Red Ambition

By Chas

Even without the benefit of hindsight, it wasn't an easy decision to arrive at. And if I had selected any differently or had the misfortune of not having the contacts that I'd had, the name Carmen Nichol might not have become such a recognizable household standard; I might not have become known as the sexiest redhead on the big screen. But I'm the lucky one. Yeah, I'm the lucky one. Everyone wants to be me. And some days, I'd like to be anyone but. Some days.

Sometimes, there's a lot of truth in the clichés. And starting out as an actress, I had tried to blind myself to the awful truth that you really do have to sleep your way to the top. That pretty face on the movie marquée for a film in which she plays a virginal sweet young innocent seduced by a ruffian? You can't imagine how many times that face found itself in someone's lap, in order to get there. And the chanteuse sings, "if you get down on your knees and thank the Producer for it, he's gonna make it happen, make it happen." Believe me, this is the way it works. And my career went nowhere, until I finally realized Hollywood's game, and set out to find a way to play it successfully... and satisfactorily.

Understand that sex really wasn't my thing, back then. It was more of an annoyance than a preoccupation. It was a distraction, merely a tool to be used to my advantage. I really didn't see much more than that in it. Sure, I'd masturbated once or twice in my teens, but that was still nothing wonderful, and the guys I dated didn't even excite me nearly half as much.

There were also some really important concerns that bothered me. Some male anatomy proved to be quite painful going in, and one prodco exec even ruptured one of my vaginal walls from his thrusts. That had me out of commission for months. Add to this the emergence of ominous sexually-transmitted diseases like AIDS (which one of my close friends had contracted and later died a very ugly death from), and I had some very serious thinking to do, if I was to continue on this path.

The pull from the big screen world was too much. I wanted it more than anything else. I was going to be a star, no matter what. Nothing would stop me.

The obligatory supporting roles and bit-parts, the walk-on television spots as so-and-so's girlfriend or some loser's eye candy for the episode were enough to get me access to some of the less exclusive social functions, and it was at one of these that I had met Natalia Safina. Like everyone else, I initially found her boring -- she was a research scientist, and only there to accompany a temporarily-single actor who was helping fund her research, and science geeks do tend to go on and on. And on. Except that somewhere in her babbling, an unexpected opportunity presented itself.

Natalia was involved in biosynthetics, creating skin-like tissues ostensibly for improving skin grafting and covering prosthetics. Boring stuff, right? Like nobel-prize humanitarian things -- which are great, don't get me wrong -- but unless it got toward plastic surgery techniques, it didn't really affect me (and even with plastic surgery, I didn't really have a need to know how it was done). So it might have ended there with me drifting off or excusing myself to go find someone more interesting somewhere else, if it wasn't for the fact that the wine that Natalia was unaccustomed to was also doing a great job of loosening her tongue.

"Of course, we've also been roped into developing some quirky applications we'd never dreamed of, just for the sake of research money," she'd giggled, although lowering her tone so no one would overhear.

I almost didn't ask the question. Even when I did, it was with some dread that she might ramble on and on: "What kinds of quirky applications?"

"Would you believe we're making prosthetic vaginas?" she started chuckling -- quietly, but enthusiastically enough that she rocked backward and then swung forward again to touch my hand as a confidante... and to help steady herself. And it was in that moment that her eyes flung open with the slightly sobered realization that she'd just let the cat out of the bag.

"What?" I was taken aback, of course, but something in this seemed to catch my attention. She backpedaled, of course, and tried to pretend that she said something else, then switched tactics and tried to change the subject. Finally, after a half hour of reaffirming that she didn't personally approve of the nature of her research and continually swearing me to secrecy, she ushered me to a corner of the room to tell me her secret.

"It's for this company called Chasti-Permalock." (At that time, they were still researching and creating prototypes for their very first products -- no one had heard of them yet). "They're developing these, um, how can I describe them, they're internally-fit chastity devices, and for one of them, they want something that will fit right in there, and create a better-than-natural sensation for the man, while keeping the woman from feeling anything at all."

This, of course, led to a ton of questions, and each answer led to more questions and several shocking discoveries. It turned out that these chastity devices attached to the body permanently, through molecular restructuring engineered by microscopic nanobots which were able to reconstruct matter on a cellular level. These things were literally made a part of the wearer's body. And when it came to things like bodily functions, there were already solutions in place to accomodate them. Nanites would also be introduced into the vagina and keep the internal regions clean, while negating the menstrual process (now that's something I knew that I sure wouldn't miss). They were also in the process of developing the means to use their nanobots to maintain the human body, making eating and wastes entirely irrelevant processes; and if all went well, they might also be able to reverse cellular entropy, in effect stopping aging (they had since accomplished these goals). And to my query about oversized girth, she actually surprised me by saying that the nanites should be able to morph things to accomodate any size, large or small. This was incredible stuff, and for someone who wouldn't miss sex anyway, the thought of being able to go at any time for the right person, giving him more wonderful sensations throughout the night than any natural woman ever could kind of made me realize the level of power that such a woman might have in Hollywood.

The whole notion seemed ludicrous, of course, and should obviously have been a male invention. All the really tormenting devices for women -- corsets, high-heels -- were, right? Except that these devices were the brainchild of a woman, Chastity Laliberté, who had a twisted view of the future. She knew that nanotechnology would change the world. We would be essentially able to live forever, immune to disease, deformity, discomfort, and age. Barring dismemberment or worse, people could essentially become immortal. And yet at the same time, with the Earth's dwindling ability to provide food and the exponentially-increasing population that it has to support, humanity can't afford immortality. Even without nanotechnology, the advances in genetic engineering, robotics, artificial intelligence and pharmacology threatened to obsolete the human race, or at least remove it from dominant status. If people were going to live forever, it would have to be with new means of population control. I have to admit, this chick's vision of the future seemed quite chilling, but frighteningly enough, it did make a whole lot of sense.

Even so, the bottom line of the whole conversation still had to be this: if one of these devices could allow me to sleep my way to the top without discomfort or disease, let alone the side benefits (no periods, a pussy that would set an impotent man on fire, and let's not forget escaping aging), I had to be one of the first to have one.

And that was why I practically begged Natalia Safina to introduce me to Chastity Laliberté.

My shooting schedule and Ms Laliberté's timing conflicted may times before we finally managed to arrange a meeting. By that time, I'd already had a clear idea of what I wanted. She seemed to have some weird idea that control features needed to be in place with every device (I managed to talk her out of most of them, although she insisted that the device be enabled to administer shocks to the clitoris when too much sexual arousal was detected -- something I gave in to, thinking that it would never happen anyway). Most importantly, the device had to look like a completely authentic vagina from outside, so that the camera would never know the difference. Apparently, once the nanites integrated it this would not be a problem. She had insisted on a one-year waiting period, though. This was partly to ensure that the technology was complete, safe and working -- and partly to ensure that it was what I really wanted. One year later, and I was even more certain.

Today, I have one of the most sought-after contracts in Hollywood. Executives will do anything for me. My rise was meteoric, and the device was without a doubt a huge part of that. I could throw myself into affairs without fear, and provide the most dramatic of performances when I needed to. I even had Chasti-Permalock develop a similar device for my rear passage (their first), due to the demand for that kind of thing, plus a kind of safeguard lining for my mouth to allow fellatio and speech, while still avoiding the taste and senstation (not to mention STDs) -- it also transformed my teeth into softer, pleasurably-textured objects, rather than hard obstructions. I'm not proud to admit that I had to use my assets in this way to make it as far as I have, but I'd like to think that it is my talent that keeps me on top. Either way, Chasti-Permalock allowed me to endure the necessary evils of the profession.

But that's not all. Somewhere along the way, something unexpected happened.

You don't know what you've got until it's gone. And this was no exception. Gradually, I found myself wanting to test the device, then to thwart it. I couldn't, of course, all I could really do was to try to excite other parts of my body until I was turned on enough to have a sudden, sharp electrical shock between my legs interrupt my efforts. It became titillating, then tantalyzing. Now, the frustration is so great that I sometimes want to cry. And even this... even this has enhanced my stature in Hollywood. I've become so sexually-aware (horny, if you prefer), that my every move is that of a minx in heat. I can't help it. The need has grown to the point that it drives me on. And drives me mad. I've become that hungry sexpot that everybody lusts after on the big screen, but at the sometimes chilling price of unfulfillment.

Everyone wants to be me. And some days, I'd like to be anyone but. Some days. But there's no doubt that Chasti-Permalock has awakened something within me that I never thought had existed. The need sometimes consumes me. And as it does, it drives me to further myself; to better my standing. There seems to be no limit to what I can achieve, when I put my mind -- and body -- to it. I just wish there could be an occasional relief. But perhaps it's better this way.