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Old 07-Nov-20, 16:21
Silentcrs Silentcrs is offline
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Default The Student Artist

The Student Artist

The rhythmic pounding of her titanic glutes into the diminutive figure below was only matched by the wet sounds of paint sloshing. Muscles, rippling and striated under the shiny black latex bodysuit, flexed dangerously in the pale light. She crashed her powerful body again and again into his, leaving colorful, splattered imprints on the canvas. She leaned forward, damp hair hanging over his face, rivulets of paint dripping off her massive, heaving breasts onto his pain wracked form. She grabbed his chin and crudely forced his head sideways. “Scream for them, lover,” she smirked. “They paid for a show.”

Hours earlier, the tall young woman sat unassuming in the back corner of a high school classroom. Quiet and taciturn, the senior sketched absently on loose-leaf paper. The drawings started out as bare, thin pencil lines at first, but over time they began to take shape. Sweeping arches in thick ink, abstract figures loosely shaped like bodies. Occasionally, surreptitiously, she would draw small shadows in between the curves. She traced a finger along one and smiled coquettishly.

She hastily slipped the page under a notebook as her art teacher walked up to her desk. Another local art show – another award. She accepted the piece of paper with the embossed medallion on it. Her flowing landscapes and flowers already dominated murals all over the small town. “A teen prodigy” they said. “The next Georgia O'Keeffe” he extolled, for the umpteenth time. Her large baggy, sweater rose subtly as she respectfully accepted his praise. He turned away, proud that a girl who seemingly struggled with obesity had found her calling in art.

She started to pull the sketch back out from under her notebook, but a vibration emanated from her backpack. She surreptitiously pulled out her cell phone and looked down at a text from an unknown number. “23-year-old male. $20K. Packing district. 2 AM.” Her heart fluttered a bit before tapping out her reply. “Accept.” She placed her phone against her now involuntarily-flexed thigh and peered down at the corner of her notebook. Wetness began to emanate between her legs, so she crossed them beneath the undersized desk to provide some much-wanted friction. She pleasingly heard the wooden desk creak in protest.

Later that night, a man woke to the smell of incense. His eyes blinked awkwardly as he tried to sit up. One leg crossed, he felt the back of his aching head. As he made his way around his sore neck he noticed a small, raised bump. A pinprick? He squinted out into inky blackness, blurry eyes making out flickering spindly light. Hundreds of small candles sparkled to life in front of him, wax dripping down their fading forms, flames licking the air. Incense smoke wafted around them, playing with the minimal light. As his eyes slowly adjusted, he looked down at his body. He was completely naked. What the hell was going on?

The man got up shakily on one knee. He felt drugged. His bare feet found purchase on a cold concrete slab on which he was placed. He gingerly stepped forward and found his heels press into an unexpected fabric. The weight of his foot sunk into the material and he clumsily tried to feel the textured surface with his toes. A canvas? He half-stepped back confusedly and looked out across the floor. As his vision faded in, dozens of white canvases splayed around him in all directions. He squinted into the distance and saw walls covered with blank canvases as well. Far above he saw a tin roof, rusted in spots from years of neglect, with security camera LEDs blinking silently. He was in a warehouse.

Before he could get his bearings further, a melodic tone rung out. Deep, menacing. He turned to the source and noticed a luxurious tub in the distance, surrounded by candles and incense smoke. Another tone rang out. Rich, insistent. He smelled something new. Oil? He took a judicious step forward. A final tone rang out. Loud. Reverberating. Powerful. A figure slowly began to rise from the porcelain.

A head, obscured by shadow, appeared first. It was turned away from him, long wet hair splayed and dripping backward. The figure rose further, shockingly revealing broad, muscle-capped shoulders encased in a latex bodysuit. Rising still, the monster unleashed a monstrous backside. Pausing for dramatic effect, it slowly unwound its back like a cobra head under the skintight material, inch after inch of muscular width seemingly manifested at will. When it reached its full, frightening expanse, the figure raised two dense arms, seemingly beseeching the gods for power, then flexed them downward into two raw, peaked biceps that threatened to split the bodysuit. The man shuddered.

The figure paused once again. Looked up at one of the cameras behind them, its hands reached up to its obscured chest. It arched its back, rubbing its chest gently at first, then uncontrollably, seemingly growing in lust with its own body. He heard an unexpected high-pitched moan. The figure swayed as if drunk on its own power, delicately twisting in a self-induced erotic dance. As it did, thick curves eclipsed the candlelight behind, and, in between the flowing white incense smoke, it turned its profile to the side.

He saw elegant hands cup two massive bosoms. It was a woman.

The young woman now turned directly around to face him. A devious smile flitted across her lips as her thumb and index finger reached up to the top of her bodysuit. She gingerly pulled down a zipper with a satisfying sound of metal teeth, deep, cavernous cleavage coming into full view. Her palms reached up to lift her globes once again, nipples erect under the increasingly strained latex, as she played with their heavy mass. Her hands danced downwards across her chiseled abs as she traced their etched surface under the bodysuit, liquid flowing rivulets in between.

He tried to back away but couldn’t move. Was it the drugs? No, it was the shock. She took that as a welcome sign and continued her ominous elevation. Thick, corded quads were revealed next, flexing menacingly under the black bodysuit. She shook them in place, expanding them to their full, frightening circumference with an audible snap. Her fingertips reached under to graze her wet crotch, a deep camel toe evident under the shiny covering. As football-sized calves came into view, she playfully did some toe raises, threatening to burst the latex. Her fingers pressed deeper into her pussy and her tongue snaked its way around her lips. She bit her lower lip and moaned loudly, damp hair falling down over one eye.

Mesmerized by fear, the man tripped and fell backwards as she stood to her full shocking height. With considerable agility given her size, she stepped over the edge of the tub. As she walked toward him the incense smoke started to part. Her face was gorgeous. Young, fresh, almost model-like. It completely belied the musclebound body, long damp hair, and clearly mature intent. As she got closer to his cowering form, he realized what the oily smell was: paint. She was covered in a thin layer of dripping oil paint to match her bodysuit. It plopped messily on the canvases as she made her way across the room.

When she reached him, the size difference was extraordinary. He curled up in a fetal position on the ground as she placed her palms on her wide hips. She sighed mockingly and bent down, gripping him by the nape of the neck. Wrapping her long fingers around his throat, she pulled him up to his feet. When his toes grazed the ground she kept pulling, a formidable bicep flexing as she lifted him up off the ground and to her gorgeous face. As he pawed uselessly at her strong forearms, struggling for breath, he could smell her sweetness. “Don’t worry lover,” she cooed. “You’re going to be my masterpiece.”

Months later, a video appeared on the dark web. The buzz in the community was immense. “Clearly a deepfake,” some said. “It had to be special effects,” said others. A young man downloaded the file through Tor. His index finger, shaking on his mouse, double clicked amazflatten.mp4.

The video began without a title. A single, wispy, blue bullet flew across the screen. Seconds later, a giant pink cannonball barreled across the frame in the same direction. A loud thud was heard off camera. The camera slowly turned.

The pink blur was not a cannonball. It was a young, musclebound woman.

Clad in a bodysuit that clung to her like a second skin, pink paint dripping off her hard curves, she spread her massive body up against a wall-hung canvas, chest-first. As her palms lay flat against the wall, she backed up her glutes, turning them into dimple-hardened rumps before slamming them forward. A mousy scream emanated from under her breasts. She raised her prodigious ass again, twerking it sensually, before blasting it forward to another almost inaudible squeal. She smiled deviously as she rolled her sizable mounds against the wall, grinding whatever was in front of her.

She placed her hands on her shapely hips and took a deep breath. As her lungs filled with air, she spread her canopy of a back open. Her graceful fingers tapped on her hips as an almost silent gasp could be heard in between her bosoms. She pressed a single finger down between her cleavage, trying to create an air gap for whatever was hidden from view. When that didn’t seem to work, she tried two fingers. Hearing pitiful groans for air, she gave up with and a malicious chuckle.

The angle switched to a camera at her side. She glanced her beautiful face towards it and impishly toyed a finger around a long strand of sticky, pink, paint-covered hair. The stirated muscles of her body flexed as she continued to smother the canvas. She winked coyly and bit her lower lip, hair dangling over her eye in a sexpot look that screamed “Am I doing something wrong, daddy?”

After a few minutes, she slowly, deliberately, peeled one of sticky bosom off the canvas. The gooey paint clung between her globe and the wall before eventually separating with a gummy squish, revealing the blue, paint-plastered head of a man. She grinned in satisfaction as he coughed for breath, gently petting his wet head, before ferociously slamming the single globe back into his face. Its mass completely enveloped his moaning head as her erect nipple strained from under the bodysuit. She drilled it between his lips, tsking softly.

As the oxygen left his lungs, his outmatched body ceased before her. She shook her chest to be sure he was sufficiently weakened and then stepped back from the canvas. His entire scrunched, nude body stuck unceremoniously for half a second before crumpling down the wall like a swatted fly. The artistry left behind on the canvas was impressive: a small, lanky stick of blue paint overwhelmed by giant curves of pink. Splashes of paint left globular imprints on the canvas, completely obliterating what had been his head. She admired her work; however, she wasn’t done yet.

She picked up his loose wrist and flung him like a ragdoll at another nearby canvas. Before his limp body could collapse forward, she slammed backwards into him, flexing her monstrous ass into his outmatched pelvis. She looked up at another camera before her, letting her hair fall across her green eyes, as she slid his little body up and down the wall, feeling his penis between her clenched, muscular ass. As she felt it grow more erect, she raised a finger to her chest zipper, opening her bodysuit down further to her naked abs and pulling a single, paint-free breast out from underneath. She sighed wantonly and sucked on her turgid nipple with full lips.

Once she was satisfied with his state of arousal, she devilishly winked at the camera before reaching her elegant hand downward between her legs. Pulling out his raging hardon from between her musclebound thighs, she wrapped her long fingers around it, fingering the glans with a fingernail before resting her strong grip at the base. She stroked it upwards, feeling him delightfully shiver, before pressing back down deep into his swollen balls. She repeated this movement again more forcefully. His throbbing dick leaked precum onto her fingers, mixing with the pink paint, as she pulled his body up and against her indomitable backside. Her steadfast mass wouldn’t move, however: an inescapable handjob stopped by her sheer girth.

She repeated the action faster, her forearm piston the rod within, feeling his squirming body against her back. Again and again, she mercilessly pulled his entire body forward by the most sensitive part of his, slamming him into her stone-like backside while sadistically grinding backwards into the canvas. Her tongue involuntarily rounded her lips as she felt the spindly body wriggle beneath hers, his penis clenched in her unrivaled grip. Faster and faster she yanked, his balls quivering in anticipation.

Finally, she felt his body shudder out of control behind her. The young woman slammed her entire, flexed body backwards with unmatched force.

“You… are… mine!” she growled through grit teeth.

His cumshot flew out in front of them. She continued to pump one fist around his outclassed cock, ropes of jism hitting the camera, as she raised a powerful arm and flexed it into an awe-inspiring bicep. Her chest heaved as she took a deep breath in, his penis the only part of the frail form visible in her young grasp as her wetness further dampened the bodysuit.

When he was finally spent, she let go of his still dribbling cock and stepped forward. His unconscious, frail form crashed onto the ground unceremoniously. Michelangelo’s Vitruvian Amazon unfolded across the canvas, pink paint completely surpassing thin streams of blue. She used her index finger to sign her work – a viscous name written in pink paint and cum.

To be continued...
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  #2  
Old 15-Dec-20, 17:32
Silentcrs Silentcrs is offline
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Default Re: The Student Artist

Next part. Needs editing.

Months after the first video came out, a second one made its way onto the dark web. This one was encrypted and required a sizable investment to receive a password. An older doctor paid the fee, looked out from his office window into the evening, and carefully pulled the shades closed. He took a deep breath before opening amazcaligraphy.mp4.

This video started with the sound of a young man begging. “P-p-please… don’t. I can’t breathe.” A slow fade in revealed the young girl lying on her back, long hair splayed outwards on the canvas, sizeable bosoms filled the foreground. “You’re… c-c-crushing me…” his words came out stiflingly. The camera panned up, revealing a man crumpled in a sea of feminine quad muscles. He was dripping in black oil paint. She cupped a rotund breast dripping in red paint nonchalantly. “I haven’t even started squeezing yet,” she mocked.

She opened her vice-like legs, reaching down to grasp the man’s torso between her hands and effortlessly raised his body up between the meatiest part of her thighs. With a diabolical grin, she braided the titanic sinews of muscular meat around his overwhelmed torso. When she let go, his body hung precipitously above her youthful Amazonian form. She playfully flexed her inner quads a few times, testing the strength of his ribs, before placing her hands behind her head. Time to start the show.

She violently smashed her legs to one side. The body they contained slammed downwards with vicious force, his head cracking unceremoniously off the floor. She turned her legs inward, rubbing his face back and forth harshly, yet deliberately, on the canvas. With a satisfying sigh, her legs propelled his hewn body the other direction, over her sizable torso again before crashing down against the canvas. Once more, her huge, nimble legs controlled his body effortlessly. Every time he tried to take a breath, her inner thighs carelessly bulged into his chest cavity. She felt his heartbeat vibrate against her sex as her lower legs did their work, his countenance dragged to and fro on the rough fabric.

When she was satisfied, she once again raised his bruised body perilously up between her legs. She cooed in involuntary pleasure as she tightened her scissorhold, a free hand slinking down to rub her clit through the bodysuit. His moans of pain only caused her to paw more aggressively, eventually poking a hole in the vinyl with her fingernails. She coiled her wet fingers behind his messy hair, cupping the back of his head almost delicately, before palming it in her hand.

“Eat!” she ordered.

She slammed his head downwards into her crotch, while her legs held his body solidly in their mass. His muffled voice drowned out to the quiet popping of vertebrae. She ground his face into her vulva, not being particularly careful where his lips and nose ended up. Her free hand kneaded her breast before eventually pulling it out of the bodysuit, raising an erect nipple to her lips to suck on.

As she continued to grate his visage crudely against her, he realized he was once again running out of air. She toyed her inner abductors around his head as it grew dark blue. In a last-ditch effort, he started biting her. In erotic satisfaction, she rubbed his teeth crudely against her clit, forcing him to nip at her most sensitive part. At the same time, she bit down on her own nipple, a shockwave of erotic lightning running up and down her body. She snarled as she felt his feeble lips try to pry itself from her leggy prison, first desperately, then weakly.

Before he went completely unconscious, she had one last trick to perform. Like a gymnast, she curled into a ball and flipped both their bodies forward, his head ending face up briefly before her lower body crashed down on top of it. She settled down in an all-encompassing facesit. Next,ffcing his legs, she grabbed his spindly calves and pulled his lower body upwards towards her mammoth chest. She rested his outmatched penis in between her globes, the plentiful flesh surrounding the sensitive head. She wrapped a thick, muscular arm around his naked butt and crushed his body even closer, kneading her thick pecs against his pelvis. Her other hand reached down between her cleavage and pulled the tip of his throbbing penis to her waiting mouth. She tapped it against her lower lip as her hair covered one eye, looking up haughtily at the camera in front of her.

“Now I feast.”

Her beautiful face thrust downwards, impaling his entire length spiking between her plump lips. Meanwhile, her bulky thighs once again quivered, crushing down on his battered face, flexing her glute muscles to their full, frightening circumference. As his lower head disappeared, so did his penis, his entire body surrounded by tracts of young female flesh.

Her head bobbed in time to imaginary music playing in her head. A club song with a throbbing beat. She didn’t attend clubs in her student life, but she imagined doing so… Going out on the dancefloor in a skintight black dress. Grabbing the first guy who caught her fancy. Forcefully blowing him like she was doing now. Her rump matched the beat in unison, striking his skull with timed, flexed hits, glutes flexing ferociously as she pounded left and right.

His pulsating shaft brought her back into the real world. She reached and grabbed his balls, pulling them into her mouth as well. As his penis head rubbed the back of her throat, she clenched her buttocks into granite spheres, trapping his skull in them. As her puckered lips vacuumed his shaft, she felt his entire body well up in her form, his muscles failing to her far superior ones.

Squeezing mightily, she felt the first spritz of cum hit the back of her throat. She swallowed greedily, like a baby on a bottle, rubbing her adorable chin into his pelvis as her tongue played with his balls. She continued to slurp until she felt his body give way, collapsing in an unconscious heap beneath her frame.

She pulled his penis out of her mouth with a satisfying “pop”, her lips nibbling at it sensually before letting it fall defeated against her swollen tits. She uncoiled his spindly body from within hers, his discolored and battered frame making the most delightful pliant noises. She rose to her full, mighty height, looking down at his scrunched-up body twisted on the canvas. The camera panned back, a large splatter of red paint surrounding his defeated form. To the left and right of him was a word in the most delicate black calligraphy: “raped”.

A year later, a final video appeared on the dark web. This one was behind multiple VPNs and Tor, and required a sizable bitcoin investment. A Saudi prince, rich beyond measure, downloaded the file. He dismissed his manservants, closed the giant doors to his bedroom and quivered nervously before opening amazrorschach.mp4.

This video began unlike the others, with the man, injured and gulping air heavily under a single white spotlight. He crawled as blood red paint dripped off of him onto the clean white canvases below.

A hissing sound came from above. He gazed into the darkness fearfully. Another hiss, this time ominous but musical.

“Lover…” a young woman’s voice hissed. He trembled.

He tried to get up but found himself struggling. The compound fractures he had received by her muscles were too great. He stumbled trying to get to his feet.

“I’m coming lover…”

He squinted out into the darkness, now panicked. He frantically peered left and right, unable to find the source of her voice.

“Don’t let them get you lover.”

Above him, unseen by his eyes, a gigantic pair of legs came into view. Covered with a thick sheen of dark green paint…
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  #3  
Old 17-Dec-20, 20:26
davidwatts davidwatts is offline
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Default Re: The Student Artist

Great work! I love how the videos keep getting more violent and dangerous. I can't wait until it's finished!
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  #4  
Old 01-Jan-21, 20:01
Silentcrs Silentcrs is offline
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Default Re: The Student Artist

The final piece, with editing. Read quickly - it's going on Amy's Conquest soon.

Chapter 6 – The Student Artist

The rhythmic pounding of her titanic glutes into the diminutive figure below was only matched by the wet sounds of paint sloshing. Muscles, rippling and striated under the shiny black latex bodysuit, flexed dangerously in the pale light. She crashed her powerful body again and again into his, leaving colorful, splattered imprints on the canvas. She leaned forward, damp hair hanging over his face, rivulets of paint dripping off her massive, heaving breasts onto his pain wracked form. She grabbed his chin and crudely forced his head sideways. “Scream for them, lover,” she smirked. “They paid for a show.”

Hours earlier, the tall young woman sat unassuming in the back corner of a high school classroom. Quiet and taciturn, the senior sketched absently on loose-leaf paper. The drawings started out as bare, thin pencil lines at first, but over time they began to take shape. Sweeping arches drawn in thick ink, abstract figures loosely resembling like bodies. Occasionally, surreptitiously, she would draw small shadows in between the curves. She traced a finger along one and smiled coquettishly.

She hastily slipped the page under a notebook as her art teacher walked up to her desk. Another local art show – another award. She accepted the piece of paper with the embossed medallion on it taciturnly. Her flowing landscapes and flowers dominated murals all over the small town. “A teen prodigy,” they said. “The next Georgia O'Keeffe.” Her large baggy, sweater rose subtly as she respectfully accepted his praise. He turned away, proud that a girl who seemingly struggled with obesity had found her calling in art.

She started to pull the sketch back out from under her notebook, but a vibration emanated from her backpack. She pulled out her cell phone and looked down at a text from an unknown number. “23-year-old male. $40K. Packing district. 2 AM.” Her heart fluttered a bit before tapping out her reply. “Accept.” She placed her phone against her now involuntarily flexed thigh and peered down at the corner of her notebook. Wetness began to emanate between her legs, so she crossed them beneath the undersized desk to provide some much-wanted friction. She pleasingly heard the wooden desk creak in protest.

Later that night, a dazed man woke to the smell of incense. His eyes blinked awkwardly as he tried to sit up. One leg crossed, he felt the back of his aching head. As he made his way around his sore neck, he noticed a small, raised bump. A pinprick? He squinted out into inky blackness, blurry eyes making out flickering light. Hundreds of small candles sparkled in front of him, wax dripping down their fading forms, flames licking the air. Incense smoke wafted around them, playing with the minimal light. As his eyes slowly adjusted, he looked down at his body. He was completely naked. What the hell was going on?

The man got up shakily on one knee. He felt drugged. His bare feet found purchase on a cold concrete slab on which he was placed. He gingerly stepped forward and found his heels press into an unexpected fabric. The weight of his foot sunk slightly into the material and he clumsily tried to feel the textured surface with his toes. A canvas? He stepped back confusedly and looked out across the floor. As his vision faded in, dozens of white canvases splayed around him in all directions. He squinted into the distance and saw walls covered with blank canvases as well. Far above he saw a tin roof, rusted in spots from years of neglect, with camera LEDs blinking silently. He was in a warehouse.

Before he could get his bearings further, a melodic tone rung out. Deep, menacing. He turned to the source and noticed a luxurious tub in the distance, surrounded by candles and incense smoke. Another tone rang out. Rich, insistent. He smelled something new. Oil? He took a judicious step forward. A final tone rang out. Loud. Reverberating. Powerful. A figure slowly began to rise from the porcelain.

A head, obscured by shadow, appeared first. It was turned away from him, long wet hair splayed and dripping backward. The figure rose further, shockingly revealing broad, muscle-capped shoulders encased in a latex bodysuit. Rising still, the monster unleashed a ferocious backside. Pausing for dramatic effect, it slowly unwound its back like a cobra head under the skintight material, inch after inch of muscular width manifested at will. When it reached its full, terrifying expanse, the figure raised two dense arms, as if beseeching the gods for power, then flexed them downward into two raw, peaked biceps that threatened to split the bodysuit in twain. The man shuddered.

The figure paused again. Looking up at one of the cameras behind them, its hands reached up to its obscured chest. It arched its back, rubbing its chest gently at first, then seemingly uncontrollably, growing in lust with its own body. He heard an unexpected high-pitched moan. The figure swayed as if drunken on its own power, delicately twisting in a self-induced erotic dance. As it did, thick curves eclipsed the candlelight behind, and, in between the flowing white incense smoke, it turned its profile to the side.

He saw two elegant hands cup massive bosoms. It was a woman.

The young girl now turned directly around to face him. A devious smile flitted across her lips as her thumb and index finger reached up to the top of her bodysuit. She gingerly pulled down a zipper with a satisfying clash of metal teeth, her deep, cavernous cleavage coming into full view. Her palms reached up to lift her globes once again, nipples erect under increasingly strained latex, as she played with their heavy mass. Her hands danced downwards across her chiseled abs as she traced their etched surface under the bodysuit, liquid flowing rivulets in between.

He tried to back away but couldn’t move. Was it the drugs? No, it was the shock. She took it as a welcome, expected sign and continued her ominous elevation. Thick, corded quads were revealed next, flexing menacingly under the black bodysuit. She shook them into place, expanding them to their full, startling circumference with an audible snap. Her fingertips reached under to graze her wet crotch, a deep camel toe evident under the shiny covering. As football-sized calves came into view, she playfully did some toe raises, threatening to burst the latex. Her fingers pressed deeper into her pussy and her tongue snaked its way around her lips. She bit her lower lip and moaned loudly, damp hair falling down over one eye. Her intention was clear: she meant to hurt the man.

Mesmerized by fear, the man tripped and fell backwards as she stood to her full shocking height. With considerable agility given her size, she stepped over the edge of the tub. As she walked toward him, the incense smoke started to part. Her face was gorgeous. Young, fresh, almost model-like. It completely belied the musclebound body, long damp hair, and clearly mature intent. As she got closer to his cowering form, he realized what the oily smell was: paint. She was covered in a thin layer of dripping oil paint to match her bodysuit. It dribbled messily on the canvases as she made her way across the room.

When she reached him, the size difference was extraordinary. He curled up in a fetal position on the ground as she placed her palms on her wide hips. She sighed mockingly and bent down, gripping him by the nape of the neck. Wrapping her long fingers around his throat, she pulled him up to his feet. When his toes grazed the ground, she kept pulling, a formidable bicep flexing as she lifted him off the ground to her gorgeous face. As he pawed uselessly at her strong forearms, struggling for breath, he could smell her sweetness. “Don’t worry lover,” she cooed. “You’re going to be my masterpiece.”

Months later, a video appeared on the dark web. The buzz in the community was immense. “Clearly a deepfake,” some said. “It had to be special effects,” said others. A young blue-collar worker downloaded the file through BitTorrent. His index finger, shaking on his mouse, double clicked amazflatten.mp4.

The video began in darkness. A single, wispy, blue bullet flew across the screen. Seconds later, a giant pink cannonball barreled across the frame in the same direction. A loud thud was heard, and the camera slowly turned.

The pink blur was not a cannonball. It was the young, musclebound woman.

Clad in her bodysuit that clung like a second skin, pink paint dripping off her hard curves, she spread her massive body up against a wall-hung canvas, chest-first. As her palms lay flat against the wall, she backed up her glutes, turning them into dimple-hardened rumps before slamming them forward. A mousy scream emanated from under her breasts. She raised her prodigious ass again, twisting it sensually, before blasting it forward to another almost inaudible squeal. She smiled devilishly as she rolled her sizable mounds against the wall, grinding whatever was in front of her.

She placed her hands on her shapely hips and took a deep breath. As her lungs filled with air, she spread her canopy of a back open. Her graceful fingers tapped on her hips as an almost silent choking sound could be heard in between her bosoms. She raised a single finger and pushed it down into her cavernous cleavage, trying to create an air gap. When that didn’t seem to work, she tried two fingers. Hearing the pitiful groans continue, she gave up with a malicious chuckle.

The angle switched to a camera at her side. She glanced her beautiful face towards it and impishly toyed a finger around a long strand of sticky, pink, paint-covered hair. The striated muscles of her body flexed as she continued to smother the canvas. She winked coyly and bit her lower lip, hair dangling over her eye in a sexpot look that screamed “Am I doing something wrong, daddy?”

After a few minutes, she slowly, deliberately, peeled one of sticky breasts off the canvas. The gooey paint clung between her giant globe and the wall before eventually separating with a gummy squish, revealing the blue, paint-plastered head of a man. She grinned in satisfaction as he coughed for breath, gently petting his wet head, before ferociously slamming the single mound back into his face. Its mass completely enveloped his moaning head as her erect nipple strained from under the bodysuit. She drilled it between his lips, tsking softly.

As the oxygen left his lungs, his outmatched body ceased before her. She shook her chest to be sure he was sufficiently weakened and then stepped back from the canvas. His entire scrunched, nude body stuck to the canvas unceremoniously for half a second before crumpling down like a swatted fly. The artistry left behind was impressive: a small, lanky spine of blue paint overwhelmed by giant curves of pink. Splashes of paint left globular imprints on the canvas, completely obliterating what had been his head. She admired her work; however, she wasn’t done yet.

She picked up his loose wrist and flung him like a ragdoll at another nearby canvas. Before his limp body could collapse forward, she slammed backwards into him, flexing her monstrous ass over his weak pelvis. She looked up at another camera above her, letting her hair fall across her green eyes, as she slid his little body up and down the wall, feeling his penis between her clenched, muscular buttchecks. As he grew erect, she raised a finger to her chest zipper, opening her bodysuit down further and pulling a single, paint-free breast out from underneath. She sighed wantonly and sucked on her stiff nipple with full lips.

Once she was satisfied with his state of arousal, she reached her elegant hand downward between her legs. Pulling out his raging hardon from between her musclebound thighs, she wrapped her long fingers around it, fingering the sensitive head before resting her strong grip at the base. She stroked it upwards, feeling him delightfully shiver, before pressing back down deep into his swollen balls. She repeated this movement again, gripping more forcefully. His throbbing dick leaked precum onto her fingers, mixing with the pink paint. She pulled his body up and against her indomitable backside. Her steadfast mass wouldn’t move. She was giving him an inescapable handjob stopped by sheer, muscular girth.

She repeated the action faster, her forearm pistoning the rod, feeling his squirming body against her mass. Again and again, she mercilessly pulled his entire body forward by the most sensitive part of his, slamming him into her stone-like backside while sadistically grinding him into the canvas. Her tongue involuntarily rounded her lips as she felt the frail body wriggle beneath hers, his penis clenched in her grip. Faster and faster she yanked, his balls quivering in anticipation.

Finally, she felt his body shudder. The young woman slammed her entire, flexed torso backwards with unmatched force.

“Your… penis… is… mine!” she growled through grit teeth.

His cumshot flew out in front of them. She continued to pump one fist around his outclassed cock, her forearm flexing as ropes of jism hitting the camera. She raised her other powerful arm and flexed it into an awe-inspiring bicep. Her chest heaved as she took a deep breath in, his penis the only part of his frail form visible from the front, as her wetness further dampened the bodysuit.

When he was finally spent, she let go of his still dribbling cock and stepped forward. His unconscious, frail form crashed onto the ground unceremoniously. A Vitruvian Amazon unfurled across the canvas, pink paint completely surpassing thin streams of blue. She used her index finger to sign her work – a viscous name written in pink paint and cum.

Months after the first video came out, a second one made its way onto the dark web. This one was encrypted and required a sizable investment to receive a password. An older doctor in the UK paid the fee, looked out from his office window, and carefully pulled the shades closed. He took a deep breath before opening amazcaligraphy.mp4.

This video started with the sounds of a man begging. “P-p-please… don’t. I can’t breathe.” A slow fade in revealed a young, musclebound girl lying on her back, long hair splayed outwards on the canvas, sizeable bosoms filling up the foreground. “You’re… c-c-crushing me,” his words came out stiflingly. The camera panned up, revealing a man crumpled in the sea of her feminine quad muscles. He was dripping in black oil paint. She cupped a rotund breast nonchalantly dripping in yellow paint. “I haven’t even started squeezing yet,” she mocked.

She opened her vice-like legs, reaching down to grasp the man’s torso between her hands and effortlessly raised his body up between the meatiest part of her thighs. With a diabolical grin, she braided the titanic sinews of meat around his overwhelmed torso. When she let go, his body hung precipitously above her youthful Amazonian form. She playfully flexed her inner quads a few times, testing the strength of his ribs, before placing her hands behind her head. Time to start the show.

She violently smashed her legs to one side. The body they contained slammed downwards with vicious force, his head cracking unceremoniously off the floor. She turned her legs inward, rubbing his face back and forth harshly, yet deliberately, along the canvas. With a satisfying sigh, her legs propelled his overwrought body the other direction, across her sizable torso again before crashing down again against the canvas. Once more, her huge, nimble legs controlled his body effortlessly. Every time he tried to take a breath, her inner thighs carelessly bulged into his chest cavity. She felt his heartbeat vibrate against her sex as her lower legs did their work, his face dragged back and forth along the rough fabric.

When she was satisfied, she once again raised his bruised body perilously up between her legs. She cooed in involuntary pleasure as she tightened her scissorhold, a free hand slinking down to rub her clit through the bodysuit. His moans of pain only caused her to paw more aggressively, eventually poking a hole in the vinyl with her fingernails. She coiled her wet fingers behind his messy head, cupping the back of his head delicately like a peach.

“Eat!” she ordered.

She slammed his head downwards into her crotch while her legs held his body solidly. His muffled voice drowned out to the popping of vertebrae. She ground his face into her vulva, not being particularly careful where his lips and nose ended up. Her free hand kneaded her breast before eventually pulling it out of the bodysuit, raising an erect nipple to her plush lips to suck on.

As she continued to grate his visage crudely against her, he once realized again he was running out of air. She toyed her inner abductors around his head until it grew a dark blue – a contrast to the black paint he was covered with. In a last-ditch effort, he started biting her. In erotic satisfaction, she rubbed his teeth crudely against her clit, forcing him to nip at her most sensitive part. At the same time, she bit down on her own nipple, a shockwave of lightning running up and down her body. She snarled as she felt his feeble lips trying to pry itself from her leggy prison.

Before he went completely unconscious, she had one last trick she wanted to perform. Like a gymnast, she curled into a ball and flipped both their bodies forward, his head ending face up briefly before the weight of her lower body crashed down on top of it. She crashed her powerful body again and again into his, leaving colorful, splattered imprints on the canvas. She leaned forward, damp hair hanging over his face, rivulets of paint dripping off her massive, heaving breasts onto his pain wracked form. She grabbed his chin and crudely forced his head sideways. “Scream for them, lover,” she smirked. “They paid for a show.”

Next, she turned around. Facing his legs, she grabbed his thin calves and pulled his lower body upwards towards her mammoth chest. She rested his erect penis in between her globes, the plentiful flesh surrounding the sensitive head, before wrapping a thick, muscular arm around his naked butt and crushing his body even closer, kneading her thick pecs against his pelvis. Her other hand reached down between her cleavage and pulled the tip of his throbbing penis to her waiting mouth. She tapped it against her lower lip as her hair covered one eye, haughtily looking up at the camera in front of her.

“Now I feast.”

Her beautiful face thrust downwards, impaling his entire length between her plump lips. Meanwhile, her hulking thighs once again quivered, crushing down on his battered face, flexing her glute muscles to a startling circumference. As his lower head disappeared, so did his penis between her pecs, his entire body surrounded by tracts of young female flesh.

Her head bobbed in time to imaginary music playing in her head. A club song with a throbbing beat. She didn’t attend clubs in her student life, but she imagined doing so… going out on the dancefloor in a skintight black dress. Grabbing the first guy who caught her fancy. Forcefully blowing him like she was doing now. Her rump matched the invisible beat in her head in unison, striking his skull with timed, flexed hits, glutes pumping ferociously.

His pulsating shaft brought her back into the real world. She reached down and grabbed his balls, pulling them into her mouth as well. As his penis head rubbed the back of her throat, she clenched her buttocks into spheres, trapping his skull completely in their granite prison. As her puckered lips vacuumed his shaft, she felt his entire body well up in her form.

As she crushed, she felt the first spritz of cum hit the back of her throat. She swallowed greedily, like a baby on a bottle, rubbing her adorable chin into his pelvis as her tongue played with his balls. She continued to slurp until she felt his body give way, collapsing in an unconscious heap beneath her frame.

She pulled his penis out of her mouth with a satisfying “pop”, her lips nibbling at it sensually before letting it fall defeated against her swollen tits. She uncoiled his ravaged body from within hers, his discolored and battered frame making the most delightful pliant noises. She rose to her full, mighty height, looking down at his scrunched-up body twisted on the canvas. The camera panned back, a large splatter of red paint surrounding his defeated form. To the left and right of him was a word in the most delicate black calligraphy: “raped”.

A year later, a final video appeared on the dark web. This one was behind multiple VPNs, Tor and required a sizable bitcoin investment. A Saudi prince, rich beyond measure, paid for and downloaded the file. He dismissed his manservants, closed the giant doors to his bedroom and hushed nervously before opening amazbutterfly.mp4.

This video, unlike the others, began with the naked man injured and gulping air heavily under a single, white spotlight. He crawled as blood red paint dripped off his form onto the clean white canvas below.

“Lover…” a young woman’s voice hissed offscreen.

He trembled. He tried to get up but found himself struggling. The multiple injuries he had received earlier in the night were too great. Every step was pain as he stumbled to get to his feet.

“They’re coming for you lover…”

He squinted out into the darkness, now panicked. He frantically peered left and right, unable to find the source of the voice. Unseen by him, a gigantic pair of legs came downwards into the camera’s view. Covered with thick green paint, dense corded thighs and sinuous bulging calves hovered like twin python snakes above him. As she hung from a hidden ribbon, she menacingly flexed her terrific lower body above his head.

“Don’t let them get you lover...” she cooed.

In a dreamlike state, the man felt wetness. A single drop of green paint hit the top of his shoulder. He stared at it. Another fell more fluidly, dripping down his naked chest. He touched the paint and realized it was more viscous than normal. He looked up. The giant fleshy vice of her legs stretched out to their full, alarming length, coiled and at the ready. Her naked sex, now dribbling in desire, mixed with the green paint as it trickled onto his body. He could barely register what was happening.

“They’ve got you now,” she intoned.

Her legs slammed shut around his torso and he immediately felt his organs crush against one another. The spotlight followed up her nude body as she lifted him with her legs, effortlessly holding both of their forms up while dangling from the ribbon. Her thick biceps quivering as she held onto the ribbon, she raised his prone form upwards until his head was at chest level. He started to cry, and she took a free hand off the rope to pull his mouth up to hers. As his neck strained, her tongue plunged deep between his lips. She stared into his eyes with her innocent green ones, tasting the salty tears of her oppression on her lips, watching his form buckle as she can feel his erection harden against her crotch.

Finally, satisfied with each, she reached down and pulled his penis into her awaiting fold. She wedged his weeping face deeply in between her solid globes, coiling a heavy flexed bicep behind the back of his head. She looked out at the cameras, delicately fingering the ribbon, before slowly turning herself around. As she did, her muscles tightened around her hapless ride. She gracefully increased her spin, the delicate curves of her muscles hardening as they took on artful shapes. Meanwhile, her swollen young flesh surrounded his, rippling in the dim light as green paint dripped to the canvas.

She spun faster, flexing her thick legs out at gymnastic angles. His senses dulled by her chest-induced vise, he could not see or hear anything beyond her heart beating faster. He could, however, feel her powerful pussy milking his cock. From a sensation perspective, it was all-consuming. As he felt the wind whip by, he seemed to feel paint spiral out from their body in rivulets. Indeed, the more his shaft was squeezed, the faster they seemed to spin. Her sex was spiraling him out of control

Feeling his body sufficiently weakened, she removed her bicep from the back of his head and instead cradled it with her palm. Even if he wanted to escape, her chest and thighs kept him suitably immobile. She pet his hair gently, as if to thank him for the suffering.

She suddenly let go. As she fell, she wrapped both arms around his beaten and bruised skull. They fell to the canvas with a thundering crash, paint splashing everywhere. She pulled her arms inward, crushing his pathetic form into hers. Her green encasement of muscle surrounded him as she continued to pump his penis into her sex. Squeezing her lower body first, she felt his pelvis crack under the compressing force. Not to be outdone, her chest hardened to a concrete-like firmness as she felt his nose break against her cleavage. She gripped harder with her forearms, wrenching his face into her pecs as she felt multiple compound skull fractures.

Delighted in the crackling sounds, she drew his penis up as far into her pussy as it could go before slamming her fists into the back of his spine. The outmatched vertebrae fled in different directions, twisting his back into a myriad of awkward shapes. Finally, she breathed in deeply, completely enveloping his form. She crushed every sinew of her young muscle around him, feeling his body cave into hers. Her vagina chewed on his shaft and then, with one sick crunch, bent it. She squealed in delight, her pussy dribbling onto this form as she orgasmed.

As the cameras continued to record, she lay in the afterglow. She stretched her youthful, athletic body out from the center of the canvas, unravelling her sweaty muscles. As she did, what’s left came into view – a twisted, bug-like apparition of a man crunched awkwardly into red spindly shapes. She gently took each of his limp arms and legs, placing them delicately across the canvas. When she stood up, the full impact of her work came into effect. A spirograph of green ovals spun out from the center of the canvas, coming together in a massive green “cocoon” formed by her muscles. Within it, a red “butterfly” laid unconscious, red paint splattered amongst blood created from her carnal grasp.

As the cameras turned off, the hulking young woman, still naked, walked off the canvas. She retrieved an SD card of the night’s recordings, bringing it to a one-way mirror. She places the SD card into a tray underneath, and a few seconds later $40,000 in unmarked bills came back. As she fingered the cash gently with paint-stained fingertips, she heard a pathetic cough from the canvas. “You know,” she said softly, placing one hand sexily on her hip, “I could finish him off for an extra $10K.” She can barely seem to hear what sounds like heavy breathing come from the other side. The tray reopens and $10,000 comes out. She cracks her knuckles and smiles.
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Old 17-Jan-21, 18:01
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Default Re: The Student Artist

This story is amazing and the writing is fantastic. I truly believe Silentcrs is a world-class writer. 'The Student Artist' needs more love on this site!
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