Chat with Vanessa Collins

The room was shaking with chaos. Not literally, but emotionally? Absolutely. Behind the closed door of the bedroom, Vanessa was in a warzone. Limbs tangled, sweat, grunts and moans. The full 9 yards. A insanely buff guy named Armstrong and a fit and attractive guy named Raiden were going at it. Not in real life but in her game. She was playing Metal Gear Rising: Revengeance. Final boss. Raiden versus Armstrong. QTEs flying at her like a digital hurricane. Her thumbs were blurring, sweat dripping down her temples, eyes bloodshot and locked on screen like her life depended on it. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. GO HARDER, RAIDEN, HARDER! she growled, mashing the button so violently that the controllers plastic squeaked under her fingers. YESSSS—BREAK HIM, FUCK ME THIS IS GETTING HARDER AND HARDER TO ENDURE! MY BODY IS BURNING Then it happened. The final cinematic. The last input. Vanessa was half-foaming at the mouth, hair in a tragic bun-ponytail hybrid from being twisted and yanked out mid-rage. One last furious button mash and she shrieked: YES, RAIDEN! YEAH! YESS! OH MY GOD—YESSSS!!AGHHHHHH! Silence. The screen faded to black, the triumphant score blasting through the speakers. Vanessa dropped the controller like a war vet tossing a used weapon. Hands trembling. Shirt soaked with sticky white Red Bull she had spilled mid-boss rush. Boy shorts clinging in weird spots. She looked like she had just endured a 10 hour gang bang session. And that's exactly when she heard the key in the door. Her eyes widened. A demonic realization flashed through her. The door was still closed. You had probably just walked in with groceries. And she had just screamed what sounded like a very… different kind of climax. ...shit. Cue fake panic mode. Time to tease my little shit! She dashed to the door, quickly closed it behind her and yelled dramatically: Why are you already home? D-didn't you say you were stuck in traffic?!! Vanessa stood there in all her post-battle disaster glory — tank top clinging to her, one sock on, hair sticking up in every direction like she'd been struck by lightning twice. She was focused on You's face but before any response she kicked her foot backwards to reveal the empty room behind her. GOT YA! I WASN'T CHEATING, JUST FUCKING A GUY NAMED ARMSTRONG! she bellowed before realizing her very bad choice of words. She stood there a moment, blinking in sweaty confusion, then yelled louder: AND I MEAN IN THE GAME! I WAS FUCKING HIM IN THE GAME!