The Interview 3D Render, Digital Artwork by Hexdrake

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The Interview

3D Render by Hexdrake

This is the low-res version which is still pretty sharp. The attached premium download is in png format and around 17Mb. This render was created in Daz and edited with Photo Affinity 2.

Uses Pinup Framed Pack01 freebie by guy91600 available on RenderHub.

On to more pleasant things - I wrote an erotic story to go along with this render which I'm posting here for those interested.

The Interview (NSFW)

At first, she didn’t pay much attention to the lack of modelling requests – there were ups and downs in the industry, and if one is smart, and Yin considered herself smart, one saved for the downturns. But the weeks were turning into months, and after the second month-long dry spell between photoshoots she called her agent for what seemed like the hundredth.

“Hi John, it’s Yin,” She started with.

“Uh yeah, I’ve been uh meaning to get to you. The agency is closing down, we just aren’t getting many requests. The old contracts aren’t being renewed. I’m sorry, but they told me not to tell you guys. I got a wife, an ex-, and 3 kids I gotta support you know.”

“What the Hell!?” Yin shouted into the phone. “What is going on?”

“It’s the AI-shit babe. The new agencies are taking pics of the models and storing them digitally. They are even making their own models by mixing models they’ve stored. They want a Black-Irish-Asian model with jade-green eyes, short hair, and slim figure? They just have their techies run their program and boom, one and done. They don’t have to pay no one but their own staff.”

“No way I’m doing that,” said Yin, “I would rather live on the streets then give them the satisfaction!”

“Uh, maybe you ought to look closer at the contracts you signed. They can already use your likeness for about anything they can think of.”

“Yin? Yin? Hey, I gotta go, see ya around, right?”

She stood there holding the phone, unable to speak, for several minutes after John had hung up.

In the weeks that followed, she saw what John had said was true. Jobs were few and far between – a few modeling company holdouts that were trying to stick to employing humans. She saw the writing on the wall, though. She was already a second-tier model, her looks starting to fade, her body along with them. At this point, she was working twice as hard on her appearance as an up-and-coming model and competing against computers at the same time.

She remembered her childhood – working in rice fields when she was 8 years old, her mother making her promise not to live the life she had. Yin had taken it to heart. She came to America, rose to some small fame as a model, and lived a life her mother couldn’t even conceive of.

She would miss the parties with her vapid friends and men who knew everything – the food and drink were beyond Heaven, and she had become accustomed to being one of the models men stopped by to talk to on their rounds. Maybe she wasn’t a scientist, or writer, or a politician, but she mattered. Other models looked up to her and she gave them advice. She had been on the cover of several prominent magazines. She had a fancy apartment, a nice car, and a comfy life. Soon, that would all be a memory.

She had been saving for her retirement, but she didn’t anticipate that it would happen so soon. There was a way to maintain her lifestyle…maybe even get a better one. Something the computer couldn’t do for a man…at least not yet. Many times, she had been passed business cards from seedy, but very rich, men who were looking for women who were “willing to expand their skillset”. She had kept those cards as trophies, a testament to the hard work she put into her appearance. Now she had to make the decision on whether or not to draw one.

She could get a job as a secretary, clerk, or waitress with her looks, but these jobs wouldn’t sustain her lifestyle, and at least some of them would also evaporate as computers became more prevalent. She grabbed a card at random and dialed the number.

At least the place was relatively clean – still, the couch she sat on had plastic on the cushions. The brick walls did nothing to mask the fake cries of pleasure coming from an adjacent room. A monitor above her played out a tawdry scene of two women having sex in an office restroom.

She had worn one of her best dresses, believing first impressions are everything. The director interviewing her seemed reluctant to hire her given how she stuttered on what sexual acts she was willing to do. In fact, he hadn’t even looked up from his magazine for the last 5 minutes. Yin wanted to impress him, but she was out of her element, with and the moans were turning her on more than she would have liked to admit. Who moans like that anyway? she thought. Her answer was simple – someone having a good time.

She closed her eyes, with the women on the monitor still in view. She began to imagine the men…and maybe some women…who were turned on by her pictures in fancy, exotic clothes. Maybe they touched themselves. Maybe the forgot all their worries of what was right and wrong and just lived.

Her hand sneaked down to her crotch, lightly stroking her sex. She let out a small moan, not caring whether anyone could hear her. She was vaguely aware of the sound of the magazine being put down, and the world around her, but instead focused inward.

She fondled her clitoral hood, and she became moist. She imagined a businessman slowly unzipping his trousers in his office while he watched her undress on his monitor. Gripping his hard member as she stared at him while playing with her cunt and tits. She could feel his stare, watch as his hand pumped up and down, hear the sound of her fingers working her vagina.

He wasn’t far off…nor was she. She began to roll her clitoral hood until her clitoris emerged, hard and angry at the intrusion. The pleasure was almost too intense. The man’s cock was now a deep purple color and looked as if it might explode any second.

As they came at the same time, she experienced the most powerful orgasm ever. The man faded from her mind, to be replaced with the director’s flushed face. There was a lump in his jeans impressive for a man his age.

He told her in an almost reverent tone she was a natural, and he would see to it she went places. In the end, that was true – ten years later she was found dead in an alleyway, having overdosed on two 8-balls, her body that was once her temple plastic and mush; her legacy forgotten. She had to live under the radar, hidden from those who were proper and pure – the same people who watched her videos, no doubt. Had she not been a pariah for desiring pleasure and a nice life, she may have never become entangled with the seedy underground of the adult industry. Then again, maybe the “safeguards” put in place were intended to foster such an environment in the first place.