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Fuck ethics. Fuck tropes too. Fuck em deap!

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File: 1420130922494.png (216.2 KB, 431x580, 431:580, 1412417188304.png)

 No.52

This is a cross post from 8chan.co/vivian/

Seems like the board is dead, which is sad really. But here's some Vivian James Literotica to get us started:

—————————————————————————

Very well. It will be posted shortly. Before I do, though, I'll need to lay out what kind of story it is

Who
Anon
(student @ UCLA)

Anon's friend
(HQ tester for a AAA company)

Vivian James
(student @ UCLA)

Polina
(Vivian's sister)

What
An e-mail Anon writes to his friend about his encounter with Vivian

Where
College gym

Vivian's friend's place in West Hollywood

Polina's apartment

When
Sometime near their graduation



Hey, man, how’s it hanging? Found a bit of down time trying to QA that shootan game, did you? Well, since you were kind enough to share that time you got nookie in the bathroom, it’s only right that I tell you ‘bout what I was getting into before my duties called me away from our lunch on Skype. Really, after hearing your tale of how you and your girl joined the Mile High Club, I feel I owe you at least that much. Now, concerning my own sexual experiences, I've always had huge fantasies about a certain girl(Let's call her… Vivian) since the first time we met at UCLA. If memory serves, she had quite a robust chest, almost like she had two melons stuffed in her shirt. Feet to fire, I'd estimate it to be 40 inches, from what I saw. She was relatively full figured, too, but by no means was she out of shape. She was a baseball player for a long time and as such, was quite muscular, not to mention she had flowing red hair and was 5'10, just about my height. I admired her from afar the whole time, and only when she surprised me from behind were the roots laid for our relationship when she uttered the words, "Your arms are looking kinda puny there. Maybe you'd like to get swole with me one day at the school gym?"

I didn’t really know what to expect from her, man. When we got to the gym, she was in the exact same purple and green sweater I saw her in the first time we met. We spotted each other on the bench press, jogged on the treadmill and were sweaty as hell by the time we hit the showers, and got ready to head off, Vivian waiting for her ride out front. Wasn’t until she pulled out her gold DS with the Triforce on the back that I saw something different about her. She lifted her pond scum green eyes towards me and asked, “Hey, wanna take me on in Pokemon? Been bodying filthy casuals all day, and I wanna see if you use something than a buncha legendaries I could easily sweep with my Magikarp” From that day on, I discovered she was deep into the vidya-in some respects even more than I was, in turn leading to us spending lots of time together discussing the finer points of why console players are mere peasants to the PC Master Race and why her taste in RPGs was shit (seriously, putting Chrono Cross above Xenogears? Pleb-tier logic).

As for how we hooked up, it was just after dinner at her friend’s apartment in West Hollywood, when I decided to make my move. While we enjoyed the pepperoni pizza she ordered, I inched myself closer to her on the plush red couch, and started shooting the breeze with her about her day. Apparently, from what she told me between slices, her sister had just gotten a new poodle that she absolutely showered with gifts and affection; knowing my opening presented itself, I asked if we could go visit it at their place downtown, my heart beating like a war drum the entire time I sat next to her on the Metro subway and buses.

We greeted the dog as soon as we get there and played fetch with it for a spell until her sister, Polina, decided to take it along for a trip to Manhattan Beach, telling Vivian, “If any degenerates come knocking, you know where I keep the guns, ok?” As we relaxed on their plush leather sofa we watched American History X on her theatre-esque big screen, one of us suggesting that we play 2 person truth or dare, the same game we played when we met up after my art history class. She consented, and right away, we were in the living room asking questions like, 'When did you lose your virginity', 'How was he', 'where's the craziest place you've ever made whoopee' etc. Embarrassing questions, really, but she was so charming, I didn't mind spilling the beans on what little experience I had. A few shots of Jack Daniels later, they turned to each other, each of us-after ensuring we were alone, of course, before asking things like, 'How big is your cock', 'How tight is your pussy', and other super pointed inquiries. Each one inched closer and closer to dares, and I was the first to make a dare after some more risqué ones began flying out. I knew I was locked in when her first dare was, 'Take 'em out.'

I was frozen in place, each staring at the blush on the other's face until she grinned and said, "You know, if you're scared, just forget what we're discussing. It's not you have to keep your word, right?" Those words made me so pissed that I ripped off of my leather belt, slipped off my jeans and popped off my heart boxers, throwing each at her face as I screamed, "You really think I’m that chicken? Does this look like someone who can't keep his word?" From that point on, each dare kept escalating and escalating, clothes thrown about the living room until eventually, we were both naked, and she, probably in a fit of hormone fueled passion, dared me to eat her out. I gave her a stunned look, jaw slightly agape and eyes fixed open as I obliged. The air was chilling my parts while she pointed at her now exposed pelvis area and said, "Well c'mon, dude, are you a man of your word, or aren't you?" She sat on the edge of the couch and watched as my face drew closer to her then freshly shaved privates, my breaths tickling her most sensitive zones as my tongue trailed along her labia and swirled around her clit.

Immediately she shuddered as I slipped my ring and middle finger inside her and attacked her weak spot with measured vigor, writing out the alphabet with my tongue, her clit the parchment for my quill and her hips starting themselves closer. As I worked my way down to z, I could hear her breathing grow ever sharper, her juices flowing with greater intensity. Her hands clutched upon his head and pushed me closer with more violence the more she lost control of reflexes. Suddenly, when she was the verge of a screaming O, I stopped and looked up at me, still smiling by her gushing pussy. With one last press on her weak spot, she let out a bellow as her body collapsed forwards into my waiting arms. I remember her catching her breath and asking, "Man, Anon…when did you learn how to make a woman feel so good?" Saying nothing, I took her hand and lead her to the guest room while she lightly massaged my cock and balls to get me primed.

As soon as we were in, I closed the door and ate her some more, her hips starting to sway closer to his tongue and gain more of the pleasure she craved. From the quick glimpse she got at her lover below, she could tell my little Anon was as stiff as a board, prompting her to pat the spot beside me, and position herself at my crotch while I got comfy. Before she went down on me, something, possibly the heat of the moment or possibly the fifth of the hard stuff in her system, compelled her to say 'Once I'm done sucking you, put it in me while I'm still wet. Please don't use a condom.'

I nodded, unable to make any intelligible words(likely because all the blood my brain needed to function was working overtime to keep Little Anon in working order). She trailed her tongue along my balls, and massaged my member firmly in her grip to ensure it was ready for her to take in. With utmost haste, she took my member into my mouth, caressing it with her tongue, and gently fondling my balls in one hand, and her chest in the other. As she had done with me, my hand rested firmly on the top of her head, guiding it into my cock, and giving it gentle pushes so she could take in more and more of my manhood (which turned out to go right to the base, likely thanks to all the times she thoroughly brushed her tongue with her toothbrush, as I saw one night at her place) After a while, her body seemed to ache to feel me inside her, so she looked up at me and took my cock out of her mouth to say, "Please, Anon. My body can't wait anymore"

I laid her onto the edge of the bed, raising her legs into the air. I finally got a good look at her tight and bald pussy and put her ankles on my shoulders to let me enter into her, raising her up by her hips and only inserting the tip at first. She immediately screamed in pleasure, and kept moaning as I eased himself further and further inside her, her body shivering from the jolts each thrust sent through her. I started off with kind of a slow rhythm, but the more I got to know her body, the more I gained great speed, making her scream like a banshee while I fucked her as hard and deep as he could. Eventually, my full cock was buried inside, eyes shut, and body giving the shallow breathing and sweating I knew to come from intense pleasure. While I fucked her as hard and deep as I could, our hips slammed together over and over like a skipping record as they synced more tightly, with her arching my back and throwing her head back as the pleasure washed over her like a tidal wave. Not long after, she motioned him to stop, then lifted herself up by wrapping her arms around my neck, answering my efforts with a simple "Let me do some of the work."

While she was still lifted, we began really kissing, making out intensely with tongues clashing as if they were sabers in a fencing duel. After a moment, I laid back on the bed and let her grind away on top of me, her hips swaying with the rhythm of the tides. More and more, she thrust back and forth with me, letting my fullness fill her up and push around inside of her while I was pushing forward to the next big climax. Her body shaking from being on the verge, she grabbed her chest and felt its jackhammer pulsations pulse away thanks to my hard working jackhammer. She quit grinding for a spell and leaned down to my ear, whispering, 'I want us to cum together. I'm on the pill, don't worry.' with a wink. She made sure to keep me on the verge of orgasm while I thrust like a piston until I was ready. I told her that I’m close. She began grinding full throttle, yelling, 'Cum in my pussy! Cum inside me!' She kept yelling and yelling, while I began massaging her clit with my left hand and her tits with my other. Suddenly, I erupted with the force of a volcano inside of her. Simultaneously, she screamed at the feeling of my cum and clenched her nails into his chest, electricity shooting through her body as she collapsed onto me. We sat there for a bit before getting dressed and going back to her friend's place for a home made fried chicken dinner

We ate our fried chicken, potato wedges and rice dinner, and had a rousing discussion of which movie star had the best assets, asking with which we would marry, fuck or kill. As soon as her friend was engrossed by Call of Duty, she signaled me towards the bathroom and waited for him to follow. The moment we closed the door, she took out my rock hard member to guide it into her mouth, her hands massaging my balls with utmost gentleness and care. Her tongue wrapped around like a snake around its prey, my member pulsing inside her mouth until I was ready to pop. Right before I did, she took it out, and let my seed spray all over her face, which she told me was a huge turn on during truth or dare. With a laugh, she said, "Oh my! I had no idea you could shoot off so much so soon!" much less to where it dripped down and into her cleavage. She scraped up the seed, and slurped it up, noting the taste, and asking, "You've had plenty of pineapples, haven't you? You taste pretty sweet. Maybe now you'd like to better know how I taste?"

She sat on the edge of the toilet seat, and I ate her out once more, knowing that she shivered most with z, m and c-style motions on her clit. As I worked my tongue down there, she couldn't help but say, "Oh yes…oh yes…just like that…right there…that feels so good, Anon" As if on cue, I stuck two fingers in, and worked her g-spot, the loudness and ecstasy I heard in her moans driving him to work harder for her. Her hips rose towards him, her thighs clamped like a vice around my head, and her breaths grew shorter as she gasped out, "Yes, yes, yes, yes, OH MY GOD" With a spray of her juices, she came again, her whole body going into fits from the pleasure, and leaving her on wobbly legs. I helped her on my feet and we helped each other clean up. While we dressed, a smile crossed our faces, each of us feeling a certain something happening between us. Before she left, I whispered into his ear, 'I can't wait until next time,' a time that, sadly, never came, as she got a translating gig with Nintendo and left for parts unknown, departing without so much as a farewell.

I'm glad though, that Vivian was kind enough to give me that night, and help me better grasp what it means to make love. Actually, pretty recently, she sent me an e-mail saying, “Got some extra cash, and was thinking about dropping in for a visit. How about it, there, Anon?”

 No.53

File: 1420153295879.png (410.54 KB, 1280x1553, 1280:1553, 1418585043050.png)

Chels couldn't keep away from twitter thanks to the literal war that was going on about her and her fellow women online. She clicked on the photoshop window she had open on her second monitor. There was a picture of her – marble white skin, short, dyed pink hair, skinny, heart-shaped face – that she had added text to. She couldn't believe that in this day and age people still couldn't accept feminism. Which is exactly why I have to keep fighting these manbabies.

She typed a message into the textbox on the screen, probably too forcefully. She hated this stupid imageboard, with its "2edgy5me" attitude about every serious issue including, lately, her favorite writers and magazines. These nerds just don't understand why it was important to share stories of disempowered groups like women and minorities – no matter the cost. They didn't get that no matter how good her life was, it would never outweigh the oppressive force of the patriarchal microaggressions that permeated the lives of her and every other woman.

Thank god Chels' father had hired a cybersecurity expert for her, that meant she could really show these idiots who is boss with no personal repurcussions. She had come up with a brilliant "false flag" that she was sure the media would pick up on immediately. They all fought for social justice like she did. Well, the good ones at least.

"Fuck these stupid Vivian posts, you faggots", she typed into the text box, cringing at the f-word, "focus on the bitch who actually needs to be fucked."

Then she saved and attached her custom photo. It was the picture of her, with red text overlay reading, "Next on te hitlist: Chels La Marke, Social Justice Whore." No doubt her sisters in feminism would be monitoring the thread and screencap it immediately, send it to the "right" people. These Vivian threads were the worst. So perverted.

Chels tabbed back over to her twitter timeline. Only boring "goobergrapers" repeating the same old arguments. Objectivity, "ethics", etc.

"Bored now, fuck you", she typed.

Chels was proud of herself. She'd been personally responsible for creating a petition that got bayonetta 2 removed from her local games stores, she'd actually made a few ex-"gowmbergrompers" check their privilege for once, and now she was going to successfully false-flag a bunch of shitgoblins into visiting and "ddosing" her personal blog. Helooooo Patreon money.

Chels sighed. Nothing left to do but wait. Her boyfriend was out distributing flyers for their bi-weekly Feminist Science Club meeting, not that he'd ever actually make a move on her anymore. It had been fun and arousing guilting him about every sexual urge he'd had, but he'd been completely domesticated lately, and, though she hated to admit it, she was bored of that. Sometimes she couldn't help but imagine being taken by a nice strong man. She couldn't help the patriarchy she had been socialized in, sometimes it slipped into her fantasies!

Chels found herself imagining some /fit/izen juicehead ignoring her preaching and whining, pushing her down on the bed, tearing her clothes off and fucking her tiny ass raw. She begged him to stay, to emotionally attach, but he never would. He ignored all of her commands, always returning when he pleased to please himself with her. Like some kind of toy. This figure had invaded her fantasies as of late. It turned her on so damn much. Guilty pleasure, she figured.

She slipped her hand down her pants, revealing the Raised Feminist Fist tattoo she had tattooed above her…Cunt. That word, so filthy, always turned her on. She hated it, of course, but it was so powerful and so charged that it always worked for her. Cunt, cunt, cunt. She whispered it softly as she slipped her fingers down into her thin slit. She was still tender from her failed pube-dye experiment last week, but that almost added to the sensation of her sliding her fingers between her lower lips.

She imagined herself reluctantly letting go, letting the muscled man lift her small frame and slide his cock into her, stretching her more than her boyfriend(s) ever could. He pounded into her again and again, and she looked down to see her crotch throb with each thrust. She could imagine his hands on her back, his muscles flexing as he fucked her so hard.

Damn, I'm really getting into this, she thought, pushing the fantasy one step further, I'm really enjoying getting fucked by an "alpha".

She was soaking herself, and she laughed at a thought. My boyfriend really is a fucking beta isn't he? That only turned her on more. Her whole body was feeling warm and tingly. She could tell this orgasm was going to be astronomical. She flicked her finger across her clit rapidly, sending shocks of pleasure through her crotch and thighs. For some reason, her clit felt twice as hot and engorged as usual. Damn fantasies…

there was a ding from her laptop. A PM? What the fuck? She spun in her chair and, using her other hand, snagged the mouse and clicked on the twitter tab. Who the fuck is this? Some random Social Justice blogger she had followed back last week had sent her a PM.

"Nice try, Chels, I know it's you posting on chan", the message read, "you've been posting under the same I.D. across multiple threads you fucking retard, and your security sucks. If you haven't already noticed, I've devised something special for you, courtesy of my friends on the deep web. Hope you liked this actual sock account."

Chels' skin prickled. Who the fuck are you? Her hand hovered over the keys, but she couldn't think straight. She was still so turned on. Her head was hazy. She felt hot. A second message dinged through.

"Go check that Vivian thread you shitted up. I dare you."

Instinctively, Chels tabbed over to the thread. Ten updates. All of them except one were denouncing her image. The last one was a hyper-realistic picture of Vivian fingering herself. The text next to it read, "Have fun looking like this girl for the rest of your life, Chels." For some reason, the image turned her on. Chels shook the thought from her mind, as best as she could.

It was then that she noticed the room was foggy. There was some kind of purple haze filling her vision. She tried to stand, but her legs were wobbly. She accidentally gasped, taking the purple smoke into her lungs.

"Oh gawd…" she moaned, as every erogenous zone on her body came alight with feeling.

Chels threw her head back, filling her lungs with the purple smoke. She caught a glimpse of her screen, which was glowing bright green. My computer…compromised? She could barely think.

A light pain shot through her spine, waking her enough to stumble to her feet. Her cunt was so wet for some reason. She looked down at herself. Something was definitely wrong. Her pants were tightening. She rushed to peel them off, but only succeeded in drunkenly stumbling as she hopped out of her pants. Hell, my shirt too? She took that off next.

Looking down again, she could have sworn her body was warping before her very eyes. Am I fucking high? Her legs were thickening, her feet, shrinking. She felt herself grow closer to the floor. Chels' eyes shot to the body mirror in the corner of the room, and she stumbled towards it. My legs feel weird…

Chels gawked at the image reflected in the mirror. She was inches shorter, she'd gained weight, and…spots…were spreading across her bared breasts. As she leaned in for a closer look, she realized they were freckles – and that her once nearly flat breasts were pushing outwards and gaining weight. She watched in horror as her areolas lightened and expanded. An involuntary moan slipped from her lips as a wave of pleasure surged from her cunt.

She gripped the side of the mirror, clenching her eyes shut and moaning again. When she opened her eyes, she was horrified to see her hair lengthening and changing in color. Oh god. It's red. Oh my god what is this? She watched her breasts settle into their larger size and greater weight, her face round out ever so slightly, her belly get a little lazy pudge, her hips round out, and then it all clicked when her eyes changed. Green. Why are my eyes green! No, this is impossible!

Chels looked at herself again, gawking. Gone was the skinny, dyed-hair, pixie girl with marble skin. Instead, her body became that of a short, slightly pudgy, large breasted, red-head. Her eyes looked tired, and her expression, mildly annoyed. With horror, Chels realized that her tattoo had become a green-and-purple infinity. She had become a perfect model of a "girl who games", that GamerGate icon, Vivian James.

Chels screamed in horror, the voice that came forth completely alien to her. It was soft and a little raspy instead of the loud, nasally voice she had always known to be hers. Her hands shot to her face, touching to feel if it was real. As her fingers touched her cheeks, the finishing touches of her radical female transformation completed. Freckles dotted across her face, and reddish pubic hair appeared above her slightly chubby cunt. She gawked in terror, and arousal.

Her cheeks were flushed red, and, somehow, she couldn't help but be turned on looking at her new body. Her mind filled with images of Vivian – herself – being fucked. She imagined her now large, heavy breasts bouncing with each thrust of her imaginary lover. His cock pushed into her reddened pussy, sliding against her enlarged clit.

Chels, still dizzy, fell onto her bed, unable to resist fingering herself. Frantically, she felt down between her new folds and quickly found her clit; it was indeed larger. She stared at her tattoo, turned on by the downright evil of it as her fingers flicked across her nub. Such a taboo image, on her flesh. Her breasts jiggled as she forcefully fingered herself, hoping to replicate the images flashing through her mind so rapidly.

She closed her eyes tight, picturing cum rising from the cock of her lover and splashing into her red pubes, across her infinity tattoo, and onto her thighs. She tried with whatever will remained to think of her actual boyfriend, but it just didn't turn her on at all. She came to the image of Vivian-Chels being fucked by a musclebound, masculine, hero trope. She came, convulsing and tightening around her fingers.

Falling to the floor in ecstasy, Chels glanced over at her computer. A red light was visible through the dissipating purple-and-green haze. The light f her webcam. They have it on video… Chels honestly tried to work up care, but, for some reason she couldn't. She was so satisfied. She hugged herself, shivered slightly in the last wave of orgasmic bliss, and went to stand.

Chels felt so relaxed. Even her expression felt chill. She walked over to her computer, smiled slightly, and sat down in the chair. She didn't even try to turn off the webcam. Something about not giving a shit felt nice. She bit her lip as a thought crossed her mind. A half-second later, she had propped her leg up on the armrest, giving the webcam a nice view of her red-haired pussy.I should be concerned, right?

Chels clicked out of twitter, opened up steam. Fuck it. I feel fucking fantastic. I'll just play a game and let this fucker enjoy the view. Unbeknownst to her, the video of Chels La Marke A.K.A. Vivian James was streaming live to her Social Justice blog. There was no going back.

Epilogue:

Everyone blamed Roguestar.



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