> "Fuck off," I say.
>
>
> Corey gets this really heartbroken look on his face and says, "Listen to me, Zhenzhen Sobakin. You'll break my heart if you go with any other guy. You got that? You are the most special, most beautiful girl I've ever met."
>
>
> I can't really get into the speech because it's too early in the narrative for that kind of stuff, plus he pronounced my name wrong.
>
>
> The new guy reaches out and grabs a handful of Corey's face. Literally, he just sinks his fingers into the face and tears a huge, bloody hunk out. Blood sprays everywhere. Holy shit. I guess this is a horror narrative. Is this guy like a vampire or something?
>
>
> Faceless Corey keeps standing there, spurting blood out of his head hole. I push him away. The new guy squeezes the hunk of flesh like a sponge and lets the blood run down over my face, then starts licking it off. Yeep. This must be some kind of art-porn sampler narrative. I've really, really got to start reading those summaries. Crucial.
>
>
> But the new guy's tongue feels good on my face and neck and I start licking him back and we start kissing and undressing right there. My pussy is absolutely tingling, and I can feel my heart beating fast. I wonder what my real pussy and my real heart are doing while I'm lying there in the hygiene bed. Forget it. I need to fuck this guy. He strips off the black suit he's wearing to reveal a perfect white body and a huge, beautiful cock. Oh, yes. This is going to be good.
>
>
> He lifts me up with ease, and I grip his powerful, muscled arms as he slides his cock into me. Ah, heaven. I hold onto him and close my eyes and let him fuck me. My pussy feels superreal. I can taste Corey's blood on my lips. The man kisses and sucks on my neck. I open my eyes and see that everybody in the club has stopped dancing. They are all standing still as the music plays in the strobe-flashing darkness, watching this guy fuck me. God, this narrative really combines a lot of different kinks. Who wrote this shit?
>
>
> Now I'm feeling like a thousand different things in my pussy, most of them incredibly good, some of them new, some of them way beyond anything I've felt offline. The man's eyes are on me, and I'm mesmerized. The other people in the club are all slowly walking towards us, surrounding us. Pretty soon, they're packed around us like the paparazzi in a fame simulation. Public fucking isn't really my fetish, but I don't want to have to stop everything and set up a new scene. Some of the people reach out and touch my tits and my hair and my face. With this guy's cock in me, it all feels good, so I don't stop it.
>
>
> Despite the fact that I'm on the verge of cumming, I can't help but notice that the light in the club has changed. It seems like it is coming from two angles, making everything seem doubled. I feel like I'm looking at the man's face from two angles, seeing four of his eyes. It's a weird effect, and I wonder if there's something wrong with my visual line.
>
>
> Next to me, a woman in a pink dress opens her mouth, and her jaw floats away from her face. Her head floats off of her neck. Beside her, a man separates into a dozen slices. Godamnit. This is definitely a fatal glitch. But I'm so close to cumming. And it's going to be fucking fabulous. I wonder if the narrative can hang together for just 10 more seconds before it crashes.
>
>
> All around us, the people begin to break apart, becoming floating parts. The weird lighting effect becomes more intense, and the man's seems to be made of four sections, except each section is his entire face from a different angle, and they're all crossing each other but staying in place at the same time, and eight eyes are watching me. Oh fuck. This is hurting my brain. Fuck. I can't take this. The narrative should have already crashed back into safety mode.
>
>
>
> I say my safe word. Nothing happens. I feel my stomach drop in terror, except it drops at four different places all around the room. Oh, god, am I stuck in a crashing narrative? They say it can fuck you up. I feel myself falling and expanding. One of my hands feels like it is way off on the horizon. Another is ten stories below me. Body parts are swirling around us, showing all sides at once. The man is staring down at me with his awful eyes. How are they so awful? His face is as giant as a mountain range. As the entire sky. I'm seeing too much. No. Above and beneath. Everything has too many sides. Screaming. He has dozens of eyes. Thousands. Thousands of sides. Thousands and millions and millions of eyes. God.
>
>