Kate Hewitt was one of the most beautiful, rich and famous female celebrities in the world. She should therefore have been one of the safest – but the team of four masked men avoided her bodyguards with perfect precision, almost as if they knew exactly where each guard would be.
They found her nude in the shower of her Hollywood mansion. One slipped a gag in her mouth and a hood over her head, another bound her hands, and soon they were whisking her out of her house and into their unmarked black van as silently and easily as they had come in.
When the van had travelled nearly half an hour, they unhooded and ungagged her.
“You can’t do this to me!” she spat, trying to pretend that she wasn’t naked and bound on the floor of a van.
“Yes, we can,” said the lead man. “You don’t matter. You’re not even real.”
She didn’t understand what he meant by that – but her blood froze in her veins as he took off his mask, to reveal a man in his fifties with silvery-grey hair and beard. If he was willing to let her see his face, it might mean that he expected she’d never have a chance to identify him.
“Get the close-ups of her cunt,” the silver-haired man said. Another of her captors took off his mask to reveal a young redheaded man, and this man unbounded her ankles, forced apart her legs, and began to photograph her cunt using a small device that looked a lot like a phone.
She blushed and struggled and tried to close her legs, but another of her captors stepped in to help hold them apart.
“I’m Robert,” said the silver-haired man. “And you’re obviously Kate – or at least, a version of this Kate. None of this world is real, and you only exist to be violated.”
“Stop it!” squealed Kate, trying to get her legs free. She looked at Robert. “What do you mean?”
“In our reality, we run a specialist image generation service,” said Robert. He had taken a seat on a crate in one corner of the van, and was watching his colleagues photograph Kate’s cunt with an expression of amusement. “You see, there’s a lot of programs now that generate images using artificial intelligence. You can have an image of pretty much whatever you want. But what a lot of folks want is pornographic images of female celebrities. They want to see their on-screen crushes baring their tits, getting fucked, and so forth.”
“I don’t consent to this!” protested Kate – which was a fairly silly thing to say under the circumstances. The redheaded man was now leaning in and spreading her pussy lips with his fingers to give the camera a better view of her clitoris and fuckhole.
“I know you don’t,” said Robert. “That’s the purpose of this series. You see, we provide better and more realistic images of female celebrities than any of the AI systems. Everyone wants to know our secret. What’s the algorithm, they ask?”
He chuckled. “The truth is, there is no algorithm. We don’t use AI. We have a different technology entirely. You see, we’ve worked out how to create alternate timelines – little pocket dimensions where things happened exactly as they did on our world, but with slight differences. We can make them run faster than our reality, or slower, so that whole years can happen in mere seconds.”
The redheaded man let go of Kate’s pussy. “We’ve got enough of her cunt, we’re going to do her tits now,” he said.
Robert nodded.
“What you’re saying is impossible,” said Kate. “You’re insane.”
“I think in this timeline, maybe it is,” said Robert. “We don’t generate timelines where our technology has been invented – too much potential for it to get messy. But say if someone comes to our site, and types in that they want a photo of ‘Kate Hewitt’s cunt’ – well, we just generate a timeline where it’s possible to photograph your cunt, we go and take the photo, and then we end the simulation.”
He coughed. “Or at least, we did. Until the demand started to increase.”
The men had taken several photos of Kate’s tits. Now they removed the rest of her bindings – and as they did, Robert casually lifted a heavy black pistol, and pointed it at Kate.
“Now masturbate,” he told her. “Look like you’re enjoying it. Be convincing, or else I’ll shoot you and go spin up a version of you who’s a better actor.”
Terrified, Kate drew herself up into a sitting position, legs spread, and began to rub her cunt with one hand. The truth was, it did feel good. She had always had a bit of a kink for being forced.
“You like it, don’t you?” said Robert, as if he could see inside Kate’s head. “We made some changes in your backstory in this simulation so you’d be a bit subbier, a bit kinkier, a bit more able to be aroused by rape. As far as we can tell, the real version of you would hate this. You’re an improvement.”
“I *am* the real version of me!” said Kate. “Stop saying these horrible things! Please, just – I’ll do what you want, then you can let me go…”
“I don’t think so,” said Robert. “Or at least, not for a while. You see, you’re a very popular celebrity. You’ve cockteased a lot of young men with your screen appearances, and they all want to see you act out their erotic fantasies. We get maybe a hundred requests a day for images of your cunt or tits. A lot for images of you masturbating.”
He sighed. “But people being as they are, we also get a lot of requests to see you being violently raped.”
The redheaded man suddenly grabbed Kate by the hair, and slapped her across the face with his hand. Then he threw her to the ground, and the other men began to gather around her ominously. She was tits down, ass up on the ground, and she felt one man grab her by the hips and lift her up – and then a moment later, he was pushing his cock into her cunt.
“This whole world only exists so that we can photograph you being raped,” said Robert. “You’re only alive so that men you don’t know in another reality can jack off to your misery. We used to just take one shot and be done, but with the increase in volume it makes sense to milk as many images as we can out of this reality before shutting it down and generating another. It’s just cheaper to fully use up a timeline before starting another. Timelines with consenting celebrities are tough because there’s only so much you can do to her before she stops consenting, but non-consenting timelines – like yours – can be mined for content for weeks or even months, as long as you keep struggling and resisting.”
She *was* struggling – kicking and squealing as the redheaded man raped her pussy, and the others held her in place. One stepped in front of her, took out his cock, and pushed it into her mouth. She thought about biting it – but she remembered the gun in Robert’s hand, and chose to obediently suck on the stiff phallus instead.
“We’ve got a whole list here of content we can shoot with you, Kate,” said Robert. “Obviously a lot of rape porn. They want to see you being raped in all of your holes, in this van, in a bedroom, in public, on a beach – there’s a lot of rape scenarios for you to live out. They want to see you slapped and beaten. They want to see you pissed on and drinking piss. They want to see you forced to rape a girl, or be raped by a girl. They want to see you paired with dogs and horses.”
Kate was screaming around her mouthful of cock. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.
And yet – it felt real. Part of her told her it was all real. Part of her knew – had always known – that her entire life had only happened to bring her to this purpose.
“When we’re done, we’ll just switch off the universe,” said Robert “You’ll stop existing. So it’s to your advantage to keep being interesting to rape for as long as possible. You’re a performer – so I’d advise you to perform. Help us help you to produce a lot of degrading, humiliating, painful erotic content.”
“If it helps,” he said, “this is all the fault of the real you, for being such a flirt and a cocktease and making all these men want to see her get raped. And you can get back at her by letting us film all this content. After all, imagine how humiliated she’ll be for all this rape porn of her to be all over the internet. It’ll be your revenge.”
Kate felt funny – and suddenly she realised she was going to cum. Cum from being raped. Was she really this kind of slut? Or was it the result of whatever “changes” they had made to her “backstory”? Was there any meaningful difference?
She moaned, and shuddered, and orgasmed around her rapists’ cocks.
“Good girl,” said Robert. “That’s it. I think you might last us a long time.” He laughed again. “I hope you do, actually. Because we’ve also got some requests for nude photos of you nine months pregnant and lactating…”
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