The Patron’s Request “Wait, they want to pay how much? How many zeros is that, is this a joke?” Stacey swore at the blank wall in front of her. The chubby bobcat wore a ridiculous ‘cave girl’ get-up for her latest porno shoot, complete with saber-teeth modifications for a proper primitive cat look. All the more ridiculous as her eyes flickered back and forth into empty space while she read a contract projected directly into her vision. Confidential information for an erotic horror simsense recording. Notice: this contract includes memory manipulation, non consensual actions, and if signed this contract will be fulfilled today. “What the hell kind of sketchy shit is this?” Stacey swore as she read over the notice again, while her AI companion Rufus flipped through the contract with growing worry. “Looks real to me! It’s from Rotten Studios though, so expect the best of the worst. Or was that the worst of the best? I uh, I don’t suggest looking up their stuff, it’s mostly snuff and rape and other foul things.” Rufus replied as he turned green in Stacey’s vision. Her assistant helped verify and secure her brain recordings and backups in case something untowards happened to her, a second brain sharing her senses. Here she was all dazed and hung over after another fan get-together. Half naked in her room riding off the buzz of her virtual sim sense streaming. Wearing a ridiculous ‘cave girl’ outfit of faux fur strapped over her shoulders with a big bone needle. One big breast hanging out, and the short ‘skirt’ of fur not hiding she was butt naked beneath. Shooting porn wasn’t exactly a lucrative affair, but it was fun. It was great to enjoy a body near her peak physique, though she let this one get more fat than she preferred. It had just been a great time at the release parties and clubs lately. She can’t help but stuff herself when presented with some real food than the ‘filler’ meals she got, only so much NutriSoy you can take every day. Mentally flipping through the contract she couldn’t help but have a shiver rush up her spine. Bold text designed to draw her attention before she could proceed: Warning, proceeding ahead requires an NDA agreement. If this contract is denied, memory wipe from this point forward will occur and you shall be forked to a state in which you denied the contract. You will be compensated for all time lost at industry standard rate. Shit! She wasn’t into memory modifications. It was one thing to sculpt your body, but to straight up modify your memories was getting a little close to sculpting your soul for her. Fall down that rabbit hole too far and you start questioning if anything you see or hear can be trusted. But for that kind of money offered, fuck, how bad can it be? She could afford therapists for the next aeon while still living in casual luxury. She only hoped she wouldn’t be typecast as ‘that girl who kills herself for money’. She had the standard alloted studio apartment, lovingly referred to as the prison cell, it wasn’t too much larger than a real prison cell. Although prison cells wouldn’t have fold out wall segments to go from kitchen to dining room, to bedroom, and a luxurious bathroom and tub (if a touch cramped). It was…. She couldn’t say it was bad. But it wasn’t anything aspirational. She wanted a real place she could say was hers, a place in the world to make her mark. Fuck it, let’s do this shit! Stacey thought as she sent off a return: “I’m ready to go, you got me for today. One catch! You only get my likeness, my SimSense recording is anonymized, no background history leaks.” Rufus checked through the contract for any catches before signing off full consent. No inebriation, memetics, or duress. This contract was signed fully aware of the repercussions. For being openly “Rotten” the company moved fast. Meeting her at the small playroom she rented. A two day rental? The fuck were they going to be doing, living here?. There had to be a half dozen techs at the recording room, while another half dozen turned the room into a sleazy antique motel. She had to admit, the late industrial age had some good sleazy style, but the golden age of porn was a classic theme. In the makeup room she was given her new role. A porn star who acted out sleazy ‘tribal sex’ films, complete with lavish makeup and hair stylings. Her hair done into a perm and lash extensions, whisker darkening, thick lipstick, the whole works. Even her claws were polished and sharpened, shining bright red with a chunky set of pearls to wear along with the classic ‘smock’ fur dress. Gotta have one tit hanging out. In this scene she was going to meet up with a fan for dinner at his hotel room after shooting. The older gentleman paid big bucks to see her. And by see her, we mean fuck her on the bed. But of course, this company was infamously shady about ‘using’ the girls for anyone who paid them big bucks. So she should be wary of any tricks. This was starting to get a little mind screwy, even to her. As she effectively played herself, but in the 1970s. The hotel room was adorable in a weird historical way. Big king bed, real incandescent lights. An awkward mechanical device to watch a movie, what was it, a projector? Her suitor was a fat bunny, balding a little and older. Adorably nervous, and smelling of cigarettes, weed, and alcohol. Damn, she’d have to bum a J off him after the shoot if he had any to spare. She could use one to get used to this strangeness as the techs bustled with the seriousness of any major recording studio. In the playroom a huge beast of a buck looked hilarious. Bandolier of cassettes across his shirtless body. Leather pants that looked painted on his massive legs. And a bulge heavy enough to even draw her jaded attention. She asked him and apparently this old rabbit wants to record this in a classic analog format to then be watched by her on the screen pulled down on a wall afterwards. No SimSense track, no virtual camera. Just the flickering of images on film and the tinny buzz of the small speakers on the device, playing back sound recorded with magnets. And crazily, those tapes were recorded in 2 and a half minute chunks. Every 150 seconds, click, clack! He’d eject a tape and slam home a new one. A few seconds lost to time. What a strange choice. She would still be recording in Simsense. They gave a tune up to her probes, and promised to get her in touch with an upgrade to her recording rig. The bunny told her an odd fact as he pulled himself onto the bed in preparation for recording. He chose her for the classic probe setup. The digital clipping of signal overloads had mostly disappeared from the market, and early gen probe recordings were now a rarity. “They had less of a safety margin on extreme inputs, these days you never get the brutal sharp clipping of the first days of simulated sensory recordings.” “So you like to experience things as their simulacrum? Watching me on screen feels more real than my paws running along your fur right now?” She opened the buttons on his shirt as the camera man started. Unable to help but project a timer in her vision. She wanted to see how fast that big buck could move. And curious how many tapes that beast would blow through while she blew the client. Throughout the room some citypop played on a record. A voice long long dead, centuries ago, crooned in Japanese about love. The camera itself looked like a pistol, strange and angular and clicking with the turning of gears. Her ears could hear the buzz of ancient electronics at work. There was something about the camera man’s erection and her partner’s anxiousness that was worrying her. The older rabbit’s hands shook as he ran them down her butt and squeezed. Someone using an older body as a shell had be like, a fucking Methuselah to want to age on purpose. She could see liver spots in his ears and on his bald head. Each labored breath made her wonder, was he actually old? Shit, he better not have a fucking heart attack on purpose. These assholes would do it, see how she responds to a corpse atop her. She felt more on edge as she felt her character slip. No! There wasn’t a snuff studio in the past, they didn’t have nanite reconstruction and cortical stacks. Death was that. Death. We were past those old hoary days, she wouldn’t think about that. Instead she concentrated on awkwardly shuffling down his pants. Kisses working down his soft fat belly until she pressed into his half erection. Finding his wrinkly old gray haired balls and a half chub in awkward presentation. *clack!* The camera man ejected a cartridge and put it into the satchel at his hips. *CLACK!* A new cartridge was loaded in like a cartridge into a gun and the handheld recorder spun up once more. The old man pulled out the long bone needle from the flaps of the heavy furs holding her outfit up. Freeing her simple outfit to unwrap around her. Naked and exposed with the older man and his fat sagging tits. His stubby erection was purely natural and rather small. This porno company certainly went for realism rather than exaggerated storytelling. He whispers in her tufted ears “I’d like to tie you up a little, if you’re fine with that. Using your garment around your wrists, it’ll be very soft.” The request was somehow anything but soft, despite the gentleness of his voice. She had never heard someone old talk before, it was like watching a recording of pre-singularity at work. Her stomach dropped some. She knew her employer was shady, but they wouldn’t do anything untowards her without having vetted that, right? Feeling deja vu as character and self found themselves twisting together. In a dubious situation provided by a shady employer with the promise of several million dollars, or the transhuman equivalent of several million dollars in the 1970s. Just fuck this weirdly old, fat, nervous bunny as someone recorded them with eerily precise movements and an erection that nearly reached his belly button. Who the fuck gets that hard for old man fucking? Fuck it, in for a penny, in for the millions! She nodded in agreement and sat awkwardly on the bed. Looking over at the camera before turning away. No, Stacey doesn’t watch the camera. Even if he’s got a boner that would feel amazing sliding down her throat. But something about the predatory leer of the old rattling camera felt dangerous. No, a guy like that, he’d shove it down her throat into her lungs just so she’d cough and clamp down. She suddenly felt like what a fuck toy must feel like, as her wrists were tied with a powerfully taut knot. Her fingers tingling as she looks over to the rabbit tying her up, “h, hey, not so rough, OK?” Her voice cut off as *clack!* The camera man ejected a cartridge and put it into the satchel at his hips. *CLACK!* A new cartridge was loaded in like a cartridge into a gun and the handheld recorder spun up once more. This time his motions were anything but gentle and grandfatherly. His erection suddenly stiff as it bumped into his fat belly. He leaned in and bit her ear, hot sour breath teasing her whiskers. “Nngn, looking forward to hearing you scream.” He grunted out as a hand pushed her head down. The other reached down to cup her lap and roughly tug. His hand buried knuckle deep into her. Firm shove of fingers, uncaring to her comfort. Her face buried in the fat folds of his lap. Musky, pissy. His slender red dick pushed at her face, whiskers, lips, nose. Just fucking her face and cheeks as he held her into his lap with a wheezy coughing laugh. Then he began to cough more. Huge labored breaths struggling to draw in enough air. His hand on the back of her head slipped and something sharp jammed into her shoulder. He was holding the bone needle unseen in that hand! The sharp tip now stabbed into her shoulder, bleeding as he shook with the struggle of his coughing fit. Each time his hand buried in her shoved harder, squeezing and pulling at her vagina in painful spasms. Meanwhile her AI assistant watched with an air of sadness. She knew that asshole had to be part of these plans, he was the one binding the contract for this sick show. She screamed as she pulled at her bindings. Rabbit fingers remained buried knuckle deep, old geezer had some strength in him still. Painfully exploring her vagina in greedy flexes as he leaned over her to leer at his hand half buried in pretty feline folds. Hoping this wasn’t what her future was going to hold, an object to be used, battered, an object for other pleasures. Blood trickled out of his lips from his coughing fit. The hand shoved mostly into her over stretched cunny pulled out swiftly to grab one of her heavy breasts and shove her down onto the bed. His heavy fat belly smooshes over her as he straddles her. A scream of surprise as she sees the needle lifted up as his hand shoves onto her jaw. Pushing it up as she tastes her own arousal on his fingers shoved into her mouth. Gagging her with the hand he was molesting her with. Pushing her head back so she can only see the ceiling fan twirling lazily above to the cheerful music playing on a record player. Rufus had turned away and covered his eyes in his paws, disappearing from her consciousness entirely. Then pain explodes into her as the needle slams home through her windpipe. A horrifying pop! And she finds herself unable to scream with the needle jammed through her throat and glancing off her spine. Filling her throat with bone and making a horrifying whistling sound with each labored breath! Almost as painful as her partner hiding away. At least she knew as part of her, he’d still experience every gory detail with her. *clack!* The camera man ejected a cartridge and put it into the satchel at his hips. *CLACK!* A new cartridge was loaded in like a cartridge into a gun and the handheld recorder spun up once more. The needle rose and fell once more by the time the cartridge was changed. Casually recording as the elder rabbit slammed the sharp implement down a third time through her soft neck. This time her suitor was rewarded with a huge gout of blood when the bloody bone was pulled, splashing a crimson arc across the cheap fan and incandescent lights above them. Holding her by her underside of her jaw as he laughed maniacally. Wheezing breaths as he slammed the bloody bone into her soft pudgy neck again and again. Using all of his strength and large weight to perform the grisly acts. His stiff erection bumping wildly, seeking for her cunt even as he murdered her. Blood poured out of Stacey’s neck as her screams bubbled and gurgled, gagged by her own blood pouring down her opened throat. A horrified realization as the room spun and flickered. Sparks and darkness and a sudden sinking. Remembering when she fainted once cutting her thumb on a mandoline. The sudden tug downwards and nothingness. This time it wasn’t just fainting. She was going to die. Her thoughts would cease to exist. And even knowing she was coming back from this, billions of years of evolution screamed to cling to life. Her arms jammed into her spine and arching her back as her legs kicked uselessly against the rabbit’s sides. His weight and size was too much for the short fat cat as her piss poured over the bed. The last thing she would see was his lips pressed over hers. His tongue playing with her as he pushed in all three inches and begin to fuck her pissing lap. Shoving into her warmth like one might use a fuck sleeve. All she was, a warm soft toy to get his rocks off, before she’s disposed of. Grrrlk…. Her final death rattles escaped her ravaged throat. The delicate collection of cells that made her Stacey began to die one by one as her heart seized up in her chest. Her blood soaking the bed as she bled out in the playroom she had used over the decades. And so Stacey and Rufus ceased to exist, dying under a fat old rabbit raping her corpse on a big hotel room bed so others can get off to her suffering. … Stacey woke up with Rufus growling in alarm. “Um, WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU SIGN UP FOR? we’ve gone full backup restore from the night before last. We both lost an entire conscious day of memories!” Her head pounded as she groaned, waking up in an unfamiliar room. Christ this place was ugly. The fuck is this, a museum of porno. How the hell did she end up in some sort of fancy ugly bedroom. Rufus’s analysis told her it was an ancient Terra hotel room, from the late industrial era of the 20th century. Useful bugger that Rufus, she’d never get anywhere without him. On the nightstand was an unfamiliar note written in an archaic manner, what was this, cursive? She had to get Rufus to translate whatever this unreadable writing said: “Good morning sunshine! (A doodled sun was drawn in the upper right corner) I have a treat for you. You signed a contract that your partner Rufus can verify. All you have to do is sit on the bed and watch all 20 of those projector cassettes. No rush, but I suggest doing this before breakfast!” A classic smiley face was drawn here, at least some things never changed throughout the ages. “... did I just fuck the world’s first porno historian?” She got up to piss and looked herself over and cackled. “What the hell did they do to my hair and makeup, this is hilariously overdone. So is that true, I’m in some weird mind fuck contract? Do I even have a character to play?.” The fat cartoon bobcat in her vision hunched and spiked its fur instinctively as it went over the contract. “You play, Stacy, a budding simsense starlet who discovers her secret shameful kink for the first time watching the recording she made with an eccentric patron the night before.” “Is my shameful kink to like this updo and makeup? And man, these furs are LUSH, they even got the bone needle all chipped and jagged. I’d be way too lazy to make a real one. And this stupid thing doesn’t have to be so sharp, I nearly pricked myself.” Stacey mused to herself as she looked herself over with her phone. Scooting over to the other nightstand with the projector. A box of cassettes sat on the bed, with neatly handwritten numbers from 1 to 20. On the floor was a big pink box with a huge floral red ribbon. “Open me last!” it promised in a cheerful note decorated in hearts. OK. THAT CAN’T BE GOOD! Rufus and Stacey’s thoughts became one for a moment. She got up and turned the lights off with a sickness churning in her belly. It got worse when she saw there were several disposable bags for sickness on the other side of the projector. She had a feeling those were provided for a reason. She could almost feel that old pervert in this room, meticulously planning every single object left here for her next show. She grasped the stack of bags and brought them over to the bed as the bobcat examined the projector she was supposed to use. Made of plastic and metal. It was bulky, angular, and awkward. Powered by dangerous AC electricity. An absolute antique. Thankfully the neatly handwritten notes instructed her along, cheerful yellow pieces of paper promising some horrible fate. She flipped the switch and the projector turned on. Pushing the first cassette in it clicked home with a satisfying *clack* that just sounded so perfect, like she had heard it before. “Mmmm, there is something satisfying about mechanical connections like this, you really get good haptic feedback that a lot of virtual gear lacks.” Rufus however, seemed to have a thousand yard stare when he heard that sound. “You OK buddy?” I. I’m having some Deja Vu, I’m fine.” His voice was nervously flat, something she rarely heard. What had she been doing that night?! Rufus is a class three firewall assistant. She better have not got her ass hacked by some dumb horror meme, “Hey Rufus, uh, keep your firewall maxed. I don’t want to find out these are full of basilisks, I’d prefer to not get hit by a BLIT.” “I don’t think that’s the worry here, I’m pretty sure these lack the data throughput to kill you.” There was something dark about the way he said that last part, Stacey had a feeling he was being forced to hold back a warning of some kind. But it was this or leave now, and forever wonder what happened. She pushed the play button, and the machine rattled to life. A faint chattering of gears as the images flickered across the slightly reflective screen at 18 frames a second. Her enhanced eyes could catch the jitter of each frame as they blinked by. But the sense of motion was still there. Here she was, watching a grainy, jittery analog recording of her night. On screen she was pressed close to the bed, this bed even. He whispered something as they stripped down. She had to cackle as on the window she could faintly make out some HUGE deer operating the camera and boom mic. “Damn, that deer is built like a brick shithouse, and that is one old ass bunny, I’ve never seen anyone go for the geriatric look. Shit, my kink better not be old men, gonna be hard pressed to find any like this again. What a weird crew.” She ran her fingers to her lap. She was still recording a porno still after all. Fondling herself as she watched her touch the rabbit's growing erection and notice a flicker of disgust. “Did I drop character for a moment?” *CLICK* the projector turned dark. The tape ran out. “What the hell! No wonder there’s twenty of these fuckers. They’re.. 150 seconds?! This is the shit we used pre singularity?! Christ, this is some caveman bullshit!. Is the whole joke that you need a cave girl with her ass hanging out to run your primitive technology?” She had to cackle some, in her lavish fur smock with tit out, fingers slimy with arousal from fingering herself. It was kind of fun to watch yourself fuck. Even fucking an old ass rabbit to some cheesy old music. Shit, there’s the record player over on the desk across the room. And of course the asshole put a sticky note on that too: “Yours to keep if you wish.” She’ll stick to simsense thanks, no need to fiddle with mechanical parts to wear out. Pushing the second tape in as the room lit up once more. Grimacing at the sudden blast of light into the dark room. On screen she was larger than life. An unknown amount of time had passed between the first cassette and this one, but it had to have been quite short. It was interesting watching herself on screen, with the imperfections and artifacting of the device itself. She was whispered something, and a nervous look went over her face. The elderly rabbit was tying her wrists behind her with the furs she was wearing. It takes a moment before she realizes what’s so odd from this angle. On screen he palms it in his hand visibly and his features harden. She turned nervously to him as she exclaimed ““h, hey, not so rough, O” *CLICK* the projector turned dark. The tape ran out. Stacey found her breath caught in her chest. Turning to her cartoon bobcat assistant who was naught but a pair of eyes now, hiding like a Cheshire Cat from her gaze, “YOU MOTHERFUCKER, YOU FUCKING KNOW WHAT’S GOING TO HAPPEN DON’T YOU!” “.... I can’t tell you that Stacey, I signed an NDA.” Motherfucker might get sued by even being that coy. But she had a feeling these assholes are just enjoying her stewing. Rufus’s research found the holding company was a complete shell, so obviously it was something very undignified about to happen to her for a very large amount of money. Shit, maybe there was a fate worse than a BLIT. She could stop here. Go back home, scrub the tapes clean and then burn them. Maybe sell off some of these antiques, bets some weirdo wants some 20th century technology. Go back to being a one of millions of amateurs in her little studio apartment, sometimes she will earn enough for a nice little trip somewhere or a fancy meal. But if she sold her soul she could live beyond mortal comfort and power. All she has to do is watch 18 more tapes. That’s what, 45 more minutes. How bad could that be? It was like a weirdly meta porno review. “It’s no Debby in Dallas, that’s for sure.” she muttered to herself. She pulled the tape out, but found her fingers shaking. Number 3 didn’t look any different. The same careful handwritten number in precise handwriting made by a marker of some sort. Shithead probably used a real pen rather than nano assembling or printing the labels. She pushed the tape in and flipped the play button. A blindingly bright image of the rabbit jerking her onto her side filled the wall. Flickering grainy images matched in pace by the staccato rattle of all of those moving parts. The small speakers and simple microphones poorly recreate the sound of what she’s watching. The rabbit’s erection certainly got to town as he reached down and groped her. Rough and harsh too, shit, that looked painful and she grimaced in empathy to her past self. Lost to time except for this recording, and those two freaks. She bets Rufus only has contractual knowledge too, all his sensory data cleared out, lucky stiff. She wondered what would happen to her simsense recording. She bets it’s not released, just this analog crap. Eh, maybe that’s the problem, she needs to find an audience strange enough to give her real money. There was a tension in the air that grew as the old rabbit began to cough. Then heave over and wheeze for breath in a long choking coughing fit. She caught a splash of blood on her belly from his heaving struggles for breath. His thin fur was stained red with blood. “What the hell, is he dying? who lets their shell get that worn out?” His erection was still in the game if he wasn’t, pushed awkwardly into her side. Past Stacey finally noticed the needle when it stabbed into her shoulder. Confusedly torn between the rabbit half dying atop her and the dangerous implement in his hands. Distracted by the rough painful fingering, and his gravelly wheezing and trying to figure out if this is still part of the show. Confusion twisted into horror as the old bunny takes a heaving breath, then shoves her over. Straddling and shoving her head back with his hands. Scream cut off as the needle she is wearing right now was shoved right through her throat. A horrible gurgling whistle escapes her lips as she fights to scream. *CLICK* the projector turned dark. The tape ran out. Rufus was nowhere to be seen. The asshole was hiding. Fuck. She died. And now what, thousands of horny dicks would masturbate to the sight of her dying. Watching blood pour out of her lips and eyes shocked the outrage and pain of her betrayed trust. No, Past Stacey probably knew this was going to happen to her when that amount of resources is waved at you. And this was only tape 3. Perhaps there were things worse than having your mind fried. You could watch your life escape your lips and broadcast it publicly for money. So any old stranger can get their rocks off to your murder. She took a deep breath. Welp. She sold her soul. May as well try to enjoy it. She walked to the kitchen. Of course there was a bottle of rum, her favorite brand. She didn’t bother with a shot glass, this fat ass bunny didn’t bother to supply any. He knew she wouldn’t need one. Asshole is just playing me like a book. It was terrifying, but arousing. She unscrewed the cap off the half empty bottle and took a swig. Already shaking as she walked back to the bed. She had to take big breaths before she put in tape number four. Fingers trembling in fear to push play, watching a murder on screen was very strange when you knew it happened to you personally. *CLICK* the rattling flicking images begin. Gurgling noises that happened where she was laying on this bed not quite 18 hours ago. No wait, the needle had been jammed a few times in the couple seconds it took to switch cassettes. Finally that old dick was rewarded by a gout of blood that splashed all the way to the ceiling. Arterial spray decorating the room like a deranged painter splashing a canvas by throwing paint at the wall. She could only watch with numb interest as she thrashed and gurgled. Eyes wide open and darting with helpless fear as she drowned in her own blood. The rabbit atop her screamed and jammed the bone implement into the soft meat of her neck again and again. Fucking her now even as he jammed it home, eyes staring into her eyes as they faded. The camera man stepped up to watch one pupil suddenly get huge and fill the screen. *CLICK* the projector turned dark. The tape ran out. The next tape started with her feet jerking aimlessly on the bed sheets, curling awkwardly and crossing her ankles in dying reflex. Horrible gurgling noises accompany each rise and fall of her chest. Her brain was desperate to get blood or air as she died on screen. How the fuck they cleaned this bed overnight is truly the miracle of this shit show. But even then, She found her fingers sliding down to her folds to spread and rub. Watching on a shitty projector as her corpse was raped in 18 frames a second. All memories of these acts burned out of her brain. She gets to watch them fade to nothing but spoiled rotten meat and fat. Well, at least that dumb rabbit can enjoy the memories of killing a big titted cave bitch. For the next several tapes the camera man enjoyed filming each scene like a casual sex. If that casual sex had the horrible wet sounds of fucking on a bed soaked in piss and blood. Stacey really hoped she wasn’t brought back somewhere else instead of her usual play room, the true miracle is how swiftly they cleaned this bed up. The camera man made sure every cassette enjoyed at least one good reminder she was dead. Her eyes turned glassy. The old man was fingering the holes in her throat. The little gurgles he made when he pushed on her sagging tits to thrust harder. Stacey could bet this asshole hadn’t gotten properly erect for the last couple years until he got her cooling corpse between his legs. The ‘sanctity’ of this old bunny’s fucking was suddenly broken by a horrified wheezing, guttural coughing fit. His tail jerked high as he leaned himself over to thrust with all his remaining strength.. Camera man was ON point! Good close up of gray haired balls jerking. A few globs of semen flood her pissy vulva. The rabbit was gagging now, clutching at his fat chest in groans of pain rather than bliss. This time there wasn’t a cute cliffhanger. Halfway through the next cassette he slumped. His body sagged as he pissed all over her. Eyes fluttered mindlessly here and there as his breathing was slow, labored, weakly rattling. Did that asshole just have a heart attack? At one point she was rather horrified, heart attacks were pretty much wiped out with modern medical care. On the other paw, serves that bastard right, sweet revenge! Even with the bunny buck down, there were half the tapes to go! The cameraman decided the show must go on. Getting a good close up of the rabbit’s dying face, one eye half open and unfocused. Camera man casually panning down to show he’s fucking her ravaged neck. Messy gooey slapping sounds as that foot of cervine slenderness shoves deep into her lungs. Her limp face used to play with his massive balls. Playing with both of their dead mouths as he casually shoved his dick down the hole in her throat like he was using a fleshlight. And each of these clips was punctuated by the staccato click and rattle winding down of a tape finished. Leaving her in darkness and afterimage of the horrible fate she had befallen. The dimly lit room was a reminder she should probably drink some more of that rum to try and burn out what she had seen. Classic 20th century memory altering technique she had learned in her youth. The buck finished up most of the remaining tapes with his raping of her throat. Awkward blurry footage from the small handheld camera. A first person view of what he experienced using her corpse as a fuck doll. Pissy and leaking cum from her cooling cunt while the fat old buck had himself a seizure on the bed beside her. Dumb fuck had a heart attack or something, and knowing that old pervert, he was loving every agonizing moment of dying. And dammit. She couldn’t help herself. She was breathing heavily. Thinking of being so incorrigible and horny she would commit suicide just to get her rocks off. Now she wondered what it felt like as her life bled out on a cheap motel bed, yet another poor sex worker murdered by a fanatic fan. As the last tape wound up to the deer’s gloriously powerful orgasm she shoved her hand into her cunt as rough as the bunny did and screamed out. Matching the bellow of the deer echoing from the buzzing speaker near her. Rufus watched his master orgasm to the sight of her eyes huge, glassy, and still. Filling the whole wall of the hotel room she was murdered in. Screaming her pleasure that she was better off dead. Well, this fucking ends any chance of a normal career as a bobcat, Stacey mused. Licking the cum off her fingertips. A little hint of copper and a hot sting. She had cut herself with one of her polished claws. The hot aching burn adds to the deep heat of afterglow. She bit her lip until a drop of blood formed and sighed heavily. Licking the taste and laughing “Looks like you got to kill two people after all… serves me right, just going to be a primitive caveman if I don’t embrace the future. Any dumb ass can record themselves fucking, this takes some true guts to off yourself for any pervert to jerk it to.” She looked over the box “well, let’s see what he left us, somehow I suspect it will be my new future.” The thick bobcat hefted the large box with a grunt, modestly heavy. Felt highly padded, perhaps something delicate was within. Really though, the only delicate thing left was my sanity. And I have a horrible creeping feeling of what’s within. Rufus was a terrified pair of glowing eyes at the edge of her perception, coward. She’ll have to get him braver, perhaps he’s having a worse time of this than she has. Already thinking of what kind of horrible shows she might be able to make if perverts pay well for this. “Let’s see, is this what I think it is…” she pulled the ribbons and pulled on the box lid with a jerk and clench of eyes. Half awaiting a bomb to send her back to hell. Instead, nothing happened, opening her eyes to see her own eyes staring back at her, blind and glassy. God dammit, of course it was her head. Caked in cum, blood, limp and now rigidly frozen in her stupid dead expression. A big pile of meat and bone to slowly rot. Her tongue poked out in a leisurely blep with some crusted blood on her lips from her dying breaths. Neck raggedly cut free. She wondered if that big ass buck was pounding her dead ass right now. And a hot tingle in her loins as she lifted her head out. “Mmmm, bet there’s a clip of him shoving his balls against my neck stump.” Rufus could only watch in horror as she leaned in closer. Sniffing the hints of sour death, copper blood, and the sharp stink of cum and even a hint of urine. “I wonder how it feels to…” Stacey mused as her lips brushed her previous lips. Cold, stiff, awkward. It was like kissing a steak left out on the counter. “Mmm, this would have been more fun if he washed it off… hmmm…” She brought her own head to the shower and began to strip off those furs. A little twinge of sympathy pain when she pulled the needle out and set it on the counter. “Yeah, fuck this outfit, let’s wear something else out of here.” She turned the water on hot and soon steam began to fill the small bathroom. “Phew, you need a bath young lady.” she said to the bloody head she bounced on her lap. Smirking her huge saber teeth as she looked over at herself, holding her own decapitated head to her breasts. “Yeah, I think we’re losing it a little, but you know what, this world makes no sense, does it Rufus?” “Ehhhh, I take the fifth…” the AI companion responded. “Oh please, we got rid of that with full brain dives. I know this makes your little bobcat dick twitch. I wrote your personality after all.” Stacey pulled herself into the shower and began to wash herself off. Er, wash her head off, well, her once head off. “Fuck all this makeup too, we all know raw is in.” bits of coagulated blood splashed all over the once pristine white surface of the shower, washed down the drain as she poured hot water through her once living head. Helping shampoo and clean it like she might wash out a well loved fuck toy. Her own makeup washed down in colorful streams. Setting her decapitated head up on a shower shelf “you stay there now, while I clean up.” she couldn’t help but laugh, loud and fierce, thinking of the strangeness of the modern world. Once she got her own hair clean and the makeup out of her fur she looked at herself in the small mirror in the shower. Looking over her head all limp and relaxed. Soggy hair made it look more like a messy doll than a true head anymore now that it was cleaned of some of the horrors of what had been done to her. Stacey really hoped that fat old bastard was paying for cleanup again, cause she is just FUCKING up this shower. “shit, those weird drawings never really showed how much this fucking smells, like fucking in the meat counter at the deli.” Sticky brown clots of blood stained the wall and shelf. Mostly cleaned out as the thick bobcat couldn’t help but give a furtive look around. Fuck it, she died, she deserves some R&R to try something. How many times is she really going to have her decapitated head to play with after well. “Hey baby, come around here much?” she joked as she closed the eyes on her decapitated head. The gaping pupils and glassed over eyes were quite unsettling even now. Pushing the limp lips and tongue down into her breasts. Raspy tongue and sharp teeth bumping at her stiffening nipples as she leaned herself against a wall. Stacey guided her own lips down her soft belly. Her folds twitch softly in need now. “Mmmmm, saw a picture drawn of this once as a shock pic, wonder if that asshole knew.” She chuckled as she used her stiff, dead, rough tongue against her needful clitoris hood. “Or maybe all porn stars become deranged enough to want to fuck their own corpses after a century or two?” Her motions were sow, gentle. She knew every place to rub herself in her most intimate ways. She had to admit, her dead, limp head made a pretty good fuck toy. All warmed up by hot water. She should probably lube that tongue up some more. The stiff roughness made for good texture with her sharp teeth. “Not quite the same as actually being eaten out, nnnnf, that is nicer. But the novelty is divine.” She pushed firmly now. Thrusting limp lips into her mound. Pushing and rocking to ride the rough stiff coolness of a dead tongue all over her fat button of a clit. “Mmmm, there we go.” Stacey’s breaths quickened now. Closing eyes. Thinking of the force hunter, having torn out the throat of her rival. She’ll claim the former tribe cat’s husbands as her own. Making them watch as she pleasures herself with the corpse of her defeated foe at her feet. “Ah, nnng! Fff, FUCK!” her toes curled as she bit her lip until blood flowed. Jerking shudders of her belly as she racked herself in orgasm. Eyes closed tight and thinking of a fun scenario with a firelit camp. The conquering queen cat was going to rape a few bound feline tribesman, celebrating with the beheaded queen passed around the camp first. What was that line, the best thing in life was to drive your enemies before you and hear the lamentations of their boyfriends? Whew! Sounds like I got a film to prepare for then, she thought. Riding out her orgasm and returning to a gore flecked shower in the middle of Seattle. “So uh, what the fuck do I do with this. Recycle it? Maybe I can get some nannies to clean the skull for my living room, be a conversation piece that’s for sure.” Rufus poked his snout in the corner of her vision “uh, you may want to see this… our payment came in…” Stacey’s eyes flicked at nothing in particular as she set the shower to cold to rinse down and clear her mind. An undignified squawk as she nearly pissed herself. Top news, the infamous secretive owner of the illicit entertainment group Rotten passed away of a heart attack. A new CEO has been appointed in secret, one who is certain to continue chipping away at taboos in this new singularity world. Meanwhile her contacts list began to flood with information. Contract after contract with actors, technicians, cleaning services, play rooms. Entire fandoms and subculture notes for guro productions. An entire hierarchy of services to create whatever art she desired. Of course, blood would be spilled. What was nature but to be red in tooth and claw, and she was to make sure this networked age didn’t forget their primal and darkest desires. She could definitely say it pays well after all.