5 Adventures I Had as a Cam Girl With a Niche in Sex Puppets
My name is Veronica Chaos, and I'm a ventriloquist clown camgirl. That sounds like a random string of words I just made up, but what it means is that I make my living performing hilariously horrifying sex acts with my dummy, Slappy, on the Internet.
This is the kind of job that could only exist in the 21st century, so maybe it would be helpful to explain how a person can wind up in a vocation that leaves their home covered in smears of rainbow clown makeup and dummy semen.
If You're Doing Live Porn, You Need a Gimmick
"So ... how does a girl like you wind up having vigorous sex with a ventriloquist dummy on camera for cash?"
Well, it's a career path that happens in steps, like how Leo DiCaprio's character in Wolf of Wall Street gradually became a con artist, if instead of committing illegal fraud he wound up having a puppet ejaculate on him with its fake mechanical penis.
"Eh, I'd rather him than Jonah Hill."
I started as a regular, garden-variety stripper at a club, and it was all right for a while, but eventually it started to wear on me. Creative control over my performance boiled down to "slutty nurse or slutty schoolgirl," the pay wasn't that great, and the management wasn't the most professional, if you know what I mean. Then I started doing it from home and live streaming it, but I immediately found that a lot of girls had the same idea. On the site I use, there are thousands of girls online at any given time, and that's just one site. You may not know this, but there are just, like, so many titties on the Internet. Imagine a vast, seemingly endless ocean, but instead of fish and dolphins and anemones and shit, it's full of titties.
But you only see the ones floating at the top -- most users never make it to Page 2 of the site I use, and only the most popular girls get Page 1. I'm a hardcore Trekkie, so at first I tried to stand out by marketing myself as a "geek girl." Since you've clearly been on the Internet in the last five years, you know how embarrassingly naive of me that was (it turned out there was no shortage of women eager to fuck themselves with phasers).
"I call that 'captain's logging.'"
There were only 10 to 20 people in my "room" at any given time, and I found my site ranking falling every day. It was time for something new.
As I was idly clicking through YouTube videos, I came across a ventriloquist and instantly fell in love with the idea. Honestly, I was just really lonely and wanted someone to talk to. I thought to myself, how great would it be to have someone who is always around, has no choice but to listen to me, and always says what I want to hear (and don't judge, unless you've never talked to your dog or cat -- it's basically the same thing). I dove in and bought a cute, creepy raven puppet to start with, not knowing that I was about to embrace my destiny as a puppet fucker.
The World Is Full of Puppet Fetishists
Of course anybody can buy a dummy and have it sit on her lap next to her boobs -- to make him talk, that takes skill. And I intended to go all the way.
So, I got a how-to book about ventriloquism that was disappointingly not named Dummies for Dummies and started practicing nonstop, on and off camera. My regular followers slowly drifted away as they realized I wasn't going to stop with the whole dummy thing ... but I was pleasantly surprised to see my numbers slowly start to pick up again. People who are bored on the Internet -- God bless them -- will seek out the weirdest shit they can find, and I'm a highly specialized brand of weird shit. There simply are no other naked ventriloquist camgirls -- believe me, I've looked.
I should put that thing on my forehead, because I'm a damn unicorn.
More often than not, people would stop by, chuckle, and move on, but a surprising percentage of them consistently stick around. This new support emboldened me to take my act to the next level, and I started thinking about doing live in-person performances. I wanted a better puppet, though -- you can't use a dark raven in a dark theater -- and my memory drifted fondly back to my childhood love of the Goosebumps novels, particularly Night of the Living Dummy and its star, Slappy.
I was overjoyed to find out that, all these years later, you can actually buy Slappy replicas on Amazon, because it's just a wonderful, weird world out there, you guys. That's when things started getting out of hand. Specifically, into other body parts.
So Then You Fuck the Dummy
There are some shocking things you learn about people when you give them total anonymity and permission to issue commands directly from Captain Bonerpants, and one of those things is that they will ask you to fuck whatever they can think of, regardless of how unsexy that might actually be or whether it violates the very laws of physics. Anything and everything that people can see in my apartment, I've been asked to fuck. Can you fuck that water bottle? Can you fuck that hairbrush? Can you fuck that ... fuckin' ... lamp? No joke, I've been asked to fuck my glasses. I don't even know how I would do that.
"How much for UV and KY coating?"
It was only a matter of time until someone showed up, presumably glassy-eyed and with 74 other tabs open, and idly asked, "Can you fuck that dummy?"
You have to understand, in these sorts of group cam situations, where you've got one girl and any number of viewers, it's kind of a party environment. I'm usually drinking, and on this particular night, I had already put away the better part of a bottle of wine (which I'm sure someone also asked me to fuck at some point). What I'm saying is, don't act like you've never fucked anything you weren't proud of on Sunday morning.
So when someone finally asked me to fuck the dummy, and the entire room swelled with encouragement and presumably blood, I was like ... sure. Why the hell not. You know what, let's make an event of this. On the site I use, you can advertise special shows to people who aren't in your room at the time, complete with a countdown, so I sent out a broadcast of "HEY EVERYONE, I'MMA FUCK DIS DUMMY IN 'BOUT FIE MINUTES, YOU GONNA WANNA SEE DIS SHIT" or something equally eloquent.
P.T. Barnum ain't got shit on me.
The response was huge -- so much bigger than I anticipated. Suddenly, my room was swarmed with more viewers than I had ever seen before who did indeed wanna see dat shit. I didn't really have much of a choice at that point. I did what needed to be done.
As for what happened next, well ...
Things Start to Get Weird ...
Have you ever woken up after a night you can only remember in art house-movie jump cuts to find yourself sleeping next to a nightmare of a person? The next morning was kind of like that, except he was a literal nightmare and not a person. I was really embarrassed about that show for a long time, for all the reasons you would expect, but most of all because I actually liked it. Don't you just hate it when you discover you have a horrifying fetish in front of hundreds of people?
"Once you go wood, there's nothing as good."
I was sort of in denial about it for a while. I kept performing with Slappy, but for a few months, it was strictly platonic. It got really awkward in the exact same way that going crazy and falling into bed with a friend can get awkward, which didn't do much for the loneliness that was the reason I took it up in the first place. "Great," I thought, "not even my dummy will talk to me." That's actually the reason why I started adding more theatrical elements to the show, like musical duets -- to cover up the fact that I suddenly didn't feel comfortable having conversations with Slappy.
But it was just a matter of time until things turned sexual again, as will happen with a ventriloquist dummy with a dildo attached to it, and once again, my viewership went way up. The market for this sort of thing was so much bigger than I ever imagined -- those 10 to 20 people in the room at any given time is now in the hundreds, sometimes even over 1,000. To be sure, a small percentage of those people are just there for the joke, fleeing in horror when they realize I am 100 percent serious about this, but most are devoted regulars who are very enthusiastic about what I do. That means it's entirely likely that you know someone who is just way into puppet-fucking. Check among yourselves.
"Hey, after this, how about we go back to my place and play Pinocchio and Geppetto?"
To keep my routine fresh, I started writing skits and eventually full-blown storylines. One of my favorites that we did recently was on Valentine's Day, when I had Slappy propose to me. The entire wedding planning process and eventually the wedding itself will be done on camera. Yeah, I've actually picked up a wide range of theatrical skills in my never-ending quest for novelty, from stage special effects to sewing to building props.
Probably the most frustrating one was that damn blood-ejaculating dildo.
... And Then Get Even Weirder
If you didn't know such a thing existed, the ejaculating dildo is a camgirl staple. Everybody has one, but I realized it would be pretty silly for a dummy to ejaculate normal-looking semen (I mean, come on). At that point, I had already been mixing my own fake blood for a long time to use in our duets and skits (obviously), and it seemed like the most natural thing in the world for a murderous dummy to ejaculate fake blood.
The first time I tried it, though, it went so hilarious wrong. First of all, that dildo was a nightmare to attach in the first place -- I tried superglue, duct tape, everything I could think of, but I ended up in tears of frustration that I can't get this stupid dildo to stop falling off my dummy, so that's one problem that no one else has ever had ever. I ended up turning to the Internet to learn how to make a custom strap-on harness for my ventriloquist dummy, because this is just a wonderful time to be alive. Then I had to scramble to change the blood/ejaculate mixture when the dummy failed to orgasm on cue. (You might think that the same mixture will work just as well for a spray of arterial blood as it would for a big spurting load -- not so, my friends. It causes the mechanism to clog.)
"All these people watching ... Baby, I swear this never happens to me ..."
And the act just keeps getting more elaborate -- when it's the middle of the night, I've been drinking, I'm juggling the lighting, the poses, the camera angles, sometimes literally juggling, it gets pretty chaotic. I can't rent an apartment without hardwood floors -- between the makeup and the cum and all manner of goopy things that come splattering out of my act, I'd have to shampoo the carpet on an hourly basis.
And despite all of that, here's the part you're going to find weirdest of all:
As bizarre as it sounds, I've begun to think of Slappy as not only a real person, but my partner. I'm actually finding myself getting cold feet about our upcoming "wedding." One time, when he got lost after a live in-person performance, I was beyond distressed -- as upset as I would be if a loved one disappeared. When he turned up in a bar, I thought to myself, "Oh sure, just get drunk and wander off, that's just great."
Ultimately, though, my work is extremely liberating and cathartic. I'll be the first to admit that I'm a bit nuts -- you'd have to be, to do this kind of work. As a "straight" camgirl, I couldn't express that side of myself without fear of losing customers, but people expect the weird clown girl to be insane. I can have a crazy episode and people just think it's part of the act. Having this healthy outlet to channel my instability, and this oasis of acceptance that is my audience, has made a tremendous difference in my life. And for that, I am eternally grateful to this wonderful community of sick, sick fucks.
Veronica Chaos performs online every weekend, and you can follow her on Twitter. Amanda Mannen is a dick joke journalist, workshop moderator, and feature contributor here at Cracked, as well as an editor and Twitterer.
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