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Chocolate Bunny Productions

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Unlike the others, Pyrrha actually had done some modelling before.  Granted it was for breakfast cereal, but it was something. 

She and Coco had first met at some gala Coco’ parents had hosted the fashionista couldn’t avoid.  To say they’d hit it off would have been an overstatement:  Pyrrha had made it clear that she found Coco’s condescending attitude annoying and wasn’t impressed with the Adel girl’s verbal barbs.  For her part, Coco had found the supposed perfection of the so-called “Invincible Girl,” A.K.A. “America’s Sweetheart,” beyond grating.  It wasn’t enough that she was the youngest athlete to win gold in the heptathlon.  It wasn’t that she was prettier than her without even trying.  No, apparently Pyrrha was also humble, polite, charming, intelligent, and 100% sincere about it all.  Plus, she’d turned down Coco’s offer of a drink, stating she didn’t drink alcohol, the goody two-shoes.  America’s Sweetheart was an even more serious dieter than any model Coco’d ever seen.

It should have been the start of the worst, most vicious rivalry of Coco’s life.  Yet, somehow, the two had emerged from the night with the closest thing to a friendship Coco had known up until that point in her life.  Maybe it was because Pyrrha wasn’t really a model; she was just an athlete doing product endorsements, and thus she wasn’t a serious threat to Coco’s career.  More likely it was because the two could be honest with each other in a way they couldn’t with anyone else.  Coco didn’t know what Pyrrha’s life was like, but she herself had never seen anyone stand up to her like Pyrrha did or shrug her off as though her modeling success meant nothing.  Still, she suspected the Invincible Girl’s experiences weren’t that different.  Fame like their’s always came with a price, and that kind of success had a way of making everyone an island onto themselves.

They didn’t call up on each other’s birthdays or anything, but every now and then, one of the two would flip open her phone and leave a snarky and/or biting comment in the other’s voicemail about some accomplishment they’d read about.  Or to comment about some idiocy in the government or among other celebrities.  Then, the other would call back oozing with sarcasm, and the pair would bitch to each other for an hour or so.  Never about their parents or careers, though.  That was off limits.  There was no way to maintain the carefully constructed illusion if they let actual intimacy into their conversations.  If Coco had any regrets about leaving the modeling business, it was that she expected to never hear from Pyrrha ever again.  Why would America’s Sweetheart want to speak to a queen bitch who couldn’t even sympathize with her anymore?  Much less a newly minted independent porn producer?

So, she was a little surprised when she saw Pyrrha’s caller ID on her phone.  She was even more surprised when the redhead said she was in town and wanted to meet Coco in person for the first time in years.  In a bar. 

 Confused and concerned (not that she would admit it, even to Velvet), Coco had agreed to the meeting.  Pyrrha had arrived before her, and was racking up quite a tab.  Coco spent that first evening keeping the Invincible Girl from dying of alcohol poisoning, then helping her back to her hotel.  They tried again the next night.  This time, Pyrrha let Coco set the pace:  which the fashionista kept at the “Do Not Sign Legal Documents or Place Wagers” level, but definitively away from the “Wake Up Tomorrow And Not Remember What I Did Last Night” level.  Thus, they could both remember breaking The Rule.  Pyrrha had offered her condolences for Coco’s parents, and Coco had responded by admitting her own dissatisfaction with her modelling career and how she’d ultimately quit the runway.  The two started commiserating on the pressures of parents, sponsors, and idiot directors.  Ultimately, Pyrrha had asked what Coco was doing with her life now that she wasn’t a model anymore, and Coco’s mouth had responded with the truth before her inebriated brain could stop it.  Thankfully, no one was nearby to overhear (although Coco was sure the way she’d swung her head around must’ve attracted the attention of everyone in the bar.  If anyone tangentially related to either of them was murdered in the next day or two, she’d probably be getting a visit from the boys and girls in blue).  Surprisingly, Pyrrha took her confession well, even complementing her on her and Velvet’s goals.  Coco was so shocked that what remained of her higher brain functions abandoned her, and she jokingly offered her friend a free audition. 

The next morning, Coco had woken up to a massive hangover and the shrill whining of her phone.  Pyrrha was calling to take her up on her offer.  Even more surprising, she already had an idea of what she wanted to do.  After her friend explained her scenario (twice), Coco admitted they could try it. As with Blake, the redhead’s request required a certain level of preparation. Thankfully, they didn’t have to smuggle another stripper pole into the house.  Instead, they just had to figure out how to turn the bathroom into an improvised set. 

“Think this’ll work?” Coco asked, wondering for the one millionth time what surreal world she’d woken up in that this was happening. 

Velvet shuffled back and forth trying to get the right distance.  Not that she could go much further back without bumping into the wall.  Although the main bathroom was a decent size, there were still limits on the availability of space and power outlets.  Besides, they didn’t want light stands electrical cords in the shot—that would just look tacky.  So, the two partners plus Fox had settled for placing two light stands in the off-screen corners, while Velvet stood in front of the wall, keeping them out of sight, and using a series of bounces to, as the name implied, bounce light around the room to make sure everything was adequately lit. 

“I think so,” the Rabbit Faunus said.  “Fox, are you all right?”

“I’ll be good,” the blind man said.  “Though I’d appreciate it if we got this show on the road.”  Because of all the weird angles they’d been forced to set the bounces at to control the light, Velvet had had no choice but to stick him in the shower cube physically holding one of the bounces at the proper angle.  Thankfully, the floor was dry and the bounce was lightweight.  Still, a man could only hold his arm out so long before it got sore.

 “You heard the man,” Coco said, stepping out of the doorway.  “Get a move on, Pyrrha.”

“Coming,” their newest starlet said.  Pyrrha walked into the bathroom, somehow avoiding the mess of wires in her red high heels.  She was wearing a red-and-white silk bathrobe and carrying a shower caddy.  Her heels clicked on the tile and her pony tail swayed behind her as she walked across the room.  Coco felt a small twinge of jealousy; girl would’ve been a natural on the runway.  Didn’t matter.  Coco wasn’t in that game anymore.

Pyrrha sat down on the edge of the tub and set the caddy down beside her.  “Ready?” she asked.  Her face held none of the seduction that Yang or Blake’s had, and for a moment, Coco wondered if the girl was serious.

Evidently Velvet did too, since her reply was “Are you?”

Pyrrha nodded, her eyes hard.  “Yes.”

Velvet spared a second to shoot a glance at Coco.  The fashionista nodded.  “All right, then.  Action!”

The transformation was amazing.  Pyrrha closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, the harshness was gone and Coco beheld the held the same smoky allure Blake had exhibited on the pole.  Pyrrha reached into the shower caddy and pulled out a pump bottle of lotion.  Setting it down on her other side, she pumped out a few dollops and began rubbing the creamy solution in her hands.  Then she rubbed her lubricated palms up and down her legs.  She started at the thigh, rubbing circles on it, then slid down to her ankle, circled the ankle, then up the leg again back to the thigh.  Then she did the same thing on the other leg.  Start on the thigh, rub circles, down to the ankle, around, then back up to the thigh again.

She did her arms next.  Nothing so fancy, just up and down one, then up and down the other.  Then the neck, massaging the muscles gently, then down to the exposed flesh of her chest.  She looked down and began pulled apart the knot that held her robe done.  There was no toying with it; Pyrrha just grabbed the ends and pulled the bow apart, letting the robe hang loosely, loosely enough to show Pyrrha wasn’t wearing anything under it.

Pyrrha pumped more lotion onto her hands, rubbing it on her chest, exposing her breasts.  She rubbed over the smooth orbs, closing her eyes in silent ecstasy. Then her hands ran down over her belly, then back over her thighs once more, stopping at her knees. 

Smiling, Pyrrha opened her eyes again and stood up, shrugging off the robe.  Velvet captured the sequence:  rise, part the robe, thrust her chest out—exposing her breasts even more and revealing her hairless pussy, the robe falling to the floor around Pyrrha’s tall, statuesque form. 

Pyrrha held the pose for a moment, smiling for the camera, before sitting down again on the tub.  Again she reached into the shower caddy.  From it she removed a curved red dildo with a suction cup at the base.  Rather than start sucking it as some girls would have done, Pyrrha first closed her eyes and drew its tip down her neck like a pen, rubbed it on her breasts, teasing her nipples.  Then the object continued its journey south, down her belly to the redhead’s folds.  Pyrrha teased her slit with the toy but didn’t penetrate.  Instead, she brought it back up and gave its length a single long lick.  Pausing, she turned and smiled at the camera.  Then, she showed why she needed the tile bathroom.

            Pyrrha attached the phallus to the wall of the shower cube.  Kneeling down, it was at mouth level to her.  Then, she took the cock into her mouth and began bobbing her head back and forth.  There was no way she was a virgin, Coco thought.  No one gave head like that without experience.  Pyrrha’s mouth moved at high speeds, desperately mouth-fucking the false cock.  This wasn’t the sort of teasing you did to get your partner hard; Pyrhha seemed insistent that the false cock come in her mouth.  Backandforthbackandforthbackandforthback—

Then she stopped, pulling her mouth from the toy, she began to jerk it with her hand.  Turning back, she smiled at the camera again, deviously.  Coco thought she head Velvet gulp; the main course had arrived.

Pyrrha let go of the dildo, stood up, and turned around.  She bent over and gripped the edge of the tub with one hand, lining up the curved toy with her nethers, reaching back with her free hand to guide it in.  Looking at the camera, Pyrrha moaned as she rocked backwards, pushing the toy into her cunt.  Then she began moving.  “Oooooooo,” she moaned as she moved herself back and forth, just as she had with her facial lips earlier.  The hand behind her came to rest on her knee.  Velvet watched, mesmerized at the sight. Pyrrha’s whole body was affected by her actions.  Her breasts swayed freely, her butt squished and reformed, her ponytail whipping back and forth across her face.  Backandforthbackandforthbackandforthback. 

Suddenly, Pyrrha stopped and straightened up.  Groaning, she left the toy and removed it from the shower cube.  Knocking the lotion and shower caddy to the floor with a clatter, she repositioned it on the tub.  Velvet snapped a picture of Pyrrha planting her left heel on the side of the tub, positioning herself above the toy and nicely showing off her toned thighs and swollen labia.  Placing her hands on either side of it, Pyrrha lowered herself on the toy, moaning once again as she began to move vertically on the false cock.  Her moans resumed, now accompanied by the sound of flesh slapping against the ceramic Velvet zoomed in to get pictures of her bouncing breasts and now exposed pussy.  The Rabbit blushed at the sight of Pyrrha’s stimulated clit, and the ridges of the toy sliding in and out of her womanhood.  The hand she raised from the tub’s side so her fingertips could toy with her clit.  Rubbing up and down on the nub while the toy went in and out of her.

Again halting her actions, Pyrrha got up on shaky legs, somehow balancing in spite of her heels and exhaustion.  Swinging her legs over the tub Pyrrha grabbed the toy and lowered herself on it again, this time with her back, or rather backside, to the camera.  Moaning even louder Pyrrha resumed her bouncing, but now Velvet could see the ass slapping against the tub.  She reached back and groped that ass, squeezing and releasing it, pulling it apart to show her back hole.  And now Pyrrha wasn’t so static, stopping her vertical movements to rock back and forth on the side of the tub, scratching her deepest itches with the curved plastic.  Then she was bouncing again.  Then rocking.  She reached back and groa

Then Pyrrha was sitting on the floor, back to the tub.  Her legs spread wide, the toy planted before her.  She rocked against it, her movements short and stiff.  One hand was planted behind the leg while the right squeezed her breast.  The fingers moved without letting go, maneuvering to grip the nipple, to tweak it.  Pyrrha moaned louder; her left hand rose up to grab the free breast and double the stimulation.  Her movements didn’t falter with the lack of stabilization.  The muscles in her legs stiffened and her movements became harder and faster. 

Pyrrha’s moans filled the room as she slammed forward and froze, her back arched, her legs tuant, her breasts squeezed in her hands, her mouth open in a silent scream.  It lasted for a single, glorious instant, before her legs relaxed and—groaning slightly—Pyrrha resumed her actions, riding out her climax on the toy she’d enjoyed so much.

Pyrrha stopped, her body shining with sweat, her breath panting.  She let go of her breasts and pushed herself up to sit on the tub again.  Now she kicked off the heels.  “How’d . . . I do?” she panted.

Velvet struggled.  “You were . . .”

“Gorgeous,” Coco whispered.  “You were fucking gorgeous.”

“Yeah,” Velvet said.  “That.”  And she’d caught it all on film.

Pyrrha smiled weakly.  “Well not yet . . .  I kind of need a partner . . . or two . . . for that.”

Que everyone’s collective jaw dropping as America’s Sweetheart made a dirty joke Coco (or at least Yang) would’ve been proud of.  “So, you’re serious about this?” Coco asked.  She’d more or less thought the whole thing was a whim.  A way for the athlete to blow off steam.  “You realize your athletic career will be pretty much over after this, right?”  Even if the games didn’t blacklist her (and maybe they couldn’t; Coco didn’t know), her sponsors would drop her like a ton of bricks when it got out, and anonymity was impossible in this profession.  Even with a pseudonym, people would recognize her face.

Pyrrha nodded.  “I’m sure.  I’m tired of acting as a proxy for my parents to live out their failed dreams.  Of watching them switch between envying my achievements and claiming them for themselves.  I’m sick of the product endorsements with amoral suits, and I’m sick of the insane diet and exercise regime to keep my body’s working at its absolute limit.”  Pyrrha let out a pained laugh.  “Do you want to know why I’m on a break from public appearances and taken up drinking?  Last month, I thought I was pregnant.  I was wrong—Thank God, I was wrong—but it was more than week before my parents could get me to a doctor to confirm it.  By then they had already started calling up abortion doctors, shopping for the best way to terminate the pregnancy in secret.  Bastards!  They didn’t ask my opinion.  They didn’t care that I was willing, that I wanted, to keep the baby.  I was scared—I won’t lie, I was scared out of my mind—but I was willing to keep it.  The father was a boy I thought I loved and wanted to spend the rest of my life with.  It was sooner than I’d planned, but it wasn’t like money was a problem.  I wanted to have his child.

“They didn’t care . . . They just told me off for being so irresponsible—for endangering my career and my image . . .  I went to my coaches, and they said the same thing . . . How could I compete if I was pregnant—and then recovering . . . ?  And the pregnancy would no doubt permanently affect my body, lowering my performance, so I’d never make it to decathlon . . . How could I be a perfect, all American girl if it got out I was a slut who’d been knocked up by some random boy, even if we’d been dating for over seven months by then, and it was our first time! . . .  I’m not anymore, though.  Dating him.”  Pyrrha wrapped her hands around her belly.  “My parents and coaches forbade me to tell him, but I did anyway.  And you know what:  he agreed with them; I should put my career first.  He even had the gall to accuse me of not considering his feelings when I went behind my parents’ backs and said I wanted to start a family with him  Bastard, he was more their child than I was. . .”  Pyrrha’s voice dropped.  “I didn’t go to college, you know.  I was in my junior year and I already had scholarships in Chemistry and Biology, but my parents convinced me to drop out to focus on heptathlon training instead.”    The redhead began to shake again, crying quietly.

Coco stood stock still, her brain having gone Blue Screen of Death as she tried and failed to compute the information she’d received.  Velvet had no such problems.  The Rabbit-eared girl set her camera down, got up, and walked slowly over to the naked, crying girl, gently wrapping her arms around her.  She didn’t say anything, didn’t try to rock her or lay Pyrrha’s head on her shoulder.  She just let the taller girl know she was there as she cried herself out.

Eventually, Pyrrha’s crying stopped and she raised her head, wiping the tears from her eyes.  Velvet helped her.  “Thanks, Velvet,” she said.

“Any time.”

“So . . .” Coco said, finding her voice again.  For one word.

Pyrrha smiled and turned to Coco, fire in her eyes.  “So yes, Coco.  I want my athletic career to be over.  I never want to be offered another brand deal again.  I want to ruin my parents’ expectations.  I want to see all their plans for me go up in smoke.”  Pyrrha’s smile took on a look that made Coco wonder if she was looking in a mirror.  It was the kind of look she’d had in the old days, right before she tore someone else to pieces.  “I want my ex to surf the web and come across videos of me giving blowjobs and cunnilingus to people he’s never met and getting fucked up the ass and doing myself all over the internet after I made him wait seven months for vanilla sex with a condom.  I want my Mom to get a call from her publicist saying I publicly admitted I was knocked up in an orgy, and I don’t have a clue who the father is but the video’s there for anyone wants to watch.  I want Daddy to get a call from his lawyer saying I’m so famously filthy that companies can’t take my face off their merchandise fast enough.  I want my former coaches to get a letter saying the Hall of Fame spot or Whatever Award I was going to get is permanently off the table because I’m more famous for my T&A than my throwing arm.  And I want all of them to get an email from their friends with a video of me eight months pregnant with the grandchild/baby they are never going to meet and still screwing two guys at once.  They care more about me looking like a slut than their own grandchild?  Their own baby?  Fine.  I’m going to show them how slutty I really am.”

Coco licked her lips and swallowed.  “OK then.  Welcome to Chocolate Bunny Productions, Pyrrha.  I’ll draw up your contract.”

“Good,” Fox said, momentarily shocking everyone into remembering he was still there.  “Now could you all clear out so I can deal with the massive boner our star gave me?  Damn, Pyrrha, if watching you is anything like hearing you, you’re going to be the biggest star on the planet.”

Pyrrha blushed at the young man’s words.  Coco couldn’t help it.  She laughed.