GamerGirled For Life (Part 2) free porn video

Title: GamerGirled for Life (Part 2) Author: Cupertino Abstract: An open Beta for a VR game eats into Scott's mind and changes his desires. Now he's desperate for solutions. With his virtual reality visor on, Scott floated in Gamer Corp's login aether while deprived of any sensations of having a body. He searched a gallery of hero characters surrounding his shapeless form. When he narrowed the selection down to the manliest ugliest crudest of heroes available, Scott chose the one named Roadrage. The walking dead truck driver carried a bloody knife and shot a tow truck hook out that could yank anyone right back into the point of his blade. "Roadrage," thought Scott into the aether. As the computer churned, he realized just how badly he needed to feel like a man again. He prayed that playing a manly guy would help in getting an erection in real life. The day before, he had looked at himself in a mirror donning a woman's outfit. Seeing a passable and actually pretty woman - well, that crushed his male mojo beyond repair. Being pretty really hit him at the core. Where was he going with these new exciting feelings? Scratch that - scary desires - no, worse, urgent needs to feminize himself. Ok, maybe a little bit of pleasurable sexual buzz was mixed in, but still frightening. Why had this never surfaced before? Had playing Madie Deadveux in VR really awakened something hidden deep inside him? Red flashed everywhere in his bodiless login world. It pulled him away from his cloud of confusion and questions. His thoughts switched back to the game. A picture of Madie Deadveux presented itself. "No," he thought. He had chosen Roadrage. His mind took his free floating spirit back to the rogues gallery of playable characters. He selected the truck driving killer again. The VR world refused, flashing red and denying him access to joining any games about to start. Madie's animated picture pushed its way forward. The game clearly urged her as the best selection to make. She stood tall, racking her slide, and shooting. There was the whole boob jiggle thing and the cinched waist - mmmm, thought Scott watching her supple body. Wait! No. He mentally flinched. He tried other characters, like Cannonball, whose tank acted like a giant hamster wheel. No entry. He changed strategies and went for women characters besides Madie. His spirit grabbed at the obnoxious looking Jersey girl, named Jinkies, wearing her Daisy Dukes while driving a pink walking robot tank. She could also leave the machine and go solo with two blasters she holstered to her upper thighs like Lara Croft. No entry. He tried a female magician and her sexy tuxedo outfit with a top hat and tails. He watched a demo of her pulling a grenade out of her hat and blowing up Roadrage. Done deal, he thought. She had mesh stockings and tiny precariously tall high heels. Maybe the computer would allow her. He thought her name: Evony. No entry. More red flashing followed. He gave in and chose Madie, like he had always done before. Even if it reinforced his sexual problems in real life, he needed to feel the breasts move with his body and the desire for others to see him that way. It made no sense. Yes. Madie Deadveux, the sexy assassin, was it again. The login sucked him right into VR. The staging room flooded in sunlight, immersing his view and his senses. He stood there in Madie Deadveux's sexy body once more. He loved her form, her walk, and her voice. Why was he trying so hard to fight her? An inner voice screamed for him to escape the burning wreckage of his mind - eject! Eject! But his heart melted, looking for love. It found it in Madie and being Madie and moving as Madie did. Others logged in to staging. The characters Scott noticed popping into view were all women heroes. Normally, less than half of any random team chose the fairer sex. A muscle bound female hero character, named Agneta with an Eastern German crew cut. A Jinkies Jersey gal appeared too. Why couldn't he have been allowed to try her skin out at least once? He loved the snug short jeans and the tight blouse. A female mage appeared, an Evony hero, wearing her magician's top hat and tails. Scott still wanted to try that unobtainable outfit too. He looked at her. His eyes lingered turning a glance into a stare and then continuing that extra second to make it a leer. Evony's legs rose from the floor, going up seemingly forever, wrapped in diamond patterned mesh tights all the way up to her black leotard tuxedo. "I love that new heroine," said Scott, pointing back at the Evony woman. "Very chic." "Meh," she said in a sultry voice, adjusting her bowtie. "It's a little too sexualized, but I like the specs. Hi, I'm Sarah. I see the server added you as our fourth, hopefully fifth, if we can get our normal group all together." She held out her hand. Scott shook her gentle and warm white satin gloved grip. "I'm OneShot." The tuxedoed bomb conjuror said something in French and Scott looked puzzled. "Oh, I'm sorry. I said, we paid to filter players to only females. There won't be any guys here tonight." Her face looked a little confused. "I thought you were French." Scott covered his mouth, mortified. "Um, no. I get that a lot. My parents were French..." Scott needed to think fast. "But they wanted me to learn English, so I have this odd accent. I've totally forgotten any French." Scott smiled. The excuse probably stretched anyone's notion of credibility. "Come on. You must know at least a little with an accent like that." "Bonjour-no?" said Scott, with a questioning face contorted into bewilderment. "Ha!" laughed Sarah. "I love the bad Italian. Fine. I take your mockery as meaning you simply want to avoid French tonight." She raised her voice, "So I declare, we'll only speak English." The hat rim lowered, shadowing her eyes as they locked on to him. "I assume a lover has wronged you or some family thing needs to be buried." She raised a hand. "No. No. Don't tell. Half of us here are Canucks. It wasn't like we spoke it that well anyway." Jinkies, in her Daisy Dukes approached, chomping continuously on a virtual bit of bubble gum just like any stereotype of a city girl from the Garden State would. Sarah and the Jersey gal hugged. They turned to Scott, who returned a silly little wave. Sarah added, "OneShot, this is my BFF, Chloe. OneShot here wants to practice English, so she'll tell you a story involving Area 51 if need be to get you to not speak French." Chloe rushed in and hugged. She then pushed Scott away at arms length, while holding him at his shoulders. She inspected the assassin's game skin. "Looking good. Sorry, if I seem pissed off." She pointed to her face. "It's the character. She chews this gum whether I want to or not. If I blow a bubble, I can pull the gum out, but it explodes in five clicks. Then I get more gum shoved in my face. I don't know if I like this hero. I like yours though. I bet the game makes the corset feel tight." "Yeah, it does, but I like it," said Scott, relaxing and forgetting about his French accent issue. Sarah and Chloe's friendliness flustered him. He wanted to fit in and it made him nervous. "I wanted to try her - I mean you - I mean the hero - I mean Jinkies. I love the walking tank features. Somehow I couldn't log in as her though" "Weird. You want to try again? I'll switch. I'd love to snipe tonight." Scott looked away with a grimace. "I'm afraid I'd get locked out again." "Ok, ok," said Chloe, throwing up her hands. She pointed both fingers back at him. "What's your real name though?" "OneShot." "No," she threw her hands down and rounded her shoulders over to fake excessive exhaustion. Her face smiled. "Your real, real name. Our team likes to know who we're playing with." She nudged an elbow into his side. "We're a small club, us gals. It's safe." "Oh, um, Emily," said Scott, choosing his ex's name. The Agneta hero approached, with her cyborg legs and arms whirring. The girls, all best of friends, hugged and giggled not letting the strapped on blasters and bombs get in their way. It wasn't anything like how guys got together at all. Scott envied them and how they rambled on, gossiping and comparing notes. The lights dimmed. The ads played overhead. Women's products flashed by. Nanite Cosmetics showed a woman getting her skin redone and her hipbone widened for what the narrator called "a sexier look." Femur growth animation showed a woman with longer thighs for "improved sexual appeal." A woman's voice promised, "For a perfect bikini body, visit Nanite Cosmetics." The women stopped gabbing long enough to look appalled. The Agneta hero raised her gun and took out several windows doubling as video panels. She screamed like a higher pitched Arnold from Predator. "Oh, Gabby!" yelled Chloe. "You'll delay the game. Now the ads will repeat." "Nanite Cosmetics breast enhancement," said the narrator, starting over. "Ahh!" yelled Chloe falling to her knees as the others laughed. She blew her gum into a bubble, pulled it free from her mouth, and popped the air out making a messy blob. "I hate this gum!" She looked at it in her little hand. "Damn it!" She threw it at Gabby. "Hey!" yelped Gabby, laughing and trying to unstick the pink blob from her robotic knee. It exploded, dropping Gabby to the floor. "Now you're the one delaying the game." "Nah," said Chloe, "You've got plenty of time to heal before the ads stop." The narrator added, "Make you eyes exotic with Asian eyelids." Chloe raised both handguns and began shooting. "There's more to life!" She emptied out more shells. During the gunfire protests against targeted ads, a blonde dressed in all white armor, with metal feathers forming retractable wings flanking her flying rocket pack, landed by the group. The Angel character spoke in a sweet voice that Scott had heard before. "Hi. I'm Trashtalk." The girls greeted the healer in a warm group hug. Scott knew the player was Brendan. "Hi, Brenda," said Sarah. The name Brenda startled Scott. Sarah added, "So happy you could join tonight. You make us five." She pecked the blonde Angel on both cheeks. Scott slinked over and pretended to introduce himself. "Hi, um, Brenda? I'm Emily." The healer smiled and leaned in to kiss on the cheek. Brendan whispered, "You don't tell. I won't tell. Deal?" "Suuuuure," said Scott, stretching out the word into a cloudy void lacking any confidence. "By the way," said the Angel's pretty face, breathing so close to Scott's lips, "the magician's assistant gal..." Scott interrupted. "I think the character is a magician, not an assistant." "Whatever. She's off limits. She's all lesbian and hot for me. We've been canoodling down by the New Paris docks for a couple weeks now. But whoever the Agneta gal is. She's all yours." "What?" "I'm serious, bro. She's lesbo too. According to my gal." He shrugged. The Angel armor obscured most of the shoulder movement. Scott awkwardly smiled at the gabbing group of woman standing around them. He leaned back in to whisper. "Are you sure they're actually women?" "Yep. They all have level one certified female body signatures. And some -- get this - published general silhouette details - basically, their measurements, bro - um, sis." He gave Scott a punch in the arm and then quickly acted as if he hadn't done such a non-girly action." "Body signatures?" "That means they had their bodies visually scanned by a certified technician with 3D cameras. God I'd love to have that job. All the mesh data he'd have access to. The options cost extra for VR sigs." "Wait. Women who want to play with other women have to subject themselves to getting an encrypted data scan of their own bodies just to prove we're women? No wonder we're not happy about games." Scott missed realizing his use of we. Brendan stayed in the thread of 3D sexual curvy meshes. "God that's hot. You show up, they TSA ya under a bunch of cameras, and bam, porno sites will accept ya to log in. My magician babe is certified to be hot in real life. I just don't know what she looks like exactly, but she is confirmed to be facially symmetrical, with an A-plus skin quality. She also shared her certified measurements. Hot. Hot." More ads for tampons flew by overhead. "But surely these sigs can be forged, Brend..." Scott shook his head. "Brenda." "Nope. These are from the expensive reputable ones, like VRGuard and Surrogate Certificate. You show up in person with your headgear. They add a secure chip to your visor tied to your own brainwaves. They're used mainly for the VR porno sites. Customers get really picky in porno land. Ya don't want to noodle a guy when you're a guy, huh?" "Your disgusting," said Scott, crossing his arms and shaking his head. The female announcer's voice boomed, "Game commencing." "Yeah!" yelled Brendan, then suddenly subduing his luscious female voice. He spoke meekly and as effeminately as possible when he suggestd to everyone, "Pardon, should we start?" Scott lingered on the idea of a porno VR site. It would probably wipe out his savings in hours, but maybe it was worth a shot. Brendan, inside his pretty faced blonde, powered up his rocket pack. "I think I love her, bro - ya'um, sis, sister." He winked his eye- shadowed eye. "She wants me to get my sig soon if we're going to keep our thing going. That's my only problem." All the women ran off leaving the two guys, both men incognito. "Tootles, bee'atch." The rocket pack lifted Brendan off to his secret rendezvous with Sarah. Scott couldn't believe he had found a group of gals in a first person shooter and they were certified female, of all things. "Wait! Brend, Bren, Brenda!" It was too late. Scott's calls echoed alone in the staging area warehouse. He wanted to know if canoodling, as Brendan called it, with a real woman in VR helped. Scott sighed and slowly walked off into New Paris. Maybe VR porno would solve his mojo problem. Perhaps he could hire a lesbian VR lover. Was it legal in New York? At least there would be no diseases. He threw his hands down in frustration when he remembered Sarah saying that she had filtered players to just females. His account was set to undisclosed. Did the computer glitch it back to female again? He remembered his pretty face when wearing the skirt suit in real life. Could he pass well enough to get a visually verified female VR sig? Maybe there was a woman out there who liked a she-male. Stop! What was he thinking? Somewhere in a salt mine, the government was probably accumulating a depraved distorted record of all his actions on the Internets. His hopes of ever getting a high paying trusted Snowden contractor job in the government was now probably nil. "You don't seem so into it," said Sarah from her magician body. She sashayed towards Scott, click clacking across the cobblestoned street. A light sprinkle of Paris rain fell. "I appreciate you correcting Trashtalk about me not being an assistant, but instead being an actual main act." She held out her hands as if she had just finished a trick. "Tada! Yes I know about TrashTalk. I know everything. I think I could have been a single woman act on stage. I'd have guys as assistants though, not woman trussed up as sexualized bunnies." "I thought we were whispering," said Scott pointing back into the warehouse where he and Brendan talked. "Sorry, I didn't mean to talk too loudly. Or say something wrong." Now he worried about what they had said. "My mage character has enhanced hearing. I think the game developers plan to have a storyline in later levels with her spying on saboteurs." She smiled and gave a quick pointing figure at Scott. "So you clearly know my VR boyfriend. Do you know him from real life? Does he keep asking you out a lot? Oh wait. Do you know him from a previous catfishing expedition in VR?" "You mean Brenda?" "Yeah, in a way. I mean him not her. The male, real him, whatever he's called in real life." "Brendan?" admitted Scott with hesitation and guilt squelching his speech. "You tell me. You seem to know him." Scott cringed and shook his head then switched to nodding yes. "It's Brendan from IT. He's a bit of jerk, but he's lovable in his own Neanderthal way. But he said you're a..." "Lesbo, as he calls it. Yeah. It was obvious that he was a guy cybering us from the get-go. Come on. Look at the way he moves. You're right. He is a caveman. But he kisses good and," she shrugged, "I kind'a felt pity for the sap." "But his female voice. It's so, so melodic." "Guys can get pattern replacement algorithms. Come on. He's using a perfect radio voice that's overly smooth. It's processed. Add in his choice of vulgar diction and he's wholly a guy. He makes me laugh when he says he wants to touch my twat thingy." "Wha?" "He actually said that. I don't think he knows women's anatomy." She nodded, putting an arm around Scott's waist. "I want him to burn some hard earned money and forge a female sig. It'd make me laugh. He'd have to use one of the lesser known companies - the ones that take bribes. But now, to be proper about it, I just want to check with you first. Can I play with him? Please let me lead him on. If you're not into it, we'll just ban him from our group and I promise not to fuck with your friend's head anymore. Just say the word. Honest. But as a favor, let me mess him up good. It'll be fun." "Oh, you can totally play with him all you want." Scott smiled vigorously nodding his head. Then his eager bobs slowed. Guilt painted his face. "That might be mean though." "You're really sweet." She laughed and searched his eyes. Hers were deep purple and glowed around the tiny pupils that slightly widened when she looked back. "It's rare to find that nowadays, Emily." Scott wasn't used to his hastily self-assigned female name. He tried to suppress any poker tells undoing his one big lie - ok, two big lies. He was a guy after all, so a wrong name made two strikes. He tried to avoid a third. "Um, what are you doing?" Sarah's other arm reached around. "You let me half hold you all this time. I thought I'd pull us face to face." "So you are a lesbian then?" "I watched you walk." She touched Scott's target visor already raised and locked above his forehead. Her fingers stroked his face. "The way you hold yourself. I don't need a verified body signature to know you're my type." Scott gulped. "Unlike, Brendan slash Brenda, who walks like an ape, I knew in a second from your body language that you're nice and sweet." Sarah's index finger tapped Scott's little female nose. "And you like the female form - given the way you looked at me when you logged in. I saw you. That first expression can't be hidden. It's lust or it isn't. And I saw your craving desires painted on a billboard a mile high. You're undeniably a woman who loves women. What could be lovelier? Your voice is real and genuine. Brend-whatever is using software. Don't get me wrong. His female voice gets me wet if I forget he's a guy behind it. But your voice is nervous and your lips tremble a tiny bit. Your eyes look deep with such longing - before you try to hide it that is. Don't be embarrassed around me. I think you're kind and little unhappy. I want to help you, if you're feeling down. I don't mean to be arrogant by presuming so much. I'm sorry. I'll just say it out loud here. I think you want to know who you are inside. You're afraid the world will judge you." She leaned in and kissed. Scott felt breathless. His hands hesitated at first then he gingerly touched her shoulders. Then he firmly held on as he started to participate as well. Was Sarah playing with him though? Was he the next guy to get conned after Brendan? He deserved it, if true. Still if she was hiding any malicious motives, she was a great actress. Scott leaned into the kiss with full enthusiasm. Sarah's fingers ran over Scott's tied-back hair. The hands slide over his back following the cinched contours above the waist and then he felt her hands round his rear. She pulled away leaving him shocked and desirous for more. "Emily," said Sarah, smiling wider than ever, "you've never been with a woman before have you?" Scott just looked mystified. He'd been with women plenty, but not like this. His eyes darted about searching for words. Sarah gritted her teeth and almost growled. "Now I know you're for real. You've probably fucked, what? One, maybe two guys tops in your life? Nothing good huh? Didn't like it? Did you try to get them to go with just a hand job? But they kept asking. Guys do that. You feel like society demands you find love with a man." Her eyes probed. She concluded Scott's life story based on his silent fear. "Oh, I see some regrets." Her fingers caressed his face. "You blew them then. I tried it too. Don't feel bad. I felt like I was supposed to like it and do it. Full intercourse?" She paused waiting to know. Scott's mouth hung open. "What about it?" Sarah's eyes searched deep into Scott's soul. "Did you have it?" Her magician costume matched her personality perfectly. She could convince anyone of her conjuring abilities despite her erroneous conclusions, unless all of it was a con. "No? Hm, clearly a no on that one. You're a virgin - what I think of as one anyways. I hope I wasn't too forward." Scott sighed, relieved not to have been discovered - unless she was just playing with him. The thought nagged him. It irked his heart. But the idea of making out with a real woman in VR was too good to pass up. Maybe a full climax could happen. It had been three months. The one horrible half climax with Brendan as a kissing Angel had ruined everything. It didn't help at all. He looked at Sarah. He felt more hornier than ever. Sarah stroked a fingertip on Scott's lip. "But you really need to listen to your inner voice. You're gay and hiding it. Why? Don't let the world's fucked up values set the rules for you. Admit it. There's no shame, my little lamb." She placed Scott's hands on the V of her magician's vest that dammed in a glorious cleavage. "Admit that you like where you're touching right here, right now. In real life, I may not be some guy's sexpot swimsuit model like Evony here in VR. But in real life, if I say so myself, I'm..." Scott leaned in and kissed. He needed it so badly. He felt a female throbbing muscle somewhere inside his body just below the belly or somewhere above the crotch. It was somewhere and it ached so badly to be sexed or scissored or whatever lesbians did to each other. They pressed their tongues together and groped over their bodies. The game would never let them get closer. The clothes would never fall to the floor. But Scott didn't care. Dry humping was at least some action. Sarah pushed away. Her eyes glazed over as her face froze. Her top hat fell off with a sudden head jerk. "You ok, Sarah? Hello?" A second later, her eyes refocused. "Shit. My girlfriend's home. I've gotta go." Suddenly the sexy body that Scott held in his longing arms vanished. On the cobbled street by his high heeled boots, the rolling top hat also faded away into the aether. ***** On a Saturday afternoon, Scott pulled laces behind him to cinch his new strapless corset with attached bra cups. The label had said: merry widow corset. He hoped it measured correctly for sizings. He tugged the strings harder, drawing out every inch. He felt the crushing squeeze and its loving hug, still not as stern as when playing Madie. His fingers searched for any loose laced loops. A torn open mail order box sat by his patent leather pumps that he stood wearing with dark pantyhose. The donned inventory of apparel currently feminizing his body at that moment included an all black set of female attire: sheer dancer tights, high-heeled pumps, corset, and a wide strapped thong-like panty under the nylons. The panty helped hide his manhood better. Red lipstick and dark eyeshade made for a sultry addition -- he imagined anyway. His technique certainly needed improvements. It would take much more practice to learn how to blend palettes. His self-glued nail extensions were painted red, matching his painted toenails. He wished he had bought open toe pumps so he could see the glossy painted toes through the nylons. At least the closed toed pumps hid the mess he made around the cuticles. Painted nails required practice too. The outfit felt close to the sensations experienced in VR. He kneeled with an odd straightness in his posture, enforced by the black satin corset. A towel on the floor with two home made hefty black rubber globes sat waiting for him by the opened overnight box. He had already spent half of his meager paycheck for the week on the mail ordered clothes and make-up, so for now, he couldn't afford quality expensive silicon gel falsies. Water balloons would have to do. From a party store, he bought black balloons to match the satin. It didn't take long to fill two of them to about the right size. He ended up filling five, before getting two that matched. Hunching down, keeping balance in real life, plus a good corseted straight-up posture, he picked up the Jell'O-like spheres off the towel. They wiggle in his hands, each filled to the size of a large Fuji apple, almost a grapefruit, almost a Chicago softball. Twisted and knotted to hold in water, each balloon still could easily stretch far larger, since they'd typically be filled to triple their current size with air. Limited to only breasts in size, each balloon's extra rubber thickened on the opposite end from the knot, forming a darker denser circle almost like an areole. Looking at the knot and then the other side's concentric dark rings, Scott pondered: which end should be the tit? He chose the perky knot as the nipple and pushed the first orb into his brazier corset. Then the second followed. It took effort to aim the rubber knots to point out, because the balloons stuck to his skin. His fingers kneaded at the heft as if it were dough. He pulled and separated his skin from the rubber. He then rotated and adjusted again. After a few minutes, he smiled. Finally his fake breasts aimed out like bullets. He Felt the bra cups from the outside and pinched the points remembering how it felt in VR to play with his virtual nipples. The hard hidden knots could be felt through the padding like perky excited tits. His memories of being a woman helped intensify the feeling. He walked about, feeling the slight bounce. He just wished the balloons fused to his chest better. Falsies with their flat contact side would have hugged perfectly against the skin. The balloons, on the other hand, kept their ellipsoid shape even when pressed. A visible gap surrounded each orb's contact with his chest. It ruined the realism. In VR, his breasts felt more intimate. They tugged more at the ribcage. In real life, the balloons flexed and separated from the skin, not quite as satisfying. But it would do for now. Pulling his shoulders back, he checked his sizing. Squinting and crossing his eyes, it seemed to match Madie Deadveux in basic shape - at the chest level. Madie's waistline of course was incredibly wasped beyond reality. He closed his eyes to remember looking at his real boobs in VR. Opening his eyes, he saw his fake boobs in real life. The sizes seemed to match. Jumping up and down in place, the homemade falsies felt good but they didn't take his chest muscles with him like Madie's double D's did. The VR tremors were much much better. He ogled himself in the mirror. With his long hair, even without styling, he looked like a real woman - if he ignored the balloon boobs guise. The corset made his hips look wide. The heels made him tall and lanky. His upper arms had nicely lost their extra manly muscles. He wished his ankles were smaller. Still, he approved. Now he grabbed the next layer. He added a snug peach colored sweater with a turtleneck. It stretched over his breasts, covered his throat. He pulled his hair up and freed it from the snug neck. In the mirror, he found himself looking like a tap dancer in a leotard outfit, except the panties showing from under the nylon didn't have the finish zig he wanted. He grabbed another black satin panty, slipped off his heels long enough to pull the undies up his legs. His feet fumbled with the shoes and now he stood tall in heels again. The panties on the outside were perfect. He tucked them under the corset bottom edge. With smoky nylon legs and snug sweater, the ensemble really did look like a tap dancer outfit. It reminded him of the Evony woman magician. He just needed a top hat like Sarah's. His hands slid up and down his body. He wished he knew sizes well enough to mail order a skirt. He also hated his eye make-up and the blush looked over done. He needed lessons. Pounding came from his door. "Yo! Scott!" said Cameron. "It's us," said Max. "Shit!" whispered Scott. He yelled, "Just a minute." His heart pounded. His hands slid under the sweeter over his satin corset boned panels. He grabbed at his panties and tights. He was stuck in drag and needed to think fast. He paced about in his heels, his hands switched from sweeter to panty to his boobs hidden under the tight turtleneck. The muddle movements only wasted time, hampering his escape from being girly. He didn't know where to start. Even using scissors, the clothes wouldn't drop off in time. Maybe he would just say he wasn't well. He faced the door, his hands cupping his balloon boobs. His mouth almost spoke. More pounding followed. Cameron shouted, "Navigate that mansion of yours, cross the foyer and open the door. Oh wait. Don't worry, Max has your back up key." Scott frantically pushed the open box under his bed. The room looked immaculate now and that just made it harder to hide things. Only Emily had made it so organized before, but recently Scott wanted more of a woman's touch so he cleaned the laundry off the floor himself and actually kept the sink in the kitchen clean. The emasculated immaculate d?cor vexed him now. Then he looked at himself in the mirror and completely freaked. More pounding at the door followed. "We've got beer. Come on, man. Max is clueless with the keys here." "Wait, I got it," said Max. "Give me a second," yelled Scott. "Can't a guy have some privacy!" Scott kicked his high heels off and pushed them under the bed. He grabbed make-up supplies and other sundries. In several hand grabs, he threw a few loads into a drawer and slammed it shut. He then found straggler lipstick tubes and tossed them between the bed and the wall, letting them fall into hiding. He then searched for his pants and Vans. Keys fumbled at the door. "Give me a second, assholes." He pulled his pants up. They quickly fell down as he switched to tugging at the sweater. He switched to jerking the jeans back up. They barely held onto his hips anymore. He took a hair clip, pinched a couple inches on the jean's waistline and clipped it. Then he grabbed his hoodie and pulled it on over his peach colored sweater. He zipped it up. He took a deep breath. "Relax," he told himself as he pulled his hair into his now standard bro bun. In the mirror he saw his hands with bright red painted extended fingernails. He grabbed his bicycle gloves and covered the shame. Walking over to the door, he looked at the mirror and saw his made-up face. "Shit!" He rushed into the bathroom and colored a white towel in smeared eye-shadow, lipstick and blush. It took several wipes to get the eye make-up off and a bit more effort to get the eyeliner too. The front door opened with the backup key normally hidden in a crack in the hallway plaster outside. His friends poured into Scott's one bedroom palace. A kitchen counter covered one wall. A bed and dresser crowded another, while a mirrored sliding door walled in a shallow closet. The front door and bathroom door made up the fourth wall. Scott slammed the bathroom shut and washed his face. The guys set a box of beers down on the bed. "Dude," said Max, "you left us hanging out there forever." "Do you have a girlfriend?" asked Cameron. "You even vacuumed. Or did she do that? This is girly, dude. You have a clean kitchen. No dirty dishes. Are you ok in there?" Max yelled out, "Hey, is she in there with you? Come on. Have her come out." Scott checked his face in the bathroom mirror. He looked normal again. "Where's Brendan?" asked Scott, pushing open the bathroom door into Max. While the guys leaned over to look who else might be in the bathroom, Scott walked over to the open front door and leaned out into the dingy basement hallway to see if Brendan was there, possibly delayed talking on his phone. Suddenly Scott felt his breasts shift. He had forgotten to remove the balloons. Being in VR with boobs for so many hours a day made the weight feel more normal than being without. He crossed his arms against the chest of his oversized hoodie, glad he had zipped it up. Emily's stretchy thin feminine sweater was too snug and shapely to allow anyone to see. The faint girly peach color with glitter mixed into the fibers wouldn't have helped either. He grimaced and slowly turned around. Would they notice? Was the bulky zipped up hoodie enough? "Don't cry," said Cameron. "It's not you. Brendan's been avoiding us for a while now too - kind'a like you have. But now we know why." "Why?" squeaked Scott. "You have a girlfriend," said Max. "Obviously." His arms reached out over the clean floor. "Someone cleaned this after all. Come on. Let's go to the roof and drink." The guys marched out. They grabbed Scott by the shoulders and pulled him into to the short hallway leading to an outside cement staircase going up to street level. With all the pushing from the guys, it was like being caught in a flood of grabby hands and boisterous smack talk. Scott tried to turn and paddle back towards his room. He looked over his shoulder, while keeping an arm over his chest. Max closed the apartment door and checked, "Don't worry. It's locked." "Thanks," said Scott, with a look of hopelessness. He wanted to twist himself free as the front door to the outside world opened and he was propelled up the stairs. His main worry became Max and Cameron. They held his shoulders and jabbered on and on, making it hard to think. A hand could slip down at any moment, copping a feel where a guy shouldn't have coppable feelable stuff on his chest. Scott decided it best to go with the flow. He had no choice. Outside, cars buzzed by. Surely the world would see him so clearly with boobs and pantyhose. It seemed like everyone knew already, but that was fear talking. He reluctantly joined his friends as they walked to a side alley with a fire escape up to the roof. Max lifted the beer crate onto his shoulder. He somehow scaled the ladder one handed. Cameron followed. Scott raised his arms to grab a metal rung, and then realized he hadn't covered his hosiery with regular socks. As he climbed up a step, trying to be careful that his pants didn't accidentally show his ankles. The dark shear hose would certainly be noticed. As the three guys zigzagged up the fire escape landings, Max and Cameron compared notes on Gamer Corp's new VR experience. Scott concentrated on his water ballooned breasts not pushing out too much. The turtleneck top made it impossible to quickly reach into the hoodie and extract the bulbous masses from the bra cups. If he could, he would have tossed the balloons overboard, but the sweater guarded the jiggling masses. He prayed his hoodie proved loose enough to hide the double-D's. "I'm telling you," bemoaned Cameron, "no one else feels it the same way I am or that we all seem to, I mean Brendan didn't when we first played, but a few weeks ago he said he was feeling the extra pain levels too." Max looked at Scott. "How did you get us into the beta anyway? Hardly anyone else can get in right now. Gamer Corp said they're delaying the release date till next year, so we're like exclusive here. It's totally a sweat deal, by the way. Thanks." "I had a dozen encrypted keys from Emily," said Scott looking up the last ladder. "She works there. I guess she forgot to cancel the ones she burned for me." Settling on to the flat tar roof under a spot of shade from a dilapidated umbrella heisted from a pizza parlor, Cameron popped opened three beers. Scott perched himself up on a tall stone edged perimeter wall of the roof, putting him right into the sun. With his job and VR time, he rarely felt the warmth of sunlight on his face. He looked over the other buildings. He felt comfortable leaning back over such five storied heights. After all, he did it everyday in VR. The corset propped his back into a straight posture just like his VR armor. To him the bosom and weight of his chest felt normal, just like in VR. He crossed his legs, one knee over the other, inner thighs pressed together. He felt the squeeze of his balls - and then he realized, in VR he didn't have any. Life was different in VR. He let his upper leg casually swing back and forth, pivoting over the lower knee. He felt relaxed and leaned back, chest pushing out. Suddenly, wide eyed, he hunched forward, hoping no one saw his bosom stretch his hoodie. He then uncrossed his legs from their effeminate pose and gave quick tugs at the bottoms of his pant legs, double checking coverage for his ankles. He slid off the brick wall and awkwardly tried to find a reassured standing position. "So," said Scott. "What have you guys been up to? I've been mostly working the empty redone floors. Sometimes Brendan helps on set up." "Just reinstalling OSes," said Max. "I've been in the data center," said Cameron, "Hey, your voice sounds off." "Me?" "You're talking a little higher. You sound nervous," said Cameron. "You look a little nervous too," said Max. "Wait. Who are you really dating? Did you ask out Jill? Don't hide it. Tell us." Scott stood silent hugging himself in a nonchalant nothing-is-going-on- here sort of way. Max approached and pounded Scott's shoulder with a harsh playful hit. "You dog! Jill! She's cute. Be careful though, she's HR." "Yeah," said Cameron, "Leave the campus before you talk dirty to her." "I'm going to hit the head," said Scott, pointing his bicycle-gloved finger to the fire escape. He just needed a moment alone to disrobe the hidden women's intimates. Just a single freaking moment. As he approached the fire escape, Brendan climbed over the top rung of the escape ladder. Scott's shoulders sank, perturbed by yet another roadblock. "Hi, Brend, Brend - Brendan." Scott almost said Brenda. His fake VR lesbian friend towered over him. Scott tried to get around to the ladder, but it put his body too close. He stood back, looking up at his IT comrade. The Neanderthal lummox had gotten skinny, but had an extra foot and half in height. "Bro. I can't find Sarah anymore. That team renamed themselves or maybe blocked my ID. I'm so bummed out." Performing a little meek shoulder punch, Scott tried to sympathize. "She was tied to someone in real life by the way. It's probably better this way." "Brendan, have a beer," called out Max. The big lug got annoyed with Scott. "No she didn't. She was mine exclusive." "I saw her log out," said Scott. He leaned in and lightly added, "She said her girlfriend came home. She logged off fast." Brendan hunched over a bit and hugged Scott. "I guess that gets me some closure. Thanks..." Brendan's hand slipped across the chest. "Bro?" "I gotta go." "Um, OK. I'm not saying anything." Scott quickly scaled the ladders down to his place. Closing his apartment door and leaning back on it, he realized that he didn't want to remove the garments under his jeans and hoodie. He wanted to remove the male clothes. He wanted to add back on the heels. He felt torn between joining his friends upstairs or skulking off alone somewhere to ogle himself in pantyhose and a corset. He hummed and hawed until his front door pushed him onto the floor. Max pulled the backup key out of the outside lock and rushed in. "Sorry, dude. I knocked, but heard nothing. I need your bathroom." "Fucker," said Scott, pointing over to the other door as if it wasn't obvious. Max jumped inside. He talked through the door. "So you and Brendan were going on about some girl, I overheard," echoed Max's voice. "Yeah. He met one online, but she's a lesbian." A toilet flushed. A sink started. "They all say that at the end, don't they?" He stepped into the tiny living space. "You'd know best, being dumped so many times. Right?" He pulled Scott off the floor. "Your losing weight." Looking at Max, Scott checked him out. The guy wasn't short nor tall nor muscular, but overall healthy looking. The hair was dark and full and cut. Scott shook his head. "Tell the guys I have some errands to run." Walking around Brooklyn, hiding his women's clothes and a pair of homemade boobs, it all made Scott crave VR. He felt his manhood flattened by a three layers of womanly satins. When he stuck his hands in his pockets, the pants felt roomy in front. The satin felt nice as the pocket cloth slid about. He withdrew his hands, worried their movement in his pocket would look like he was doing something depraved. By the water, he paused to wath the passing boats. Across the river, mile high skyscrapers ruled. On his side, the economic collapsed Brooklyn looked more like the first stages of Detroit deterioration. Continuing to wherever, each step slightly bounced his chest, even though he kept an arm over the front to help the hoodie hide his figure. He felt the corset restrict his movements. He felt the pantyhose rustle inside his jeans. His toes, not covered in cotton socks, felt the rough insides of his Vans sneakers. Hunger, a lack of sleep, and a complete absence of sex or masturbation all tormented him. An hour later, he found himself in front of a multistoried clothing discount store, occupying an old meatpacking facility. His hand felt the clip holding up his pants. He really had lost a lot of weight. With that thought, he headed inside. He wanted some new slacks. It seemed so logical. ***** "Yes, that is the cheapest of packages, sir," said the snooty ma?tre d' of the VR brothel. Scott adjusted his VR glasses. "The sensations are kind'a lacking the tactile feedback I normally get using a Gamer Corp setup." He cringed, hearing his free downloaded VR voice. It scratched his throat. Anytime it glitched, it hurt. "Well, you're still in the aether of the login. Wait till you get inside. It's muuuch better, sir." He cringed at Scott's low resolution presence. "You should also splurge on a better virtual voice. Hmmm?" Scott wasn't used to being a male in VR. The only VR signature he could get was a free government issue with his real name. If he could, he wanted to keep his identity a secret. Who knew what the laws and statute of limitations would be next year. Maybe porn over the wires would be banned and people jailed based on just their purchase records. It had happened before. Of course, with money you could use indirections and hide such foibles. Leaning against the salesman's podium, Scott asked, "So these don't take VR sigs do they? Because I don't have one-n-n-n." His substandard voice glitched. It didn't sync with his mind at all well. It was a sign of lacking financial means. "The cheap ones never do, sir." The snob implied more than just the products. Scott wished he could afford an anonymous body sig with neural pathway scans encrypted and loaded to help enhance the VR experience. But the prices were too high. The free Gamer Corp beta had ruined him for VR. With only a small amount of digital coinage, only substandard brothel scenarios remained available. Lame options flashed in his mind, like student and teacher couplings done with low-resolution simulations and an AI that might say a phrase or two, like "Oh baby." Why even bother? "Wellllllll?" asked the highbrow, lifting an edge of his golden notebook showing little floating icons of sexual delights done on the cheap. "Look, my good ma?tre d'brothel, can I talk to a real person?" "This is VR, sir." "No. I mean a non-AI." "I am completely capable, sir. You see, these packages here..." He flipped the page and the icons upgraded to little Vermeer's and Titian styled classic portraits with gilded frames. "These are all our available certified women with body signatures. Each with different kinks. With us, you actually get to be with someone matching your particular caprices. Foot fetish, we match you. Spanking, easy match. Very nice packages, indeed. Hmmmm? Are the pricings a little beyond your means, sir? If not, VRGuard is the best signature company and that's all we use. No bribes. Audits are continuous. Anonymity is guaranteed. The encryption is top notch. The verify chip causes no glitches in your visor. Hmmm?" The guy made a pop sound with his palm hitting his open mouth. "Top notch, sir." He flipped back a page and the floating icons turned to simple illustrations found on European highway signs, the types with stick figures drawn with hot dog silhouettes. No gilded edging decorated anything. Just icons, each showing one stick figure doing it to another, but in various Kamasutra poses. The snob nodded his head. "You are clearly going to go for the AI women, sir. No appearance verification signatures for obvious reasons. They're AI." He leaned forward. "I doubt you could discern the difference, sir." "How much does a woman with a VR sig have to pay for some action here?" "Well, women get in for free and we'll pay handsomely after they prove they can perform with a few different AI scenarios. In short, we crowd source our whores. But we do offer free training. The woman you bonk today may very well be your next door neighbor. You'll never know. Men of stature love a disease free way to boff a verified beauty. Yes? Are you a man of stature? Hmmm?" The computerized want-to-be parvenu sniffed deeply, acting as if his soulless AI could actually ingest a real human fantasy. "For a highly symmetrical face, minimum A-level supple skin, with required measurements and optional vaginal mappings, we'll offer free training. But you're just wasting my time. Aren't you, sir? We can't keep answering off topic questions. Now can we? Hmmmmm? I'll have to assume this is an effort to bog down our aether login." "I'm not trying to do a denial of service attack on you, dude. It's just me. I'd need a thousand other inquiries hitting at the same time to bog you down." The AI reset. "Can I help you, sir?" Scott tapped his knuckles on the aether login desk, trying to control his annoyance. "If a woman with a nameless VR sig from VRGuard showed up here with A-level ratings, could she do some scenarios for free?" "Why yes. Of course. But only partnering with male clients and she'd start with an AI male to test her abilities. Basically, lesbians have to pay like everyone else seeking pleasure. That's what we arrange, sir. We put people together, after certifying them. Pleasure for digital - real money. But a willing working woman is a pure joy. So many male clients to please. Come back when you have more digital, shall we say, access. Hmmm?" ***** "I tried to get into a VR brothel last night," said Scott, pushing a drill with a screwdriver bit against a cube wall. "Oh!" nodded Brendan. "That's why you're doing this construction shit. You need more money." "Well, yeah. I wouldn't want to work nights otherwise. I'd be in VR. You know how hard it is to resist." Scott stepped in closer. "I think the computer is F-ing us." "Not me. I'm not get'n any. And that's so what I want." "No. Last night we were in that game filtered to just women. I checked my account. It's labeled F. I set it to undisclosed." "I set mine to F, so I could join those. So?" "Well I got F-ed without my permission." "You said F-ed," laughed Brendan, who then half closed his eyes, probably wondering why he tried to stay away from VR. "Don't even try the AI prostitute packages, bro. I make more digital than you. I tried so many packages last week. Blew three whole weeks of pay. Total crap. I got nothing from it." "I'm desperate. I kissed this one girl in-game. Wow! But still not enough and she was good. Really, really good." Scott decided not to mention Sarah's name. Brendan didn't seem to hear. "It's like the brothel body you get is plastic, bro. The AI gal you nail is like a zooned out zombie. Nothing like Gamer Corp quality. Their deep learning is off the hook. It reaches into to your mind and figures out your brain patterns. You feel everything. Nah, for a VR brothel, you really have to pay to reach the more basic threshold requirements to even enjoy it. Only the top people can afford that." Brendan's head shook. "Oh shit." "What?" "What are we going to do when the beta is up and Gamer Corp wants money? I couldn't afford it." Scott drilled a hex head in. "I so want to drop this job and just jump into VR. I knew those cheap brothel packages looked suspicious. The descriptions had options like turning off the dead eyes. Are you sure that place you mentioned was the best VR brothel out there?" "Bro, they're the best at the high end." He pulled up another cubical panel and lined it up for Scott. "You need money for access. The only way to make real money in this world is to serve some supper rich person. A year's salary is nothing to them. Hell, they might tip you that. You've got get into the inside circle somehow. You have to drop in when they aren't looking and get them to think you're the only one that has the goods." Scott got into to the whole notion. He wanted in. "What did you come up with?" "Nothing. I don't have clue." An urge hit Scott to tick Brendan off. "You know your Angel voice." "Shhh. Keep it down, bro." "Were in an empty building! Anyway, you processed it, didn't you?" A voice in the back of his mind told him to stop, but then another screamed to poke his friend with a stick. "Just a little," said Brendan. "That also cost me a whole paycheck." "Why?" "I wanted my VR character to sound good and sexy." "No, I mean, why is it so expensive?" Brendan leaned forward. "In the VR underworld, you have to meet up with someone who has hacked in to the particular engine of interest, vis-?-vis Gamer Corp in this case. Then you get a series of tests done while you are in VR. Deep learning maps the fake voice with your neural drivers applied to your real vocal chords. Everyone is different. Buy a cheap voice and you sound like a scratchy vinyl record. Use the official options and it costs an arm and leg - and it shows up by your ID as artificial, so people know it's not you then. Got to go underground." "What's a vinyl record? Never mind. The voice thing sounds complicated. Just so you know, Sarah picked up on your enhanced voice immediately. She knew you were a guy from the get-go. It's what gave you away." Scott skipped the body language tells and his friends bad choice in words. "No! It was a beautiful voice, no gurgling glitches. No bad transitions. It was perfect. It associated my brain with my vocal chords and made beauty - fuckable beauty, bro." "Well, it's too melodic. It's like looking at a blurry picture of a waterfall. It's a beautiful milky time-lapse image, but no reality to it. I like it though." Brendan nodded. "Yeah. The voice was hot." "No. I mean those milky waterfall pictures." "I hate you." Scott gave his friend's formerly muscular shoulder a little fist tap. "I love you too. Maybe, you should do what I did and just log on with your real voice sync. I bet the Gamer Corp computer will fuck up your voice in the same sexy way it did mine - if you choose a female character that is." "I can't help it. I have to go female." "Me too." ***** "Yes, miss. Can I help you?" said the snooty ma?tre d'brothel. "Hi," said Scott, registered as a default generic low resolution female proxy for the aether login. He skipped the extra cost to upload a high-res proxy. He had synchronized his visor with his own voice too. A fake was just too expensive. He spent a week practicing a higher pitch contralto. He spent an hour voice syncing the various test phrases so he could register. It seemed that he could pass as a woman, if he just stayed in a soft range and didn't talk too loudly. "Um. I wanted to find out about making some digital here." "Do you have a VRGuard signature, miss?" "No," said Scott humbly, pretending as if he didn't know anything. "Well, if you have time right now, we can start you on a series of AI experiences and see if you are compatible. Hmmmm? You'd have to go through certain scenarios, even if you had a body signature. Then if you prove proficient, we can prepay your VRGuard and get you your sig. You move up to real clients then, miss. Paying clients. Real digital. How does that sound, miss? Hmmm?" "Um. Sure. So the sig would just be a visual body signature?" "Yes complete anonymity. No DNA to ID you. It's only matched to your brainwaves handling your senses. Blackmail is virtually impossible. Eventually, for the highest and best experience of pleasure for yourself, during the sexual acts, you'd have to pay for a vaginal mapping and add it in to your sig. We typically don't cover that. The company doesn't worry so much about your experience, miss. Unless you're reeeeeally good and it helps you perform. Hmmmm?" "You're rather crass for an AI." He shrugged. "I'm based on patterns from previous employees. They were muuuuch worse, miss." The AI reset. "Can I help, miss?" "I want in." "Yes, miss. Of course you do." The jerk of an AI placed an object on the podium in front of him. It was a chrome plated strap and dildo gag. "What the hell is that?" "Your entry key, miss. Put it on tight and you're in. Hmmm?" Scott looked around and whispered, "That is degrading." Snooty leaned forward and startled Scott with a full voice, "Don't worry, miss. Each potential client gets a private conversation in VR with moi." He looked left and then right. "We're totally alone." "Why a, a, a?" Scott pointed and gave a quick poke at the metal. "Gag, miss? Welllllll, if you won't gag yourself now. You won't later for a paying client. Hmmmmm?" Scott wanted to curse out the AI. He skipped that urge. "Ok, fine." His generic female virtual hand picked contraption up. The strap felt heavy. The solid metal band, a finger width thick, opened with a clunk. The generic VR hands lacked accuracy, making the fingers fumble. "The diameter's barely big enough for my wrist, let alone my head. The dildo's so tiny. Of course, why complain about that? This metal thing won't fit around my head." "We're in VR. It'll fit, miss. Trust me. Go on, now. Go." He waved both hands as if shooing away an annoying creature. Scott opened the band and his mouth. He pushed the tiny dick between his lips. The band click closed around his head and the dildo grew, forcing his jaw to open wider. He tugged at the metal strap. "Mmmm!" "If this terrifies you, miss, just pull off your VR visor and leave. Hmmm?" Scott struggled, feeling the expanding dildo slide over his tongue and push against his throat. "You must swallow, miss. Hmmm?" A warm liquid filled Scott's mouth. His low-res eyes gave the snob a daggerous look. But if swallowing got him away from the AI bastard, tasting whatever horrible VR concoction they had in mind would be worth it. Scott swallowed. Inside a dark room lined in mahogany panels and decorated with paintings from dead artists, Scott continued to fight the dildo expanding down his throat. At least the AI was gone. His fingers tried to fit under the metal band wrapping behind his neck. It was too tight. "Mmm!" When he tilted his head back to let the phallic intruder go down deeper, the locked assembly disappeared. The dildo and the strap were gone. "Fuck!" he yelled. It took a few breaths to calm down. A highly detailed British estate interior surrounded him, except no windows. Realistically simulated candles burned, giving light that the dark wood absorbed in the shadowed corners. At locations typically reserved for taxidermy hunting trophies or suits of armor, bodies of women floated above the floor. They rotated slowly like marionettes hanging from the ceiling. The options demoed varied from a brunette Frenchmaid to a blonde bimbo nurse. The costumes were degrading and cheap, but the bodies looked good. Really high end artistry. Scott touched the smooth arm of a floating woman in a blue satin strapless bathing suit with sheer black tights. Her wrists were wrapped in white French cuffs secured with cufflinks. Blue satin bent ears peered over her head to see her matching blue high-heeled pumps. Her slow rotation revealed a large white ball of cotton for a tail. The bass plate on the floor read, Playboy Bunny. He wondered what that was? But the costume looked sexy non-the-less, not really a bunny though. Still the body had every detail down to its itty bitty skin pores. Brendan's disappointing horror stories of unsatisfying plastic AI hookers certainly didn't involve these female VR assets. The idiot must have gotten some low CPU cycled garbage stream. "Hi," said a woman's voice from behind. The sudden greeting startled Scott. His awkward low-res generic VR presence jerked about. Doing an about face, he saw a sexy brunette librarian with dark rimmed glasses and a snug pencil skirt. "You're not AI." "Of course not. I'm Ms. Ray. AI nonsense is left out front and sometimes used for annoying customers we don't want to ever see again. This is a serious business and I'm here to check you over." "I'm - um, should I use my real name?" "Hell no." The woman snickered. "Let's call you Jane Doe for now. I must warn you, legally, I have to state that since you don't have a body sig to certify your gender, if you're a guy, I'll find out in two shakes of a lamb's tail. A guy can't handle one of these high bandwidth female bodies. They trigger different neurons. They flood the mind with senses tuned to the right places that for a guy would be drastically wrong." She pointed to the floating mannequins, which except for the dead stares, looked stunning and real. "It's obvious when a body can't connect. Men can't hook into these. So pull your visor off now if you're male. Except if you're a gay guy, don't worry we have a track for that too. I can send you to another check-in area in that case. So just be truthful with me. We're not interested in fakery and it's dangerous." "Why? Like, what happens to guys who proceed?" "Their minds get melted." Scott cringed, but deep inside his soul something told him he should push forward. Maybe the woman was just scaring bad candidates off. Besides he needed the money. He wanted options with his real life body, at least better falsies. Plus, he'd go mad without an orgasm soon. He needed a VR sex scene and fast. "I'm ready. I guess." "You're cute. I like you." She held up a hand and wiggled her fingers as if typing on a floating keypad. "Tell me your bust size." "34-DD," said Scott, describing Madie. He realized he'd have to increase the waist size if asked. No one was wasped like Madie. "Please," said Ms. Ray. "No. Really." She asked for more measurements and remained doubtful. "You'll be off balance if you're lying. You need lots of neural experience in a body like that if you want to fake it - especially, given what you're describing. I need reality here. Don't think that any VR game play you might have done, even high end, comes close to these bodies." Scott shrugged. He had to stick to it now. "Ok, my little one. Here it comes." She held up her hand and tapped the air again. Scott's position in the room changed. He inhaled and felt his lungs fill like in Gamer Corp's beta. He sniffed perfume in the air. His chest rose and fell. He wore a white blouse, not buttoned up and properly tucked in, but knotted in front, showing off his midriff and barely covering his breasts. The knot struggled to hold in his heft. He raised his dainty hands and twisted at his waist to look down the side of his body. Looking over his bust had yet to ever work, so he didn't even try. He wore a short plaid pleated skirt of grey wool. He looked up with an appalled look. "A schoolgirl costume?" In the back of his mind, he worried about his voice sounding right. "Yep. I knew you were a real girl. Step down. You must be something to look at in RL." "Step down?" Scott found himself floating and slowly spinning like the other mannequins. He moved a stocking covered leg forward and slowly descended to the floor. He easily stepped towards Ms. Ray in a pair of ultra high platform heels. "Good, you can walk." Ms. Ray opened a hidden panel door. "What's RL?" "Real life. Since you seem to plug right in, I'm curious what you look like in real life. You know last week, I had a one man in here convulsing on the floor. If he just said something, we could have used him elsewhere. He could walk in the heels and everything, but then his VR body just went pfff. Poor little lamb." Ms. Ray led Scott into a long hallway lined with several doors. "You know how we found out he who he was in the end. I had to confirm his body sig to the city morgue." "No?!" "Yes. He died. Computer fried his brain. Apparently, that's rare. I think Gamer Corp already settled out of court. Fast. Oh, people hack the code. Things get messed up you know. Very bad. He looked good enough to pass a visual sig with VRGuard, but never handled a real woman's virtual body before. This way." The two VR women passed several portraits done in oils like Renaissance classics, but they were sexualized subjects. One painting showed a woman kneeled before a naked man with an erection. The man was in the clouds and the woman on an earthly plane. Scott giggled. "That's the Sistine Chapel Touch of God! But with a blow job?" "Yes," said Ms. Ray regretfully. "Someone's going to hell for that one." "Catholic?" "No. Just not chauvinistic. I didn't model the environments here, but it's all well done. Look at the paint strokes." She touched a Renoir and felt the swirls. "See? God help me if I ever visit a real museum and reach out. I'd damaged something without thinking. I once spanked the statue of David - in VR of course." Scott leaned in to see the painting. "I might start mixing VR and RL too." With a close up look at the erection, Scott saw the paint strokes and almost touched them too, but then he recoiled. His little giggle a second ago reminded him of something. "I'd like to use a different voice. Can I?" "But you have such a lovely, very soft voice. Sometime later though, our registration process will need you to push your volume levels." Her hand raised in the air and then dismissed something only she saw. "The aether login indicates you were probably shy. Our VR character voice system requires you to record loud screams and moans and gasps." "Are you serious? Can't I just buy a voice?" "No.