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Author's note: I'd like to take this chance to thank Mandy, Sarah, Charlotte, Melody, Pam, and Rachel, who - as of the time of this writing - have been kind enough to review "Transfusion," my first story for Fictionmania. Let's see if the second story measures up to the first! Comments and feedback are always, *always* appreciated, and if you'd like to get in touch with me I've put together an email address specifically for that purpose, at [email protected]. Without further ado! *** VIRTUAL AND VICE By dcb42 "And over here is our Research and Development lab. Doesn't look like much, does it?" The kids all stretched up to look through the windows, jostling one another out of the way, and I couldn't help but chuckle. Most company owners wouldn't concern themselves with a middle school class tour, but the teacher was an old flame of mine, and besides, I like kids. I gave the kids a few minutes to wonder what was happening before stepping up to the windows and gesturing. "Just a bunch of guys typing at computers, right? What's so interesting about _that_? Well, I'll tell you." I gestured, and a nearby wall screen flared to life. "See that? That's what they're _building_." Oohs and aaaahs erupted from the children as the screen displayed a bird's eye view of a fairy-tale castle, all white marble and gold inlays, silken pennants and flags fluttering in the breeze. The camera view shifted lower, letting the children see the party of knights on horseback riding at a full gallop towards the castle, sunlight glinting off of their polished armor. It wasn't a real-time view, of course - this was a presentation we'd put together for a Singapore company, I couldn't even remember what it was for, but it _looked_ pretty, and that was what I was looking for. The camera kept moving, to the back of the lead knight, and then _through_ the rendered body - and then there was a sense of movement, the camera starting to jostle and bounce, and it became apparent to the children that they were actually looking through the knight's eyes. "All that typing," I told the kids, who were still making awestruck noises, "turns into this once we're through with it. Now, I know you've all encountered Virtuality before for your classes - Mrs. Simmons tells me you had a unit last month on ancient Egypt, in the pyramids? We wrote that here, as it turns out. Did anyone find the scarab beetle with the blue shell?" A few hands went up. "I added that bit myself. A little reference to an old comic book character I always liked. If you go back into the program - and I have it on good authority that you very well might - and you find the beetle again, call him Ted. You _just_ might get a surprise - and by surprise, I mean a month's free membership to any of our commercial programs - the ones appropriate to your age brackets, I mean!" Another gesture, and the kinetispatial sensors embedded just under the skin of my right hand sent a signal to the screen, which started displaying a series of still images. "Ever since Virtuality, and its predecessor, 'virtual reality,' was invented, people have used it for any number of things. We use it for entertainment, obviously. But we also use it for training - it's a lot safer to learn how to do a job in Virtuality than it is in the real world, after all. And we use it for industrial jobs - an operator in Virtuality can reach out and lift up a box, but while he's doing that, he's also controlling a massive robot arm that's lifting a two-ton box. We use it for psychiatric treatment, for remote operation of any number of machines, and get this - we even use it for prisons." "How do we use it in prisons?" asked one little girl, blinking. Beth - their teacher, Mrs. Simmons - had told me this question might come up, that one of her students had a father in prison. I figured this must be her. "Well, it's simple," I told her, crouching a bit to get to eye level with the kid. "See, it used to be that way back in the day, we had to build these big giant structures for prisons. And prisoners would walk around and have their own cells and there was a lot of fighting and badness and no one really got _helped_. But these days, we put a prisoner's body into suspended animation and we link their minds up to Virtuality; this is a lot safer for the prisoners because they can't fight each other or get hurt. Plus it lets us build a world for them that helps them learn not to do bad things anymore. Prisons can finally _help_ people instead of just _punishing_ them. You see?" I stood up and gestured again; a doorway down the hall opened up. "Now, I bet some of you are wondering why you're taking this trip in the real world instead of just a Virtuality tour, huh? Well, that's simple - it's because I have a _surprise_ for you. Who wants to see?" The kids all jumped and scurried for the door, yelling excitedly; I chuckled and followed, catching Beth's eye. She'd been a hot little number before she got married, and she was still looking plenty good... The children emerged into a room with several dozen alcoves; each alcove contained a Virtuality rig. It didn't look like much - a sort of headset that covered one's face, and even that was unnecessary; we hadn't used screens or direct sensory stimuli in Virtuality in years. No, the real kick was in the two 'trodes in each headset that affixed themselves to the user's temple and sent signals directly to the brain via EM induction. We kept the headsets around so that it was obvious to the non-users who was Virtual and who wasn't. "These," I called out to the kids, "are our _brand-new_ XV-17 model Virtuality rigs, pre-loaded with sixteen different programs - some of them are multi-user, some of them aren't. These won't even be in stores for another month or so - but since you've all been such a good group, I figured maybe you'd want to try them out - and if you like 'em, we'll even let you keep them!" The kids all scurried for the sets, squealing with delight - as well they should, those things were going to retail for about ten thousand Hong Kong dollars a pop, or about half a year's salary for the average wageslave. "Don't forget, when you take them home, you have to let your parents try them too!" I laughed, and one by one the kids jacked in and got real quiet, their minds lost in the ether of Virtuality. Some of them would be playing game sims - fighter pilots, kung-fu masters, stalwart adventurers. Some of them would be enjoying social sims. Either way, though, they all completely lost awareness of the real world, their bodies going still, save for the occasional tensing and spasming that the rigs were designed to force in order to keep their muscles from atrophying. "You're good with them," Beth told me, slipping up beside me and placing her hand at the small of my back. "You always were." "Yeah, but I didn't want any of my own just yet," I told her with a chuckle, eying her. "That's why we broke up, remember?" "Pity," she told me, twinkle in her eye. "The sex was fantastic." I showed her then and there that it still was. None of the kids noticed a thing, off in their dreamlands. She hadn't exactly gotten worse with age either. *** It wasn't entirely a picnic being Jeff O'Leary, but it was on the whole a worthwhile experience. I'd built Virtuality, Inc. from the ground up, taking "virtual reality" to the next level. Complete sensory immersion meant that Virtuality was as real as we could program it to be - and we were getting to be better programmers all the time. It was the prison rehab programs that really sealed the deal for us, though - that's how I made my first million Kongbucks. My face was on magazines and news feedsites all over the world, and damned if my dark-eyed, dark-haired good looks didn't photograph well. Unfortunately, after the tour group had gone home and I was back in my office, I was reminded that even that had not come without a price. The Vmail alert had been preprogrammed years ago; it flashed into the IMlens implanted into my right cornea. Doctor Leonard Chesterfield's sentence ended today. Len had been my head designer on the NuPrison project, the one that made Virtuality a major player in the business world. I handled most of the programming, while Len had dealt with the medical and psychological aspects - how to suspend the body's physiological processes, how to construct scenarios tailored to each particular type of criminal behavior (he had identified twenty-three broad categories, with several variations on each theme) designed to rehabilitate the prisoners. In almost all cases, it worked like a charm - an arsonist, for example, was put into a scenario where he is shown, over and over again, how dangerous and destructive fire can be, how he is never truly fire's master, how he will be burned just as readily as anything else. He emerges from the rehab with a healthy fear of and respect for fire, and is _taught_ - rather than simply having directives programmed into his brain - that setting fires is _bad_. It was Len's genius that realized that the human mind couldn't take isolated Virtuality scenarios 24/7 - the mind needed interaction with other minds. So we built the Common Room module for NuPrison, a sort of social simulation tailored to the prison environment - antisocial or violent behaviors were discouraged by the 'guard' AIs, but it let the prisoners talk and interact with one another so that they had some stimuli other than the preprogrammed scenarios. And everything had worked beautifully until Eddy White came along... I shook my head, pushed away the reminiscing. A memo to Security to keep an eye on Dr. Chesterfield's activities post-release came first; he and I were no longer on good terms. Then I let myself be distracted by the seemingly endless swarm of meetings and paperwork and interviews... there's a lot of work involved in being a billionaire, you know! After several hours of this kind of claptrap I sighed and assigned AJeff - Artificial Jeff, my "backup brain," an artificial intelligence patterned on me - to my next string of meetings. AJeff had been a godsend - in almost all respects he was me, save for the fact that he didn't have a body and that he had certain preprogrammed limits to his actions. He couldn't, for example, sell any of my stuff without my permission. But he knew most of what I knew and that meant he could sit in on board meetings just fine; I made a mental note to send a letter to Marc Gilroy, the CEO of Pseudo-People, Inc., and thank him for convincing me to try one of his company's products. Pricey, but invaluable! Security reported that Len had gone back to his mother's house to live, having divorced his wife after the trial. I felt a little guilty about that, but I could still rationalize it as having been his own fault. Him and Eddy White. Eddy White had been a mass murderer. When he'd finally been caught it had put an end to a reign of terror that had spanned seventeen different nationstates and two continents. He was, to the surprise of absolutely no one, absolutely bugfuck insane. I had argued vociferously _against_ getting him placed in a NuPrison; he was just too crazy, I figured, for any rehab program to do a damned bit of good. Len, though... Len thought he could make it work. I'm still not sure how it happened, but one day Eddy managed - somehow - to gain admin-level control over the Common Room module and shut down all of the guards - letting the inmates do as they pleased. Seventeen cases of brain death and hundreds of psychological traumas ensued; the lawsuits damn near sank the company. All of my protests had been good for something, though - the government knew I'd judged White too insane to be rehabilitated, and that knowledge meant they were culpable too. Thanks to them we got a bailout, and Eddy White was transferred to a Psychological Study Environment run by Thoughtspeak Ltd., where he was finally killed three years later trying to strangle one of the orderlies. When we acquired Thoughtspeak in a hostile takeover last year I made sure to buy out the stock options held by the orderly's family. They're independently wealthy now, and more power to 'em. Len didn't take his failure with White all that well; he started acting squirrelly. I called up the files, sighing. Twenty-eight people. That's how many people Len had kidnapped and hooked into Virtuality rigs to see if he could replicate the circumstances that led to Eddy White's takeover. All of them were dosed with psychoactive drugs to try and replicate White's peculiar schizoid dementia. They were wards of the company now, all of them. Legally, I was their caretaker. That was the only way to indemnify the company against culpability. Only thirteen of them were still alive, sadly; I had them housed in a private community just off of the coast of Georgia. I flipped through their latest progress reports - none of which were encouraging - while remembering Len's trial. It had been me who blew the whistle on him, finally, and he'd never forgiven me. Though the fact that, as it came out during the trial, I'd been fucking his wife for the last two years hadn't helped any either... "Such a fucking waste," I muttered, blanking the screen. "Poor Len. I hope the rehab helped you realize you're not God." I slept very poorly that night. *** Still, as time went on I managed to put Len from my mind; Security kept close tabs on his movements but nothing seemed suspicious. He'd received a three year sentence, one of the longest possible under the NuPrison system; it seemed to have been effective, so I quit worrying about it and immersed myself in the day-to-day activities of running one of the five largest metanational corporations on Earth. It wasn't all work, mind. I went to three different Hollywood premieres, each with a different supermodel on my arm, and two of them turned out to give really, really good head. The third used her teeth a bit much for my tastes; pity, too, she was cute. I settled back into my routine, and I was happy, for a time. That time came to an end after three weeks. I awoke gasping, not from a dream, but from the sudden shift in my environment. It was... it was _quiet_. It was never this quiet, there's almost no place on Earth one's not exposed to the background hum of computers or machinery, but I could hear none of it. I flicked my wrist to bring my internal com-software online, and got no response. My internal electronics were unresponsive, all of them. That set my heart beating even faster. How could they all have failed simultaneously? It wasn't possible! I was so amped up I almost didn't notice the shape in the doorway. "Been a while, Jeff," came the voice, and my heart sank. "Certainly has, Len," I replied, trying to keep the fear out of my voice. "Care to tell me what the hell is going on?" "Hmm? Oh - I shut down your wetware with a localized pulse generator. Don't worry, your expensive toys will be up and running in a few hours. I've also put up a privacy screen around your room. No sound or light or electronic signal gets in or out. Neat, huh? I arranged all this from prison, that's the fun part. Don't worry. I'll explain it all in a bit." I saw the silhouetted form lift a small device, and everything went black. *** I awoke in a poorly-lit room, immobilized; I could see the electronic leads that were doubtless connected to 'trodes on my temples, sending signals to paralyze the body but not yet transporting me to Virtuality. A figure entered my field of view, and I recognized Len - tall, lanky, with close-cropped salt-and-pepper hair. He looked just like I remembered him. "Hello, Jeff," he murmured, satisfaction dripping from his voice. "Welcome to my lab. Your Security people won't find it, you should be aware. I'm going to give you the short explanation and then we can get to work, hmm?" I tried to answer, but my mouth wouldn't move; I couldn't even form the sounds. "You see, I helped _build_ NuPrison. Do you really think it could hold me? I've been planning for this for three years now. I moved funds around, communicated with various offshore interests, did some design work... your backup brain will be running the company for the next little bit, by the by. You never even noticed how I reprogrammed it, did you?" No wonder the reports had been so innocuous - if AJeff was filtering them, keeping the dangerous information off of my desk... Len chuckled. "Ah, I see you've figured it out. Don't worry, Jeff. You're going to be a part of the next evolution of Virtuality." He moved out from my field of vision and I felt a prick at my arm. "You see, part of the genius of Virtuality is that your mind can go anywhere and be anything, but it doesn't affect your body one bit. But it _could_, you see. And thanks to this new process I've devised, it _will_. The Chesterfield Process will revolutionize Virtuality, Jeff, force us to face the consequences of our actions..." His voice was fading, the room was fading. A drug? No, my thought process still seemed normal, I... it was a sim starting, a Virtuality program. What was he talking about, consequences of our... *** ...the room vanished, and I was alone in a field of blackness; I could _feel_ the program loading, and before my eyes a hazy set of shapes started to appear, a room... God, a _cell_, stone walls, straw mat in the corner for sleeping, barred window... There are a few dedicated commands that all Virtuality programs have to possess before the rig will accept the program and start transmitting it. One of these is the Version command. I stood there - God, he'd programmed the sim to start me off naked - and clapped my hands once, then turned one palm upwards in a practiced motion; in my hand there suddenly appeared a small scrap of paper. THE BREAKING OF TOYS, it read, VERSION 3.0.0.12 CUSTOM. NETWORK STATUS GREEN. My heart sank as the paper de-rezzed into nothingness. "The Breaking of Toys" was a fairly infamous program developed by one of our competitors, Better Than Life. BTL specialized in niche adult sims; this one was, if memory served, a sadomasochistic 'sex slave' sim, with the user in the role of the slave. It was designed for those people that didn't get enough BDSM in their real lives; if Len wanted me in here, he must be up to something. "Shit," I mumbled, "think, Jeff, think. How can I..." I didn't have time to formulate a plan before the cell door swung open creakily; two huge, beefy-looking guys were in the hallway, and one gestured. "C'mere," he growled, "the Wizard wants you." I won't go into details. I tried to escape. I got the metaphorical shit beaten out of me. Big the guards might be, but they were fast, too. My vision swam as I was dragged down a hallway, dimly lit by torchlight, and literally tossed into a different room. A study of some sort, I guessed, books lining one wall, a desk in the center, and behind that desk... Christ. It was Len. Len in Halloween drag, at least, wearing robes of sumptuous purple embroidered with stars and moons and sigils; a stereotypical Wizard, he was. _God, let this be a simulation, let this not actually be Len,_ I prayed, but as he spoke I knew I'd not been answered. "Welcome to your new home, Jeff," he told me, glee in his voice. "I've decided you need to be punished for turning me in. You couldn't keep your mouth shut, so you'll be shown what a mouth is for. You couldn't keep your pants on, so you'll be forbidden pants. You couldn't keep your cock to yourself, so..." He snickered, leaned forward. "So you'll _lose_ it. Guards, hold the slave." I was grabbed, dragged to my feet; my struggles were to no avail. "Dammit, Len, this is insane, what are you doing?" "SILENCE!" Wizard-Len roared, and my mouth stilled - I couldn't speak! "I have decided that the world no longer needs a Jeffrey O'Leary. You may not have noticed, since you've not gotten the guided tour, but my home here lacks a certain... something. You'll provide that something." He stood and came around the desk, and his right hand glowed strangely as he reached out and placed it on my forehead. If I could have made a sound I would have screamed in agony, a white-hot burning coursing through my body, limply thrashing in my captor's arms. I've never hurt that much in my entire life. Oh Jesus it burned! Finally Len pulled back his hand, and I gasped for breath but the burning didn't subside, it spread throughout my entire body, pulsing in time with my heartbeat. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I struggled to cope with the agony, it felt like my entire body was on fire. Why didn't I burn the guards? I wondered, but they held me firmly, resolutely - right up until Len gestured, and they released me, let me drop to the ground, sobbing silently. "Behold," he cried, and pointed at a mirror set against the side wall; I couldn't help myself, my head turned... I recognized myself, but only barely. I looked thinner, more slender, and my face was... "The burning you feel is your body metabolizing mass it no longer needs," Len hissed, a smirk in his voice. "Stand up and look at yourself." Again, I could not help but obey. I _was_ thinner, and shorter, too, by a good six inches, but my hair... before my eyes my hair was getting longer, reaching past my jawline... I found I could speak again, and cried out, "What the hell is happening?" but startled at the sound of my own voice, higher, softer, more... more _feminine._ There was a strange sort of pressure in my chest, a tightening, like weights had been affixed there. "You see, slave," Len's voice came from behind me, "my castle here... well, it's all _men,_ you see. A pretty girl will spice things up, I think." The tightening at my chest got stronger, and I gasped in pain as that pressure burst, erupted, _growths_ appearing on my chest... holy God I was growing _breasts!_ My waist was slimming still more, my hips flaring out a bit, my hair still growing longer and longer... "Take her away," Len told the guards, who grabbed me much more gently this time. "Take her back to her cell while she finishes changing... and bring her the mirror. Welcome to my castle, Jessica." As they dragged me away I could still see the mirror, see the shrinking between my legs... The mocking laughter rang in my ears long after I'd fainted. *** It took what seemed like days for the shakes to stop. I'd been alternately feverish and chilled as my body changed, my new metabolism seeking equilibrium. It was just Virtuality, I knew, it wasn't _real_, but it _seems_ real while you're experiencing it, that's the whole point. "At least Len has good taste in women," I muttered, glaring at the mirror. He'd made me a fucking _bombshell_. My hair was down to the small of my back, cascading in waves, all sleek and smooth. I didn't have a tape measure, but I guesstimated my measurements at 40-24-26. The massive D cup breasts were going to take forever to get used to, always in my way, shifting my center of gravity; if the sim was as in- depth as I feared I was going to have to start worrying about backaches unless I got some support for them and fast. And they were _sensitive!_ I'd been genderswapped in Virtuality before, of course, most people try it at least once, but these felt _nice_ when I touched them... ...enough of that. I had work to do, an escape to plan. NETWORK STATUS GREEN, I'd read when pulling up the Version info. That means that this sim wasn't a standalone, wasn't programmed directly into the Virtuality rig - it was stored in a computer somewhere. If I could find a way to get access back to that computer, I might be able to get a message out somewhere... I'd been planning out how to gain access for about an hour when the cell door opened again. The guards were there, of course, leering; so was Len, however. "Hello, Jessica," he purred, stepping forward. "My name's Jeff, you asshole," I almost shouted at him, and then my world went white as I was rocked backwards by a powerful and unexpected slap. Tears sprang to my eyes, and I took a step backwards. "You will address me as Sir or Master," Len growled at me, "and your name is whatever I decide it is. Now - I am here to present you with two options. One, you can suck my cock like the good little slave girl you are. Or two, you can be whipped for an hour." I leapt at him, tried clawing out his eyes. That sufficed for an answer, he figured. The whipping was agony. *** This scene repeated itself for a solid week, twice a day. The whippings never got any easier, or any gentler. I knew, intellectually - during the rare moments of wakefulness I managed where I wasn't sobbing in pain - that the sim probably had a sped-up timeframe, that it hadn't been a week, but I didn't know what that timeframe was like. Still, I had to escape. In order to escape I needed time to work. In order to get time I had to not be sobbing in pain. Len entered again, flanked by the guards, and I surprised him, I think, when I fell to my knees at his entrance. "Please, Sir," I whispered, meekly. "I don't wish to be whipped again. I will... I will suck your cock." He chuckled, strode forward. "There's a good girl, Jessica," he murmured. "I knew you'd come around eventually." The robes shifted, pulled aside, and a half-erect cock hung there before my face. I tried hard to clamp down on my revulsion. "Suck it," he hissed. If I did this, he'd be gone afterwards, and maybe I'd have some time to plan, to start hacking the system. Maybe. It was the best shot I had, I knew. Slowly, gingerly, I reached up to lightly wrap my hands around Len's member, fighting off a wave of nausea. _I'm not gay,_ I told myself, _this isn't real, I'm just trying to buy time to escape, that's all!_ Slowly my plump, moist lips parted, and I pressed them to the tip of his shaft tenderly... ...it was like an electric shock running down my spine. I realized too late what he had done. The rehab programs for NuPrison are designed to _teach,_ not to _force._ It would be simpler, certainly, to simply imprint commands to obey laws into the minds of criminals, but that was forbidden by the courts - behavior modification was a violation of human rights. We built programs to _instruct,_ not to _brainwash._ Foolishly, I had assumed that Len would have followed the same dictates. It never even _occurred_ to me that he wouldn't. But I was wrong. I knew I was wrong, because suddenly my lips were parting and I was taking the head of his cock into my mouth, swirling my tongue 'round the sensitive ridge of his head and feeling him harden and it felt fucking _wonderful,_ better than any drug I'd ever tried. I moaned against his manhood as I took more of its length into my mouth, and if I concentrated I could see the subliminal messages, phrases like 'this is what I was born to do' and 'all good girls suck cock whenever they're told' but it was hard to concentrate, waves of pleasure flooding through me as I reached up to grip his buttocks with my hands, moaning and gasping as I thrust by head back and forth on that thick, massive cock, it felt so fucking good I could feel the high starting it was like staring into the face of God himself I couldn't concentrate I couldn't think it felt sogoodohGodhowcouldIeverstop I tried so hard to swallow his come, but couldn't quite manage it, gasping and choking, pulling back, some of his jism splashing onto my cheeks and face. I felt dizzy, floating, almost like I wasn't really awake. "Good girl, Jessica," he whispered, and stroked my hair with a surprising gentleness before turning and leaving. The door slammed behind him and I gasped for breath, shuddering with the intense pleasure and craving more and trying to come to grips with what had happened and failing miserably. I did not get any more escape planning done that day. *** Another week passed. I had learned how to swallow, except for the times Len decided he wanted to come on my tits instead. And what's more, I was craving it. There was a small part of me screaming that this was wrong, that it wasn't even real, that I had to figure out how to get out of here. I wasn't listening to it. *** The next time Len entered my cell I dropped to my knees, expectantly opening my mouth, but he laughed. "No, Jessica, not just now. I've some business to attend to. However, I've some good news for you. How would you like to get out of this cell?" I stood slowly, blinking. "I don't understand, Sir," I whispered, cocking my head to one side. "It's very simple. You're learning to be a good girl, and I want to reward you. I'm going to give you a room of your own, and some clothes to wear. There's a catch, however." Clothes! Oh God that would be so nice, I felt filthy from being naked all the time! "A catch, Sir?" "Indeed." Len chuckled quietly. "You recall what I said my castle lacked, yes?" "You.... you said it was all men, Sir," I murmured, puzzled. What was he getting at? "That's right. And as men, well, they have desires too, now don't they? So. If you want a room of your own, and a nice hot bath, and some clothes, and a nice warm bed to sleep in," my heart soared at the mention of a bed, "you will have to show them your appreciation. Whenever any man pulls out his cock before you, you will suck them without question or hesitation. That is the rule. Do you think you can obey this rule?" On the one hand, the idea of sucking the cock of _any_ man that wanted me to was revolting to me - I had some standards, dammit! - but on the other hand... well, hell, I craved the sensation, the _high_ I was getting. I hesitated only a moment before I gave in to my weakness. "I will obey, Sir," I breathed. "Let's see," Len murmured with a chuckle, stepping back out of the cell. The two guards entered in his place, and both of them pulled down their breeches without a word. Both men were hard, ready, and - to be blunt - hung like the proverbial racehorse. I shuffled forward with a muted cry, reaching for those thick organs, taking one in each hand. The small part of me that retained all my faculties was shamed and repulsed, but the _need_ had overtaken me, the _desire_. Len had programmed the sim well. I _had to have them_. I took turns sucking one cock while stroking the other with my free hand, switching back and forth, my hair bouncing with each stroke. The guards were rougher, too, gripping my hair, pulling slightly, forcing those thick cocks into my throat, but I didn't care, not even when the world swam before me and I got tunnel vision as I was choked by those hard shafts. It felt so _good,_ and I knew it was part of the programming but I didn't _care,_ I just wanted more, I wanted the feeling to last forever and even after they came on my breasts and I rubbed the thick white come over my skin, shuddering, even then I just wanted them to get hard again so I could suck them, I wanted more, I wanted it so bad... I felt dizzy as Len led me to my new room, sumptuously decorated in silks and satins. It was lovely, but I wanted more, I wanted more cock, dammit! *** Oddly enough, it was the thought of playing with myself that snapped me back to reality - or as close to reality as my circumstances allowed, really. I'd had a hot bath, been helped into a nightgown by a butler after sucking him off, and I laid in bed daydreaming, thinking of more thick cocks, of sucking them, of their taste and their scent. I didn't even will it to happen, my arms moved of their own accord, caressing and squeezing my heavy, firm breasts, feeling my nipples crinkle and harden. My hands moved lower, over my abdomen, to my hips... and stopped. I was forbidden to touch myself. I knew this, somehow. I _wanted_ to, but it was forbidden. Why was it forbidden? "It's part of the programming," I whispered, realization dawning - and that snapped me back. "Jesus, the program. My God, I've lost who knows how much time!" I had a trick, though, not up my sleeve but almost literally _in_ it. The kinetispatial sensors embedded in my hand were actually part of a very sophisticated system - one that was custom-made, in fact, just for me. All over my body back in the real world were similar embedded sensors - they kept track of where my body parts were, what they were doing. I moved a finger, and the sensors knew it - and I had sensors in more than just my hand. The sensors transmitted the data to a processing unit affixed to the base of my spine, which could send signals to a signals array embedded in the parietal lobe of my skull. Within my body was a device to compute data, to send and receive information. It was going to be my way out. Usually I used it for parlor tricks like changing signals on wallscreens without a remote control, but it _could_ be used for much more sophisticated tasks. I sat up in the bed, feeling the silk sheets rustle, and called up another of the general commands that all Virtuality sims have - Console. Console is a simple data stream - a display if the data moving around in a sim, used for debugging and troubleshooting. Regular users almost never bothered with the Console, because it was too technical for them, but I was a world-class programmer, dammit! With some doing I was able to patch the Console app into my internal computer's input/output system. This would let me 'piggyback' a signal from _my_ computer onto the signal being used by the Virtuality rig - the one connecting the rig to the computer that stored the simulation program. If I could crack it, I might then be able to get onto the computer's network, and from there into the worldwide datastream, where I could get a message out to my head of security. Then he could come and rescue me and Len would go to prison and I could get back to my life! *** I'd just managed to crack the network encryption when I heard footsteps; I shut down the Console and stretched a bit, sighing. The door opened with a soft creak, and the butler entered. Jeeves, his name was, and he was a very proper, very English fellow. "It is time for Milady to dress," he informed me primly, and he seemed unimpressed by my yawns. "Come, Milady. Milord set a firm timetable for your activities today." "I don't want to get up," I mumbled, rubbing my eyes. I'd stayed up all night coding, after all. "Milady, I am to inform you that if you do not in fact get up and get dressed, Milord's whips remain ready." _That_ got me up in a hurry! Jeeves nodded, not even smiling a little. "Thank you, Milady. I have taken the liberty of selecting your outfit for the day." He moved to my wardrobe, opened it, began selecting items. First there was a pair of lacy white panties that looked so delicate I was almost afraid to touch them, much less wear them, but Jeeves would brook no delays. I had to admit, they felt very nice. Then Jeeves was pulling out something else, something unfamiliar... I gasped. It was an overbust corset of white satin - I could _see_ the whalebone boning, and it looked... well, dreadfully uncomfortable. But again, Jeeves was hearing none of my protests, and he moved to help me into the restricting garment. It was... less than comfortable. Thankfully Jeeves gave me some time to get used to the shallow breathing necessitated by the constricting shape before insisting I slip into a pair of white stockings. Finally he pulled out the dress, and I have to admit, it was lovely. White silk, with long, flowing lines, a slit up one side of the skirt. It was sleeveless and covered in lace and ribbons and even without the sim's positive reinforcement I had to admit it looked terribly elegant. Jeeves helped me into the unfamiliar garment, and then into the elbow- length gloves that accompanied it. The heeled pumps caused me a moment's vertigo, but apparently part of the sim's programming involved walking in them; the two-inch heels proved tricky to get used to but I was in no danger of breaking an ankle. Finally Jeeves brought me over to a mirror, and I gasped; I looked elegant and ladylike. The all-white ensemble only accentuated my dark hair and eyes, and drew the gaze naturally to my face; my curves, as generous as they were, were even more highlighted by the tight corset, and the neckline of the dress gave just the barest hint of my cleavage. I looked statuesque; more like a painting than a woman. Jeeves nodded and left, and then there was a new person entering the room, a slender fellow with long hair and an affected lisp in his voice. "Hello, dearie," he exclaimed, "my name is Reggie and I'm your stylist. Oh don't you look _fabulous_ in that _outfit!_ Oh, honey, you're fantastic. Have a seat right there and we'll get your hair done up, hmm? And a touch of makeup, not too much, you don't really need it, but some lipstick to make those pretty lips stand out and some rouge, oh this is going to be fantastic..." I sat in my chair, blinking at the onslaught of words, as Reggie started setting down haircare products and makeup kits; he blinked, then, and laughed. "Maybe we'd better get this out of the way before we start, so you don't mess up that pretty hair, hmm?" I heard the zipper, and turned to find Reggie already pulling out his dick, already hard and not quite as intimidatingly large as the guards'. It wasn't like before. I felt the need, the desire, the hunger - but I wasn't a slave to it anymore. Still, I knew I had to do it - and, yes, I wanted to, too. I leaned forward, wrapped my gloved hand around his cock, started suckling... oh, it still felt good. Hell, it felt wonderful. But I didn't lose sight of myself, didn't lose sight of my need to escape. I could handle being a cocksucker if I was still capable of conscious thought. That was something. When I was done, Reggie put my hair up into tight ringlets that cascaded down around my shoulders, and applied ruby-red lipstick to my lips; as promised, he went light on the makeup, and then let me admire his work in the mirror. I looked for all the world like an older version of Veruca Salt from that chocolate factory movie - the second one, the one with the psychedelic freakishness, not the one with the dancing and singing, like. Well, an older, chestier, sluttier version, considering how I was still licking the taste of Reggie's come from my newly-painted lips. Jeeves had promised a full day, and it was that. I met the cook, the rest of the guards, the other butlers, the cupbearer, the stable boy - every single resident of the castle. And yes, I sucked each and every one of their cocks. And it felt wonderful, but I still managed to hold on to my sense of self. Somehow. Oddly enough, I didn't have a big dinner. My stomach was already full, and besides, my jaw was sore. *** This sort of thing continued over the next several days. The cupbearer was my favorite. He was still a teenager, very young and shy; I found myself catching his eye even when his pants were on, smiling a secretive little smile that always got him blushing and stammering. The guards were all rough, almost brutal; Jeeves acted like the whole thing was boring, a duty to be performed; the stableboy had wandering hands and always kept trying to squeeze my tits while I was sucking him. Okay, that felt good, admittedly, but he was _clumsy_ about it. The cupbearer, though... his name was Joseph, and he always looked, afterwards, like he was afraid he'd done it wrong, even though I assured him he hadn't. He never pulled my hair, only caressed it gently, tenderly, and he never thrust his hips forward and tried to gag me. I looked forward to the times when I could serve him, it made me feel good, the way he always seemed so happy and halfway astonished, like he couldn't believe that he was going to get his dick sucked. Such a sweetie. And the clothes! There was always a corset, _always_ a corset, but the gowns were all of incredible elegance and beauty - really classy, too. I think it amused Len to have an elegant, courtly lady sucking cock. This was the way I spent my days, but my nights were spent hacking. And finally, I had a back door. The sim was housed on a central computer that also hosted several other sims - several other _social_ sims, which was the important thing. A social sim is one that multiple users log in to to interact with one another. Most of them were sex sims, but one of them was called Bellona, and I knew it well. Bellona was named after a fictional city in a book by Samuel Delany, and it was a direct descendant of the old MUSH/MUX-style textual communities. You logged in, created a character, and went off to play them, live their life. You could be anyone in Bellona - a gang member, a cop, a femme fatale, an assassin. There were no rules other than that you had to fit within Bellona's theme, which was early 21st Century America, in the years before the Corporate Actions, when everything was still run by a government that wasn't equipped or funded enough to handle the fast pace of change in then-modern life. It was a second life for people, a second life with some of the safeties disengaged. Late one night I figured out how to migrate my signal from The Breaking Of Toys into Bellona. *** The castle de-rezzed around me and I found myself in a small apartment. Alone for the moment, thank goodness. I checked the mirror and gasped. I was still female! I was clad in more genre-appropriate clothes - short skirt, thigh-high black boots, a tight-fitting blouse that showed off way more cleavage than I was comfortable with - but I was still female! This shouldn't have been! My female body was an artifact of the Breaking of Toys sim - when I entered a new sim my appearance should default to _my_ physical appearance, my mental self-image! I didn't have time to puzzle it out, however - I heard a key turn in the lock of the apartment's front door, and spun around to see a man walking in. Tall, handsome - wearing a blue uniform, a cop, thank goodness. People that play cops usually are attracted to the sense of duty and justice. I didn't even give him a chance to ask what was happening. "Please," I blurted out, lunging forward. "Please, I don't have very long. I need you to get a message to the security department at Virtuality." "Lady," he exclaimed, trying to push me back, "what the hell are you doing in my apartment? Christ, you're breaking character, newbie!" "I don't have much time," I gasped out. "I'm on a pirated signal. I can pay you. A thousand Kongbucks, okay? Look, just call up Virtuality's home office, ask for Martin Royce. He's the head of security there. Tell him Jeff is in trouble and ping him this locator." I keyed into my processor, transmitted the GPS coordinates from the spatial sensors. "That's all you have to do. Please, I'm begging you!" The cop closed the door, frowning. "Christ," he mumbled, "I'm getting ready to log out, I don't have time for a new plot line..." He started peeling off his uniform, shaking his head. "I'm not running a plot, I don't even play this game!" I cried, anxiously. "Please, I'm begging you, I..." My voice trailed off. One of Bellona's in-game quirks is that you 'log out' by putting your character to sleep. Players head back to their homes and get into bed; only then are they presented with the option to exit the game. It's considered bad form to sleep with your clothes on - your character will look rumpled the next day - so everyone changes out of their clothes before logging out. Bellona's characters are also fully rendered. Sex was a part of the game, after all. And the cop had just taken off his pants, and I was staring at his cock. This sim didn't have the subliminals, the reprogramming. It wasn't telling me I had to suck his cock. I had complete freedom of action. But the reprogramming _had_ happened. And I wanted it. I wanted it so fucking bad. I dropped to my knees without even thinking of it. "Please," I whispered, reaching for him, and I didn't know what I was asking for anymore. The cop blinked in astonishment as I reached for his cock, but he didn't pull away as I wrapped my lips around him with a soft groan. My eyes fluttered closed as I took his length into my mouth, suckling gently, letting my tongue tease the sensitive underside of his shaft. He groaned, ran fingers through my hair as I took more of him, pushing forward, deep-throating that shaft and feeling his balls bounce off my chin as I started bobbing back and forth, sucking for all I was worth, moaning and wriggling with pleasure as he shot his load down my throat, swallowing, squeezing his cock with my throat as I worked to drain every last drop from him. I pulled back, looked up into his wide, astonished eyes, licked my lips slowly. "Call Royce," I repeated, and then de-rezzed before his eyes. I had to get back to Len's sim before any of the characters knew I was gone. The last thing he said to me, as I sat back and left the system, was, "Hey, you're a...!" *** Why had I done that? I asked myself this question a thousand times over the next few days, between the dressing and the sucking and the slavery. Why had I sucked the cop's dick? This sim made me want to, there was no doubt of that - I still got that amazing high every time, even when I was going down on Jeeves, who barely seemed to notice. But Bellona didn't have that subroutine. Why had I done it? I knew the answer, but I recoiled from it, casting about for an alternative. The only thing that made sense is that the reprogramming was a lot deeper than I thought, that I hadn't been able to resist it, that Len's psychological knowhow was too great for me to resist - that _my mind_ was imprinted with the desire. That even once I was out of the sim I'd have this burning need to suck cock. I couldn't accept it. But I knew it was true. Still I curled up next to Joseph - I'd already gone down on him but he didn't seem to mind if I cuddled him after, he even seemed to like it, and he stroked my hair with a surprising tenderness - and tried to think of alternatives. I tried so very hard. *** Len returned the next day, and I was taken before him. I fell to my knees, expecting him to demand another blowjob, but he surprised me. "Lean forward, Jessica," he told me sternly, and I did as he demanded, placing my hands on the floor and getting on all fours. "Good girl," he murmured, and I got a little wave of pleasure - the sim's obedience routines hard at work again. It had been weeks since anyone had called me Jeff. I hadn't even noticed that I was responding to Jessica now. I felt Len lift my skirt, caress my bottom, and I shivered a bit, half- expecting that burning touch and gratified to learn it wasn't coming, his hand soft and gentle as he started to pull down my panties. What was he...? ...Oh God. I felt a cold chill as something touched my rear, my sphincter, something cold and wet and... I tried to cry out but he was pushing a finger, pushing a finger _inside_ of me and and and oh Jesus, I thought sucking cock had given me a high. I cried out, tossing my head, arching my back as I lowered my chest to the floor, feeling myself thrust my hips back involuntarily; Len's chuckle was piercing. "There's a good girl, Jessica. I think it's time you learned what you're really here for, hmm?" There was a pressure on my behind, his hands spreading my cheeks and I felt the tip of his cock start to push itself into my ass and I was shrieking and it hurt and it was wonderful and I don't have the words to describe it. He fucked me for hours. I don't know how many times I came. Suffice it to say that it was a lot. He alternated. At first he was gentle, almost sweet, letting me stretch, letting me get used to the thickness pushing inside of me, spreading me, stretching me, filling me. Then he was rough, his hips slapping against my cheeks as he reached out to grab my hair, demanding that I look at myself in the mirror, the way I lay prostrate before him, my face twisted in ecstasy. He made me beg him for more, made me scream "Fuck me Master please harder fuck your little slave" at the top of my lungs and I did it gladly I wanted it so bad, the world had gone white with pleasure, the high being forced into me by the Virtuality rig making it harder to think making it impossible to think I wasn't a person anymore I just wanted to be fucked to be used to be a slave I belonged to him please fuck me more I need it I need it I need it *** Then the world ended. *** Literally, I mean. Len was pumping his seed into my gaping ass for the third time and I was squealing in delight when suddenly everything turned to a whirlwind of static and blackness and suddenly there was nothingness. _Forced disconnect,_ I thought after what seemed an age. _Sim shut down. Oh Christ._ It took me what seemed an age to come back to myself. My eyes seemed gummy and sticky as I opened them, seeing the small room, the one Len had imprisoned me in, and there was Len and he was being hit by one of the security men and I wanted him to feel pain and I wanted him to fuck me again and I was so confused and there was a warm body next to mine and I curled up against it and it seemed like a good idea to go back to sleep so I did. *** Three days I had been Len's prisoner. It seemed like over a month, but it had only been three days. Len was sent to a Psychological Study Environment; AJeff was taken offline so his reprogramming could be removed. That was the _least_ of the aftermath. "They weren't even sure who you were," the doctor was telling me, flipping through charts. "Luckily your internal system has a unique signature so that your identity could be confirmed after... after the changes." The prick in my arm I'd felt - the Chesterfield Process - had been a cocktail of hormonal, chemical, and nanotechnological treatments. Len's notes had been found, and they were going to take forever to interpret and go through, but the upshot was... Virtuality selves - avatars, characters, whatever - can be changed by the sim. They can be shot or stabbed or kissed or forcibly altered like mine was. The key is, that doesn't affect the _user_ at all. Sure, the user feels the changes, but when they log out and turn off the rig, they're still the same them they were when they put the rig on. The Chesterfield Process put an end to that. Under the Process, when an avatar was punched, their _body_ would bruise; when an avatar colored their hair, the hair color of _their real body_ would change. It was the next quantum leap forward in Virtuality technology, it opened up a whole new world of possibilities, but... Well. I had undergone the Process - and then I'd been transmuted into a woman. Get the idea? Yep. My hair was longer, my features were feminine, and I had a pair of gorgeous D cup breasts. At least I was a _pretty_ woman. Well... except for one little detail. 'Hey, you're a...!' I hadn't caught the tail end of what the cop from Bellona had yelled; I knew now. It was 'man.' The Chesterfield Process couldn't rewrite DNA - not _totally_. I still had a Y chromosome. This was why Len's sim had forbidden me to touch myself, because of the cognitive dissonance it would project - I had never even noticed (the programming of the sim hadn't _allowed_ me to notice) that I still had my own cock. It was a lot smaller than it used to be, thanks to the enormous dose of hormones and chemicals, but it was there, and it still worked. "Virtuality's legal department is going to have a field day," the doctor said with a shrug. "Chesterfield's notes indicate that the Process can't be used to undo the changes it makes - we're going to look into it, of course, but for the time being we're frankly at a loss. I genuinely don't know if we can get you back to normal. I'm sorry, Mister O'Leary." Mister. It seemed... odd, somehow. The reconditioning and reprogramming at work, no doubt. "Just... just leave us alone, please, Doctor," I whispered, and he nodded, backed out of the room, leaving me to turn to the room's other occupant in the next bed. I had curled up against him in the aftermath of my rescue. It turns out that Len's god-complex needed a wider audience to work, so he'd kidnapped yet another victim. He was eighteen, barely, and he was a shy, gentle lad. Yep - his name was Joseph, and he had been the cupbearer. He smiled shyly at me, sat up a little. "So... should I stop calling you Jessica?" he asked, color filling his cheeks. I blushed right back at him, and whispered, "I... no, don't stop. I'm... I'm like this now, I may as well get used to it..." A thought struck me, and I sat up a bit, giggling. "Besides, it's about time there was a woman president of Virtuality, don't you think?" He laughed, sitting up a bit more, and his bedsheets fell aside - and he was naked beneath them, and before I knew what I was doing I was climbing out of the hospital bed, licking my lips, and he didn't try to stop me, just stroked my hair as I kissed and licked at his cock, taking it into my mouth while he whispered my name, Jessica, and it felt so good, so right... ...it was going to be an interesting board meeting, once I was feeling well enough to hold one, but the new me was going to be just as shrewd a businesswoman as the old me was a businessman, I decided. I just hoped all my department heads kept their pants on, or I could be in real trouble! FIN