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Bad Influence(r), Chapter Six: Live Stream

Previous Chapters: One, Two, Three, Four, Five

Vivianne VixyViv Bad Infulence by Tori Hamlin

In the morning, her followers decided on her outfit once again, this time dressing her in a pair of skin-tight denim shorts, cutoff just below her ass cheeks, and a small, tight, white top with lace sleeves that exposed her shoulders and tummy. Her breasts jiggled enticingly beneath the top. Since the top was shoulderless, she went without a bra so that it wouldn’t look stupid.

She drove to the address Melissa provided and soon found herself in X-Rod’s studio, which was cluttered with half finished works, cork boards filled with pinned photographs, and innumerable bits of garbage that the artist was saving for future projects that he hadn’t yet come up with. The excitable man let her in, then spent several minutes showing her some of his unfinished projects. Vixy followed along, nodding, bored by it, but trying to be polite. iFem thought that the guy was important enough to warrant the attention of someone as influential as her, and she didn’t want to disappoint Melissa today.

“I’ve got, like, this super hot idea, man,” X-Rod said, rubbing his hands together eagerly, “You know, video ain’t one of my fortes and shit, but I’ve been doing some stuff to kinda break into it. It’s the fuckin’ thing online, man, so you know, gotta go with the times if you wanna stay current, right?”

VixyViv nodded in agreement, hoping this wouldn’t be too weird.

“So, I set up a couple of video cameras over here,” he pointed to an open area of the studio, where three cameras stood mounted to tripods, while a small bench and some kind of weird machine waited, “and I want to make this one a video project. I’ll take some stills out of the video later. I’m totally gonna make this thing a commentary on the artificial pleasure that people receive from their online interactions, like follower counts, likes and shares. You know, it’s all about the fuckin’ dopamine hit. Some people are so shallow that they measure their own self-worth by how many people follow them online or like their pics, you know?” X-Rod explained.

Vixy flushed and nodded, pretending that she was not one of those people.

“Okay,” she said, cautiously, “So, what do I have to do?”

“Man, it’s gonna be dope! So, I’m gonna put some of the straps and shit on you, while you lie on the bench. The cameras are gonna do a live stream and it’ll run for thirty minutes. See that machine?” he gestured toward the weird machine, which seemed to have a dildo attached to it. That made Vixy feel very uncertain.

He went on, “So, as we stream, the fuck machine is gonna give you a stroke in the cunt for each like, follow or share that you get during the thirty minutes. So, you’ll be getting, like, actual pleasure from your online interactions, which will totally illustrate the whole message of the piece!”

X-Rod glowed with his own brilliance. Vivianne felt horrified by the idea. He wanted to tie her up and have a machine fuck her with a dildo, while he broadcast it around the world? This was art?

“Can you… give me just a minute?” she asked, pulling out her phone and dialing Melissa.

“He wants me to fuck a dildo and live stream it across the internet!” Vixy hissed quietly, standing in a corner of the studio as X-Rod prepared the equipment.

“Jesus, Vixy, not this again,” Melissa said, “Look, it’s not like you’re doing porn. This is art. He’s edgy and progressive. You reviewed the contract with your attorney, and you agreed to let us choose how to manage your campaign. Are you saying you want out of the contract?”

“I…” Vixy stuttered. She glanced at the bench, the leather restraints, the dildo machine. If she dropped the contract, her life would be ruined. She’d lose all her followers. No big sponsor would ever want her. She’d have to take a job as a cashier or go make tacos for minimum wage, while everyone laughed at her and called her a loser. She put the phone back to her ear and said, “No. I’m sorry. It’s just… nevermind.”

“Good girl,” Melissa said kindly, “This is gonna be a hit. Don’t worry. Everyone’s gonna love it. You’re going to make a commentary on an important social issue through art. Isn’t that exciting?”

Vixy didn’t feel that it was all that exciting, but the thought of being a broke loser was even less exciting, so she agreed and hung up the phone. She blushed and fidgeted as X-Rod directed her to strip off her clothes, then he had her dress in a sexy leather bustier, garter belt and stockings. Her bare cunt felt exposed and she trembled slightly as she lay on the bench and allowed the trendy artist to fasten her limbs to the bench with restraints. He wheeled a monitor to the side of the bench, which displayed several windows, each of which was one of her social media channels.

On the monitor, she saw in real-time the ticking numbers of her follower count, the likes and shares of her recent posts. Every few seconds the numbers increased. She could only imagine how fast they were going to start climbing once the stream began. She watched X-Rod smear the dildo machine with lubricant, and then she flinched as he rubbed more of the stuff into her spread cunt, seeming to take a long time working it into her pussy. Despite her trepidation, the attention to her sex felt good.

X-Rod positioned the machine at her cunt and said, “Man, this is gonna be so cool! Just hang in, baby. We’re gonna make history with this one!”

Vixy closed her eyes as he placed the tip of the dildo machine at her entrance and groaned softly as he edged it into her, spreading her lubed cunt with the fat head of the toy. He switched it on and Vixy waited, shaking, until one of the numbers on the screen ticked up. The machine gave one slow thrust in and out as the number went higher. Another channel showed a new follower and the machine pushed in, then out, making her moan. He switched it back off.

“Looks good!” X-Rod said, then asked, “Ready?”

Vixy nodded her head, swallowing hard. He switched on the cameras and Vixy flushed crimson as she realized that anyone watching the stream could see her cunt filled by a dildo. The stream began. She saw her Twitter feed, controlled by Melissa, post a link and message about the exciting new art project, which would be live for thirty minutes. In one corner of the monitor, she saw people logging into the stream, the numbers rising to over a dozen, then passing forty, ninety, passing one-hundred and then increasing too quickly to keep track of. X-Rod flicked on the machine.

The first like came a second later, and the dildo pushed in, then out. Another like, another share, a new follower as the link was posted across her channels. The dildo went to work, fucking itself in and out, in and out. Vixy bucked as the machine repeated the mechanical motion for each interaction. Oh Shit!

The live stream attendance rocketed up. The interactions on her posts ticked up, slowly at first, but then with greater speed, until they began to revolve upward at a dizzying pace. Within seconds, the machine became a relentless blur, repeatedly fucking her pussy as she thrashed helplessly against the bonds. Barely a minute into the event she orgasmed loudly, quaking on the bench.

The viewers surpassed 2,000. The interactions blurred on the monitor. Vixy squealed and shook as the machine fucked in and out of her splayed cunt without mercy. X-Rod clapped with joy on the sidelines at his own brilliance. This was erotic art at it’s finest, he thought, watching Vixy quiver and shake on the bench as she orgasmed again.

Three minutes into the stream, Vixy had cum two times from the relentless jackhammering and she was screeching her way toward a third. The noise, X-Rod, decided was going to give him a headache. He stepped forward and pressed a gag ball into the girl’s mouth, securing the strap and muffling her cries of pleasure. Better.

Vixy completely lost herself as the numbers climbed and her pussy was battered by the thoughtless machine each time someone liked, shared, or followed. Conscious thought evaded her as her entire world became one reluctant orgasm after another. She had no sense of how long was left on the timer, but she did know that she could hardly stand to have another orgasm. Sweat dripped from her forehead and her teeth bit tightly down on the gag ball, making her jaws hurt as, seemingly, every few seconds the machine coaxed another orgasm from her.

X-Rod considered that thirty minutes might have been a little long for this show, but he liked round numbers, and he was sure that Vixy would appreciate her contribution to art and the well-being of society in the end. He monitored his own feeds from his phone as the girl on the bench continuously came, kicking her legs uselessly against the restraints. She was making little noises, now, which might have been pleading, but it was hard to tell with the gag ball. He decided that she was probably just having a good time on the machine. Other chicks that he shot short porn films with always did, after all. Chicks loved the fucking machine.

Twenty minutes in, X-Rod got a call from his agent and turned his back on the noise, stepping away to a quieter part of the room as Vixy screamed, wailed, thrashed and came, her eyes rolling back in her head as the machine pounded her. The call was important and took quite some time. By the time X-Rod hung up, he realized that the stream had gone over the time by almost twenty minutes. He shut off the machine, which stopped mid stroke into Vixy’s swollen cunt. The girl was limp and breathing manically, twitching and jerking in her restraints, her whole body glistening with sweat.

X-Rod took the opportunity to get some good shots of her tired body for another photo project on the exhaustion of humanity by too much exposure to social media, before finally releasing her from the bench. Vixy simply lay groaning for long minutes, her body sore and too weak to move. Her cunt felt numb as X-Rod backed the machine away with a wet sucking sound that left her feeling empty.

“Hey, that was super cool!” he exclaimed, helping her to stand.

Vixy’s legs felt like string as she swayed back and forth precariously, unable to answer. X-Rod handed her a bottle of water, which she struggled to get the cap off of. Unconcerned, the artist turned back to the cameras, moving the equipment out of the way as Vixy worked at pulling the leather gear off of herself and dressing into her normal clothes. She staggered out of the studio, feeling like someone had driven a truck between her legs and fell into the car, slumping in the seat.

She took a call from Melissa, who exclaimed, “That was great! You’re getting a whole lot of positive traction from the stream. I already got a couple of leads on some new sponsors that I think we can work in later. Also, X-Rod’s agent called and he wants to get you back in a few weeks from now, for another project. it’s called, ‘Pain in the ass,’ and it’s X-Rod’s take on how corporate overlords really buttfuck the working man. Vixy, are you there?”

“I… um, sure,” she mumbled, her head filled with cotton from the continuous orgasms and her body throbbing from the savage machine.

“Great! Hey, I added a relaxing event to your calendar for this afternoon. I know you’re probably a bit sore from that cunt bashing you took, so I’ve booked you a massage at one of your sponsor’s spas. It should help you relax. One of our photographers is going to meet you there to get some photos while they work out the soreness. Thanks for being such a sport. I know those trendy artist types can be a little odd.”

“Thanks,” Vixy said. The spa and a massage did sound like a great idea. The way her body felt, she could surely use a good massage and a nap.

“I’m sending you the address now. Just make your way over as soon as you can.”

Vixy hung up and sat motionless for a few moments, letting the air conditioning wash over her as she tried to put her pounding head back together. Finally, she drove away from the studio, terrified about the next horrible project she’d have to do for the artist.


Enjoying this story? You can pick up the finished book in the shop! This book tells the story of Vivianne, who dreams of being a real social media influencer. When she's offered a contract with Internet Famous Entertainment Management (iFem), her life is taken control of by her campaign manager, Melissa. Melissa has her own plans for Vivianne's social media career, and they include degrading and humiliating her as often as possible, rewriting her personality, and turning her into a cash machine for the evil iFem corporation.

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