Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Arriving home in the middle of the afternoon, Taylor Wilkinson hefts the heavy cardboard box in his arms – he didn’t really enjoy lugging it halfway across the city, especially not when he knew exactly how valuable it is, but he thankfully made it home without issue. Possibly because the smog is pretty heavy today, stinging his eyes enough that he wished he’d worn a full gas mask.

“Oh, uhhh…” he says, surprised by someone else being in the cramped apartment at this time of day. “Hi, Reginald. Shouldn’t you… be at school?”

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Not looking up at him, Taylor’s stepbrother shrugs one shoulder, clearly focused on his phone. A bit retro, having a physical touchscreen instead of a holopad, but Taylor knows their parents can hardly afford rent, let alone all the newest gadgets. Finally glancing up, he raises an eyebrow, and checks the time as well.

“I told you to just call me Reggie, man,” Reginald responds, the disdain for his new ‘family’ written clear on his face. “And shouldn’t you be at work?”

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Their parents, Taylor’s mum (currently abroad on business) and Reggie’s dad (at work, but due back later on), had started dating a few years back, but Taylor has only been living with them again since he finished college a few months back. His stepbrother is also a few years younger, in his last year of high school – and adult, but still dependent on his parents. Then again, with how few jobs there are on the market right now, the same could be said about Taylor.

“Aha…”, Taylor chuckles nervously, not exactly looking forward to the conversation with Eustace, his stepdad. “Touché. I won’t tell if you don’t?”

Reggie clicks his tongue – he doesn’t care one way or the other, but probably won’t proactively tell his dad. Which is just as well, with Taylor’s newest purchase draining most of the severance package he got from his job. Ignoring Reggie (the default state of affairs between them), he sets the box down on a counter and steps into the apartment’s AutoDresser.

A few moments later, he’s stripped out the t-shirt and jeans he’d worn to work, and put into a comfortable tank top and boxer shorts. Perfect for lazing about the house in, sure… but on a smog-heavy day like this, it’s best to change as soon as possible, or the fabric will start to degrade, and you might not get all your clothing credits back. The company takes every opportunity to scalp you as it is, no sense giving them more opportunity.

Once he’s out, and freshened up with a water ration and a cheap NutriBar from the Food Dispenser in the hallway – no money for a real kitchen, of course – Taylor finally unboxes his prize. Nestled in a layer of packing peanuts, the metal and plastic only slightly scuffed, is an honest-to-god Immersion Helm.

Sure, it’s second-hand, which means he had to get it from the grey markets down by the old wharf, but despite the company stating that it’s illegal to resell helms, he knows that there are far more important things for the corps to worry about. Even then, a tenth of the price it would normally sell for, it used up pretty much all of Taylor’s severance package. He’s got enough left to pay his stepdad rent this week, but he’ll have to find a new job soon enough.

Which is where the Immersion Helm comes in. Because, if he’s going to have some free time, it might as well be spent getting fit in virtual reality. Because the main draw of the Immersion Helm is its flagship game – Total Immersion 2.

A sequel to the first game released in full virtual reality, it’s far and away more powerful, sophisticated, and most of all more portable than its predecessor. Instead of dedicated immersion tanks, and an expensive blend of chemicals and hormones to synchronise the user’s body with their avatar, the newest version instead uses a simple helmet with attached morphic resonance projector. Exactly like the things they use in expensive med-clinics, the revolutionary technology that eradicated nearly all diseases. If you have the money for it.

The one installed in the Immersion Helm isn’t nearly as powerful as a medical-grade chamber, but it still means that the gradual changes to the player’s body in-game, any fat lost or muscles gained, sword-fighting skills or even increases to their intellect, carry on over to reality. Sure, you have to start off as yourself, but there are worse ways to explore a vast fantasy world. Since Total Immersion 2 was released, most other VRMMOs – even those with full tactile response and some level of time dilation – have felt hollow.

“Tch. You got one of those dumb virtual reality things?” asks Reggie, looking up from his phone long enough to raise his eyebrow at Taylor.

“They’re not dumb,” Taylor replies, turning the helm in his hands. Finding the activation switch, he holds his breath while he presses his thumb against it, and… with a dull hum, it starts to glow a pale blue as it turns on. “I’ve wanted one of these for years. I’ve even avoided all spoilers about the game! And besides, the Immersion Helm isn’t a normal VR headset, like-“

“Whatever, man. If you’re gonna be sitting there doing nothing, I’mma head out. The internet here’s shit anyway,” he says, stretching and getting up – which is perfectly fine by Taylor, who hardly thinks about his stepbrother while he continues to set up the helm. According to the grey trader he bought it from, it’s had a couple of mods installed to let another person use it, a couple of unnecessary safety routines bypassed, but there shouldn’t be any problems.

Making note of the time, it’s a couple of hours into the afternoon server slot – one of three six-hour-long time slots (with one six-hour period reserved for server maintenance), which most players can only log into one of each day. While logged in, you can experience up to twenty-four hours of gameplay, along with enough rest to carry on afterwards just like when you first entered. By logging in partway through one of the slots, Taylor won’t get the whole day, but it’s better than still being in the simulation when his stepdad gets home later tonight.

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Once he’s properly alone, bladder voided and stomach full, Taylor lifts the Immersion Helm with shaking hands – and presses the adjustable opening down over his head. There’s a moment of claustrophobia, of worry that it won’t work, before a flash of light fills his vision… which then fades to black.

When Taylor regains consciousness, it’s to an odd feeling of strain – slightly lightheaded, with a faint ache in his limbs, and a weird queasiness in his lower abdomen. That… is not what should happen when you first use an Immersion Helm, but perhaps the modifications have changed the login process slightly? He certainly didn’t see any notifications or options, though from the birdsong and rustling of trees that he can hear, it must have dumped him into the game.

“Yes!” he says to himself, then immediately clamps a hand over his mouth. Because the simulation is meant to perfectly mimic your real body, down to your voice and internal organs, and that was not his voice. Much higher pitched, slightly breathy, with the hint of a lisp – cute, sure, but on a girl. Which, as he looks down at himself…

Is exactly what he appears to be.

“Ohhhh, no… oh nonono! Shit!” Taylor says in his adorable new soprano, scrambling to his feet as he looks down at a petite, yet clearly feminine body. A basic, battered breastplate covers his chest, with a dusty green long-sleeved shirt underneath, and a pair of baggy, practical leather pants on his legs. A quick squeeze of his crotch confirms that Taylor is entirely a woman in this simulation, sending a shiver down his spine while he fumbles to open some kind of menu.

“Okay, okay, you can… uhhh… you can figure this out, T-… Ta…”, he says to himself, although his voice catches at the end of the sentence. Which is odd – but he clears his throat while opening up the Status screen, and-

“T-Tiffany. Huh?”

And while it’s close, he knows that he said that name, one he didn’t think he knew, before the screen popped up in midair in front of him.

“Player name… Tiffany Fournier,” he reads out. “That must be the girl who owned the Helm before me, but… why the hell am I in her body?!”

The rest of the information makes it clear that he doesn’t just look like her – he’s also logged into her account, playing as her character, a Level 11 Elf. Her class is Essence Mage, which doesn’t mean anything to Tiff-… to Ta… to… to Tiffany right now, but that’s the least of his problems.

“F-fuck! This thing’s already messing with my head,“ he says, to nobody in particular, while an irksome feeling of wrongness shivers through his mind whenever he thinks of himself as Taylor. There’s also an odd sensation of disconnect when Tiffany thinks of himself as a man, but he can suppress that for the moment, and ignore the sensations – or lack of sensations – coming from between his legs.

Not that it should make any difference, because he’s just going to log out, take the helm straight back to that shady salesman, and-

“Fffffuck,” Tiffany mutters at the screen which pops up.

For some reason, the previous owner of this account decided to play in Realism Mode. And while Tiffany doesn’t know exactly what that entails, he can guess. Usually, they include hunger and thirst systems, more accurate mapping to unpleasant sensations, as well as minimising certain quality of life changes. Like logging out wherever you want. Even the Auto-Logout doesn’t exactly help him. The 4 hours and 51 minutes remaining don’t sound too bad, but the seconds are ticking down slower than usual… with one disappearing approximately every four seconds, in line with the expected time dilation effect.

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Flicking open his Inventory – thankfully Realism Mode doesn’t extend to removing that intangible hammerspace – Tiffany doesn’t find any camping supplies, only a basic spear, a random assortment of what he assumes are monster drops, some empty bottles, and a small amount of money. Well, that just means he’ll have to find a tavern. And, after properly looking around the clearing for the first time, Tiffany realises that he has no idea where that would be.

A Map option just reminds him that he needs to pick up some Cartographer’s Supplies to make maps, another thing to thank Realism Mode for, and scrolling through menus just annoys Tiffany even more when he comes across several other ‘modes’ switched on, none of which mean much to him – nor does he know if they’re meant to be in the base game, or are from some kind of mod that the real Tiffany Fournier installed.

“What the… Experimental NPC Behavioural Framework…? Then there’s Maximum Fidelity Status Transference…”, he says, reading some of them out to himself, despite being unable to switch them off. “Harassment Protection Removal… Transformation Delimiter…”

And a mysterious one at the very bottom, which seems to be a dependency for most of the other modules, just called XPO. While the names of these settings are certainly worrying, there’s no information about what they actually do, and even that wouldn’t help Tiffany in the moment. So, he keeps searching, and it thankfully isn’t long before he finds exactly what he’s after in a list of spells.

Obviously, Tiffany presses the button to cast the spell, and…

“Fuck!”, he says, feeling a little like he’s repeating himself. Even then, the swearing feels a little less effective coming from his current high-pitched voice, almost comical. Even so, at least Tiffany knows the name of his destination now – an Inn, probably in some kind of starter village, but also… almost five miles away. In an unknown direction. Without any landmarks or road to guide him, it could take him days to circle around and find it, and he doesn’t exactly relish the idea of waiting until he logs out automatically.

But there’s a problem he can solve to get to the tavern, and getting enough Anima – presumably the magical resource in this game, equivalent to ‘mana’ – is something that should be doable. Most games even have some level of natural regeneration, so he might just need to sit around for a few minutes until he recovers enough to cast the spell. To that end, he decides to actually check what his class does…

Unfortunately, the most prominent feature about the Essence Mage class – at least the one that affects him right now – is that it regenerates Anima… very slowly. Slow enough that it will hardly make any difference in battle, just barely enough that a player won’t be able to soft lock themselves if they get trapped somewhere. It makes up for that by using something called Arcane Essence to recover Anima, which is very interesting from a gameplay perspective.

But very annoying for Tiffany right now. A fifteen minute break for another magic-using class, if they have similar un-modified Anima regeneration, is the equivalent of over a day worth of regeneration for an Essence Mage.

“Well, this is just… just fucking typical,” he rants to himself, taking a deep breath and pinching the bridge of his cute new upturned nose. Hearing it in Tiffany’s voice doesn’t help, but he doesn’t exactly want to spend nearly twenty hours alone in the middle of a forest, especially not when it gets dark. So, he looks back at the spells available to him… and finds something more promising.

“Now that I can cast.”

Sat on a stump in a dappled clearing, beautiful and natural, far removed from the urban landscape that dominates his waking hours… Tiffany is still frustrated, as he looks at the latest drops.

“This… is shit.”

The spell had seemed effective enough, leading Tiffany with a faint glow in his vision. Summoning the spear from his inventory, which only seemed prudent while hiking through a fantasy forest, he set off in the direction of the Arcane Essence. It only directed him in a straight line, which wasn't ideal, but the forest turned out to be easy enough to navigate.

And it led him to some kind of… goblin? Stunted in stature, with an ugly face, pot belly, and greasy green skin, it was almost trivial to dispatch with the spear. Probably due to drastic a difference in level, the creature’s body dissolved into light upon its defeat, leaving behind…

A crappy hatchet. Whatever scrap of dirty leather it wrapped around its waist. And no Arcane Essence. Undaunted, Tiffany cast the spell again, and it led him on another hike through the woods, even if he wasn't in the proper mindset to enjoy the new environment. All that ran through his head was how much he could be enjoying this if he was here as himself, instead of trapped in another player’s body, with their stupid class, their stupid decision to go into the woods, their stupid…

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Another goblinoid thing – this time, Tiffany made sure to knock it out instead, smacking it with the butt of his spear, but… still no Essence. Which is why he's sat on a stump, looking at the useless junk he’s received so far.

“Well,” he muses to himself, ignoring the groaning monster – apparently named a ‘Gobbo’ – beside him. “This definitely isn't what I'm after. One more cast, then… I suppose I'm waiting till the Auto-Logout.”

Which would be a problem he won’t face until he’s exhausted his other options, because it doesn’t sound like a pleasant way to spend the next sixteen hours. For now, he casts the Locate Essence spell again, and… instead of the glow leading him back into the trees like last time, only to dissipate when he came across a Gobbo, it points back at the green thing lying beside him. Looking closer at the monster’s status window, there’s nothing which draws his eye.

But the glow continues, and as Tiffany draws closer, it points him at the thing’s crotch.

Dismissing his spear, and furrowing his brow in confusion, Tiffany moves down to kneel beside it. First, a more detailed pop-up menu appears as he inspects it, telling him more about the ugly, stinky creature. Nothing particularly useful, but the glow is still insistently directing him under the Gobbo’s loincloth, so… maybe it's got a hidden pouch of valuables?

As it turns out, as she hesitantly lifts the shaft, Tiffany’s idea wasn't so far from the truth.

“What… the… fuck?!”

For some reason, perhaps the Realism Mode, or one of the other active settings, the Gobbo Scrub is anatomically correct. Well, ‘correct’ is putting it a little strongly, because this thing’s cock is wrinkled and lumpy, while a bead of lumpy, yellowish precum oozes from its foreskin. And beneath that is the source – saggy, sweaty balls, each one easily the size of Tiffany’s fist.

“Uhehehe… mmmmn~…” mutters the Gobbo Scrub excitedly, while its cock throbs in Tiffany’s delicate grasp, swollen nuts churning with pent-up seed. Its ugly face splits into what can only be a grin, the low-level creature leaving no doubt in Tiffany’s mind as to why it hasn’t managed to… extract its essence in a long time, apparently too stupid even to masturbate.

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For a long moment, Tiffany freezes, considering the life-choices which brought him here. Virtual as it may be, is he really about to jerk off a goblin? Not even an actual goblin, according to the lore of this world, but a Gobbo Scrub, a stupider, weaker cousin. And yet the alternative seems to be wandering around in the woods for about sixteen hours, with no food or water, and no idea of what might come out when it gets dark – not to mention that his stepdad will probably return home from work before then, and a lecture about playing video games when he should be looking for a job does not sound fun.

So, a couple of uncomfortable minutes, which he can swiftly forget about once it’s done, are better than that.

“Okay, just… uh…” Tiffany says, partly to the Gobbo, but also to himself. “Just s-stay there, okay? Let me… um…”

Tiffany’s obviously had experience with cocks before, although this one seems… inordinately large, compared to the gobbo’s three-foot frame. That might partly be down to Tiffany’s smaller hands, or the point of view he’s at, but he keeps reminding himself that this is just a game. And he’s playing a character, a girl character, so she-

So he starts to stroke, shaking his head to keep his mind on the task. The greasy, slimy texture is distressingly realistic, while the gobbo’s foreskin slides up and down its shaft, thick veins throbbing under the surface. Even the pungent, musky stench is being emulated in the virtual world, acrid and thick in the air, overpowering the fresh scent of the forest and reminding Tiffany of the acidic smog back home.

“God, this is… ugh~… why the f-fuck would anyone choose this class…?”

The gobbo’s shaft quickly responds to Tiffany’s attention, hardening and growing even more, with a brownish glans peeking out of the wrinkled foreskin. It won’t even fully retract, and Tiffany tries not to think about just how deep the game takes the simulation, picking up the pace even as gloopy precum dribbles down over his fingers. His semi-feral partner is drooling and gasping by now, obviously unused to sexual attention, especially from such a pretty, powerful girl, as its nuts roil and pulse.

Abruptly realising what’s about to happen, Tiffany fumbles with his free hand to open his Inventory, retrieving one of the empty bottles – just in time to bring it up to the tip of the Gobbo Scrub’s cock, and-

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“Nnnngh~! Eeeeeghn~!” it grunts, bucking its hips forward as a jet of pearly, yellowish jism glops out from its prick, easily filling the bottle that Tiffany held up to catch it. A tooltip appears, describing the contents of a successful Arcane Essence collection, just barely enough to power a single Return spell.

Unfortunately, it has more stored up than just a single bottle – and a thick rope of goblin cum, dredged from the bottom of its engorged testicles, squirts into the air. Then another, and two more, thankfully missing Tiffany’s face, although they do make a mess of his arm, and leave stains on his pants. Once the Gobbo’s orgasm finally dies down, it slumps back in satisfaction, and Tiffany scrambles back in disgust.

“Ugh! Th-that was… who even… p-programmed that?!” he remarks, wiping his sleeve on a bush. Leaving the gobbo where he is, she inspects the bottle full of viscous goop, chunky and partially congealed – but also, thankfully, finally, some Arcane Essence.

More unknown effects, and Tiffany has neither the Anima nor the patience to try and work out how to decode the item’s secrets, so instead he just taps the Drink button, and-

Trying not to think about where it came from, but also definitely not willing to let it have happened for no reason, Tiffany pops the cork and shudders as he brings the small bottle up to his pretty new lips. The very first thing to pass them does so sluggishly, oozing out and onto his tongue – not fast enough to swallow it like a shot, meaning that Tiffany is forced to taste the sticky, salty ejaculate as he forces it down his throat.

Its effects are immediate, as a surge of energy seems to vibrate through Tiffany’s body, buzzing up to the tips of his ears, and… thrumming in his guts, spreading a twinge of heat to a spot between his legs that he’s trying not to think about. Once it’s gone, suppressing the urge to retch, he tosses the empty bottle back into his inventory, and then brings up the Return spell again. This time, it allows him to cast it without issue, and Tiffany is grateful to leave the forest behind.

A flash of brightness, a moment of disconnect, and then the verdant forest, warm sunlight and the rush of wind through the trees (and drained goblin beside him), gives way to a bustling tavern. Old English style, with burnished wood tables, exposed beams and heavily ornamented walls. A cosy, welcoming place – including several other players mingling and chatting with the local NPCs. There's even a Quest Board near the door, with a few players discussing the offerings, all of which would've fascinated and excited Tiffany if he'd still been himself.

But all he cares about is getting out of here, and… maybe getting something to clear the salty, acrid taste still clinging to his tongue. Trying not to feel self-conscious, from his slight figure and diminished height, he strides up to the bar, where two players turn to look at him with interested smiles.

One of them is a pale, freckled, redheaded man, perhaps in his mid-twenties, wearing the same style of armour as Tiffany, albeit with a sword sheathed at his waist instead. The other is an attractive black woman, with dark, frizzy hair pulled into two buns, and a smile on her face, wearing a green leather tunic, with a quiver of arrows strapped to her back.

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“Ah, hello! The bartender should be back in a moment, if you want food or a room,” the woman on the right greets Tiffany warmly, with a metal flagon in her hand. “The name’s Charlie, and this here is Paulie-“

“Sir Paul, thank you very much,” he interjects proudly. As they introduce themselves, status windows appear beside them, confirming their names – as well as usernames, race, level, class and reputation.

“Oh! H-hi there, I'm Ta-… uh, T… Tiffany,” Tiffany says, still forced to introduce himself with his character name. Charlie and Paul’s eyes flick to her side, obviously looking at a similar window describing her character, and Charlie’s eyebrows rise in response to something she sees. But she doesn't say anything just yet, while Sir Paul the knight continues chatting amicably.

“Aha~… yeah, it's strange when the game makes you do stuff, right?”, he says, taking a sip from his flagon of ale. “That's why it's usually best to use your actual name, but I get that some people like roleplaying. Hah, Charlie’s first character was called Hinata, the dumb weeb, and-oof!”

A good-natured jab in the ribs gets Paul to shut up, as Charlie then offers a hand for Tiffany to shake. Fairly surprised at the other characters’ friendliness, he's distracted from his aim for the moment – logging out can wait a few minutes, right? And anyway, it seems she probably needs to speak to the bartender for that.

“I'm half Asian, you dick, which means I'm an otaku. Pleased to meet you, Tiffany,” Charlie says, while shaking hands. Hers are bigger than Tiffany's, slightly rough with calluses on two fingers – probably from her Ranger class. Tiffany doubts that she would get lost in the woods. “Say, you're an… Essence Mage, right? And you used a Return spell instead of walking back?”

“N-nice to meet you too, and um…” Tiffany answers, not entirely sure what Charlie is getting at, but there's a rather intent look in the girl’s eyes. “Yeah, I did. Is that… is there anything wrong with that?”

Charlie smirks, giving Paul a loaded glance, who gives her a slight nod, then turns to carry on the conversation.

“Nope. Nothing wrong with that. Just, uh… hey, if you're looking for a group, want to party up?”, Paul offers, seemingly in earnest. “I’ve got Martial and Social covered with the Knight class, and Charlie’s got Craft and Martial, so we could do with a pure Arcane player to round us out.”

Looking between the two of them, two friendly players with classes that compliment his own… Tiffany knows that in any other circumstance he would jump at the chance. A big part of why he got the Immersion Helm in the first place was to make friends! But if he's not going to log on again, then… it wouldn't be fair to agree. Seeing the uncertainty in his expression, Charlie waves her hand with a smile.

“Hey, don’t worry about it, there’s no need to make a decision right now!” she says, slapping Paul on the shoulder. “We’ll be online tomorrow, and are gonna be heading out of the starter village, now that Paul’s caught up to level 10 and got his class. Tonight, I'm gonna enjoy an actual bath, without needing to care about water creds, or my dog trying to climb in the shower with me.”

The bartender comes back at about that time, and Tiffany makes polite farewells to the pair of fellow adventurers, while he checks his Logout option again. It's still greyed out, but now mentions something about needing to book a room – so for a few coins, Tiffany books a place to himself, along with a glass of water to rinse out his mouth. And while logging out straight away to get out of this situation might be a good idea…

What Charlie mentioned about a bath is sorely tempting. Especially with the curious ache between his thighs, a faint feeling of tension that some hot water would surely relieve.

Just like Charlie said, the prospect of clean, hot water, in a large bath, without needing to worry about time limits or water credits, is too much to resist. Tiffany can't remember the last time he had a bath – he's sleeping on his mum and stepdad’s couch at the moment, and they've only got a single shower for the four of them, with his university accommodation hardly being any better. So, even if it is virtual, Tiffany can't resist slipping into the wooden tub.

It helps that this is a chance to… explore his temporary new body. Surely that's not weird, right? It's hardly like he deliberately acted to inhabit the real Tiffany’s feminine form, and since returning to the tavern, he's had a warm, tense, ache between his slender thighs. Stripping out of the armour, as easy as tapping a button to unequip it, he lets his hair down as well, to properly observe himself.

His breasts are small, to put it lightly – pert and perky mounds, probably less than an A-cup, with a pair of little pink nipples. Their size is probably for the best, because the unfamiliar void between his legs is already enough difference for his preference, moist even before he slips into the soapy water.

“Mmmm~… damn, that feels good…”, he says to himself, relaxing down into the tub, easily large enough to fit his petite body four times over. There aren't any mirrors in the room, but from the blurry reflection he can see in the surface of the water, he also seems to be gorgeous – plump, heart-shaped lips, an angular, delicate nose, and warm brown eyes with a slight tilt, under full, shapely eyebrows. Plus his pointed, elven ears, of course, which send a shiver down his spine when he rubs one between his fingers.

Washing himself off as thoroughly as he can, Tiffany feels a lot better, less dirty after the encounter with that Gobbo. From what he can tell so far, Essence Mage seems like a difficult class to play as, constrained in their ability to generate Anima, but with a lot of high-level potential. Maybe it would've been fun to choose after playing through the tutorial to level 10 normally, with some research into other methods of achieving Arcane Essence… but it's not something he tries to worry about now.

He's back at the tavern, free to logout whenever he’s done in the bath, and… almost subconsciously, he slides a hand down between his legs. Brushing his thumb over a cute fuzz of brunette hair, matching the hair on his head, Tiffany tenses as his fingers press into the lips at his crotch. Slick with moisture, from the soapy water and what they've produced themselves, they feel hot in the steamy air as he lifts his hips above the water level.

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“Mmmf… fuck…”, he gasps, fully aware that this could be his only chance to experience things from the other side. He certainly doesn't have the money to visit a morphic resonance clinic to try being a woman, let alone enough to change him back to normal afterwards. So he rubs a little more, slipping a finger into the cleft, so markedly different from the cock he's used to.

That also means, with his scant experience with the other sex, that he doesn't really know what he's doing. Squishing his fingers in circles, not wanting to push too deep in, he occasionally gets jolts of pleasure and sensitivity, but it's nowhere near as simple as just rubbing his shaft. But that was Taylor’s cock, wasn't it?

Tiffany has a pussy instead. And every long, wet second he spends rubbing himself, lapsing into minutes, it becomes harder to separate himself from her. Then again… she should know exactly how to touch herself, where to circle her fingers, which spots to pay attention to in order to get a thrill of pleasure from her body... So, he lets up with a needy moan, not really much closer to an orgasm. Partly because it seems like it'll take a while, but also because he's worried about what the simulation might do to his head if he succeeds.

“S-screw this!” Tiffany says to the room, as he jumps out of the water with a huff.

Roughly drying himself off with a towel, careful not to put too much attention on the needy slit between his thighs, Tiffany gets dressed again, then sits on the bed. Opening the menu again, he flops his wet hair down onto the pillow, and is relieved to see that the logout button is finally available. Giving it a tap, the sensation is almost pleasant, like drifting off into a cosy night's sleep…

When Taylor wakes up again, he's pleased to see the blurry interior of his mum and stepdad’s living room, through the visor of the Immersion Helm. His body aches, as if he'd actually done all of the exertion that his character did, but his mind feels well-rested. He might've been playing for a few hours, but barely one has passed since he first logged in – and that's on the short side for a usual session, which can take up to six hours in real life, and quadruple that in-game.

Standing up with a slight wobble, feeling a suppressed need to piss already building, Taylor fumbles for the release latch on the helm while he makes his way to the apartment's bathroom. A virtual bath is all well and good, but he could still do with an actual shower. Finally getting the helm off, which seems to have automatically tightened while he was playing, he lets one hand fall to his side while looking in the mirror, and-

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“…huh?”

The face looking back at him is familiar. But it's not his. Wearing the same tank top and boxers, now far oversized for his petite body, Tiffany is looking back at him.

And from down the hall, he hears the sound of the front door slamming open, and the unmistakable grumbling of his stepdad entering the apartment…

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Tearing his eyes away from the cute girl reflecting back at him from the mirror, startled by the sound of his stepdad arriving home to the apartment, Taylor’s first impulse is to hide – but in a tiny place like this, the best that his mother and stepfather can afford even with Taylor’s contributions, there’s nowhere to go. And he can’t exactly stay in their only bathroom forever, nor is he able to turn himself back to normal in the next thirty seconds. He can’t even log in to the game again, not until tomorrow’s time slot.

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You don’t see very much fire in the megacity of Rothquay. Not the real thing, at least – and when you do see it, that’s usually a sign something is going wrong. All the same, Tiffany finds herself comforted by the flickering orange light in front of her, imparting genuine warmth and a pleasant crackling sound to the chill night inside Total Immersion II.

She’d rather not have reached this point by draining a troll’s balls… a few times… but you can’t win everything. Charlie and Paul had been surprised, but definitely grateful, when they woke up on the other side of the Bridge Troll with healing potions poured down their throats. It saved at least a day of trekking back there, and probably more to get used to the systems, and besides…

Tiffany had been a little worried that they might not want to adventure with her anymore, after they learned how awkward Realism Mode made things. And her new Reputation, which… strangely enough, her party members hadn’t mentioned.

“So…” she says, trying to break the tension. “I’m sure you’re b-both wondering, um…”

She looks up at Charlie and Paul. Despite her anxiety – both over being stuck as Tiffany until she can contact the moderators, and the strange direction her character is being led by some unknown mods – they seem relaxed. Very relaxed, actually, with Charlie practically sitting in Paul’s lap, sat between his legs with her back against his chest, leaning one arm on his knee.

“Hey, hey,” Charlie replies, when Tiffany starts to trail off. “It’s cool! We don’t need to know why… uh… w-what, whatever you did. Only share if you wanna share, okay?”

Paul nods in agreement, smiling up at Tiffany as she perches on a tree stump. Strangely, he’s looking anywhere but at Charlie, the two of them very close physically. But there’s something between them in the hours of twilight, when their guards are down and there aren’t any trolls to fight. If it wasn’t for the orange glow of the campfire, Tiffany might think that he was blushing.

“Well… I mean, Trollop is hardly a normal sounding Reputation, not like… like Wolf Hunter!” Tiffany says, referring to the dark-skinned ranger’s own Reputation. “And I don’t want you two wondering, so… j-just, take a look, okay?”

Opening up her status screen, Tiffany gestures, selecting an option to reveal the screens to Charlie and Paul. Trollop, the unique Reputation she received for defeating the Bridge Troll in a new way, and the Perk it grants – Cum-Guzzler.

“Oh, um… damn, Tiffany, this is…” Paul starts to say, his eyes wide while he squirms in place, reading over the system message telling him exactly how his party member defeated the Bridge Troll. Tiffany braces herself for disdain, condemnation, being told they don’t want to adventure with her anymore, but-

“This is amazing!”, Charlie butts in, her eyes running over the screen with a wide, disbelieving smile on her face. “Do you know how powerful this ability could be, Tiff? Collecting Arcane Essence is, like, the major chokepoint for an Essence Mage’s power, but now you can get it nearly anywhere!”

Tiffany is a little taken aback. Sure, she’d thought about the mechanics, and it certainly felt useful, but she hadn’t had much trouble procuring Arcane Essence so far, from… from Gobbo Semen, which she still has a couple of vials of in her inventory. Hmm. Especially if most people don’t engage with this part of the game, it could very well be an untapped, unbalanced way to advance – and get to the capital all the sooner, to return to normal.

“Does it work with… other players?”, asks Paul, the obvious next step, a strange eagerness in his question. But the obvious step also includes… as one, Charlie and Tiffany glance up at Paul. If they did want to test it out, he would be the most obvious subject – but of course, it would mean Tiffany collecting his semen. She remembers how it felt beneath the Troll’s cock. How she couldn’t resist going back for seconds, and thirds, stuffing her reserves full of Anima…

Definitely blushing now, Charlie looks away and laughs awkwardly, bringing Tiffany’s attention back to the present.

“Aha~… I d-don’t mind if you… if you two want to test it, um,” she stammers a little, injecting some strained nonchalance into her tone. “Just m-maybe another time!”

Which surprises Tiffany a little. After seeing them so comfortable together, and clearly extremely close from how they’d behaved yesterday, she’d assumed that they were… well…

“I thought you two were…”, she starts to say, immediately regretting it, but unable to stop herself from asking. “Y’know, together?”

“Whaaaat? N-no, we’re n-not,” Charlie says, at about the same time as Paul also responds.

“Oh, um, I wouldn’t say-“, Paul says, rubbing the back of his neck while gazing at the fire.

“No, we are definitely not dating,” Charlie continues, emphatically, and Paul quiets for a moment, his posture tensing a little. Clearly, there’s more than just friendship between the two of them, and it seems to be mutual, but… Tiffany’s not about to start prodding at that. Not during their first night camping on the road.

They should arrive at Firstham tomorrow, the (appropriately named) first proper town after the starter village – usually, adventurers can reach it in the same day that they beat the Bridge Troll, but Realism Mode made eating food and drinking water just as awkward as with potions, and it took Charlie and Paul some time to get their strength back after being knocked out. In addition, a player would normally be able to logout in the road when it got too dark to travel safely, but with Realism Mode, they needed to set up a campsite.

Luckily, Charlie’s Ranger class apparently gets that equipment by default, so they don’t need to wait uncomfortable hours on a cold, wet forest floor until the Auto-Logout. The fire crackles some more, and Paul pokes it with his sword, the logs shifting realistically. Not wanting to kill the vibe even more than it already is, Tiffany decides that changing the subject would be a good idea.

“So… that’s enough about my weird new abilities,” she says, looking between Charlie and Paul. “Could you two tell me more about how you want to, um… develop? You mentioned something about the Prestige Classes you wanted, right?”

Paul latches onto the lifeline being offered, just as happy to talk about something else, and Charlie flashes him a slightly apologetic smile. Nodding his head, Paul goes first, launching into an explanation of what he’s aiming for.

“Yeah! I’m a Knight at the moment, a Martial/Social class – and most Knights develop their skills into the Cavalier or Paladin Prestige Classes, but,” he says, pausing for dramatic effect with a widening smile. “I want to become a Prince.”

Even from just the name, Tiffany can tell that it’s more powerful, and Paul is clearly excited about the prospect of becoming Prince Paul.

“They get boosts to their Might and Suave stats, special interactions with noble NPCs, unique questlines, and the game literally makes them more handsome as their skills develop,” he says, although he’s already not a bad looking guy. Still, Paul’s eyes flick down to Charlie briefly when he mentions becoming more attractive, not that he dwells on the topic.

Already, Tiffany can imagine how it might look. Gilded plate armour and ornate weapons, the finest silks and thicker, more lustrous hair, with a body perfectly sculpted to enhance his attractiveness. NPCs fawning over him, giving him unique things to do with fantastic rewards, men going out of their way to join his service, not to mention how that boost in Paul’s looks would affect him in the real world.

“Of course, for all that… I’d need a crown,” Paul says, laying out the sticking point that means not just anybody can become a Prince. “They’re super rare drops, from random quests and such, so most people will never see one that isn’t being worn. But…”

And at this, he looks around furtively, as if anyone might be listening – Charlie giggles at his theatrics, giving his knee a push, but Paul doesn’t drop the charade.

“I’ve heard a rumour that one’s been spotted around Firstham, which is part of the reason Charlie and I made new characters,” he says. Starting again is a possibility for Tiffany, of course… but she’d still be Tiffany, and eleven levels lower than she is right now. “Say, Charlie, why don’t you tell Tiffany the other reason?”

Oblivious to Tiffany’s main problem, that she’s even Tiffany at all, Charlie’s mood seems to have recovered, and she complies with a smile.

“You remember I said I wanted to be a Monster Tamer, right?”, she says, and Tiffany nods. “Well, that’s kind of a… general term. Because if you tame a Legendary Beast, it actually comes out as something like a… a Dragon Tamer, or Gryphon Tamer.”

Obviously, taming powerful, unique creatures is a common trope in fantasy stories, creating a deep bond that often gives further abilities. It’s little surprise that the possibility exists in Total Immersion II, but Tiffany can already see the way that those unique classes can be limited.

“But… I bet it’s really hard, right?” she asks, to Charlie’s nodding. “And there are a limited number of those unique, tameable creatures… hard to find, with only rumours to go on.”

“Plus, there aren’t many classes that can even try to tame them,” Charlie adds, presumably her Ranger class is included. “And you only really get one shot at each Legendary beast. If you fail, they give you a special debuff which stops you from trying again, and they’ll have moved on by the time it wears off.”

“Tell her about the unicorn,” Paul mutters, and Charlie flashes him a look of mock annoyance, before rolling her eyes and elaborating.

“Yeah, I tried taming a unicorn on my other account, and it, uh…” she says, looking away for a moment. “It gave me a debuff that made me scream whenever I even saw a horse. No way you’re sneaking up with that – and I bet the other unique creatures have similar stuff they do to you. Nothing game-breaking, but still annoying!”

Paul then launches into a funny anecdote about how they went to get a carriage a few days later, and Charlie spent the whole journey shouting at the horses pulling it, which devolves into both of them giggling, and even Tiffany laughing at the story. Eventually, though, they get back to the reason they both made new characters.

“Anyway,” she says, glaring at Paul again, which nearly sets them off laughing again. “There’s apparently an awesome looking Sire Wolf in the area around Firstham. A massive wolf, super smart with silver fur, all that shit – and I could ride it, while shooting at people!”

Her reasoning for wanting a unique class isn’t quite as holistic as Paul’s, but Tiffany can’t deny the appeal. Mounted archers are already cool, and doing it from the back of a giant wolf just elevates it to another level. With the tension broken after Tiffany’s faux pas, though she feels that Charlie and Paul’s suppressed feelings will probably come up again, it isn’t long before the three of them turn in for the night.

As she starts to nod off, the logout procedure even as detailed as simulating sleep, Tiffany can’t help but wonder what Prestige Class she might want to pursue, if there’s time for that before they reach King’s Ridge to speak to the moderators. Then again, with the abilities that the game has bestowed upon her so far, maybe it’d be smart not to develop them even further…

Standing under a stream of lukewarm water, which Reggie begrudgingly provided the credits for, Tiffany soaps herself up. While the bath inside the game was lovely, it didn’t do anything to clean her actual body, and she felt kinda gross after waking up that morning. Probably just sweat, which feels different on her softer, feminine new body – although she was also a little sticky, for some reason.

So, a shower it is. Tiffany’s hands move over her body, rubbing down her thighs, through her hair, cupping her breasts… wait, her breasts? She remembers waking up from her first time inside the game, to see a pretty brunette with an almost flat chest. Now, though…

“Huh… w-what the fuck…?”

There has definitely been some growth since she last logged in. Come to think of it, the corset and Suave-boosted new armour that she bought did feel a little heavier in the chest region, and Charlie said something about ‘status transference’ to the real world. And Tiffany also remembers the… the Bridge Troll having mentions of ‘side-effects’ from its semen, which could have affected her… negatively.

Depending on your perspective. She hardly thinks that Reggie would call it negative, for instance.

She continues to lather her breasts, and it takes a little time for Tiffany to realise how good it feels, her delicate fingers rubbing warm, soapy water over her stiff nipples. Some of the wetness between her legs isn’t just from the shower, and she’s tempted to do more. Remembering how good it felt while the Gobbos were humping her, dumping their thick, salty jizz down her throat and over her back while she rubbed herself to a-

“Oi! Reggie’s girl! You gonna use all our hot water?”, demands a gruff voice, accompanied by a thumping on the door to the bathroom. Eustace, Ta-… Tay… Tiffany’s stepdad is just the same as ever, and Tiffany quickly rinses off, pushing down any lingering heat between her thighs.

“S-sorry, Mister Gibson,” Tiffany says, as she wraps a towel around herself, enough to keep somewhat decent on the way to the AutoDresser. “I’ll be right out!”

The door slides open, and he’s standing right in the corridor, practically leering down at her petite, young body. Seriously, Tiffany has no idea what her mum sees in this gross man, but she has to put up with it until she can get back to normal. Ducking her head a little, she nervously smiles up at him, then steps aside so that he can take a shower before work.

Scurrying down the hallway, Tiffany is glad to see that Reggie has already programmed the AutoDresser for her. It should dry her off, style her hair, and – most importantly – give her some clothes that she doesn’t need to borrow from her stepbrother. Thankfully, it’s not a school day, but they still need to leave the apartment.

Getting another power cell for the Immersion Helm will take money, which neither of them have, and to get money, Tiffany will need a job – for which she’ll need some faked biometric identification. As the door to the AutoDresser swivels closed around her, Tiffany belatedly realises that maybe she should’ve checked what Reggie picked out for her…

A couple dozen blocks away, although still inside the borders of Rothquay (not that that means much, considering how big the city is), Charlie and Paul are also waking up. They share a fairly nice studio apartment, converted into living space for three people and a dog, although their other roommate isn’t… ideal.

“Ken… hey, Ken? Kenta!” Charlie calls out, finally eliciting a grunt of acknowledgment. “I thought you were starting your new job today?”

There’s only a thin screen between Kenta’s floor mattress and Paul’s marginally nicer bed frame, enough to see the chubby Asian guy’s body lit up by a laptop screen, still masturbating while he tries to ignore Charlie’s questions. Reaching down to the panting dog sat beside Paul, she scratches behind Louie’s ears, while sharing a look of resignation with her actual friend.

“Yeah… ughn~…” Kenta finally replies, accompanied by the continued schlick-schlick-schlick that his roommates are unfortunately accustomed to. “I ‘unno… I’ll get to it.”

And they can’t even get rid of him – Kenta’s name is on the lease, and they’re subletting from him, at a surprisingly affordable rate. Still, he’s usually quiet, keeps to himself, and at least manages to feed the dog while Charlie and Paul are at college or in-game. A silent conversation passes between the two of them, while they stretch out after their last session in VR – and a return to a normal reality.

“Okay, Kenta,” Paul calls out, letting Charlie cool off her annoyance. “We’re off soon, so let us know if you can’t feed Louie.”

“’kay,” is all the response that Kenta gives, but it’s enough for Charlie and Paul to start about their day. Charlie pours a bowl of kibble for Louie, the ownership of a dog being one of the few luxuries she allows herself beside the Immersion Helm, while Paul showers and goes about his morning ablutions.

They don’t talk between themselves while getting ready, remembering what happened around the campfire last night, but the tension has faded by the time they reach street level.

“So… Tiffany,” Charlie starts, glad not to need a mask today, with most of the smog whipped away by a brisk ocean breeze. “She’s clearly a noob, but… damn, she’s got some good luck. I didn’t even know you could get Anima from… y’know, uh… from cum.”

Paul shrugs his shoulders, not wanting to sound too invested in the (other) cute girl. Sure, she seems nice, but he doesn’t want to jeopardise any other possibilities.

“Yeah, I guess,” he says, striding beside Charlie without looking at her. “Feels like she’s got something else going on, and the Realism Mode stuff is a bit weird, with all those extra mods, but… hey, it’s fun! I’d be happy to stick with her, if she doesn’t mind questing on the way to the capital.”

Tiffany had shared her objective with them yesterday, and they didn’t feel a need to pry into the reasons behind it. There are a lot of reasons that someone might want to go to King’s Ridge – meeting a friend in-game, joining a specific guild, or just to set it up as a good base of operations. Most of the player trading, crafting, and socialising happens there, and it’s a good entry point to some of the more interesting questlines, so Charlie and Paul would probably have gone there anyway.

Once they’re done in Firstham, that is…

Reginald Gibson, or simply Reggie, exists both as himself, and as biometric data stored by the city of Rothquay. All of its systems are linked, albeit often haphazardly or broken down, but enough for him to get around day-to-day without identification documents, physical money, or any electronics beside a simple phone. The privacy concerns are… a heavily debated topic in the city’s legislature, but there are simply too many people being tracked, and not enough money in the police budget, to form any kind of panopticon.

There also isn’t the data storage available to store everybody’s movements for longer than it takes to verify their identity, outside of particularly sensitive areas. Which leaves Tiffany in an awkward position – because while Taylor Wilkinson still exists in city data, she is too different from him, with no registered medical procedures on file to adjust his biometrics to her feminine new body. Thankfully, there are solutions to that problem.

Not technically legal solutions, but grey enough, and too useful to the upper class of Rothquay to stamp down on. Dark zones exist in the city’s tracking net, places where their sensors fail, either due to architectural accident, or malicious intent. But if you go to a specific one of those, and transfer some food or water credits to someone just outside, they’ll let you walk through…

And walk out again with a fresh identity keyed to your biometrics. It wouldn’t stand up to any proper government scans, and doesn’t have credit accounts associated with it, making it anything but a long-term solution, but… it will allow someone to work a job. And when they get paid, the earnings are transferred instead to a ‘trusted’ friend – or family member.

“Ugh,” says Tiffany, feeling exposed on the metro platform, begrudgingly allowing Reggie’s hand to wrap around her bare waist. “I g-get that this was necessary, but… did you have to dress me up like… like a…”

“Like a hoe?” Reggie interjects, and it’s clear he means it as a compliment. For himself, perhaps. “Look, Tiffy, these guys expect pretty girls dressed like sluts. They don’t ask questions, and just assume I’ll be… y’know…”

He waggles his eyebrows, and Tiffany’s pretty, glossy lips twist into a grimace. Obviously, she knows exactly the kind of person that usually spoofs an identity in the grey zones. Illegal immigrants, trafficked sex workers, petty criminals… often falling into more than one category. Exploited for cheap labour by the generous benefactors who accept the credits into their account, it is nonetheless the only option for her to earn money right now.

“If you was dressed like a smart gal that knows numbers, they’d think you were some proper crook,” he says, fingers gently squeezing Tiffany’s soft midriff. “And probably worth turnin’ in. This way, they think I’m a wannabe pimp, and you’re jus’ some stupid whore I conned into turnin’ tricks for me.”

She certainly looks the part. Tiffany’s hair is done up in a big ponytail, with a pouf at the front of her scalp, showing off her made-up face. Glossy pink lips and shiny hoop earrings certainly give off the impression of a streetwalker, helped by a garish pink bolero jacket, puffed up and not even covering her chest – which is itself squeezed by a shiny black tube top, with the kind of fabric usually used in skin-tight bodysuits. Her pants are made of the same stuff, though thankfully long and stylishly baggy, even if the waist is low enough to show off the thong straps wrapping over her hips, bright pink to match her jacket.

“Speakin’ of which…” Reggie says, looking up at the train timetable, then up and down the platform. There’s a little time until the next arrival, and there aren’t that many other people at this station, but Tiffany still doesn’t like the look on his face. “How’s about you start payin’ me back?”

“What?!” Tiffany asks, incredulous that Reggie would even suggest something like that, but he’s already tugging her arm to guide them behind a row of seats. “Th-there’s no way that… that I would ever consider something like that, with… I mean, even if you are making it possible for me to… to have the chance to get back to my body, I’m your… nngh… it’s immoral!”

Reggie seems entirely oblivious to Tiffany’s indignant tirade, giving her smaller body a little nudge to make sure that she’s obscured by a vending machine. As much as she dislikes her stepbrother, Tiffany doesn’t think that Reggie would force anything on her – he is helping her out, after all, and even if they would need a lot more for the Immersion Helm’s power cell, getting her the fake identity was hardly cheap.

If she doesn’t play along, he could just leave her on the platform! Dressed like this, with no money or contacts, far worse things could happen to her. And she’s already done things with the Gobbos… and the troll… would a human dick really be much worse…? Now that she’s thinking about it, Tiffany realises her mouth is already watering. Something about… it feels like… there’s a need that she has to fill, a sense of emptiness inside of her, the same feeling that kept her beneath the Bridge Troll those extra times.

“So, I was thinkin’ you could-“ Reggie starts to say, but Tiffany cuts him off by dropping to her knees. Glaring up at him, she reaches forward and pulls at his pants, undoing his belt and dropping them around his ankles to let his thick, black cock flop out.

“Mmn… th-this is a… a one-time thing, okay?” Tiffany says, as one hand wraps around the base of Reggie’s dick. Over seven inches long, circumcised, shaved, and (slightly) cleaner than the goblinoids she’s had to deal with, it’s still a penis. A real one. For a moment, Tiffany hesitates, aware that she’s about to do something that she can’t take back. But then she inhales, and the scent of dried cum and crotch sweat sends a shiver down her spine…

And she slurps the tip of Reggie’s cock between her pretty, glossy lips. Using one hand to stroke the shaft, the other cradles and squeezes his balls, as if she could drain some actual Arcane Essence from them. Her head spins, the bizarre need to suck him off fading a little as the act is consummated, but Tiffany can’t stop now – not while she’s swirling her tongue around the bumps on the back of his glans, properly paying him back for his help.

“Daaaaayum, Tiff… mmmn~…” Reggie groans, keeping his hands clear while Tiffany goes to town on his cock, still wary of the heated look behind her eyes. While she doesn’t take more than a couple of inches into her mouth, it’s still a surprisingly skilled blowjob for someone that’s only been a woman for a couple days, and Reggie’s certainly not about to complain.

“Nnngh~… th-tha’s the stuff… I’m… I’m gonna-“, he continues to mutter, his thighs tensing as Tiffany runs her tongue over his piss-slit, until with a stifled grunt… he unloads his balls into her mouth. Several thick spurts, just like he splattered over her belly the night before (not that Tiffany knows about that), except this time they’re running down her throat.

Pulling away with a sloppy, disgusted gasp – even though she swallowed every drop – Tiffany stands up again, letting Reggie pull his pants back up.

“There? Happy now, stepbrother?” she asks, cattily, as they return to waiting for the next metro train. “Have I paid you back?”

“Uh-huh… I mean, I’m pretty happy wi’ that. If you wanna do it again, then-” Reggie starts to say, cut off by an acidic look from Tiffany. Holding his hands up, there’s still a cocky grin on his face as he keeps talking. “I mean, shit… I was just gonna ask you to do my math homework! That blowie was all you.”

Tiffany doesn’t speak to him for the rest of the journey home, attempting to ignore his smug satisfaction and focus on the actual task in front of her. Still, she can’t block out the salty aftertaste in her mouth…

After returning to the apartment with Reggie, Tiffany had just enough time to change into something less revealing and grab something to eat, before putting the Immersion Helm back on and returning to VR.

Waking up for the next ‘day’ in-game, she’s greeted by tent fabric above her, and dappled sunlight shining through the canopy above. Opening her inventory to put her armour back on, Tiffany considers the strange urges that had followed her into the real world, reminiscent of how the Bridge Troll made her feel. Should she have been paying closer attention to her status…? Scrolling to the correct page, there is indeed a new debuff that she hadn’t noticed before, and it’s a doozy.

“Ugh… well, that’s inconvenient…”, she mutters to herself, although it seems strange that her activities outside the game applied to getting rid of the debuff. But it explains a lot, and does alleviate some of Tiffany’s guilt over sucking her stepbrother’s dick so willingly. Debuffs somehow affecting her back in reality also isn’t great, so she’ll need to be careful in future.

And, firstly, figure out a way to get rid of this one.

From outside the tent, Tiffany hears the sound of someone else getting up, and decides that there’s no point in moping – she’s still got a long journey ahead of her! Rolling over, she crouches out of the tent to see Paul starting to pack up the campfire. But only Paul.

“Morning,” Tiffany greets, and he looks back at her with a smile. “Hope your, uh… your real day was good. Charlie not coming?”

“Oh, just college and stuff, y’know,” Paul replies. “Nothing special. And yeah, she’ll only be a few minutes – had to walk to dog, but we didn’t want you waking up alone.”

With the level of time dilation between the simulated world and reality, one minute in real life translates to four in-game, so they’ve got a little while before Charlie would join them. Tiffany put the Immersion Helm on and activated it a couple of minutes before their afternoon server slot opened – which means she connected as soon as it did, at exactly eight in the morning game-time.

“Thanks…” Tiffany says, not entirely used to the time dilation aspect of playing the game, but still glad she didn’t log in to find herself alone. “Maybe we should, uh… swap contact details, in case something comes up?”

Now that she actually has contact details to swap, it makes sense. Paul is happy to do so, allowing them to contact each other outside the game, but that still gives them a little time to kill before Charlie logs in… and there’s one glaring possibility, one that Tiffany wants to suggest, even aside from the strange cravings that she can now put a name to. But she’s only met these two recently, and…

“So… ahem,” Paul says, clearing his throat. “Did you… uh… want to, um… test your new perk…?”

Thankfully, Paul has the same idea. And it makes sense, even purely from a gameplay perspective – Tiffany and her party need to know the strengths and weaknesses of this new ability. She never knows when she might get stuck again, in a wilderness with no Anima, and there might not be any ‘friendly’ Gobbos around to donate their Arcane Essence. And Paul seems like a nice enough guy, one that probably won’t get hung up on her, or think anything more of it…

Besides, Charlie did say it was okay!

“S-sure! That seems,” Tiffany replies, unable to resist the opportunity, though she’s anything but sure of herself. “It seems sensible, right?”

The alternative would be finding a couple of random NPC to ‘sample’, which probably wouldn’t be great for Tiffany’s already-tenuous reputation, assuming the ones she found are even humanoid. No, this is much better, and with Paul being a Half-Elf, it brings her another step closer to dealing with the Troll Taint. Although… wasn’t there another effect that needed multiple types of creature semen…? Tiffany dismisses it from her mind, not wanting to keep this debuff for any longer than she has to.

Moving to the edge of camp, and behind a tree in case Charlie logs in earlier than they expect, Paul drops his trousers a little hesitantly. Settling onto her knees in front of him, Tiffany is faced with her second cock in as many hours, although this one is pale and pink in contrast to Reggie’s rich brown, or the Gobbos’ sickly green.

Perhaps five or six inches while flaccid, Paul has a curl of ginger pubes around the base, with an uncut shaft – but responds promptly to Tiffany’s fingers wrapping around it, and starting to rub it back and forth. A little smaller than Reggie’s, but Tiffany’s not about to start comparing them, as she leans in and opens her mouth to-

“Oh, um!” Paul interjects, his voice a little breathy from the attention being paid to his cock. “I thought you were j-just going to, ah… collect it with your… hands? Into a bottle, like the… the other ones you’ve got.”

Which is also very sensible. He didn’t request a blowjob, and Tiffany didn’t even bother asking if he wanted one, she just… decided to suck on her own. Shaking her head, and pushing down the Troll Taint urges, she nods and retrieves an Arcane Essence bottle from her inventory.

“Y-yes, sorry! I just… um, that is probably for the best,” she says, holding the glass vial up with one hand, while the other continues to jerk Paul off. Precum starts to leak from the tip, slicking up and down his shaft, although the foreskin makes it easier to rub. Lacking Reggie’s smug arrogance in getting sucked off on a metro platform, the smile he gives as he looks down at Tiffany is friendly, essentially platonic, despite their situation.

“Ahh~… th-that’s good, mmmn~,” Paul gasps, more of his milky precum dribbling into the bottle. With Tiffany’s tender encouragement, and her pretty face directly in his line of sight, it doesn’t take him long before he climaxes, spurting a pretty ordinary load into her collection vial. At the same time, showing that her Perk is indeed working as expected, a status window pops up for the new item acquired.

“There we go!”, Tiffany says, pulling the vial away after squeezing out the last few drops. She’s going to drink it, but… maybe not directly in front of Paul. What’s important is that they proved that her Cum-Guzzler perk works, and that she can extract Anima from anything with testicles. Not as much as she collected from the Gobbos, but it’s something, at least.

“Aha… g-glad to hear it, Tiffany,” Paul replies, catching his breath after the climax. “Although… mmmn… s-something feels strange?”

Unfortunately, as the collection is finished, and the item window for his semen blinks out… another one appears. This time, with a familiar red debuff banner at the top, which Tiffany quickly skims…

And then, just as the window states, Paul’s cock starts to shrink. More than would be expected for his dick just softening after orgasm, his wrinkled foreskin covers up his diminishing manhood as an inch, maybe even two, are lost from his length. His balls similarly deflate, drawing up towards his crotch… then coming to rest again.

Thankfully, this debuff appears to be temporary – at least from just one ‘collection’ – with a timer counting down at the bottom of the effect screen. All the same, Paul is hardly happy about it.

“Huh?! My… it made my…” he stammers, reaching down to feel himself, while turning away from Tiffany. “H-how the ffffuck did… I didn’t know the game could… ugh! I suppose this makes sure people don’t… exploit the Perk too much.”

Being able to generate unlimited Arcane Essence from your party members would indeed be rather powerful, and this limits the amount you can gain each day, with each ejaculation yielding less and less Anima.

“Sorry, Paul,” Tiffany sheepishly apologises. “I, um… I’ll leave you to it, okay? And… don’t worry, I won’t tell Charlie.”

Leaving him to deal with his temporarily diminished manhood, Tiffany returns to the campsite to start packing up the supplies. And while Paul is occupied, she unstoppers the vial of Half-Elf Semen, while it’s still fresh, and drinks the mild, slightly salty mixture. Compared to Gobbo or Troll, it’s almost bland, but one step closer to getting rid of her Troll Taint.

Which, annoyingly, updates a moment later…

Tiffany doesn’t feel any less ‘Canny’, not that she’s entirely sure what that stat represents. Perhaps something similar to wisdom and creativity, or thinking stuff that isn’t about pure intelligence…? Shaking her head, and trying to ignore the increased feeling of need in her gut, she focuses on taking down the tent.

It isn’t until Charlie logs in a quarter of an hour later that Tiffany realises she’d been taking it down completely wrong, with the guy lines and tentpoles all tangled up. It had seemed so simple, before! Luckily, their Ranger is more than Canny enough to take down the rest of the camp, and seems none the wiser that Tiffany and Paul had successfully tested the Cum-Guzzler feat.

After a quick breakfast of dried rations, the three of them set off on the well-trodden dirt road. With Paul armoured and shielded at the front, and Charlie on the lookout for hostile intent behind, Tiffany is as safe as she’s going to get as a squishy support mage with few defences of her own.

That said, as a familiar scent catches her nose, she almost pauses for a moment to look around – is she missing something…? Still, if it was dangerous, she’s sure that Charlie would notice. So, she carries on towards Firstham, entirely oblivious to the three familiar Gobbos watching her from the bushes…

Chapter Text

Softly, softly, winding through the undergrowth.

The influence of Total Immersion’s skill system on its players’ minds is subtle – but effective. Charlie knows where to step to avoid breaking dry twigs, how to brush against larger shrubs and ferns to minimise the sound of rustling, and to keep downwind of her target. Because she’s getting close now, really close, after several hours of tracking.

Her bow hand twitches, squeezing the leather grip.

It’s the same for combat skills, magic, crafting, and probably more that Charlie hasn’t encountered yet, though she’s put countless hours into the game. The fact that the Immersion Helm is tweaking her brain, accelerating learning processes and adding abilities outside normal human capacity, is completely normal. Some of them will even extend back to her actual body, depending on her simulation settings, although skills learned and practised in the real world are always more deeply ingrained into muscle memory.

Around the tree, keep to the shadows, breathe in time with the wind.

That said, there are still times when the artificial nature of this simulation is almost forgotten. And as the huge, stately Sire Wolf turns its head to look at her, sapphire eyes piercing through her stealth, Charlie’s breath catches in her throat. This is a predator, the likes of which have long been hunted to extinction back on Earth, but the instinctive response is still there.

Freeze – don’t run, don’t draw an arrow, just breathe.

Realism Mode makes this especially daunting, but even more satisfying when she does it right. There’s no map to call up, no opening walkthroughs in a browser window, just the motions of her body. And she’s fucking found it. Now all she needs to do is prove her worth to this big dumb dog, and she’ll be a Sire Wolf Rider.

It doesn’t run, which is a good sign, and it doesn’t attack, which is a better sign, because it would rip Charlie to shreds. Raising a hand, she focuses on the noble creature in front of her, and pulls up its status window.

Most of it is as she anticipated, and she skims over the description fluff, moving on to the most important trait. Legendary – which means taming it would grant her a unique Prestige Class! Skipping past the Drops, Habitat, and Behaviour, she presses the virtual button in front of her to start the Taming attempt.

“Heh…” she mutters to herself, as the Sire Wolf allows her to approach. “I hope the others are having as much luck with those bandits…”

Paul and Tiffany, as it turns out, are not having very much luck with the bandits. While Charlie’s skill as a Ranger had been more than enough to navigate the forests on the western side of the road to Firstham, the bandit camp on the eastern side was rather more difficult to find.

At least, it was difficult to find if you weren’t being taken there by said bandits. As captives.

“Hey!” Tiffany says, trying to sound assertive, which is difficult when you’re blindfolded and your hands are tied behind your back. “Just l-let us go, okay? This is ridiculous!”

Stumbling along on rocky ground, her remaining Anima barely enough to cast her weakest spells, she’s still better off than Paul – disarmed, with a sack over his head, and the stuffing beaten out of him. After arriving in Firstham, and renting a tavern room to ensure that Tiffany’s Return spell wouldn’t send them all the way back to the starter village, Charlie had set out to stalk the nearby Sire Wolf. Paul hadn’t wanted to wait around doing nothing, so him and Tiffany decided to try and scout the bandit camp…

Unfortunately, the bandits had been expecting that. And though they fought valiantly, it turns out that Realism Mode makes humanoid opponents a lot more difficult to handle without a properly balanced group. It also makes them more inclined to capture defeated adventurers instead of mindlessly killing them, which would’ve sent them back to respawn in town.

“Not likely! We’re gonna make sure ya don’t cause us any more trouble,” says the bandit with a hand on Tiffany’s shoulder, guiding her along an uneven trail. “You was prob’ly gonna come back with more, eh? Stupid, do-gooder adventurers. We ain’t doin’ no harm here!”

Aside from the highway robbery of travelling merchants, raiding isolated farmsteads, and the other typical things that get added to quest boards. Obviously, none of these people are real, so Tiffany wouldn’t feel bad ignoring it – but it still feels a little strange to be having such an in-depth discussion with an NPC.

“Suuuuure,” drawls Paul, still sour about being beaten so soundly. “That’s why you shot at us first.”

The bandit just laughs, clearly not caring what the two of them think of him – and any thoughts of breaking free and dashing away from him are scuppered when he calls out to someone else, answering calls indicating their arrival at their camp. Which on the one hand, is good! They’d been meaning to try and get a look inside, to see if the rare Crown item was here for Paul to upgrade his class.

Of course, they hadn’t wanted to be captured on the way.

“Mmmmn… nice work, Stieg,” another voice buts in, more hands brushing against Tiffany as if inspecting her, other muttered appraisals bringing a blush to her cheeks. “I bet we c’n have some fun wi’ this one! Let the boyfriend watch while we break ‘er in, then dump ‘em outside town once we’re ready to move on.”

A chill runs down Tiffany’s spine, and she can hear Paul’s breath catch beside her. Was this game always so… perverted?! The Gobbos were one thing, and she’d been trying not to think about the Troll, but most games don’t have the bandits rape a player character for several days, or think logically enough to keep their base hidden. Straining her hands against the bindings, Tiffany’s wrists just chafe – but she’s also unarmed, and there are so many bandits around, she can only hope they can find an escape route that doesn’t involve fighting.

Except, as the bandits hands start to move to her body, tugging at her blouse and pants, clearly after some fun… Paul decides to try and help.

“D-don’t! Her… mmmn… sh-she makes dicks shrink when she s-sucks them,” he says, and the bandits stop. There’s some muttered conversation, then one of them moves around in front of Tiffany, untying her blindfold. The cave is wet and dark, lit by flickering torches, with a dozen or so gruff, sweaty men with patchwork armour and battered weapons.

“That true?” says the one that captured them, Stieg, Tiffany heard one of them call him. His face is entirely serious, and Tiffany can just nod urgently, hoping to save herself from the worst of any harm being done to her. And Stieg seems to believe her – at least enough that he’s not going to risk it.

“Okay, okay! So, I got a dud,” he says, to sounds of disappointment around him. “That ain’t mean we can’t have some fun with ‘er!”

And with that declaration, the hands continue their work, reaching out to strip Tiffany of her Apprentice Enchanter’s Raiment, while doing similar work with Paul’s breastplate. While they do so, keeping them bound whenever possible, it gives the adventurer’s a chance to look around. Despite the humiliation, Paul catches Tiffany’s eye, then gestures toward a pile of loot in a corner of the room…

Gold bars, silver pieces, several shiny urns and a few choice looking weapons – all of them pale in comparison to an intricate piece of metalwork, with gleaming rubies set into it. A crown, an actual, genuine Unique item that grants a new class! It seems the rumours were true. Now, all that Tiffany and Paul need to do is get out of here with it, and they could snatch victory from the jaws of defeat.

Sure, Tiffany used up all her Anima trying to buff Paul in his fight, and she can’t access any of the ‘reserves’ she’d collected, and sure, Paul doesn’t have any of his equipment, but…

“Here we are! In ya get, chump,” Stieg jeers, pushing Paul into a circular, wooden-barred cage. Just barely tall enough for him to stand upright, the bandits pull his arms up and drag his feet out, leaving a space in the middle. “And now you, li’l miss dick-shrinker. Shame. I would’ve liked a go wi’ those pretty lips o’ yours!”

Pushed from behind, Tiffany is forced into the cage as well, which would’ve been bad enough to be crammed nude beside a guy that she only met a couple of days ago. They might be swiftly becoming friends, and she did suck his dick that morning, but that was for legitimate reasons! Unfortunately, the bandits force her down onto her knees. Beneath Paul, between his wide-spread legs, with hands tied behind her back, and no way to ignore the familiar cock directly in front of her face.

“Mmmn… f-fuck, Tiff,” Paul mutters, looking down at her while his cock starts to engorge, despite the tense situation. “Sorry, I… should never have, um…”

But Tiffany can hardly think. If she really tried, maybe she could pull away, shuffle around to face away from Paul’s crotch – although their captors might not like that. She could do that. But she knows that she won’t. The effects of Troll Taint III were abstract when she first saw them, even if she had noticed some inclination towards oral sex earlier, but now it’s impossible to ignore.

“No, n-no…” she says, a little breathily, her focus split. “It’s… mmmn… fiiiiine…”

A greatly increased desire for semen. And there’s some right in front of her! Even if she knows the consequences of continuing to harvest from Paul, she’s already salivating, plump lips opening to press gently against his shaft. Drawing in a shuddering breath, his mild, sweaty musk causes her eyelids to flutter, her face warming, and pussy shamefully moistening.

“Tiffany! Listen! I know that, um…” Paul says, his own resistance similarly fading at the sight of a pretty girl on her knees before him. But he sets his shoulders, and focuses on the actual issue at hand. “You can get some… some Anima f-from this, right?”

“Oh…? Oh!” Tiffany responds, blinking away the glazed look in her eyes, forcing herself to look up to meet his gaze. “Yuh-huh… I j-just need… need to get a little more, then… I can g-get us out of here!”

Similar to the Lesser Return spell that she’d used to escape the forest on her first day, Tiffany’s class includes a Lesser Group Return. Similar in function, it teleports both her and friendly creatures back to the last logout point she visited – and she can cast it even with her hands behind her back.

“Just… ugh… don’t take too much, okay?” Paul asks, seemingly resigning himself to getting his dick sucked again. Perhaps more than once. “And… maybe don’t tell Charlie…”

Sire Wolves, it turns out, are a little more intelligent than regular animals. It’s not as if Charlie didn’t expect that, especially from a Legendary creature, but… the behaviour seems a little beyond most NPCs in Total Immersion. She’d read up on attempting to tame high-level creatures beforehand, of course, but most of them were some sort of skill check, mixed with a simple minigame.

This one seems more… genuine.

“Oookay, big guy,” Charlie says softly, her mouth dry as she meets the huge wolf’s eyes. Showing respect had been the first step in taming it, and she’d managed it without too much trouble. First, putting her bow back into her inventory, disarming herself to prove that she wasn’t about to attack it. That had been paired with walking alongside it for a while, treating the forest respectfully, and not hurrying the process.

No matter how impatient Charlie was to get her new class. Any Prestige Class, to be honest – she loved this game, but the best part was playing with Paul. He’s been determined to get stronger, and she doesn’t want to fall behind. Now, finally, she seems to be making some progress… and needs to Demonstrate humility to the Sire Wolf.

“Don’t mind me,” she says softly, smiling without showing her teeth, and lowering her eyes. It’s just a bunch of code in a server somewhere, not an actual animal! The percentage bar on the edge of her vision creeps upwards as she sinks to her knees in front of it, lowering herself below what she hoped would become her mount. Once it’s tamed, she knows all the tips and tricks to raise a tamed creature's loyalty and obedience, as well as methods to develop its skills, perks, and physical attributes.

Currently, the Sire Wolf is Level 27 – a huge boost for Charlie right now – but she’ll want it to progress with her as she carries on through the game! Now all she has to do is finish taming it, and become a legendary Sire Wolf Rider. Step two out of three finally pings green, and the third and final task is revealed…

“Huh?”, she wonders. Wasn’t the Sire Wolf meant to submit to her? Why would she… and more importantly, how would she…

Fortunately, the Sire Wolf seems smart enough to know where this taming process goes next, and steps over Charlie. Slipping backwards a little, she leans back on the grass as the beast’s furry chest passes over her, until it comes to a stop with its hind legs on either side of her hips, and its crotch directly in front of her face.

And from that, from the furry silver pouch between his haunches – and it’s definitely a he – something big, wet, and red emerges. It throbs, in time with the deep, pulsing heartbeat above her head, an inch, then two, then three squeezing out of the Sire Wolf’s sheath. A tapered, bulbous organ, already oozing some sticky, white precum from the pointed glans.

“You… you can’t want me t-to…” Charlie stammers, hardly able to drag her eyes away from the Sire Wolf’s fat, canine… cock. Her mind short-circuits. Since when was this in the game?! She knew that Tiffany had been doing some… stuff… with the Gobbos and that Troll, but this seems excessive. Is it from the mods that were activated, when they joined a party together?

Realism Mode was one thing, but Charlie’s not about to… this is… it’s bestiality! Sure, Sire Wolves aren’t real, and this is a simulation anyway, but it certainly feels real. Another inch of the doggy dick slips out, and a dissatisfied grunt rumbles from the wolf above her, along with a potent whiff of something pungent and tangy, yet primal, setting her heart racing.

A unique Prestige Class would be a major step up in power and renown. It’s not like anyone else has tamed a Sire Wolf before, so nobody would know how she did it! Paul might be able to guess, and that feels a little bad, especially when she’d been wanting to save her first… well, so long as Tiffany didn’t… she can’t let him speed on ahead with the Prince class, though! She has to keep up, and stay by his side!

“Tch, all right, you dumb mutt… it’s just a game anyway,” she says to herself, pushing down her revulsion as she leans up towards his exposed shaft – only for him to huff, and shift away from her.

“What?! N-no! I was just about to-“

And then the Sire Wolf cocks his leg, pointing the exposed portion of his prick down at Charlie on the floor, and starts to piss on her. Hot, acrid yellow urine splatters over her chest, seeping into her armour and soaking her underclothes – like he’s marking his territory, asserting dominance over the failed taming attempt.

More windows pop up explaining the debuff, but Charlie is too busy squealing and squirming to try and avoid being urinated on. Unfortunately, there’s no way she’s avoiding the Marked effect – and though she doesn’t have a chance to read it right now, Charlie knows it’ll be one that will keep her from just coming back and trying again tomorrow.

“Okay, s-sorry! I’m going!” she blurts out, scrambling to her feet as the Sire Wolf stops pissing, and starts growling. Even if she hadn’t unequipped her bow, there’s no way that Charlie could defeat the Sire Wolf – it’s over twice her level! But his description said something about moving between different forests, so she’ll just have to hope to find him again… once she isn’t Marked anymore.

Breaking into a run, she’s glad to hear that it doesn’t chase her – and when she looks over her shoulder, the Sire Wolf is gone without a trace. Coming to a stop, and wrinkling her nose at the acrid aroma now surrounding her, Charlie takes a moment to check what the new debuff does.

“Huh… that’s not great, but…” she says to herself, thinking about the area surrounding Firstham. Aside from the rumours about the Sire Wolf… she doesn’t think there are any major Canine threats nearby. And if she’s forgetting any high-level wolves, Paul and Tiffany have got her back!

“Tiffany… mmmn~…”, Paul moans, his legs shaking and breathing ragged. “How much a-… ahhh~… Anima d-did you say you needed…?”

Continuing to bob back and forth on Paul’s cock, Tiffany’s brows knit in consternation. That was what she was doing, right? It’s just that… no matter how much she swallows, it never seems to be enough. Human semen can’t satisfy the final condition to remove the Troll Taint debuff, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t crave it. And Paul’s cock has suffered from her desires.

While it shrank a little that morning when they tested Tiffany’s new Cum-Guzzler perk, it had still been a perfectly respectable size. But each time that Tiffany drained Paul’s balls down her throat, his prick had become a little smaller, testicles contracting, while less and less semen is produced. Even his pubic hair had withdrawn, falling out until only a small, smooth stiffy remains.

“Nnnnh~… s-sorry, Paul, I j-just,” Tiffany stammers, looking to one side to see the latest debuff. “I’m getting less each time, and… and the bandits won’t, um… they’ve seen what’s happening to you.”

Perhaps two inches remain of Paul’s shaft, with an oversized, wrinkly foreskin obscuring the tip. Obviously, size isn’t everything, but… it’s smaller than most of his fingers. Even worse, the Masculinity Drained debuff has progressed up to level four, inflicting him with debuffs to both his Suave and Might stats.

And that’s not even thinking about the popup which informed him that his penis size has been permanently decreased. Not all the way down to how it is right now, but almost a third of his base length has disappeared, turned into Anima for Tiffany. Not even enough for them to get out of here!

“In fact… mmf,” she says, furrowing her brow at the softening dicklet in front of her. “I d-don’t think that this even, uh… counts as semen, anymore…?”

What little sunlight that had filtered through to the back of the bandits’ cave has already faded, along with their captors’ attention. Watching an enemy being humiliated through getting his dick sucked is funny – watching it happen three more times gets rather less so. Thankfully, one of them remembers Tiffany and Paul after the NPCs have made their evening meal, and walks over with a bowl of stew, some stale bread, and a jug of water.

“Okay, you two,” Stieg says, rather less smug after the prospect of fun with Tiffany had been scuppered. “Eat up, then we’ll get you bedded down for the night. But don’t even think about runnin’, or we might see if her dick-shrinking works on our pack mule.”

Being allowed out of the cramped cage is a small relief, even if they’re not much closer to being freed. Just one more proper load of Arcane Essence could bring Tiffany up to the amount she needs to escape, and Paul would rather not leave without the Crown. For now, they satiate their virtual hunger and thirst, and are thankfully allowed to log out using the bandit’s campsite.

“We might, um,” Paul comments, in a brief moment of privacy before they bed down. “Need to see if Charlie can help get us out of this…”

And despite the prospect of being found in this humiliating state, Tiffany can’t help but agree.

When morning comes, in the real world, Tiffany blinks sleep from her eyes as she pulls the Immersion Helm from her head and rests it on the shelf above Reggie’s bed. Another day in this body, another humiliation inflicted on her from the game itself, but… not really any closer to returning to normal. Still, simply playing Total Immersion II helps get her closer to contact with the moderators in-game, and if that means helping Charlie and Paul get their new prestige classes, Tiffany is happy to help.

“Ugh… I’d still rather not s-suck dick,” she mutters to herself, sitting up a little to look around the room. Reggie isn’t awake yet, but… as if she’d spoken of the devil, his cock is. The sheets have slipped down over his hips, and her stepbrother’s thick, black shaft is throbbing out in the open. Tiffany’s urges reignite, much clearer now that she knows the source – even if it feels strange that it still affects her outside of the game.

And his cock is right there. Nothing is stopping her from shifting over between his legs, and wrapping her lips around his shaft. She can still remember how it felt yesterday, kneeling on an empty subway platform, sucking him off because… because she wanted to. But she didn’t want to want to? It would be so easy, and she’s pretty damn sure that Reggie wouldn’t mind being woken up by a long, sloppy blowjob, so…

“Mmmf… you up, Tiff…?” he mutters, shaft tensing as he absently scratches his balls, apparently oblivious to Tiffany’s internal conflict. “Gimme a few more minutes, ‘kay?”

“Um, y-yup! I’ll just… have a shower! Leave you to it!”

Jumping out of bed, Tiffany tries to push any thoughts of creamy, salty cum out of her mind – her stepbrother’s, her friend’s, the troll’s, all those Gobbos’… and instead, focus on the day ahead of her. Because advancing in the game isn’t the only thing needed to get things back to normal – there’s no way she can afford a visit to a proper Morphic Adaptation Clinic, which means that Tiffany will need to gather the cash for a replacement power cell for her Immersion Helm.

Once that’s in place, all she needs to do is contact the game’s moderators in King’s Ridge, and they should be able to undo any changes! Failing that, she could even try to find a magical item, or spell, or… or something that would let her access Taylor’s accounts again. His… her… whatever.

“Hey, Tiff,” Reggie says, looking up as she re-enters the bedroom, after a nice, refreshing shower. “I ain’t made of water… uh, wait, I kinda am. Hah! But seriously, we’re gonna have to be careful with credits.”

He doesn’t make any attempt to hide the fact that he’s looking her body up and down, obscured by only a towel. In fact, his lecherous gaze reminds Tiffany of his father’s, and while Reggie’s pulled some pants on, she wonders if his dad’s cock is…

“Ugh, s-sorry! That’s… yeah, that makes sense,” she says, drying herself off while rooting around for something to wear. “Did you have any luck with finding me some work?”

Tiffany wasn’t holding out hope. Reggie is still a student, and doesn’t have a job of his own, so had been expecting to find something for herself instead… or for him to try and suggest she become some kind of streetwalker, after the assumptions that were made about her temporary ID. Obviously, she’s not going to resort that that (yet), but it’s still surprising that Reggie has an answer for her.

“Yup! I had a chat with Dad, and one of his buddies is looking for workers, told him you were interested,” Reggie answers, which sounds entirely reasonable. But still, a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, and Tiffany is suddenly apprehensive. “In fact, I even got the uniform loaded up on the AutoDresser…”

Across the city, Charlie and Paul are in their apartment, recounting their in-game experiences to each other. With some… select details left out, of course.

“So, you didn’t see where the bandits took you?” Charlie asks, while preparing some coffee for the two of them. “That’s pretty inconvenient, but I bet I can track them down without being spotted. It’s good that they’re not… doing anything to Tiffany, at least.”

“Uh-huh, it really is. And that’d be, um… pretty helpful!” Paul says, not quite meeting Charlie’s eyes. Which is just as well, because she can’t meet his either, keeping a little further away from him. Even after a hot, thorough shower, she can still smell something on her body, not dissimilar to the Sire Wolf’s marking. “It’s a shame you didn’t manage to tame that wolf, though. We can try again when we find it next time!”

They’re each trying to be encouraging to the other, despite their own missteps, but there’s still some unspoken tension between them. Paul is sat at the table in their kitchen, legs pushed together – he didn’t want to look, but can already feel that he’s not as endowed as he was before their last gaming session. For a moment, he considered cutting his losses and just… not going back in tomorrow. But there’s no way he wants to abandon Tiffany to those bandits, especially with whatever perverted modules are affecting their behaviour.

And it would also mean not playing with Charlie every evening. That, out of everything, feels like it would be the worst. Although, maybe after class today…

“Say, uh… Charlie,” he starts, his words suddenly heavy on his tongue, difficult to get out. Something about spending time with Tiffany, someone that isn’t Charlie, has made it clear to him that he shouldn’t wait around. “Would you-“

“Eep! Louie!” Charlie squeals, almost spilling her coffee, and interrupting Paul. Pushing her free hand down, she tries to push the dog’s snout away from her crotch, where his wet nose had been earnestly snuffling at her boxer briefs.

Looking away with a rueful smile, Paul tries not to feel jealous, chuckling a little as he pointedly does not look at how Charlie’s arse fills out the fabric, or the inner curve of her cleavage visible with her lowcut top. It’s not like he has anything to worry about with her dog, it’s just that… maybe tomorrow would be better.

“Sorry, Paul, what were you saying?” Charlie asks, once Louie has been suitably deterred from sticking his nose into her cameltoe.

“Oh? I was just asking… um…” he replies, stammering a little and casting around for something to ask her. It’s as he does this that he notices the absence of their third roommate, which does genuinely puzzle him. “Would you happen to know where Kenta is?”

“Kenta? Oh, yeah,” Charlie says, though her tone seems a little deflated. “He said something about starting work today. Where was it that he said he got hired…?”

“Hi, welcome to Burger Tits! How may I shake your order?”

There wasn’t much training needed for her new job at the food truck. With the skimpy uniform that Reggie had put her in, it was immediately clear what she was being hired for. A joke of a collared uniform shirt covers her shoulders and collarbone, cheap blue and orange fabric with the Burger Tits logo, while a matching bikini top holds her breasts beneath it with only a thin panel covering her nipples. A similar pair of shorts ride high up her hips and into her butt crack, mostly obscured by the counter in front of her.

Thankfully, nobody is really looking at the strained smile on her face, and all she needs to do is take orders…

“Yeah, uh, I’ll have a double squeeze-burger meal, with a vanilla shake, and…”

And take ‘orders’.

“A special shake,” the customer finishes, with an exaggerated wink. Pushing down her irritation, Tiffany turns her head to look back at her coworker, free-flowing brunette hair brushing her shoulders from underneath the garish orange cap.

“Sure thing, sir,” she says, before directing her voice back to the man working the grill. “You hear that Kenta? Double che… squeeze­-burger meal, and a vanilla shake.”

Turning back to the man in front of her, not too subtly ogling her bare skin, she takes his payment – and then delivers the final part of his order, the gimmick that she was hired for.

“Thank you for eating at Burger Tits, where we…” she starts, lifting her hands to loop her thumbs through the top of the bikini top. “Give you some jiggle with your pickle!”

Then she pulls the bra up completely, revealing her nipples, and bounces on the balls of her feet. The ‘shake’ that the man ordered, and most of her customers have ordered, delivered with one of several catchphrases that she was told before starting work. Jiggle with your pickle, is bad enough, but there are others about putting seeds on buns, or loving patties as much as the customer.

It’s embarrassing, humiliating, and… also takes no skills or qualifications besides having a cute pair of tits, and a willingness to get them out. Her boss even offered a raise if she could get more of a ‘raise’ out of him, and Kenta doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he stares at her chest, brazenly putting his hands on her waist whenever he squeezes behind her.

“Next!” Tiffany calls, after covering her chest exactly when she finishes counting to ten in her head. The earlier customer steps to one side to wait for his meal, while the next one steps up with another grin, and more eyes that don’t rise any higher than Tiffany’s collar.

“Hi, welcome to Burger Tits! Would you like to try our… our Jumbo-Cumbo meal?”

It’s going to be a long shift. But at least she’s getting paid and, if Paul manages to speak to Charlie about rescuing them, everything should be back on track when she next logs back into Total Immersion…

Chapter Text

“Ughhhh… if I never see another burger… ever again…” Tiffany grumbles to herself, slumped face-down on Reggie’s bed. “It’ll be too damn soon…”

Her poor mood isn’t helped by the gnawing in her belly, which the free hot dog after work didn’t do anything to satiate. If anything, it just made it worse, especially when she added mayonnaise. But a paycheck is a paycheck, even if it involves getting her newly grown breasts being ogled by any random customer, nearly all of them paying the two credits extra to have her give a little jiggle.

Sorry, one credit nintety-nine.

And her coworkers aren’t much better. Kenta was quiet, and relatively competent at the grill, but he didn’t even try to hide how much he stared at her butt. Not that it was hard to ogle, with the ridiculous shorts that were included as her uniform. At least she’s home now… for a given definition of ‘home’. Trying to muster the energy to get up and drag her sweaty body into the shower, the door behind her slides open, and Tiffany can’t help but see it as a chance to deal with another of her unfortunate cravings.

“Look, just… g-get your cock out, and I’ll suck it before getting in the shower, okay?” she says to Reggie. Her stepbrother might be a jerk, but he is helping her with the job, and credits, and saving up for the power cell for her Immersion Helm, so… if there’s anyone that she can get her fix from, it’s-

“Ah… well, I’m not complaining, but…” says the person behind her, a deeper, rougher voice that most certainly is not Reggie.

Jerking upright, Tiffany twists around on the bed to see her stepfather instead, standing with hands on his hips. Wearing a comfortable green polo shirt and chino shorts, he looks just the same as ever, and is more than twice Tiffany’s age – even before she got put in the body of a teenager. He’s also, as Tiffany came to learn quite quickly despite the fact that Eustace is meant to be dating her mother, a bit of a pervert.

“N-no, sorry, Eustace! Um, Mister Gibson, sir?” Tiffany awkwardly responds, not exactly liking how the man’s gaze runs over her exposed skin. Sweaty and greasy after her shift in the Burger Tits van, it feels even more humiliating to be seen like this here instead of at work. A vulnerability, perhaps. Sleeping on the couch had hardly been comfortable, especially since Tiffany’s mother is still away on that business trip, but…

“So, you’re staying here now, then? Your folks kick you out or somethin’?” Eustace asks, his tone jovial, but Tiffany knows what he’s like. The man isn’t exactly one for charity or helping others, at least not without getting something in return. But Tiffany only nods – she’s not about to tell him what actually happened, and even if Reggie wants to help her out, his dad is still in charge.

“Hmm… well, I don’t mind you staying, I s’pose,” he says, to Tiffany’s relief. “Seeing as you’ve got a job, unlike that useless stepson. But there is the matter of rent.”

Tiffany’s heart sinks. Her job at Burger Tits already doesn’t pay very well, with all of her money getting transferred directly to Reggie’s account, and the alternative jobs available for a pretty girl with no qualifications or legitimate documentation aren’t exactly tempting. To lose even more to this man would delay returning to normal by an unfair amount.

“Well, I… I already pay my way with, um, water and… and fabric credits!” Tiffany says, holding a hand up placatingly, and still very aware of how little she’s wearing. “I transfer what I owe t-to Reggie, and I just… it’s only until I’m back on my feet, so I can’t really… afford…”

She trails off, looking up at the man she’s known for years by now, and the smile still on his face. Usually at this point, Eustace would’ve been shouting at Taylor and dismissing his excuses, brushing off any of his difficulties. But Tiffany… has something that Taylor never did. And, raising an eyebrow, Eustace loosens his belt.

“Don’t worry about money, Tiffany,” he says, dropping his shorts and pulling down his pants, to reveal a thick, stiffening cock. “Why don’t we just revisit the offer you made when I first came in?”

Tiffany’s eyes open wide, hardly believing that this man would proposition his own son’s girlfriend. While also cheating on his own partner! But as she thinks about it some more, Tiffany realises that she isn’t exactly surprised by it. Reggie must have gotten his attitude towards women from somewhere, and… she licks her lips. Obviously, she shouldn’t do this. Tell Reggie that his dad came onto her, cough up whatever payment for rent that he’s demanding, and take a few extra shifts at Burger Tits.

That would be the sensible option.

Instead, swallowing heavily, Tiffany leans forward and takes in a shuddering breath. Trapped in a pair of cheap cotton boxers all day, Eustace’s cock is hardly fresh, and the masculine odour is like a fine, home-cooked meal to her tweaked senses, making her mouth water and fingers itch. It’s clear that the game is affecting her even outside of it, but this is…

“O-okay…” she says, unable to take her eyes off the man’s cock. Much the same size as Reggie’s, this one has a creased foreskin covering the glans, his veiny shaft curving upwards from a hairy base. It reminds Tiffany a little of the nasty Gobbo schlongs that she milked, albeit more evenly proportioned for his size, even if the smell isn’t nearly as bad, and the taste-

“Mmmmn~… tha’s a good girl…” Eustace says, patting her on the head as Tiffany wraps her pretty lips around the tip of his dick. “I ain’t surprised that the first girl Reggie brings home is a slut.”

Tiffany doesn’t appreciate the insult, but can’t exactly refute it with the man’s cock in her mouth, sliding further forwards as his hand guides her, and her tongue digs beneath his foreskin. She’s sweaty, tired, and urgently needs a shower, but cannot resist continuing to suck. Just like with Paul in the cage, milking him dry several times over, even as his cock shrank in front of her. Trading an inch of his length for a tiny bit more Anima was anything but a fair deal, and certainly not one she should’ve made four times over.

At least that hasn’t followed her back to real life, as Eustace’s shaft nudges the back of her throat, a weighty and worryingly satisfying heft to it. A week ago, she was a man with a full-time job, but now she can’t resist sucking her stepdad’s cock – all for the dubious privilege of sharing a bed with her stepbrother.

Trying not to think about it, Tiffany just focuses on the job in front of her, continuing to lick and slurp under Eustace’s patronising guidance, until his middle-aged nut is emptied down her throat. It’s not enough, of course, unable to quench the magical reliance on sperm that the game imparted on her, but she hasn’t exactly got any other options available to her.

“Schlrrrp… gulp… is th-that, ahh…” Tiffany gasps, swallowing it all, then unable to keep herself from licking him clean as well. “Okay, M-Mister Gibson?”

“Oh, I think that’s more than okay, Tiffany,” Eustance answers, patting her head again. “I’ll be sure to let you know when rent is next due…”

Exhaling deeply, Charlie is glad to be back inside the world of Total Immersion. The land of Morndaria is picturesque, with plenty of beautiful, fully realised environments, a stark contrast to the smoggy city that she actually lives in. And… it also means she can have a little alone time, to think about the awkward tension that’s sprung up between her and Paul.

“It’s not like it’s that girl’s fault,” she grouses to herself, wandering through the forest outside Firstham, on the western side of the road. “She’s clearly not into him, and I can’t exactly blame her for that thing with the troll…”

There should be bandits around here – and it doesn’t take long for Charlie’s Ranger skills and impressive Canny score to find signs of their presence. Boot prints in muddy hollows, broken branches in regular lines, the occasional whiff of woodsmoke. Unfortunately, finding and rescuing her friends might prove more difficult, if she tries it alone.

“Tch… but she seems nice, and could get really damn strong. Even with whatever’s actually going on with her. Plus, I can’t exactly leave her alone in that cave with Paul! His Arcane Essence isn’t for her, it’s for…”

Her thoughts, spoken aloud, trail off at a curious sight in front of her. Charlie has played Total Immersion II for years by now, only starting a fresh character to play with Paul, and she knows a lot about the game. Not everything, especially with the emergent world always changing and evolving, but… she knows plenty enough that there shouldn’t be Gobbos in the Firstham woods.

“Gnuh? Waaark!” one of them shouts, spotting Charlie during her moment of confusion. “Yoosa granaka, hoi?”

She goes to draw an arrow for her bow, but even stranger, these Gobbos don’t seem to be hostile. They also, unlike most of the little green-skinned wretches that she’s seen, have pretty obvious cocks beneath their loincloths… and Charlie has a sinking suspicion that she knows exactly which Gobbos these are.

Carefully moving a hand away from her quiver, she gives them a slight wave, trying not to come across as aggressive. It seems to work, as they trudge warily closer, surrounding her – although the level disparity means they’re essentially harmless, especially with their crummy wooden weapons.

“You’re looking for Tiffany? The, uh… elf?” Charlie asks, unsure how much they can understand. Moving a hand up to one ear, she makes a pointed shape with her fingers, which the Gobbos seem receptive to. Then Charlie rolls her eyes, and makes a crude blowjob gesture, which elicits smiles and nods from the grimy little creeps.

“Yaaaah! We’um… ahhh… fyana granaka pontu!” the apparent leader says, while the other two inspect her. Holding one hand up, he mimes walking with two fingers, then points back towards the Troll Bridge, and finally to a point further into the woods away from the road.

With what Charlie manages to piece together from an impromptu game of charades, the Gobbos followed Tiffany out of their usual spawn zone, spying on her – and by extension, the rest of their party – as they travelled towards Firstham. The Gobbos obviously couldn’t come into town, so waited for Tiffany to come back out. Only, she left with Paul to search for the crown, then got captured by bandits, giving them no chance to approach her.

“Mmnugh… shiso stinka… rrrruffa peepis?” one of them mutters in derision, actually holding its nose despite their own malodorous rancidity. Which means it’s not just her imagining that she still smells of Sire Wolf piss. It’s irrelevant to the matter at hand, though, so she beckons for the Gobbos to follow her.

“Okay, okay! Look… fuck, this is weird… but we can work together, maybe?” she asks, hoping the Gobbos can understand her. “I distract the bandits, shoot a couple and run off into the woods, then… uh… what was it you said, about Tiffany? Granaka?”

The Gobbo Scrubs bounce excitedly, going so far as to grab their cocks lewdly, which Charlie takes as a ‘yes’. Even if her bow-finger itches, wishing she could just get rid of these lowly mobs, it’s a better plan than anything she could do on her own. Distract the bandits, let the Gobbos sneak in, and… rescue Tiffany and Paul.

Following the Gobbos deeper into the woods, she’s surprised at how quickly and stealthily they can travel, soon bringing her to a well-hidden cave opening, one that probably would’ve taken her all day to track down. Once they’re in place, she looses an arrow at one of the bandits on watch – then as soon as she spots the Gobbos sneaking into the cave, she runs back towards the road, trusting Paul to make use of the distraction to get home with Tiffany.

“Uh… g-good morning, Paul…” Tiffany says awkwardly, tied up between his legs again. The bandits might have given them a place to log out, but they’re not about to let the pair of nosy adventurers roam free. “Did you… have a nice day?”

It’s hard to speak to him, especially with his flaccid… greatly diminished… penis bobbing in front of her. Curiously, the dose from Eustace seems to be working, because she feels no attraction towards it at all. Paul is taking it with good humour, at least, smiling ruefully down at the cute girl.

“Uh-huh. Aside from the new m-micropenis, it was pretty good,” he answers, shifting his position to allow Tiffany to turn around. “Went to college with Charlie, we, um… talked about you a little, strategized about how to escape from here, so… she should be on her way to help! How about you?”

Tiffany chuckles, definitely not planning on telling Paul about how she paid ‘rent’ just before heading back into the simulated game. But the rest of her day working at Burger Tits, if unpleasant, at least makes for decent conversation. It’s enough that she wants to tell Paul about what actually happened to her – the weird error with the Immersion Helm turning her into Tiffany, and the unknown game modes fucking with them.

Maybe once they’re all somewhere safe, though, and him and Charlie have worked out whatever is happening between them. Sure, they’ll probably leave the party, but… she can find another way to get to King’s Ridge and the moderators there.

“On that note, uh,” Tiffany says, not entirely sure how to bring it up. “I think that… that you and Charlie, um… you know she c-cares about you very much, right? Have the two of you ever thought about… you know… being m-more?”

She half expected to be interrupted, by Paul or bandits or some other stupid danger, but the cave is still quiet. And, looking down at her, the redheaded knight is thoughtful. Clearly, the (mostly) temporary loss of his manhood has knocked his confidence, but the way he talks about Charlie makes it clear that he has feelings for her. And from how Charlie talks about him, Tiffany is pretty sure the feeling is mutual.

“I… I don’t know,” he says, thoughtfully. “We should… I’ll talk to her, once we’re out of this. And Tiffany? Uh… thanks. You’re a nice girl.”

“Yeah, I… aha… I try. Sorry about the… y’know. The dick,” she replies, and Paul thankfully laughs along with her. The bandits come around to give them breakfast, the same bland, meaty stew as them, with stale bread to fill their stomachs. Tiffany’s grumbles a little when Stieg draws close, his leather breeches tight around his crotch, but she pushes the urges down. None of the bandits would let their cocks near her lips, especially after they saw what she did to Paul, and she’s still short of enough Anima to cast the Lesser Group Return spell to get them back to town.

For now, they just wait for an opportunity – which isn’t long in arriving. A shout echoes from the opening of the cave, followed by another scream and several of the bandits jumping to their feet and grabbing weapons. Which leaves the uncomfortable cage unwatched, where hopefully a familiar figure in green will be approaching to set them free…

“Khekhekhe… sucka sucka, granaka?”

“For fuck’s sake, not these guys again…” Tiffany curses, as three diminutive figures emerge from the shadows. They’re certainly green and familiar, but not exactly what she’d been hoping for.

“G-Gobbos?! Tiffany, do you know them? Are these the…?” Paul asks, leaving the end of the question hanging in the air while he squirms away from them (and their various pointy implements) at the back of the cage.

“Yup. These are the Gobbos that I… collected from… ohhh, shit,” she says, letting her shoulders slump in defeat. “I think I know how we’re getting out of here. Just, um… s-sorry, okay? In advance.”

The Gobbos approach the cage fearlessly, apparently confident that the bandits wouldn’t be back any time soon, and one of them slides a knapped stone knife through the bars to free Tiffany’s hands. Ideally, they would’ve actually opened the damn cage as well, but they’ve got one thing in mind. Climbing the sides of the cylindrical prison, each of the Gobbos drops its loincloth – then shoves its cock through, pointing them at Tiffany’s face.

“Huh?! Are th-they expecting you to… oh, fuck that’s g-gross, Tiffany,” Paul says, his voice quavering a little, and definitely not thinking about how much larger their pricks are than his own. “I don’t know h-how you can…”

A salty, pungent cock-stink wafts up from them, unwashed since the last time Tiffany’s tongue slurped along their surfaces – and she wastes no time before doing so again. Wrapping her lips around the leader in the centre, her hands lift up to rub and stroke the other two on either side, with a fervour that even provokes a reaction in Paul behind her.

“Mmmmn~… tiffa gaguda!” one of the Gobbos exclaims excitedly, his gross, veiny shaft throbbing eagerly in Tiffany’s grasp, already leaking thick globs of lumpy, yellowish precum, dirtied even further by whatever grime and gunk has accumulated behind his foreskin. Tiffany doesn’t seem to care, though – her Troll Taint is in full force, the three stinky cocks absolutely intoxicating to her.

“Nyehehee! Piddle neena? Bwahaha!” one of them bursts out laughing, jabbing a finger through the bars to point at Paul’s half-hearted erection, a bead of watery, almost clear precum glistening at the tip.

“W-what…? Are they laughing at me? T-Tiffany!” Paul calls out, arms still bound above him, and unable to do anything about his shameful arousal. “There’s no way that a b-bunch of… of nasty creatures like that are… are better than me! Right?”

But Tiffany’s eyes are glazed over, fully absorbed in her disgusting task, almost seeming eager to milk the Gobbos’ balls. Alternating her mouth between the three schlongs, her tongue slurps up the sticky pre and scrapes out any dried piss and smegma from behind their cockheads, only occasionally pulling away with ragged gasps to show the filth on her tongue.

Humiliated, and with his new friend getting degraded right in front of him, Paul can only look away and try to ignore the sloppy gagging and choking, interspersed with unintelligible Gobbo insults. It’s all virtual, all a game, and Paul knows that – but it doesn’t do much to salve his pride. Each moment that passes speeds his heart rate and flushes his cheeks, both in concern for the bandits returning, and how much Tiffany seem to be… almost enjoying herself.

But thankfully, after a particularly lewd spurt of ball sucking and the occasional cock slap, Tiffany wraps her lips tight around the wrinkled jizz-nozzle of the Gobbo in front of her – and then brings them all to a simultaneous orgasm. Gelatinous ropes of putrid semen splatter from the tips, jetting out to criss-cross ropes on her face, a ridiculous amount of cum from such puny, worthless creatures.

And yet, Tiffany continues to greedily gulp down the unfiltered ejaculate from the Gobbo directly in front of her, while squeezing as much as she can onto her face from the ones beside. Despite the quality of this semen clearly belonging in the toilet, Tiffany is happy to play that role… but she eventually pulls away with a final, more conscious gasp of revulsion.

“Ughhh! S-sorry, Paul, I-urrrp!” she starts to say, interrupted by a stinky cock-breathed burp. “I’ve g-got enough… Anima to get us b-back to… the tavern now.”

Satisfied, the Gobbos step back and away from the cage, one of them taking a moment to unlatch the door, which Paul notes that they could’ve just done to start with. That allows Tiffany to get up and untie Paul, leaving the two of them free to grab the contents of their inventories, and put their armour back on. Unfortunately, that’s where their luck runs out, as the bandits have started to return – and a shout of alarm echoes through the cave, prompting Tiffany to start casting the spell…

And giving Paul just enough time to grab a single piece of treasure.

The Brass Levy isn’t the best tavern in Firstham, nor is it the cheapest – but it is the most popular. Sure, it’s fine, but its position as the first tavern that new players find on their way into the town puts it at a distinct advantage, as well as reminding adventurers that they would need to rent a room there if they wanted to respawn in the tavern.

Or, in the case of magic users, for their Return spells to teleport them back there.

“Paul! You’re back! And Tiffany… phew,” Charlie calls out, jumping up from the bar where she’d been watching the worn corner of floorboards that Return spells arrived in, and pulling Paul into an embrace. “I’m sorry, I wanted to stick around, but the bandits were… uh… Tiff, do you need to go to the, um… washroom?”

Stepping away from the suddenly blushing Paul, Charlie takes in the state of Tiffany’s face, still rather heavily glazed by Gobbo Semen. Together, the three of them hustle up to their shared tavern room, and Tiffany cleans her face off while Paul fills Charlie in on what happened with the Gobbos.

Although he doesn’t cover everything that happened… missing out one or two tiny details.

But once Tiffany returns, he quite excitedly retrieves his loot from his inventory. Glistening gold in the flickering lamplight, and throwing ruby reflections around the wooden room, Paul can’t keep the triumphant grin off his face.

“Ta-da! The Scarlet Diadem!” he declares, to a suitable chorus of oohs and ahhs from his party members. “I’m sorry about the, ah… the Sire Wolf, Charlie. But once I’m a Prince, I promise to help find you something just as good!”

“Aww, Paul, that’s sweet,” Charlie says, sidling a little closer, but still a little conscious about her Marked status. “But you don’t have to! We’re all working together, um… right, Tiffany? I… I’m sorry about how you two got captured, and… and the changes to the game are weird, but…”

“Uh-huh,” says Paul, picking up the thread as Charlie looks at him. “You’re clearly here for something else. Right?”

Throughout all of this, and during the little spare time she’d had working at Burger Tits, Tiffany had been feeling pretty down. About shrinking Paul, and Charlie apparently getting urinated on in an NPC interaction that apparently is not part of the base game. Honestly, she’d been considering leaving the party and letting them go back to something closer to normality, even if she didn’t want to stop hanging out with her new friends.

“Uh-huh… sorry,” Tiffany says, her excitement at being rescued starting to fade. “I sh-should’ve told you earlier, um… I had something happen with my Immersion Helm, and… and it screwed up my biometrics. The Helm is… ah… second-hand?”

The implications of that are clear, especially to seasoned gamers like Charlie and Paul. Tiffany’s ‘second-hand’ Helm was hacked or cracked, or otherwise modded on the grey market, and it messed up her bio-signs enough that the city’s computer systems don’t recognise her anymore. She didn’t mention exactly how it transformed her, but that still feels a little weird to be talking about. Especially after the game went so far as to mess with her sense of gender.

Still, it’s clear that she’s going to have to shoulder this burden alone. It would be completely unfair to expect these people she’s barely known for a week to go along with this humiliating journey, so-

“Yeah, that’s pretty much what we thought,” Charlie cuts in, still smiling for some reason. “Just gives us all the more reason to get to the capital, then!”

“Huh?”

Tiffany’s confusion is obvious, and Paul gives her a pat on the shoulder, both of them thankfully dressed this time.

“Don’t worry, Tiff, we’re not about to leave you in the lurch. That’s what a party’s for, right?” he says, and it’s almost enough to make Tiffany cry. The game seems like it’s only going to get more and more perverted, but at least she won’t be facing it alone. “Besides… aha… we, um, can’t turn off the new game modes, or… or leave the party. We checked.”

It dampens the gesture a little to know that the three of them are stuck together, but Charlie and Paul are at least taking it in good spirits, and Tiffany’s not about to look a gift-horse in the mouth.

“Okay! Enough sappy stuff!” Charlie says, clapping her hands. “Paul, let’s see that crown!”

A new sense of excitement about this virtual world filling her, Tiffany cheers and raises her arms, Charlie joining in on the encouragement. Paul rolls his eyes, but can’t hide his enthusiasm, setting his sword down to one side, then lifting the golden crown up to his head… and for just a moment, upon setting it atop his skull, he freezes.

Then, his body starts to change. They’d expected that, with what Paul said about the Prince class boosting a character’s appearance based on their Suave stat, but these changes seem a little… different. First, he starts to shrink, body thinning and smoothening, while his hair lengthens. Looking down at himself in confusion, Paul’s armour starts to loosen as well, the battered iron breastplate resting wider on his shoulders.

“Huh…? W-what? That’s… w-what’s happen-eek!” Paul asks, looking between Charlie and Tiffany, only for his pitch to slide upwards, cracking and jumping a couple of octaves. “M-my voice!”

The changes don’t stop there – and they abruptly become a lot more visible, as Paul’s armour jumps off his body with a faint pop. Clutching the breastplate in one hand, his other arm seems to cover… what are almost breasts of his own. His skin is pale and freckled, same as before, but smoother and fairer, with a puffy nipple slipping out from behind his forearm, and a slight swell to his chest. The only thing he’s wearing now is a loose pair of linen underpants, with a rather small bulge in the front.

Finally, looking between his two friend, framed by his longer, vibrant auburn hair, Paul’s face has also transformed. From a relatively handsome guy, he now looks distinctly feminine, with pretty, pouty lips, a freckled button nose, and wide green eyes. Beside him, his status window appears, but instead of Sir Paul…

He’s now, apparently, Princess Polly.

“Paul?! I… I d-don’t think that crown was for… a Prince,” Tiffany says, unsure where to look, as Paul fruitlessly tries to put his armour on again, anything on.

“Oh, ya think?” Charlie quips sarcastically, moving over to help her best friend. “Hey, hey, it’s okay… you probably just have some, uh… equipment restrictions, right? Let’s see here…”

“N-no, no, no! Charlieeee, I w-wanted to be a Prince for you!” Paul says, almost in tears, his voice sounding more like a petulant teenage girl than a college-aged man. “It says… sniff… that I, um… have to wear… Elegant gear?”

“There we go! Tiff, why don’t you take what we’ve earned so far, and find some new armour for Paul,” Charlie says, taking charge of the situation, and tossing her coin purse to Tiffany. “While you do that, Paul and I can… talk, and… work out what his new class does.”

Tiffany nods fervently, backing out of the room as Charlie leads Paul to sit on the bed, closing the door firmly behind her. As soon as they have some privacy, Paul leans against Charlie with a disappointed groan, his attempt at optimising himself only leading to further feminisation.

“Hey, hey… it’s okay,” she says, wrapping an arm around Paul’s slender new shoulders. “You’re still you, right? So, I still… ah… y’know. What, um… what did you mean by wanting to be a Prince… for me?”

Paul looks up at Charlie then, at the sudden vulnerability in her voice, and meets her eyes. The two of them look at each other for a long moment, and then with no further discussion needed, lean in for a kiss. A chaste one, and not like either of them expected when they first thought of it – Paul having been turned into a Princess, and Charlie still smelling like wolf piss – but it’s been a long time coming.

When they eventually pull away, both of them smiling despite the situation, it’s Paul that breaks the silence.

“Th-that. Um… that’s what I… wanted,” he says, freckled cheeks blushing once again. Charlie rolls her eyes at the thought, giving Paul a tap on the nose, before pulling her further up onto the bed.

“Ugh! You daft boy, Paul,” she says, affectionately. “It was never about how you looked. But we can get back to that later, uh… maybe once we’ve read over how your class works?”

Paul nods his head. Despite the unwanted physical transformation, the real-life implications of which are something he’d rather not think about right now, the crown did give him a unique Prestige Class. Bringing up the status screen again, which he’d skimmed earlier to find the equipment restriction, Paul turns it around so that Charlie can read it as well.

“Hmmm… so, still Social and Martial, like your old Knight class, just switched around,” Charlie muses, and Paul fidgets, trying not to be bothered about his chest being exposed. It never bothered him as a man… which he still is, of course! “Then Suave for your primary ability, which probably got a decent boost from gaining the Prestige Class. Hehe~… not surprising you turned out so adorable!”

The jibe doesn’t land quite as casually as Charlie intended, and Paul flashes her a glare, answered by an apologetic grimace. But she keeps reading, looking at the rest of the class’s details while she shuffles a little closer.

“Refined… feminine aspects, and all that. Then Graceful gives you… oh damn! Adds your Suave bonus to weapons?! That’s super overpowered!” Charlie says, not hiding her amazement. “Then it looks like you’ve even got a unique questline kinda thing, with this Petty Royal, which could be fun, and… ah.”

The final point is a little stickier.

“You can’t give up the class, or even take off the crown, until you finish it,” she says, and the two of them lapse into thoughtful silence. If they hadn’t already checked to see if they could leave the party, and get rid of the strange new mods, they might’ve been seriously thinking about going back on their word to Tiffany. But as it is… they’ll have to work through it.

“A-anyway, uh… you’re sure that me looking like this is okay?” Paul nervously asks, one of his hands fidgeting with the default underwear, the only thing that the class let him keep on. Glancing down at it, Charlie raises an eyebrow, her reassuring smile shifting into a devious smirk.

“Uh-huh… it sure it… although,” Charlie answers, reaching hand down towards Paul’s crotch. “Maybe I want to see just how far these new… feminine aspects of yours go…?”

Paul’s breath hitches in his throat, and he can’t answer. Instead, all he does is nod his head, and then lift a hand to unequip the underwear. Immediately, his little stiffy is shown to the room, and Charlie’s face stays deliberately neutral. Tilting her head to one side, she reaches down to tentatively nudge it, with a finger almost larger than his penis.

“W-well, it’s… um… cute! Uh-huh! And I’m sure that we c-can have some… some more fun once it’s back to… normal!” she says, injecting positivity into her voice, before asking a blunt, clarifying question. “Sorry, it is normally bigger than this, right?”

“Y-yes!” Paul almost squeaks, indignantly, though he doesn’t see a need to go into why it’s currently smaller than usual. Plus smooth, hairless, and currently standing at attention. “I sh-should be… before all th-this, I was!”

Humming thoughtfully, Charlie doesn’t move her hand away, gently exploring the crotch of her long-time crush. It’s not exactly how she expected… or even really wanted… it to look, but that’s okay. She can work with this, and maybe even have a little fun of her own.

“Wait, Ch-Charlie, I-I-I…” Paul stammers, as her fingers brush down the phimotic foreskin, then wrap around his smooth balls, giving them a gentle squeeze, and… “AHHN~!”

Paul’s dick throbs once, twice, and a single bead of thin, watery jizz dribbles from the top – purely from getting his balls gripped. His new face contorts into an adorable O-face, panting heavily while his mind is apparently overwhelmed by pleasure.

“Oops~… sorry, Princess,” Charlie says mischievously, not sounding apologetic at all as she wipes her hand on the bed sheet dismissively. “Let’s hope Tiffany’s back soon with your new armour. I’ll, uh… go and get us something to eat?”

Still, she smiles and gives him another kiss on the cheek, leaving Paul to cling to the last softening vestiges of her… no, of his masculinity.

At the same time, across town, Tiffany also clinging to some masculinity. Not her own, unfortunately – but the burly dwarven blacksmith has plenty enough to share. And because she hasn’t had the honour of savouring dwarf semen yet, it should go perfectly with the end of her Troll Taint condition.

The fact that she originally came here to get some new armour isn’t exactly forgotten, but it’s hardly at the forefront of her mind.

“Mmmmn~… tha’s a good li’l knife-ear slut…” the dwarf groans, leaning back on a stool while Tiffany bobs up and down his cock. Shorter than some she’s serviced, but girthier than all but the troll, with a strong, earthy aroma, and a thick fuzz of pubic hair surrounding his heavy, pendulous balls. “Down on yer knees… nnngh~… where ya belong!”

His fantasy racism is also a little exciting, a dynamic between dwarves and elves that doesn’t exist in the real world, but makes the act of kneeling on the ground and enthusiastically slurping out his jizz a little more risqué. Well… more than it usually would be to suck a shopkeeper’s cock for a discount.

“Ohhh, you’ll get what you came ‘ere for, no doubt about it,” the dwarf mutters. Tiffany didn’t even catch his name, but after asking around in the tavern, he’s apparently the best smith in town. A solid worker, probably the place that most players get their first set of proper quality armour, and friendly to all that enter… even Tiffany, at first.

But when she couldn’t afford the Elegant armour that he sold, and offered something else to make up the difference…

“Ahhhh~… it’s been too long since my knob were polished so well,” he grunts, though it’s still a more pleasant experience than with the Gobbos. “Just hold on… righ’ there… nnngh!”

When he cums, the semen is thick like glue, but surprisingly lacking in taste, and easy enough for Tiffany to swallow. As soon as she does so, the urgent craving for jizz fades without a trace, which does make finishing the cumshot a little more difficult – but the dwarf’s hand on the back of her head is enough encouragement. At the same time, she manages to complete the upgrade path for her Cum-Guzzler perk…

And the upgraded Cum-Addict perk pops up in front of her.

“Rrrrrgh…” Tiffany grumbles, mouth still occupied with cock, as she can tell from the name that it won’t be pleasant. Slowly and steadily, the dwarf continues to pour his thick cum down her throat, giving her a chance to read the perk’s information.

Further optimising her ability to extract Anima from cum… somewhat expected. The ability to do it with her butt? Less so, but nothing she has to do. Less welcome is the even lower Anima regeneration, and worst of all is the new Dependence effect – for each day that passes without her ‘collecting’ Arcane Essence, her desire for semen increases.

Which thoroughly scuppers any chance that she’ll be using anything other than semen to fuel her magic, for the foreseeable future. It also gives her two possible upgrade paths this time, with one to ‘Overfill’ a hell of a lot of Anima, whatever that means, and the other requiring her to track down three rare creatures with Very High quality semen.

She can deal with all of that later, though.

“Well! There we go!” the dwarf says, matter-of-factly, as his ejaculation cuts off abruptly. “I’d say that’s worth the silver. Hold there, an’ I’ll fetch ya the armour. Say… is it for a new Prince class, by any chance?”

Tiffany stays where she is, kneeling on the floor, wiping her lips with the back of her hand. The way things are going, she won’t need to worry about that ‘Dependence’ on semen… although it looks like the bottled stuff won’t quench her desires. At the same time, she feels like this NPC might be a little bit too nosy into her affairs, but she can’t seem to stop herself from telling him all about the new Princess Polly…

Later that afternoon, once Charlie and Tiffany had convinced Paul that this really was the only Elegant armour available in Firstham, him and Charlie were down in the courtyard of The Brass Levy. While the combat system in Total Immersion II helps players a lot in combat, even with Realism Mode turned on, it would still be useful for Paul to get more used to his body before they go out questing again.

Plus, Charlie would rather wait out the Marked debuff before they meet any wolf packs.

“Ughhh… I know that this is a… a Suave-based class, but…” Paul whines, clutching his longsword in both hands. “Did it really have to swap it away from my Might stat?”

Before, he would wield it in one hand, with a shield in the other – unfortunately, that turned out to be impractical with his new class. Partly because the rough, grubby shield is far from Elegant, meaning he can’t equip it, but even if he could, Paul needs both hands to wield his sword, and they don’t have money to buy anything with the Ornate modifier.

“Yes, that’s just… how the game works, I’m afraid,” Charlie answers, looking down at her friend – and possibly her new boyfriend. “Now stop worrying about your skirt, and show me a proper swing!”

The armour doesn’t help much. A fine-quality breastplate with too much cleavage, connected to what is essentially a red and gold miniskirt, barely reaching his thighs. Paul’s shoulders are bare, aside from a fine red cloak, and golden-hemmed silky tights show above the top of his thigh-high heeled boots. Lastly, red leather gloves (with a lace trim) cover his hands – an outfit apparently suited for a Princess.

“I know! It’s just… do I have to wear the p-panties as well? I feel like someone’s going to see…” he says, letting go of the sword with one hand to tug at the skirt again.

“Yes, Paul, you do. The default underwear would be longer than what you’re wearing, and besides…” Charlie pauses, to gesture around the almost-empty courtyard. “Who’s going to look at you? It’ll only be me and Tiffany around when we fight anyway!”

“Um… w-well, that dog might see! The dog which… huh…” he says, losing focus again as he looks at the muddy Stray Mutt scratching its ear in the corner of an empty stable stall, a cloud of flies buzzing around it. “Is it just me, or does that dog look just like Louie?”

Charlie rolls her eyes, but turns to look – only to pause, tilting her head to one side in slight confusion at the sight of her beloved rescue, inside the game with them.

“Huh. You’re right, it does. Lemme see…” she says, focusing on its status window, then nodding in comprehension. “Yup, see? It’s an Ambient mob. Just random animals, which sometimes scan players’ surroundings to look like their pets. Some people like it, I guess? I try to ignore the passive animals like that. Now stop trying to distract me! Get back to work, Princess!”

Paul squeaks, his new body coming with all sorts of undignified instinctive responses, grabbing the sword again and making a few more attempts to swing it. After a few tries, he starts to get the hang of it again, working with his new centre of balance and lower weight while keeping his reach as long as possible. Even if he doesn’t look like a warrior, the Princess class still is one, despite its Social focus.

But Charlie is soon interrupted again as she tries to give advice, heavy boots tromping into the courtyard. For a moment, Paul startles and grabs at his cloak, thinking it would be another player – but instead, a guardsman marches in with a long spear in one hand, and a scroll of parchment in the other.

“Message for a, um… Princess Polly?” he declares, trying not to address them directly, even though they’re the only people in the vicinity. “Would that be you, uh… milady?”

Charlie giggles a little at Paul being addressed with such formality, but the man himself seems almost frozen, taking in the messenger in front of them. A nondescript NPC, he’s still wearing an unfamiliar livery – leather armour, with a long tabard overtop, rich red and deep blue split down the middle, with a golden fleur-de-lis in the centre.

“Ma’am?” he asks, and Charlie nudges Paul in the ribs, giving him a gentle push forward.

“Yup! This is her! Ready for… hehe~… whatever message you’ve got for her!” Charlie declares excitedly, and Paul even smiles as he starts to catch up to what’s happening. It’s a little odd how quickly someone came to find him, but this is it – the start of his Succession questline.

After she’d returned with food, while waiting for Tiffany, him and Charlie had checked out the Petty Royal reputation. Most of it was just fluff, and didn’t convey any concrete benefits, but the upgrade path was clear. Acquire the patronage of an established Noble House. If one is already reaching out, that just saves them needing to track one down!

“G-greetings! I am indeed the… Princess Polly,” Paul forces out, still not used to the new name that the system foisted upon him. “To whom am I, um… I mean, what’s the… who sent you?”

The soldier seems understanding of her lack of decorum, not expecting much from a freshly minted royal, and dutifully hands the parchment towards her.

“Baron Squirham sends his regards, milady,” he says, gesturing slightly towards the golden insignia stitched into his tabard, apparently one of his direct employees. Footmen? Whatever the fancy medieval word is for someone like this, which Paul is sure will be taught to him soon enough.

While he’s conversing with the NPC, Charlie is happy to watch. The sooner they can finish this questline, the sooner they can get Paul back to normal – and get to King’s Ridge, for whatever Tiffany needs from the moderators. The journey to the capital is not easy for adventurers, and they’ll need to work on their strength to get through the dungeons and bosses necessary.

While she stands there watching, though… she’s not paying attention to her surroundings. Towns are safe, after all! Aside from some rare world events, which don’t happen in Firstham, she shouldn’t have anything to worry about. But shouldn’t doesn’t mean the same as won’t.

“Hwuh?!” she grunts, startled by something brushing against her leg, and she looks around at her feet – to see the dumb Stray Mutt that had been sitting in the corner. Apparently, it wanted to come up and see her, now that she was standing alone. But as much as Charlie loves her real, flesh-and-blood dog Louie, she’s got enough virtual experience not to get attached to one of these things. “Shoo! Go on, get!”

Usually, that works fine, if an Ambient mob is bothering you. She’s pretty sure that it’s part of their code, not to bother players that don’t want it. But as she looks down at it again, sniffing insistently up her thigh… Charlie realises that the Stray Mutt has a creature type. Specifically, a Canine creature type.

Which means the Sire Wolf’s Marked debuff should apply to it, increasing detection range, aggro, and vulnerability. That shouldn’t be a problem from a common, Level 1 creature, but you can’t target Ambient mobs with attacks. And it pushes closer towards her, its unwashed stink following closely, and something reacting between its haunches.

“H-hey! Tchh! B-bad dog!” she tries to deter it, not wanting to interrupt Paul’s event with the NPC. She’s not sure how well he’s been coded, but doesn’t want to risk distracting the soldier and screwing up her invite from this Baron Squirham. On the other hand, she catches a glimpse of something red poking out from the Stray Mutt’s crotch, and she’s brought back to what she saw underneath the Sire Wolf. Including, inexplicably, a similar taming window…

Except this time, she’s listed as the target.

Before she can do anything more, or perhaps call out to Paul for help, it jumps up at her and wraps its paws around her thigh, while something else rubs against her shin. The dog’s slobbery maw, dirtier than she’d ever let Louie get, pants up at her, and she tries to push it away again as it humps her boots. Unfortunately, that’s apparently all it needed to do, and a status window pops up in the air beside her.

“Well, shit,” she says in disbelief, as a strange weight starts to press on the edge of her mind. “I didn’t know they could do that…”

Chapter Text

The Firstham branch of Morndaria’s Adventuring Guild is a fairly small one – but still more substantial than the simple notice board posted in the starter village’s tavern. That turns out to be especially useful for players that are using Realism Mode, which prevents them from simply opening up a virtual sub-menu to browse the available quests.

“Hi, um… I was wondering what quests you’ve got available? For a group of three, around level 12-ish,” asks Tiffany, looking around the small wooden building. Shelves behind the counter are stocked with scroll, potions, rations, and more, all that an adventuring party would need for their travels.

A pretty elven NPC dressed in a smart green uniform nods and smiles, pulling out a scroll of information. While Tiffany doesn’t know exactly what Paul – sorry, Princess Polly’s – noble questline will entail, the three of them will still need to get stronger before they can forge their way towards King’s Ridge, and the moderators stationed there.

Not that it really matters at the moment, with the poor income from Burger Tits making it slow to save up for another power cell for her Immersion Helm. But she can’t exactly give up, and even if there are some weird things going on with the mods, Total Immersion is still pretty fun. So, she’s determined to keep adventuring with Charlie and Paul.

“Okay! We’ve got a few available in your level range,” the guild girl answers. Despite being an NPC, a non-player character, the game’s technology makes them extremely lifelike. “Was there anything in particular you were looking for? Or want to avoid?”

“Yes! Ah… we don’t want anything where we might encounter canine-type enemies,” Tiffany says, remembering the strange Marked debuff that Charlie got from the Sire Wolf. “And as for rewards, maybe an Ornate weapon?”

The last part is for Paul’s benefit, as he settles uncomfortably into the Princess class. Tiffany’s still not convinced it’s as bad as her own class, the Essence Mage, which almost requires her to drink semen for her to be able to cast any spells – especially since her Cum-Guzzler perk upgraded to Cum-Addict. But she can certainly empathise with his new, distinctly feminine appearance. Even if the diminishment between his legs was kinda her fault, the Masculinity Drained debuff should wear off soon!

“Ooooh, we do, actually!” the elf in front of Tiffany says, after reading through the scroll of quests. Leaning down to rummage under the counter, she pulls out a pair of items – even more than Tiffany expected. “There’s a mausoleum that needs clearing, half a day’s walk from here, and nobody’s been interested… but the reward sounds perfect for you!”

Placing them down on the wooden countertop, Tiffany is more than happy to see a rapier and buckler combo. Matching black with gold ornamentation, a brief glance causes two windows to pop up in the air above them. Indeed, the Courtier’s Dress Sword has the Ornate modifier, while the Courtier’s Shield even has the Elegant one, so Paul will be able to equip them both.

“These look perfect!” Tiffany exclaims, noting just how expensive they would’ve been to buy outright. Pretty much all of the party’s funds were spent on buying Paul’s new battledress, giving him something to wear, and he’s had to deal with his old broadsword. “I’ll accept the quest, and… and hopefully see you again soon to pick these up!”

Glad to have some good news to relay to Charlie and Paul, Tiffany returns to their lodgings at the Brass Levy with a spring in her step, hoping that their practise in the courtyard went well. At least, better than her new Cum-Addict perk. Not wanting to tell them exactly how she got the discount on Paul’s armour, that might be something Tiffany tries to figure out on her own.

“…and that’s why a… a Stray Mutt is following me around,” Charlie finishes explaining, filling Tiffany in on all that went down while she was gone. “Thankfully, Paul was there to pull the damn thing away from me, before it could… ahem~… d-don’t worry about it!”

While Charlie clearly seems embarrassed about something, Tiffany doesn’t pry - just more bullshit from the strange mods they’ve been forced to play with, as far as she’s concerned. At least the dog appears friendly enough, sitting beside Charlie while they eat their evening meal. Also, thankfully, not trying to do anything else with her. Yet.

“Uhhh… huh. That is, um, odd. At least Paul got an invite from a noble,” Tiffany says, looking to the pretty redhead on her right, who is picking at his stew distractedly. “Baron… Squirm, was it?”

“Squirham,” he answers. “Like… skwy-rhum. Uses the British pronunciation, I guess?”

Paul has pulled the hood of his cloak up, which seems to use some simulation magic to cover his crown, apparently worried about NPCs, or even other players, who want to talk to the freshly minted Princess. From what they can tell, it’s an even less common Prestige Class than the Prince which Paul actually wanted. Even female players can get the Prince class, becoming handsome butch heart-throbs… not that his class’s rarity is much consolation.

“Anyway,” Tiffany says, cutting through the awkward silence. “We can follow up on that on the way to King’s Ridge. For now, I found a decent quest for us, with an Ornate rapier as the reward! And an Elegant shield to go with it!”

Paul brightens up at the thought of getting a weapon which works with his class skills, and the three of them continue to chatter for a bit, making plans for how they’re going to tackle tomorrow’s quest. A mausoleum implies undead enemies, which shouldn’t pose too many difficulties, and even fewer perversions. And while they continue to eat the virtual food, filling their characters’ bellies, Charlie finally glances down at the Stray Mutt beside her.

“Ugh, fine! If you want it that much,” she mutters, picking a chunk of beef from her bowl. NPCs are strange in modern virtual reality games, using high-tech neural programs that most people don’t understand, but animals are much simpler to model. And the Stray Mutt perks up at the sight of food, lifting his head and even placing a muddy paw on the edge of the tavern table. “Now, watch this, guys… uh, gals? Whatever. This is how you usually start to work on a tamed creature’s Obedience. I wonder if…”

Then, holding the morsel of food up, Charlie offers it forward for the dog to take, and it happily does so. At the same time, a status window pops up in the air above her, visible to all three of them in the party.

(Link to full size)

“Was that… meant to happen?” asks Tiffany, as the dog happily chows down on the treat. Going by the exasperated look on Charlie’s face, she doesn’t think it was. After shooing the dog away from another bite, Charlie keeps eating and grunts in the negative.

“I mean, mechanically, it probably was,” she elaborates. “But I’m not happy. See… at Obedience Level 1, tamed companions can still, uh… escape? There’s some kinda willpower check, and it’s usually not a problem for players, but the Stray Mutt obviously doesn’t know that.”

Tiffany nods along, while Paul watches the dog with a mixed expression. Obviously, it’s not good that the girl he likes, his friend, his girl… that is a friend… has been ‘tamed’ by a dog. But it apparently does look exactly like Charlie’s dog, Louie.

“But the Marked debuff means I pretty much automatically fail any attempt to get away, which sucks,” Charlie says, covering part of the rather fragrant reason that she’s sat on the opposite side of the table to Tiffany and Paul. “So, I’ve just got to make sure I don’t get ‘trained’ enough to hit Obedience Level 2, and it should be easy enough to get rid of this thing.”

“Makes sense, I guess…” Tiffany says, but she’s still thinking about the mechanics. “What did the status window mean by Cooperation, though?”

“That’s the other part of the taming system,” Charlie replies, talking around another mouthful of food. “Depending on how you train them, your companion levels up with different titles and abilities.”

“Cooperation is all about working together, fighting alongside each other, which is perfect for mounts, like I wanted,” Charlie says, rolling her eyes. “Then there’s Submission, which is better for combat pets, getting them to fight on your behalf. And finally, uh… I think it’s called Devotion? Good all round, and you need it for some really specific builds, but it’s damn hard to actively train.”

It seems like a versatile system, similar but simpler than the four Abilities that players have to develop their classes with – essentially, three different types of Obedience experience, with the predominant one contributing most to how your companion levels up.

“Okay… um, I th-think I kinda want to log out now, if that’s okay?” Paul says, a little nervously, from behind a hardly eaten stew. “Tiffany, maybe we can, um… meet in person, tomorrow? We could try and help with your, uh, identity issue, and just… I dunno, I think it’d be nice.”

Charlie nods enthusiastically, and Tiffany is a little taken aback by Paul’s show of friendship, despite his recent transformation. Like her, he’s probably also nervous about exactly how much of this change is translated to real life, and it makes sense to want someone to go through it with.

“Oh, s-sure! I’d love that! How about you…” Tiffany thinks, not exactly wanting to invite them back to the apartment, for Reggie or Eustace to ogle. “Well, I’ve got work in the morning, so you could come and see me during my lunch break?”

“Sounds great! I’ll head out with Paul now, then,” Charlie says, standing up and moving over to wrap an arm over her friend’s shoulders, before they return to the rented room to log out. “You’re fine to stay online for a bit longer? No trouble where you’re staying, is there?”

“Aha… n-nope! All good there,” she says, perhaps with a little too much of a smile. “I’m staying at my mum’s place, and my stepbrother isn’t, uh… too bad.”

Huffing and panting, Reginald Gibson digs his palms into Tiffany’s pert rump, kinda wishing that her booty would enlarge like her breasts did the other day. All the same, there’s plenty enough there for him to rut his cock between her cheeks, wishing he could ram it into her tight, wet holes. Fingers are one thing, but he’s not about to fuck her while she’s unconscious. That’d be mean.

Then again, if he used a condom, would she even know…?

“Ahhhn~… nuh-uh, Reggie,” he says to himself. “Ain’t no reason to screw up now if you can get more from her later.”

At least his dad seems happier with the arrangement, apparently having some words with his new ‘girlfriend’, which he’d told Reggie about after arriving home that afternoon. That probably means he thinks Tiffany’s a slut, and might put out to the older man, which… honestly, isn’t that unlikely. Not that Reggie cares about Tiffany ‘cheating’, as long as he’s not cut out.

Tiffany’s job is also starting to earn a little money, which Reggie is happy to spend on her water, food, clothes, a little for himself, and the pitiful remainder can go towards saving up for that dumb power cell. If they need more, then… well, he can always find Tiffany a more lucrative career.

But for now, he’ll just content himself with her slumbering body. Not very responsive, but still way better than shitty free porn to jerk off with! Or, in this case, onto.

“Nnnngh~! Fuuuck!” he gasps, firing milky spurts over Tiffany’s back, and dribbling onto the tiny thong she’s wearing. “Heh~… yer gonna make me a lotta money, ‘specially if that weird game keeps making you sluttier…”

Paul Curtis awakes that morning in darkness, the Immersion Helm still around his head. It’s dark in there, the air a little stale, but he usually pulls it off right away without even thinking about it. He’d gotten into the habit of leaving it on all night, to seamlessly slip from virtual sleep to real sleep, but… that feels like it might’ve been a mistake right about now.

He can feel hair brushing the back of his neck. Which isn’t normal. The Immersion Helm resizes itself to fit everyone, but the clothes he was wearing don’t – and they’re definitely looser than when he entered the game. Paul’s pyjama pants feel coarser than when he put them on, his smooth, hairless legs brushing against brushed cotton, while his nipples press against the inside of his shirt.

Finally gritting his teeth, and reaching up to grasp the sides of the VR helmet, Paul pulls it off to face the world again.

“O-oh, uhhh… I thought, um… Paul was…” a man says, the first voice that Paul hears. Kenta, the guy that shares the apartment with him and Charlie. “Who’re you?”

His smaller body trembles a little as he swings his feet over the side of his bed, still a little shaky after the Immersion Helm’s in-built morphic resonance field reshaped his body to match his in-game avatar. Clutching the helm to his soft, flat chest, Paul looks up at Kenta, while his clothing sags and threatens to fall down.

“It’s, um… I’m P-… I’m…” Paul starts to say, something catching at his tongue when he tries to introduce himself. “I’m Polly.”

On the other side of the dividing screen that separates Charlie’s ‘bedroom’ from the boys’, Paul can hear Louie excitedly greeting his owner, entirely unaware of the new dynamic between Charlie and a dog that looks just like him. In fact, he seems to be very enthusiastically saying hello, as Charlie sputters and gasps from his slobbery kisses.

(Link to full size)

“I can… see that,” Kenta replies, looking Paul up and down, lingering for a moment on his crotch. Blushing deeply, Paul realises that his pants had fallen down – enough for his much diminished stiffy to poke out. “I’ll, uh… leave ya both to it, I s’pose. I’m off ta work.”

As Kenta turns away, tugging at his garish orange-and-blue uniform shirt, Paul drops the Immersion Helm onto his bed, pulls his pants back up, then hurries through to see Charlie. For some reason, she seems entirely unable to push Louie away from her, which allows the excitable mutt to shove his tongue into her mouth in what is essentially a kiss. Snapping his fingers, Paul is glad that the dog still listens to him, pulling him away to allow Charlie to get up.

“Pwahh! L-Louie, that’s… ugh!” Charlie says, wiping the slobber from her mouth. “And… ah. I’d hoped that… that you wouldn’t change so drastically, but… hi, Paul.”

“Hi, Charlie,” Paul replies, his lips forming an irritatingly cute pout when he tries to frown. “Although, I guess… I’m more of a Polly now.”

Before getting on with their day, the two of them take a moment to check Paul’s biometric ID – which has indeed updated his name to Polly on the system, as well as registering his new physical appearance. His gender is still Male, despite his appearance, but from what Tiffany shared about her troubles… Paul’s not entirely sure how long that will last. Which just motivates the two of them to work even harder to get things back to how they should be!

Part of that includes working with their party member, both in-game as well as the real world – which entails going to meet her for lunch. And, as typical college students, him and Charlie didn’t exactly wake up early, so it’s nearly time for them to head out already. Which Paul can’t exactly do while wearing oversized pyjamas that threaten to fall down at any moment.

“Ughhh… I hate the communal AutoDresser,” Paul grumbles, following Charlie out into the apartment block’s corridor. “Can’t we just bulk-print some new stuff for me at college…?”

“Nope,” Charlie answers, not without sympathy. “You know we can’t afford a rush job, and you’ve still gotta get your new size measured. Okay?”

Still not pleased, Paul just nods his head as they enter their floor’s maintenance area. Garbage chutes, bike storage, an emergency comm panel – and a sturdy AutoDresser set into one wall. While some larger apartments have their own dedicated model, with various customisation settings, this one was designed for speed and efficiency with dozens of people needing to use it before work in the morning.

Thankfully, it’s a bit quieter this close to midday, and the machine still recognises Paul’s biometrics. But he’s less pleased to see what comes up on the AutoDresser’s console.

>// WELCOME, POLLY CURTIS

>// CLOTHING RESTRICTION DETECTED: [Elegant_TI_Pr]

>// STYLE SELECTIONS WILL BE MODIFIED ACCORDINGLY

“Fuck! What?! Is th-that from my Princess class?” Paul wonders aloud, gesturing at the panel for Charlie to take a look. She hums uncertainly, signing herself in – which thankfully seems entirely normal. “Why would it apply out here as well?”

Charlie shrugs, giving Paul’s shoulder a squeeze, then stepping in for her own selection. The cubicle slides shut, whirring and flashing, opening a moment later to a typical outfit for her. A padded smog-safe jumpsuit, with long, practical trousers, and a varsity-style jacket.

“Well, it seems to be working normally,” Charlie says, stepping out. “Just give it a try, okay?

“Mmmn… o-okay, Charlie,” Paul answers, tapping at the console. “I’ll just, um… selecting Casual should be fine, right? All I want is jeans and a t-shirt!”

Once he’s made his selection, Paul steps inside for the scanners to measure his new body’s dimensions. And when that’s finished, the doors of the AutoDresser whir closed, and the program loads up a ‘suitable’ outfit for him…

>// LOADING CasualDate_TartanDress012.fab

Tiffany’s second shift at the Burger Tits van was pretty similar to her first. She’s still working with Kenta, who won’t stop ogling her butt, and most of her customers still request to see her jiggle her jigglies. That might not have annoyed her so much if her nipples weren’t rock solid, pushing into the thin fabric of her bikini – for some reason, once again, she’s horny for no good reason.

Trying to ignore the wet warmth beneath her tiny shorts, Tiffany focuses on her ‘work’. If anything, she feels like Burger Tits would make more sense if it was purely a gimmick, but… the food is good. Enough that they get plenty of customers who are only here for a burger, and look at her like she’s showing off because she wants to.

“Th-thank you for eating at Burger Tits, I… I hope you enjoy our buns!” Tiffany says to a departing customer, after handing over their food. Still, she’s earning money – and it gives her a perfect opportunity to see her new friends. In fact, as her lunch break is coming up any moment now…

“Hiya, Tiff! How’re you, uh… d-doing!” calls out Charlie, stepping up onto the food truck’s platform with a smile. “That’s a nice uniform, eh…?”

Her face flushes at someone she knows seeing her like this, but it’s hardly worse than getting her face drenched in hot, salty Gobbo jizz while knelt in front of Paul’s shrunken prick. Speaking of which, she looks for the tall, handsome man – and instead, her eyes land on the short, redheaded girl waiting nervously behind Charlie.

“Um… h-hi, Tiffany,” Paul says in his breathy, girly voice, hesitantly raising a hand in greeting. “I… um… think I’m starting to understand how you’re feeling?”

Paul is wearing an adorable sundress in tartan print, with white lace edgings around the bodice and the bottom of the skirt. A matching pair of lacy white stockings cling to his legs, leading down to a pair of high-top sneakers, and a cute blue cardigan drapes over his shoulders. Even his hair is styled into a short bob, with gloss on his lips and liner around his eyes.

While his outfit isn’t revealing, like Tiffany’s uniform, it’s certainly feminine – much to Paul’s obvious chagrin. Shifting from one foot to the other, one hand keeps reaching down to tug at the bottom of his skirt, clearly not used to the feeling of a draft around the top of his thighs. And the rest of his legs, tightly wrapped in synthetic silk, draw the eye perhaps more than if they had been bare.

“You two, ah… go and sit down, okay?” Tiffany says, gesturing to an empty table. “I’ll be out in a minute with some food. Kenta? I’m taking my lunch break, okay?”

Calling out to the man working the grill behind her, Tiffany doesn’t notice Charlie and Paul react to the name, looking on in confusion as their roommate is somehow working with their new friend. Still, it doesn’t take long for them to settle down, with three burgers and servings of fries on trays in front of them. Paul picks at his nervously, while Charlie chows down with enthusiasm.

“So, I realise that I don’t really know much about you two,” Tiffany says, shifting a little uncomfortably as her exposed buttocks perch on the chair, her thighs tensing together to try and push down the smouldering arousal in her crotch. “You’re at college, right?”

Charlie nods, happy to answer the question while Paul slowly eats, shooting the occasional glance at Kenta in the burger van. The two of them are students at Rothquay Technical University – Paul is majoring in Mathematics, while Charlie is still undecided, but they share a lot of courses, and have known each other since they were kids. Tiffany reciprocates, by telling them about how she recently finished college – but was more recently laid off, leading her to this job as her only good option right now.

“Especially since, before the game screwed with my biometrics, um,” Tiffany says, hesitating for a moment, but swallowing down her nerves. “I used to be a… a guy. I mean, I’m still a guy! But… you know. Pretty sure that T-Tiffany was my Immersion Helm’s previous owner, and she installed all the weird mods. So, I’m sorry that I got you both mixed up in it.”

“Oh… oh!” Paul says, looking down at his crotch, almost as if his own manhood could get up and walk away right now. “Then, you…? I d-didn’t know it could do that. Now I really want to get this all fixed, and… b-back to normal. And! And help you, of course!”

Patting her new boyfriend’s shoulder reassuringly, even if he doesn’t exactly look like one, Charlie chuckles at his enthusiasm. It’s left unsaid that none of them could afford to visit a proper Morphic Resonance Clinic to turn their bodies back to the way they were, and working to dispel the effects in-game, or reach out to moderators, seems to be the only way forwards.

“Well, it’s good to see you in reality, Tiff!” Charlie says, as they finish up their lunch. “I guess we’ll see you for some questing tonight. And, ah… be careful around Kenta, okay? He’s actually our roommate, and well, pretty harmless, but… a bit of a perv.”

Tiffany raises an eyebrow glancing back at the bespectacled nerd that she’s been working alongside, thinking back to all the times that he stared at her tits while talking to her, instead of her face.

“Uh-huh… I think I gathered that much,” she answers, rolling her eyes. “You two get home safe, and… and yeah! I’ll see you online!”

Paul’s mood seems a little brighter after finding out he’s not in his current situation alone, and Charlie taking his hand as they leave certainly doesn’t hurt. Giving her a wave as they leave, Tiffany gets back to work, ready for a few more hours of getting greasy and sweaty, while being ogled. At least she’ll get to shower once she’s back at the apartment, which should give her a chance to do something about how turned on she is…

Tiffany’s second day of work wasn’t quite as draining as the first. Knowing what to expect helped, but meeting Charlie and Paul at lunch was a definite positive! And while she definitely feels for what Paul’s going through, it’s… kind of nice to have someone to share the strangeness of being put into a different body. Then again, Paul’s is still his, just feminised, so… maybe that’s worse than being turned into someone else entirely?

Not about to spend too long worrying about the specifics, Tiffany strips down into a towel, and is about to move through to the apartment’s bathroom when she’s stopped by someone.

“Hey, uh… girlfriend,” Reggie says in greeting, leaning in the doorframe in front of her. “What’cha up to?”

“Showering. Obviously,” Tiffany answers, moving to push past, but Reggie easily blocks her path.

“Whaaaat? Without me?” he says, the cheesy line apparently sincere. “You know, my dad said that it would be best if, uh… if we shared, y’know? Seeing as you’re my girlfriend, and all.”

“Oh,” Tiffany says, narrowing her eyes. “Your dad said that, did he? He said that we had to shower together, to save water? Even though I’m the one earning the water credits?”

To his credit, Reggie doesn’t back down, just smiling down at Tiffany and nodding firmly.

“Yup,” he says, popping the ‘P’ sound. “I mean… unless you wanna tell him that you’re not my girlfriend…?”

Tiffany practically growls under her breath, at Reggie’s brazen attempt to leverage her position. He knows full well that his dad, her stepdad, would happily turf her onto the street if he thought that they weren’t dating. Or even worse, after she gave him a blowjob yesterday, try to get even more out of her. And it’s not like she can tell him that she only sucked his dick because a game made her crave it.

“Tch… fine,” Tiffany eventually replies. “But no funny business, okay? We just… just get clean, and that’s it.”

“Sure, no worries,” Reggie concedes, and Tiffany takes what she can get.

Predictably, it doesn’t take long for Reggie to go back on his word. Stripping down is fine enough, and he even stays out of Tiffany’s way so that she can wash her hair – but when it comes to lathering up her body, he’s happy to help.

“R-Reggie!” Tiffany gasps, as his big hands grasp at her body, sliding up her torso and squeezing her chest. “I told you n-no funny bus… mmmmfuck~…”

“What?” he asks. “I’m just helpin’ you out, don’t worry. An’ I mean, it kinda sounds like you’re enjoying it?”

Palming one of her breasts, petite as they are, Reggie’s fingers unerringly find her stiff nipples, giving them a rough pinch. At the same time, under the guise of rubbing more soap down her body, his other hand slips between her legs to brush against her cute patch of pubic hair.

“I think ya missed a spot,” Reggie mutters into her ear, pulling Tiffany closer to his body. “But don’t worry, I got it.”

Another throaty moan is forced from Tiffany’s mouth as Reggie’s finger starts to circle her clit. Unused to the sensitive new body part, and turned on for… for some reason… she can hardly resist his advances. Even when he nudges her legs apart, and then shifts down to slide his cock between her thighs.

“Ahhn~… h-hey! I said no… mmmn~… n-no funny business, th-that means…” Tiffany gasps, trying to push Reggie away, but only succeeding in rubbing his shaft with her thigh gap. “D-don’t’… ah~… you’re s-still my stepbrother, Reggie, and…”

“Chill, Tiffany… mmn~!” Reggie says, only groping her harder, and redoubling his rubbing on her slick cunt. “I ain’t gonna put it in… this totally doesn’t count, yeah?”

Pulling his hips back, and mirroring Tiffany’s attempts to shove him away, Reggie starts to thrust between her thighs with a wet plapping sound. Her rump presses into his hips, and Reggie’s cock slides between her pussy lips, the bulbous glans scraping against her clit from the other side as his finger.

Tiffany’s resistance rapidly wanes, as Reggie attacks her on three fronts – one hand squeezing her perky little tits, the other playing with her pussy, and his cock coming perilously close to slipping inside of her. It’s all too much to handle, too much to think about, and it doesn’t take long before Tiffany’s pent-up arousal overflows into a sodden, gasping orgasm. At the same time, while her soapy thighs clamp down on his cock, Reggie grunts in satisfaction, releasing his load onto the bathroom tiles.

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“Nnngh~! Fuuuck, Tiffany!” Reggie moans, while Tiffany tries to muffle her own. “I could get used ta this.”

At least in the shower, once Tiffany’s extricated herself from Reggie’s grasp and his softening cock, it’s easy to clean up after. Even so, barely a few minutes later while towelling herself dry, Tiffany can already feel the latent arousal starting to build again…

The rank smell of decay fills the air, only slightly mitigated by the ever burning torches unevenly spaced along dry corridors. Too dry, almost uncomfortable to breathe. Of course, precious little down here needs to breathe, ancient mausoleums like this having little patience for the living. Dating from before the Demon Wars, lingering magic from that era is a little… unstable.

Which means, occasionally, someone needs to go down there and clear things up.

“Another! Tiff, you got that spell ready yet?” Charlie calls out, her voice echoing in the old stone halls, as she looks back at her companions. “These skeletons are… fucking hard to shoot…”

“Yes, yes! I’m almost there, okay?! This spell’s not exactly quick to cast!” Tiffany responds, holding a hand up with an ember of golden flame starting to coalesce in her palm.

A whizz and a clatter accompany Charlie’s words, as another arrow misses its target to fall harmlessly to the floor. It disappears a moment later, whether due to the system cleaning up after itself, or the mausoleum having some magic that keeps it desolate… nobody’s really bothered to try and find out.

While Tiffany concentrates on the holy-themed magic attack, ignoring the low heat still present in her crotch, Paul raises his broadsword to fend off an attack. Tempered iron clangs against tarnished bronze – but the clattering undead doesn’t give up on its attack, lifting its bony arm for another swing. Whatever evil force animates these old bones, it doesn’t take kindly to the living intruding on its domain.

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Hefting the sword again, heavy and unwieldy with his new class, Paul is bolstered by a quick buff from Tiffany’s magic. And, despite the odds up against them, the group are smiling. This is the game they expected to play, exploring dungeons and fighting monsters with friends, without the strange things that have been happening since Tiffany’s mods started affecting them.

For the moment, Paul doesn’t care that he’s flashing his panty bulge to the skeletons’ unseeing eye sockets, and Tiffany doesn’t think about where she sourced the Anima she’s using for these spells. Once the flame in her palm is ready, Tiffany hefts it down the corridor on her unprotected side to engulf a shield-bearing skeleton that had been approaching them.

“Score! Damn, this spell’s coming in handy,” Tiffany shouts, plucking a vial of Gobbo Semen from her inventory and chugging it down to top off her Anima – by a boosted amount, thanks to her newly upgraded Cum-Addict perk. “Thanks for the recommendation, Charlie!”

Their more experienced comrade nods her head to Tiffany’s gratitude, having made sure that the group was ready before setting off on their quest. While they didn’t have the cash for any more specialised equipment, it turns out that Essence Mages are very good at learning new spells, and Tiffany really needed an option that could deal some direct damage.

One trip to Firstham’s small spell library later, and amongst a couple of other utility spells, she’s now able to throw motes of sacred energy at the skeletons. Behind her, less well suited for these enemies but putting up no less of a fight, Charlie finally looses an arrow which doesn’t clatter against a wall, and instead hits a skull with a brittle crack!

“Yes! Finally got one!” Charlie boasts, only for a status window to appear in front of her. “Wait… what the fuck?! Guys, look at this!”

A typical window to appear if you’re trying to train up a combat pet… which Charlie does not want to become. As an Ambient mob, the Stray Mutt can’t even be targeted by enemies, so he’s just been running around after the group and playing with old bones. Virtual or not, none of the human players felt like grabbing it to take away from him.

“Huh?! Oh, th-that’s… that’s not great,” Paul replies, stepping up to make sure that the path on Charlie’s side stays protected. “Does that happen whenever you attack with Lou… with the stray dog nearby?”

Charlie frowns at the almost-mention of her dog’s name – she’s been quite clear that this is just a virtual animal that looks like him, and is trying to ‘train’ her as a pet. So, if they can figure out a way to kill or get rid of it, that would be for the best. All the same, he’s been little more than an annoyance so far, not hindering them in combat, so Charlie is fine to try and hold out until her Marked debuff wears off.

“I… probably? I’ll just, shit… try not to do much fighting, I guess?!” Charlie says. “Just until I can escape this stupid tame effect.”

“There’s another lot coming!” Tiffany interrupts, tossing another ball of holy fire towards another group of skeletons. “Let’s get moving… there’s meant to be a safe zone up ahead, right? We can rest there for the night!”

It took them most of the day to prepare for and travel to the mausoleum, which might explain why nobody else has taken the quest. Still, as Paul continues to demonstrate as he shakily throws around the too-heavy sword that he started the game with, they’re not going to progress far in the game without the rapier and buckler rewards…

When night falls on Rothquay, the light doesn’t change very much. Perhaps more of a neon cast to it, but the city continues to function pretty much as normal – fewer offices and more strip clubs, but there’s not much difference in the current business climate. For college students that usually game from mid-afternoon then sleep right through to mid-morning, it’s still a fairly novel sight.

“Ch-Charlie… are you… I mean…” Paul stammers, standing at the entrance to Charlie’s partitioned bedroom. “I know I don’t look like… like me, right now, okay? My dick should be b-back to normal… ish, soon, so you don’t have to force yourself to-“

“Pfft, that’s bullshit,” Charlie replies, patting the bed beside her. “There’s a reason I asked you to wake up straight away, Paul. Get it? Now come over here.”

She’s stripped out of her baggy, smog-proof pants and stylish jacket, leaving only the quilted grey bodysuit clinging to her curvy figure. Paul hardly knows where to look, especially when he’s still wearing the pretty tartan sundress that the AutoDresser put him in earlier. Still, the way that Charlie continues to look at him, with love and respect in her eyes…

“I… I don’t know how I missed it, before,” he says, clenching his fists and stepping closer nervously. “Back when… y’know. I th-thought that, after I put that crown on, I’d ruined it. All that stuff with Tiffany, I-“

“Shush,” Charlie interrupts him again. “You know I’m chill with that. We weren’t dating, and you were just helping her out. Now, though…”

Suddenly leaning forwards, she grabs Paul’s arms and yanks him forwards onto the bed, his silky stockings sliding on the sheets. It’s a little strange, the sudden discrepancy in their sizes, but they’re still the same person. And Paul can still feel a warm, tingling, tightness in his crotch, straining against the panties he’s wearing, when he looks at Charlie. Perhaps not as much tightness as he’d prefer, but the final stacks of Tiffany’s Masculinity Drained debuff should wear off tomorrow, in-game.

“Now, you’re all mine,” she whispers, pulling Paul up to his knees in front of her. The lights in their apartment are down, only the ambience of the city lighting the corner of the apartment – part of why they usually prefer to go from game to sleep. But this seemed too important to relegate to the virtual world.

Charlie reaches one hand up to cup Paul’s chin in her fingers, silky red hair brushing against her knuckles. There are no more words needed, not between two people that have known each other for so long, and – though neither of them knew it – loved each other for so long. And, finally, they lean in and kiss.

Soft lips on soft, imperfect and unfamiliar, Paul’s temporary femininity and Charlie’s slight whiff of dog pee – none of that matters. Even Louie is leaving them alone, slumbering peacefully in the main body of the apartment, giving the two of them this one perfect moment. Paul reaches forward to take Charlie’s hand in his, long seconds seeming to drag for hours, for years spent wanting to do exactly that.

Nothing else matters in the world right now, and they can’t wait, not now they know how the other feels. Unfortunately, the world isn’t quite as cooperative as it is in the movies, and they pull apart from their kiss, to… a strange noise.

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schlickschlickschlickschlickschlickschlick…

“Kenta…” Charlie says softly, not even opening her eyes from the kiss yet. “Are you… jerking off?”

There’s a grunt, then a muffled thudding as their roommate stumbles away from where he’d been peeping, the moment of tension fading when Paul bursts out laughing. Leaning against Charlie, half in joy and half in relief, the ignominious end to their first real-life kiss being almost comical.

“Heheee! I d-don’t even care,” Paul gasps. “This is just… nothing could ruin this, Charlie. What we’ve got between us is… it’s special.”

Wrapping an arm around Paul’s slender form, Charlie plants another quick peck onto Paul’s lips, but doesn’t go any further. Slumping backwards, with her boyfriend, her proper actual real-life boyfriend resting on her chest, Charlie can’t help but smile as well.

“Yeah…” she says, thoughtfully. “It really, really is. And maybe… ah… once you’re, um, b-back to normal down there, and we get some privacy in-game, we could…?”

She leaves the end of the sentence unsaid, as Paul’s face flushes red – but the nudge against her thigh from between his legs is enough of an answer. They kissed for the first time in virtual reality, and with Kenta hanging around their apartment… it only makes sense to return there to lose their virginities. Accidental premature ejaculation due to nut-squeezings notwithstanding.

Chapter Text

After a couple days spent adventuring in an ancient mausoleum, and several giggly make out sessions with Charlie in their now shared bed, Paul is feeling a little more comfortable in his soft, feminised body. While noticeably shorter and weaker than he was before, it’s comforting to have Charlie by his side, and the two of them spent their days off from college snug in their apartment.

Kenta was still around, annoyingly, but Paul remembers exactly what Charlie promised – as soon as they get some private time inside Total Immersion II, and Paul’s downstairs region recovers from Tiffany’s draining… well, recovers as much as it will… they’ll take the next step. And just thinking about it is enough to make his temporarily shrunken dick stiffen in his panties.

Which is okay when him and Charlie are cuddling, but less welcome while sat on the Rothquay metro, on the way to college.

“Charlieeee,” he mutters softly, voice still higher pitched than he expects. “D-did I really have to, um… wear the AutoDresser outfit?”

The style restrictions that left him in a cute tartan dress the other day were still in place on his account – and the theme continued when he requested a suitable college outfit. If it had just been him, Paul probably would’ve just stayed home and tried to catch up with class later, but…

“What? But you look adorable!” Charlie coos, squeezing Paul’s shoulder reassuringly. “Besides, you’ve got to wear something, and… I don’t think that outfit would fit me.”

Usage limits on the communal AutoDresser mean that they can’t afford to keep trying new things, and Charlie would need to deposit her old clothing to get a new set out. It’s a very efficient system, but quite annoying in this instance. Squeezing his hands in his lap, Paul tries to smooth down the pleated tartan skirt, a pattern that the AutoDresser seems to like giving him.

It’s pretty short as well, though thankfully long enough to conceal his bulge, itself encased in sheer black pantyhose. A sleeveless white shirt with long black tie completes the ‘college’ part of the look, while Paul’s hair is pulled into a pair of braided pigtails, and he’s forced to walk in a cute pair of leather Mary Jane heels. Something that he finds annoyingly easy, after whatever updates the Princess class made to his sense of balance.

“Hmph…” Paul grumbles, glancing up at Charlie with a slight blush on his freckled cheeks. “I bet it would. Anything seems to suit you…”

Leaning up, he puckers his pink-glossed lips and plants a kiss on Charlie, glad that the metro carriage isn’t too busy. Charlie just chuckles and holds Paul closer, her denim jacket and practical pants more like what Paul used to wear. Before becoming ‘Polly’, transformed into a princess in-game, extending to real life as well. But if they keep adventuring with Tiffany, they should be able to complete the quest attached to the Prestige Class, and return to normal!

“I don’t know how Tiffany does it,” Paul says, shaking his head, wary of every glance his way, and grateful to have Charlie by his side. “She, um… must be really struggling, to be transformed so much, and all alone…”

“Mmmmn~… y’know, Tiffany…” Kenta mutters, glancing down at her. “When I got this job… uhhh~… I thought it was gonna be crap.”

From her position on her knees, just barely hidden from public view by the counter behind her, Tiffany rolls her eyes. But she keeps on rubbing Kenta’s cock, occasionally wrapping her lips around the uncut tip to slurp up the creamy white precum. She doesn’t exactly want to, but after several simulated days trapped in a dusty mausoleum, with only undead for company…

Her desire for semen has increased from ‘slightly’ to ‘enough to jerk off her coworker mid-shift’. Even worse, sucking dick in the real world barely affects her cravings, because only the collection of Arcane Essence would satisfy her new Cum-Addict perk. With Paul off-limits, and the trio of Gobbos apparently not willing to follow her into the skeleton-infested dungeon, Tiffany’s built up quite a deficit.

“Shut uuuup…” Tiffany whines, even as she draws in another deep breath of cum-stink from Kenta’s sweaty cock. “I’m only d-doing this because… mmmf… cuz… schlrrrp~…”

She doesn’t end up giving Kenta an explanation – or excuse – for her behaviour, but he doesn’t seem too bothered about that. Not many people would be, if a cute thing like Tiffany suddenly started drinking their precum after several days of flaunting her butt in the skimpy Burger Tits uniform.

Opening her mouth and extending her tongue to catch a particularly bubbly glob, the salty taste thick in her mouth, Tiffany could probably be forgiven for not paying that much attention to her surroundings. Fortunately, just as with Charlie inside Total Immersion, she has someone else around to cover for her.

“O-oh, uh, good afternoon, Mister Fischer!” Kenta says, as he suddenly steps forward, leaning over the counter – and concealing Tiffany beneath his paunchy gut. Which is just as well, because Mister Fischer is their manager. Unfortunately, Kenta’s new position presses the back of Tiffany’s head against the metal side of the food truck, forcing the top few inches of his cock into her mouth.

“Mmmfgh~?!” she confusedly gurgles, but immediately quiets down once she hears the boss’s voice. At the same time, the sudden burst of jizzy flavour on her tongue does little to help her artificial addiction, and after a moment’s hesitation… she starts to suck Kenta’s cock. Properly, not the handjob she’d tried to content herself with, but a hot, wet, slobbery blowjob.

Her mind focuses in on the shaft before her, subconsciously comparing it to the others she’s been fortunate enough to experience up till now. None can measure up to the monstrous troll cock she milked, of course, but the goblins are probably of a similar size to Kenta – if even filthier and muskier. The dwarf was surprisingly clean, and Paul, well… his original size was only a little bit smaller than Kenta’s. Tiffany doesn’t want to think about how big it is now, only hoping that it’s mostly recovered, now that him and Charlie are together.

Previously focused only on getting him off with her hands, Tiffany’s tongue swirls around Kenta’s length, her fingers sliding down towards the base, and massaging his hairy nuts. He’s a pretty big lad, but not entirely unfit, with plenty of stamina. Though Tiffany, quite rightly, presumes that he mostly built that up from porn, instead of any luck with the ladies. Still, she’s hardly a slouch when it comes to making men… and goblins and dwarves and trolls… cum down her throat, so Tiffany picks up her efforts.

“Oh, T-Tiffany? She’s… uhhh…” Kenta suddenly says, cutting through the haze, and reminding Tiffany of her current position. Presumably, Mister Fischer must have noticed her absence – or at least the absence of her mostly-bare breasts luring in customers, and asked her coworker about it. Ideally, Kenta will just say that she’s on break, or in the bathroom. Covering for her seems the least that he could do when his cock is squeezing down her throat, and… and about to cum?!

“Mmmmf~… sh-she’s…” Kenta gasps, as a thick rope of jizz splatters into her belly, then another, followed by two more. Kenta can make a lot of the stuff, it seems. But suddenly, he’s stepping back again, and dumping the rest of his cum all over her face, joining the spittle and stray pubes already decorating her chin. “She’s d-down here, sir!”

Then Mister Fischer is leaning over the counter, his thin middle-aged face looking down at Tiffany, clearly knowing exactly what she just did. Narrowing his eyes, Tiffany tenses, half expecting him to fire her on the spot, kick her out of the van and strip her of her uniform. But thankfully, he simply lets out a sigh, then gestures for her to get up.

“We’ll have words about this, Miss Gibson,” he says. “For now, clean up and get back to work.”

Scurrying to do so, Tiffany is somewhat grateful that she gets to keep the job. However shitty it pays, and how demeaning it is, selling burgers has to be better than the alternative employment options for someone with no legal identity. Of course, Mister Fischer presumably knows this as well, so she’s not exactly looking forward to what this could mean for her.

Inside the world of virtual reality, real-world worries like jobs and studies fade away, replaced with swords and spells, action and adventure, exploring an enormous, life-like fantasy world, where near anything is possible!

And it just so happens that drinking in a tavern is one of those possibilities – one of the most popular, amongst the players of Total Immersion II. Sat around a table after a long day of travel through the simulated wilderness, there are few pleasures greater than warming yourself beside a roaring fire, and enjoying a mug of cool ale with your adventuring companions.

But one of those pleasures may well be receiving the spoils of said adventures. The loot.

“C’mon, Paul!” encourages Tiffany, holding up the rapier and buckler combo. “Try them on! They’ve gotta be better than your old sword, right?”

Paul blushes at the attention, glancing across at Charlie with a shy smile. He’s been looking forward to getting back to the tavern all day – for several days, and now that they’re here… well, they couldn’t just ditch Tiffany after all that hard work. Which means, after collecting their reward, and the experience to level up, it’s time to celebrate together.

“Oh, I dunno,” Paul demurs, shifting on his stool. “I’m, uh… I can always equip them t-tomorrow, right?”

His hood is down tonight, leaving his glittering crown visible to the rest of the tavern, garnering some glances from NPCs and other players alike. But after their success clearing out the mausoleum, they’ve decided to move on from Firstham and visit Baron Squirham’s estate, in order to progress Paul’s Succession questline. Which means they can relax for tonight, happy in their progress.

“Awww, honey,” Charlie says, as she leans across the table and strokes the back of Paul’s hand. “It’ll be good to see how they feel!”

Charlie’s encouragement is the final thing needed to persuade Paul, and he rolls his eyes. He’s mostly come to terms with the ‘Tamed’ status of his girlfriend, especially as her Marked debuff wears off tomorrow morning – which will allow her to resist the effect and escape from the Stray Mutt. It helps that her erstwhile ‘Owner’ has been mostly passive, currently asleep under the table, even if it meant that Charlie had to be careful during combat not to increase her Obedience level any higher.

“Okaaaaaay… fine! I’ll try them on,” he says, standing up. The Modest Battledress that Tiffany had found for him to wear is still a little skimpy for his liking, especially now that his pecker has grown back to its original size. Or, close to its original size, at least, causing the dress to bulge slightly at his crotch. Ignoring that mild additional humiliation, Paul extends his hands to take the sword and buckler from Tiffany…

Then interacts with the system prompt to actually equip them both to his character. The Courtier’s Dress Sword appears at his hip, scabbard attaching to this belt, while the Courtier’s Shield straps itself to his left arm. It’s a smallish buckler, but glistening in black and gold, and a hell of a lot better than a larger shield that he can’t equip.

Both weapons also have the added bonus of using his Suave ability, interacting with the unique skills from his Princess class, suiting them much better to his new fighting style. And, in what would usually be a positive, they have a powerful set bonus which increases Paul’s Suave.

“Wow, they seem… uh…” Paul says, drawing the rapier as a status window pops up beside him. “Wait, s-something’s happening…?”

His body flushes, tingles running over his skin, as a warmth starts to throb in his chest. Slowly, but very surely, he realises that his chest is… growing. Because the Princess class also ensures that increasing his Suave ability boosts his feminine aspects. The dress adapts alongside his body, hips rounding out a little and shoulders slimming down, until Paul’s latest changes have finished settling.

Now, instead of an essentially flat, almost androgynous area, Paul has developed what are definitely breasts. Not large ones, but they’re perky and soft, filling out his battledress rather nicely with a girlier physique.

“Ohhhh,” Tiffany says, putting a finger to her lips. “Maybe I should’ve realised that could happen…”

“Noooo, nonono!” Paul whines, unequipping the sword and shield – but the changes don’t revert, even as his numerical ability score goes down again. “Th-this is why I didn’t, um… increase my Suave when I levelled up!”

“Ah… y-yeah, that’s a thing in the game,” Charlie explains, as a more experienced player. “Changes to your physical appearance, from Suave or Might, are based on the highest it’s been, instead of fluctuating with every temporary change. That’s part of why boosts from equipment are so limited…”

Gritting his teeth, Paul equips them again… but they don’t trigger a second change, to his relief. Sitting down again, he continues eating his stew with a huff, his scowl only softening a little when Charlie smiles across at him. It had to happen at some point if he was going to use the new equipment, so it may as well have been now, giving him a chance to get used to it before going into battle next.

“Hey, Charlie,” Tiffany asks, after the moment had passed. “You mentioned physical changes – and that’s, like, part of the whole deal with Total Immersion. Work out in-game and upgrade your stats, get fitter in real life, yada yada. But what about, uh…”

“Mental ability scores?” Charlie finishes, clearly expecting the question. “Yeah, Canny and Acuity are weird. Some people, like high level wizards and stuff, have said it helps them think more clearly, but it’s hard to tell exactly what it does. The stuff that mages do starts to get pretty complicated anyway, so some people think it’s just like… practise? There’s no definitive answer, though.”

Tiffany nods her head – she has felt a little more clearheaded since her level-up, which she’d decided to put into Acuity, but Charlie might be right. The spells she’d been using in the mausoleum had started to get more complicated, often casting multiple at a time, with logic-puzzle type components needed to cast them. So maybe it was just as simple as that? Thankfully, she doesn’t plan on lowering any of her stats, so it’s not something to worry about.

A couple of drinks later, and after finishing their meals, Charlie excuses herself to their rented room – notably, she chooses to do so while Paul is in the latrine, another annoying addition from Realism Mode.

“Just, uh… s-send him up when he gets back, okay?” Charlie asks Tiffany, a nervous smile on her face. “And maybe, um… c-could you stay down in the tavern for a bit?”

Tiffany might be new to womanhood, and hopefully won’t be staying long, but even she can follow what Charlie is getting at. With a wink and a nod, she leans back in her seat, and waits for Paul to get back. And when he does, a few minutes later, Tiffany’s suggestion that he go upstairs and join Charlie is very happily taken up, the redheaded Princess hurrying upstairs with a smile on his face.

“Hmmm~…” Tiffany hums, putting a hand to her belly, and putting down her ale. Despite tasting nice, it’s done nothing to quench her unnatural thirst. “Now, I suppose I should go and… get what I really want.”

Getting up from the table, she wanders up to the bar, liquid confidence propelling her to a promising looking guy with a half-orc friend. Behind her, after grumbling to himself, the Stray Mutt gets up and wanders out from under the table.

Arriving at the door to their rented tavern room, the same one in which he put the Scarlet Diadem on and became ‘Princess Polly’, Paul hesitates for a moment. Obviously, despite Realism Mode being active, there are still some parts of the game that stay the same as usual. You can’t force your way into other players’ rooms or dwellings, stealing only works on NPCs, and attacking other players isn’t even possible outside special arenas. And also…

You’re able to specifically lock areas, turn them into Private Instances inaccessible to anybody else, for a small fee. Even Tiffany, who is renting the room with them, won’t be able to come in – and would instead find an empty room. Almost expecting to find that himself, Paul gathers his courage and pushes inside, to find Charlie waiting for him.

Not in the green leather armour that she wears as a Ranger, nor the sturdy linen shirt that she strips down to while resting at the tavern, or around a campfire. Instead, she seems to have procured… lingerie. A sheer green babydoll, lacy fabric covering her breasts, with matching panties and stockings, showing off all of Charlie’s curvy, olive-tanned body.

“H-hi,” she says, nervously, taking in Paul’s wide-eyed stare. “How does it, um… look?”

Shaking himself out of the shock of seeing his beloved in such a gorgeous state, having clearly done up her hair and makeup as well, Paul steps closer nervously. He doesn’t answer straight away, reaching forwards to place his hands on Charlie’s hips, then leaning in to plant a kiss on her lips. She happily responds, pressing herself against his shorter form, not bothered by his most recent changes.

“You look,” Paul gasps, pulling away from the kiss to meet Charlie’s eyes. “Fantastic. And I… I’ve been, um… looking forward to th-this, for… for a long time.”

Charlie chuckles, kissing Paul again, then stepping back and running a finger down his exposed collar. Snagging a nail in the edge of his armour, she raises an eyebrow at it – and Paul wastes little time in opening his inventory to unequip the armour. Battledress and cloak slip from his body, and his silky auburn hair flows down his shoulders when he takes the crown off.

Not that he can actually unequip it, but the object itself can be removed, so long as it doesn’t stray too far from his body. Which seems sensible if they’re going to be getting more closely intimate. Paul’s panties are also slipped off, allowing his dick to spring free, not quite as diminished as the last time Charlie saw it. Still smooth and hairless, with a wrinkled foreskin covering the glans, the Masculinity Drained status has worn off, leaving him at his new ‘base’ penis size.

“So have I,” Charlie says, brushing a hand over Paul’s chest, then down his arm to take his hand in her. “Now… lie down on the bed. This night is for us.”

Happy to let Charlie guide him, Paul giggles as she pushes him down onto the lumpy mattress, his feminised body forgotten in the moment. Setting his crown down beside him, Paul leans his head back and looks up at Charlie as she straddles his body. Tugging her panties off, she even reaches up and lets the straps of her babydoll slip down, revealing her breasts. Soft thighs squeeze around Paul’s hips, and Charlie leans over the top of his, resting her hands on the bed, breathing deeper and heavier. Hotter.

Between their legs, in that space between their bodies, Charlie and Paul are focused on the same thing. The next step is right there, ripe to be taken, and yet they’re savouring it. Paul’s butt clenches, and his stiff prick jumps, tapping the shaft against Charlie. But he doesn’t feel skin or fabric – instead, just wetness. Warm and slick, with soft hairs brushing against his mushroom tip, somehow making it feel even more real despite the virtual environment.

“Mmmf~… P-Paul, I… I know we’re in the game,” Charlie mutters, stroking Paul’s cheek, and meeting his gaze. “But this… definitely counts as my, um… as our first time. Okay?”

Humming in agreement, Paul nods his head, squirming his hips upwards in need, as Charlie wiggles to find the perfect position. They’re caught up in each other, the world narrowing down to just where their flesh touches, nothing coming between them. Even if things aren’t perfect right now, it still feels right.

click

“Charlie, did… um… did you just hear the door?”

“I’m tellin’ you, best part of this game is all the hot sluts just gaggin’ for dick! There’s a quest once you reach the level fifties with some elf princess, and she’s fiiiine. I can send you a link to a walkthrough for how to fuck her.”

On her knees in the dark courtyard of the Brass Levy tavern, Tiffany doesn’t care what the two adventurers she lured out here think of her. It’s not like she’ll be sticking around Firstham for much longer, and… well, mostly, she just needs to deal with the craving that her Cum-Addict perk left her with.

“Man, that’s gotta be good,” the half-orc woman replies, her dick in hand. “Some prissy elven royalty, taking my fat, green cock. Damn, these things are fun! Maybe I should get one in real life?”

It’s irritating to hear from players that aren’t stuck in Realism Mode, with the game forcibly modifying their bodies to perfectly fit their characters, but… Tiffany just keeps on sucking. She wonders absently if her Greenfriend perk will increase the Anima she gains from a half-orc player character, in addition to NPC Goblinoids. Then again, she should probably start getting a little more careful with that kind of thing. After some trial and error while replenishing her Anima in the mausoleum dungeon, using the Gobbo Semen she’s stockpiled, she’d worked some stuff out about the next level of the Cum-Addict perk.

“Mmmn~… damn, you’re good at this, girl,” the man she’s sucking off mutters, palming the back of her head – not that she’s about to let go. “Ahhhn~… jus’ like that…”

Obviously, Tiffany hasn’t managed to procure any creatures with Very High quality semen – although she does wonder if tracking down the Legendary Sire Wolf again would be a good idea. Unfortunately, she’s watched the Overfill upgrade path gradually tick upwards. Every time that she replenished her Anima by collecting Arcane Essence, any amount that doesn’t fit in her Anima capacity goes into the Overfill meter.

And from how passive, almost guaranteed, meeting that upgrade requirement seems to be, Tiffany is a little worried about the negative side effects it might lead to. Surely, especially if it means seeking out rare and powerful creatures… focusing on smaller amounts of high-quality semen must be better, right?

“Gonna… nnngh~… gonna cum!” the man says, although Tiffany can tell from the way his balls are pulsating. With one hand resting against his leg, the other one casts a simple light spell harmlessly into the ground, draining her Anima bar enough that the amount she gains from his cum doesn’t Overfill her too much.

It’s enough to keep her from reaching the 500 Anima limit too quickly, but not perfect. In the heat of battle, or when she’s particularly craving jizz, it can be hard not to just drink as often as she needs to. Pulling away with a gasp, her Dependence satisfied for the next couple days, the half-orc woman moves to take her companion’s place.

“You don’t mind sucking mine as well, right?” she asks, already guiding the wrinkled tip towards Tiffany’s mouth. “It’s just… I’ve never had my cock sucked before!”

Tiffany is about to protest, but… well, she’s right there. And he knows the feeling – Taylor never got his cock sucked, back when he was a ‘he’. So, rolling her eyes, Tiffany opens her pretty lips again, and starts to suck at the half-orc prick. Musky and pungent, similar to Gobbos, but not as bad as a Troll…

“AH! H-hey, get off!” shouts Charlie, as the Stray Mutt scrambles up the foot of the bed, then jumps up to place its paws onto her back. Even if it looks like her pet from the real world, she’s very deliberately not named it, eager to get rid of the damn thing as soon as possible.

“Is that the d-dog?! I th-thought this was a private instance!” Paul cries out, his view mostly blocked by Charlie’s upper body. Shifting up a little, his prick brushes against her belly, the moment of intimacy shattered by the arrival of the canine NPC. Unfortunately, just like that time in the courtyard, and even in real life with Louie, Charlie can’t seem to push the dog away.

Even worse, the Stray Mutt’s upper body lowers, front paws wrapping around Charlie’s hips, as another status window pops up…

“N-no! I didn’t allow it, dumb system!” Charlie says, her arms shifting violently – but freezing or diverting any time she gets close to shoving the dog away. “And it must… ugh! Must be b-because he’s my… my owner, it counts as me inviting him in?”

He humps forwards, hind legs scrabbling on the mattress, and scraping against Paul’s stockinged thighs. Trapped under Charlie, who still can’t throw the Stray Mutt off her back, he tries to do what he can by snaking his arms around her side to push at the dog’s paws. But him and Charlie are uncoordinated and panicked, still aroused from earlier, and shocked by the sudden change of situation.

“F-fuuuck… it’s okay, Paul,” Charlie says, although she can’t stop looking at the status window, showing how close she is to the second level of obedience. After that point, it becomes a lot harder to free herself from being a pet. “Let’s just, um… think, okay? We can g-get out of this!”

Worst of all, the Stray Mutt seems to finally be paying attention to Charlie’s Marked debuff, now that he’s found her in such a compromising position. Her unprotected rear is still swaying side to side, tilted upwards – as something hot and wet nudges between her buttocks. Charlie freezes in place, a fist clenching in her gut, as she realises exactly what’s happening.

Since she saw the bestial cock underneath the Sire Wolf, with system prompts to prove her ‘submission’ to the gross thing, Charlie has known that the strange mods and settings that Tiffany inadvertently spread to them had some effect on the game’s NPCs. The bandits acted strangely, those Gobbos following Tiffany are all kinds of weird, and there’s no way that a Stray Mutt should’ve been able to tame her in the first place.

“P-Paul, um…” she stammers, turning to look at his worried face, while the tapered something continues to nudge at her groin, searching for something. “You know w-what I said about… about this counting, right? W-well… I just-ahhhn!”

Whatever she was trying to communicate is cut off, as the Stray Mutt finally hits its mark, and the bulbous doggy cock thrusts into Charlie’s dripping cunt. She gasps, clenching automatically, and the unwanted penetration is simulated accurately enough to include a brief, sharp tearing sensation as the dog pierces her hymen – and takes her virginity.

Gasping in humiliation and distress, so close to finally taking that step with her beloved Paul, only to have it stolen right before the act by a dumb, stinky dog. It doesn’t even give her a moment to recover from the shock of being fucked for the first time, humping its hips into her, with a wet schlicking sound filling the room.

“Charlie! D-did it…? Hold on, I’ll g-get it off you!” Paul calls out, redoubling his efforts to reach past his girlfriend and push the Stray Mutt off her back. Unfortunately, the dog doesn’t seem to like that very much – and he lowers his head, a low growl filling Charlie’s ear. A moment later, without her even realising what she’s doing, Charlie reaches out to grab Paul’s wrists and pin him in place beneath her.

Because, while she was a little preoccupied in the moment, it seems that her Obedience level has finally tipped over the edge into level 2. And even if it can’t talk, the Stray Mutt can certainly make its orders clear… forcing its Pet to obey.

“Whuh…? Charlie, what are… are you… mmmmf~…” Paul says, in disbelief. But Charlie is unable to let go, her body starting to push against the Stray Mutt as its cock thrusts deeper inside of her, and she leans down to kiss Paul. A beautiful moment – Charlie had always wanted her first time to be with Paul, her childhood friend and crush for many years. But not like this!

“Mmmn~… I’m s-sorry, honey… ahhhn~…” Charlie gasps, her body rocking against Paul, knocking the bed against the wall in time with the Stray Mutt’s thrusts. Forced further down by the weight of the virtual mongrel, her chest presses against her boyfriend’s new bosom, and her belly as well – trapping his twitching prick between them.

And Paul had abstained for several days by now, not wanting to jeopardise the reclamation of his new size, keeping himself chaste since that time Tiffany drained his cock of masculinity. Well, there was that one time he came just from Charlie giving his balls a squeeze, but… other than that, he’s been saving himself! But with his hands locked in place by Charlie’s greater Might score, the rhythmic plapping of the Stray Mutt’s cock into his girlfriend’s snatch is also serving to rub his stiffy with the bulge in her abdomen.

“Charlie, p-please… nnngh~… I d-don’ wanna c-cum,” he stammers, voice high and breathy, punctuated by the occasional squeal when the Stray Mutt’s heavy, hairy nuts impact Paul’s hairless, streamlined scrotum. “Not from th-this~!”

He can’t even log out, hands stuck in place and unable to access the status menu. But even if he could… he’s not sure he would leave Charlie alone. Her eyes are already hazy and unfocused, rolling back on the deeper thrusts, her body betraying her to the canine shaft, right in front of Paul. And the dog doesn’t even care, it’s not doing this out of malice or spite, it’s just doing this because it sees Charlie as a wet, fuckable hole.

Quicker and deeper, driving the pair of lovers into the bed, the pounding pushes both of them closer to unwanted climaxes. But the Stray Mutt is hardly immune to its own efforts – years of (simulated) life on the street have given it plenty of pent-up desire, and Charlie’s cunt feels full… aside from the thick, bulbous growth, swelling at the base of the Stray Mutt’s cock. A knot, aching to tie with a fertile bitch, and pump a compatible womb full of mangy mixed-breed puppies.

But Charlie’s untested twat seems too tight for it, even as the pointed tip of the Stray Mutt’s shaft threatens to tickle her cervix, and its thrusts become quicker and shallower. Still as deep as it can go, of course, it’s just not pulling out all the way anymore. Instead, the knot just mashes against her engorged clit, while the misshapen shaft squeezes and rubs Paul’s cock – through Charlie’s belly. A pinnacle of pleasure and humiliation, which feels like it could go on forever, until…

The damn finally bursts. Squeezing Charlie’s hip securely with its paws, if the Stray Mutt is disappointed that it didn’t get to knot her, it doesn’t show it, as a torrent of hot, sticky jizz firing out to splash against the back wall of her pussy. At the same time, Charlie herself moans and squeals, her twat muscles squeezing as much out as they can, her juices joining the dog cum to gush out onto Paul’s member.

And he’s also cumming – a thin, milky spurt of watery cum dribbling out past his foreskin. A humiliatingly impotent amount, especially compared to the virile torrent that the Stray Mutt is pumping into his girlfriend, bare inches away. Neither of them can speak in the throes of their shameful orgasms, but the truth is clear. The dog is claiming her as his own, as his Pet, until he decides to let her go.

When the Stray Mutt pulls his cock from Charlie’s twitching, unresisting hole, a thick dollop of canine cum spills out to soil Paul’s softening prick. Slumped against each other, sweaty and breathing hard, there’s nothing they can say. Just the shared knowledge that what should’ve been a perfect moment between the two of them was stolen and soiled, Paul cumming on his belly, while Charlie was rutted like an animal – by an animal – on top of him.

They’ll need to confront this, work out how to deal with Charlie’s new position, to free her and fix this shitty situation. How to stop the Stray Mutt from just doing that again, using its newfound control to mount and mate her whenever it wants...

But not yet. That can wait till morning. So, after sharing another quick, bittersweet kiss to reaffirm their love, they log out.

Waking up with a yawn and a stretch, Tiffany had a lovely night’s sleep, and feels much better now that the craving for semen has been (temporarily) satisfied. Lifting her hands to the Immersion Helm on her head, she pulls it off with a smile, setting it on the bed beside her. She didn’t catch Charlie and Paul before logging out, but… she’s sure they had an unforgettable time together.

“Mornin’, girlfriend,” says a voice from the end of the bed. Tiffany startles, looking up to see Reggie, having clearly been waiting for her to wake up. “How was your, uh… game stuff?”

Tiffany sits up, tugging at the cut-off t-shirt and boxer shorts that she’s wearing, a cheap, casual outfit that she’d managed to wrangle from their AutoDresser. Usually so straightforward, Reggie clearly has something he wants to say, and Tiffany draws her knees up anxiously. He’s been good to her so far, mostly, but a lot of her comfort and ability to fix this mess is in his hands.

“Uh… it was good,” she answers, suddenly finding it a little awkward to talk about it with someone who wasn’t there. “We’re making progress, I, um… I suppose. Just finished a quest, but… it’ll probably still take a while yet.”

“Huh? Oh, don’t worry about that,” Reggie says, waving her off. “You can take as long as you damn well please. I’m pretty happy at having a cute girl in my bed, y’know?”

Narrowing her eyes, Tiffany tries to gauge if Reggie has… done anything to her unconscious body. And he likely has, but she’s pretty sure he hasn’t stooped to fucking her yet. She can ignore the occasional grope, especially compared to what she’s been forced to do in-game. And out of it. If he’s going to take interest in her, though, it might be worth springing for something like a contraceptive chip.

“But if you are gonna be saving up money,” he continues, crossing his arms. “Maybe don’t suck off your coworkers, ‘kay?”

“Shit,” Tiffany mutters. “Mister Fischer told you about that…?”

“Uh-huh,” Reggie says. “He also said that if he catches you again, you c’n either quit, or… ahem. Start offering ‘em to customers.”

Flushing a deep red at being caught out, and even more humiliated by the prospect of being whored out by a burger van, Tiffany apologises, promising not to do it again. But she knows, deep down, that if she’s left with another craving as bad as she had the last few days, it might not be quite so easy. She’ll need to work out a more reliable source of cum in-game, if she wants to keep living her life outside of the game, while earning money towards getting all this fixed.

“Is that all…?” she asks, getting up from the bed, intending to have a shower before work. Unfortunately, Reggie smiles back at her, with a level of excitement that Tiffany rarely sees from him.

“Well, if ya really wanted to show how sorry you were…” he says, leading her on with something that Tiffany knows she won’t enjoy. “You can come out wi’ me tonight. To a party. After all, yer my girlfriend, right?”

Letting out a long sigh, Tiffany begrudgingly agrees, knowing that occasional things like this will be necessary to keep Reggie on her side – and keep up her cover identity for his dad. She only hopes that the outfit he picks out for her isn’t as bad as last time… but expects that it’s most likely going to be worse.

Chapter Text

Standing nervously at the doorway to their apartment’s bathroom, Paul gently nudges Louie aside when he tries to poke his head in. The dog seems to be curious about why Charlie has been sat on the toilet since waking up, but for obvious reasons, Paul doesn’t want to let him go in there.

Smiling at his beloved, Paul decides to trust her, allowing Philomena the maid to guide him and Tiffany into the imposing manor, while Charlie and the Stray Mutt head to the barn…

Chapter Text

“Forty-three… forty-four… forty-five…”

“Ugh… stupid fuckin’ dog…” she mutters, pushing her upper body off the floor, and getting comfortable for another round. Charlie was more annoyed about this the first time it happened, but is almost resigned to it by now. Surely, the Stray Mutt will be tired enough to leave her alone after the fourth time… right?

Chapter Text

Sat on the bed that she shares with her stepbrother, scrolling through a borrowed holotablet, Tiffany is realising that she’s in a bit of a pickle. Her shitty fast-food job is earning enough to cover the basics, which Reggie and his father have been surprisingly accommodating about. But it really is just barely enough to cover her costs, with only a trickle of credits being saved after each paycheck. If she keeps this up, she’ll be able to afford a new power cell for her Immersion Helm in…

“Tch… three years,” she mutters to herself in disappointment. She didn’t expect to get back to her own body immediately, to being Taylor, a person with an actual identity and hard-earned qualifications. But three years is far too long to be stuck like this, in the tiny apartment with Reggie and Eustace – and her mum, if she eventually comes back from her business trip. And that’s assuming the moderators inside the Total Immersion II game can even help her!

Her eyes track to a small envelope with her current name on it, and the message scribbled inside. It’d appeared the morning after she’d gone to a bar with Reggie, so its simple message must mean someone had recognised her. Not that she can remember much from that night, only a salty aftertaste with her hangover implying she sucked someone off. Still, it’s the best link she has to the real, original Tiffany Fournier, and her stepbrother even offered to go with her to the address she was given.

An address which, on the fancy side of the city, will cost a fair bit more than a shitty metro ticket to reach. Which just means she’ll need to cut back on some other costs. Glancing up at the muffled sound of a holoshow in the living room, she knows at least one surefire way to cut back on rent. And her belly is starting to rumble…

Getting up from the bed, Tiffany checks herself in a mirror, pulling her hair up into a high ponytail, and tugging one strap of her tank top down her shoulder. It’s still a little weird, but she’s mostly gotten used to her temporary body, and the effect it has on men. Especially the dark-skinned, middle-aged man that is meant to be dating her mother, his eyes flicking up to her pretty, petite figure as soon as she steps out into the living room.

“Ahem… M-Mister Gibson?” she says, acutely aware of her bare legs, only a small pair of cotton panties covering her pert rump. “I wanted to ask you something about… umm~… my rent.”

It’s barely thirty seconds later that Tiffany is on her knees between his legs, with Reggie’s pants pooled on the floor around his ankles, and his cock rubbing against her face. The pungent scent of sweat and old cum is almost familiar by now, but it’s something else to be doing it in reality. Again. And even if it’s a little concerning how used to sucking dick Tiffany has become, she comforts herself with the thought that she’s not really herself right now. Plus, she’s getting pretty good at it!

“Tha’s a good li’l white girl,” Eustace mutters, ignoring Tiffany’s glare. “Show me how you love dat big black cock… mmmmn~…”

That she sucks dick of all different races, both real and fantastical, isn’t much of a defence. And his prick is a pretty impressive specimen, leaking precum as Tiffany runs her tongue all the way up and down the veiny shaft. Tugging the foreskin back with one hand, she swirls around his glans, keeping eye contact as she talks between licks.

“Schlrrp~… s-so, this is worth it?” Tiffany asks, while her plump lips plant kisses all the way down the Mr. Gibson’s balls. “Half the creds you want for rent… mmmf… and I s-suck you off, uh…“

“Every damn day!” he demands excitedly, clearly enjoying the oral service, right out in the open. Reggie might be at school right now, but if he skipped class to come home early, well… he probably wouldn’t care that much, in all honesty. But Tiffany would still rather not get caught. “Sheeeit, girl… nnngh… if yer pussy’s as good as your mouth, you should move into my bedroom, rent free!”

Tiffany’s scowl redoubles at this scumbag – but she doesn’t stop sucking. It’s only been a couple days since she last got her fix of jizz inside the game, but the craving is present at the back of her mind. And throat. The fact that this man, who is dating her mother, is trying to steal his son’s apparently teenage girlfriend… to take Tiffany back to his bed, spread her legs, and slide this fat, black shaft into her pristine cunt…

“Nngh~! N-no!” she gasps, shaking her head. Even if she has to get laid in order to deal with the unicorn, this is not the way to do it. “Just… schlrrrp~… enjoy your blowie, you sick fuck. And would it kill you to put the AC on?”

“Now why’ve I gotta do that,” he replies, thankfully letting the matter of daily blowjobs drop. “I got a cutie like you prancin’ about in her underwear, happy to lick the sweat from my balls, after all!”

Leaving it at that, Eustace leans back to let Tiffany do as he suggested – although the smug grin on his face doesn’t let up as her tongue swirls around his heavy scrotum. Continuing like that for a while, shifting between his cock and balls, it isn’t long before Tiffany finishes him off, taking several ropes of thick jism splattering down her throat. Making sure to clean him up with her tongue, she stands with a sigh of relief, eager to get back to the privacy of her room, where she can count down the time to her next gaming slot for Total Immersion II.

But as she leaves, Mr Gibson lets out an exaggerated sigh, his eyes firmly planted on her behind.

“Ahhh… that was nice, Tiffany, but…” he pauses, sucking air through his teeth. “I’ve heard that rent might be going up soon, so next time you come asking for help… just a suckjob ain’t gonna cut it.”

She knows that he’s making shit up – the apartment complex is rent controlled, and he earns plenty enough to cover it. But Tiffany also knows that she can’t call him out on it, and will just have to hope that the next time she needs some extra cash, the price won’t be too high…

Standing awkwardly outside their floor’s maintenance room, Paul fidgets with the skirt of his pastel blue gingham dress, still quite uncomfortable with how much of his legs it shows off. But at least it came with a soft, cropped leather jacket, red to match his hair – which is itself pulled into a ponytail, with a hairband the same colour as his dress. As annoying as the AutoDresser’s clothing restrictions are, it at least keeps him looking fashionable.

Looking like a pretty, feminine girl. A Princess, the Prestige Class apparently going far enough to affect his life outside the game. Which is what has him so concerned right now, as Charlie has been in the AutoDresser for a bit longer than usual, several muffled curses reaching him through the frosted glass door.

“Ffffuck! Ugh…” Charlie groans, accompanied by the distinctive thunk of a forehead knocking against the interior. “P-Paul, can you… um… get me a t-towel or something, from the apartment?”

While he’s perplexed, Paul is still more than happy to help his friend… g-girlfriend… especially considering how supportive she’s been. Staying with him despite his physical transformation meant a lot, even if intimacy has been a little awkward since that time in the tavern, and Paul is determined to stick beside her in turn.

That said, he’s still surprised when the AutoDresser opens upon his return, to reveal Charlie standing there stark naked – aside from a green leather collar around her throat, with a bronze buckle apparently sealed closed.

“Eep!” Paul gasps, thrusting the towel into Charlie’s arms, and hurrying her back to the apartment before anyone sees. Kenta is out walking Louie, but they also need to be out soon – missing a few college lectures is one thing, but they’ve got a test today which neither of them can afford to miss. “Wh-wha…? Why did it, um… is it like my thing? A restriction from the game?”

Charlie doesn’t answer straight away, clutching the towel to her body as she heads to a closet and starts to rummage. Most of their clothes are printed on demand – it’s a lot cheaper when you can recycle the fabrics back into the AutoDresser – with only some skimpy sleepwear sitting about the apartment, which wouldn’t be suitable for going to campus. Thankfully, not all of Charlie’s outfits are printed, as she soon emerges from her bedroom partition wearing a stuffy white blouse and deep green pencil skirt.

“Good thing my mum insisted on giving me a real interview outfit,” she mutters, clearly uncomfortable in the formal attire. “That damn groundsman equipped a weird… training collar to me, in the game, and it stripped off all my armour. Looks just like this thing!”

“That sounds… um… not great?” Paul says, reaching out a hand to reassure Charlie. “When we log in tonight, why don’t I have a word with the Baron? Is the training… okay otherwise?”

Though she rolls her eyes, Charlie can’t bring herself to make a snarky comment. She hardly thinks it would do any good – but if it weren’t for Paul, she probably wouldn’t have returned to the game after the Stray Mutt mounted her in the tavern. Now though, despite her long… hard… night being rutted into the barn floor, she knows that she can’t spend the rest of her life with a collar around her throat, unable to print clothes for herself.

“Y-yeah, babe,” Charlie finally says, with a smile at Paul, and a peck on his lips. He’s having enough trouble with his new class, and if raising her Obedience will free her from the Stray Mutt, Charlie won’t push her worries onto her boyfriend. “It’s nothing I can’t handle… now, c’mon! We can’t stand around all day. Let’s get to campus!”

Forcing a smile on her face, Charlie wraps an arm around Paul’s waist, and tries to ignore how her pussy is tingling. Throbbing with her pulse and strangely wet, as if the Stray Mutt did more than simply screw her – and the Immersion Helm’s morphic resonance projector is starting to affect her actual body, just as it did to Tiffany and Paul.

“…hmmmmn… hnnngh… oh! I got it!” Tiffany exclaims, as a flickering runic sigil appears at her fingertips, the purple light hovering in the air. “Damn, that is convenient, huh?”

Her hand shifts in surprise, and the spellcasting fails, but it’s a good first step. Part of the difficulties that Tiffany faced in the mausoleum that she’d cleared out with Charlie and Paul were that casting magic was… awkward. Every time, she would need to open her spell list then scroll to the spell she needed, selecting it from a menu before it would appear.

But Baron Squirham, a Spellsword apparently used to using magic in the thick of combat, has another method which he taught her. From context, it seems like something that Tiffany should’ve already been told about, but… skipping eleven levels of tutorial from being dumped into this character didn’t exactly help. Luckily there are mechanics in place to remind players of their abilities – including a nifty new spell, and a more experienced demonstration.

“Good, very good!” Baron Squirham says, complimenting Tiffany at what feels like a simple task, but it’s still nice to hear. Something about the man is just… quite reassuring, in a masculine mentor way. “Next time, focus on keeping your hands in the same position. Watch me, okay?”

Tiffany drops her hands to watch, tangling in the pretty black dress she’d been given. According to the Baron’s maids, it was uncouth for a guest to be forced to tromp about in her dusty adventuring gear, so more suitable attire was found. She kept her boots, but the flowing dress of lace and leather was quite flattering, especially with her hair down around her graceful elven face.

Shaking herself, Tiffany realised that she’d been thinking about how pretty she looks – and wondering if Baron Squirham liked it, as her eyes drifted to the chest hair poking through his shirt. Turning her attention to his hand instead, so large and confident, Tiffany watches a spell sigil appear in the air in front of it. It’s the same shape as the one she’d just summoned, albeit clearer, and more solid.

“You can fire it off straight away, if you need to – but I find that it’s usually more efficient if…” he trails off, and the sigil starts to glow steadily brighter, a strange sixth sense making it clear to Tiffany that he’s pouring more Anima into the casting. “You add a little more oomph into it, maybe ten or twenty percent more. Then you line up a target between your index and pinky finger, flick your thumb in to fire, and-“

whump!

The sigil coalesces into a single bolt in the blink of an eye, flying in a straight line to impact in the centre of a battered chest plate strapped to a training dummy. A resounding clang reverberates through the Baron’s office, and Tiffany can see a visible dent in the armour.

“There are other spells with better armour-piercing qualities, other elemental affinities, or more wide-ranging effects, but Arcane Bolt is a good starting point,” the Baron explains patiently, as Tiffany nods along. “Now try again, and try to copy what I do, okay?”

Lifting her hand again, Tiffany focuses hard on the Arcane Bolt spell while making the gesture with her hand, and the sigil appears again. There’s an initial tug at her Anima supplies, but it’s quite intuitive to open that channel up even further, allowing more to flow into the spell. That said, it gets harder to hold the spell in her mind as the sigil strengthens, the interior circles and runes threatening to wobble off course.

If anything, it’s like some kind of puzzle game, slight twitches of her fingers better aligning the runes and clearing up the shape of the sigil. Glancing over at Baron Squirham, Tiffany sees that he’s got a huge smile on his face as he watches her progress, getting an instinctive feel for the act of casting a spell.

“Heh… what? Mine’s still not as good as yours, um, Baron Squirham, sir!” she says, although it’s satisfying to make any progress at all. Online guides hadn’t been much help – apparently the mods she has installed on her Immersion Helm overhaul the spellcasting system as well, but this feels good. Natural.

“Oh, just call me Nathaniel – or Nate. I hate that stuffy noble nonsense! And besides, you’re still better than mine was at your level,” the Baron replies, as Tiffany continues to juice up her spell. “But sigil control isn’t worth much if you can’t hit your target. Arcane Bolt has some minor course correction, but it can only do so much. So-“

CRACK!

Tiffany is forced to take a step back from the impact of her spell firing, the spark of Anima whizzing across the room as quick as a flash. The recoil also threw off her aim slightly, and Tiffany is disappointed at first that the armoured practice dummy appears untouched – until she sees the fist-sized crater in the brickwork beside it.

“Eep! S-sorry, Baron… um, Nate! I didn’t know it would be that… that…”

“Powerful?” Nathaniel asks, with a slightly amazed expression on his face. “Just how much Anima did you put into that?! I’d need to drain my reserves to get something that strong!”

“Um, y-you said ten or twenty percent, right?” Tiffany asks, unsure of herself. “So… I used about… forty, or fifty Anima? That’s about fifteen percent of my maximum.”

Baron Squirham swallows heavily, running a hand through his hair as he takes in the pretty, petite elf in front of him. If that was barely even a fifth of her capacity… well, he’d very much like to see the power she would someday be capable of. Ideally not on the receiving end.

“Essence Mages… they’re something else, I tell ya,” he says, before his brows furrow. “Although, you said your regeneration was rather slow, correct? I’ve already recovered what it cost to cast my spell, although Spellswords are particularly good at that. How long would it take you?”

A slight blush comes to Tiffany’s cheeks as she opens her status menu to take a look – she hadn’t really been thinking about that, excited to learn a new spell and more methods of casting during combat. She still remembers being useless during the fight with the Bridge Troll, and while it’d worked out in the end, not every enemy will be so easily placated. So, if she wants to reach King’s Ridge alongside Charlie and Paul, she needs to get stronger.

Unfortunately, as she knows all too well, the upsides of her class have some very distinct downsides.

“About a… week or two?” she answers hesitantly. Even that’s probably lowballing it, if the Leakage II status from her Cum-Guzzler perk is anything to go by, reducing her regeneration by a further 90%. But she also knows that it’s not going to come to that, a shy smile gracing her lips. “Or, I mean… five minutes. If you can hold out that long, Nate.”

Though he doesn’t get it straight away, realisation quickly dawns on Baron Squirham’s face as he recalls what Tiffany told him yesterday evening. About her rather unique Cum-Addict perk. Clearing his throat, he averts his eyes and takes a step back to lean against the edge of his desk.

“Ahem! W-well… it would be improper for me to… to do anything uncouth with you, but,” he says, and Tiffany can already see the throbbing in his crotch making the decision for him. “It would only be polite to… to let you replenish the Anima you spent during this training session, wouldn’t it?”

Tiffany doesn’t need any more encouragement, her desire for semen already starting to rise. And the Baron would be far from the worst person she’s sucked off to satiate that craving, so… this way, they both benefit! Quickly dropping to her knees, Nathaniel opens his sturdy leather breeches to reveal a hardening shaft, already leaking precum from the tip. His cock is clean and circumcised, satisfyingly hefty without being overly long, one of the nicest looking that Tiffany has seen.

Not that she has any preferences, or anything. Definitely not!

In addition, the familiar status window appears in front of his ballsack, much like the other men that she’s drained for their Arcane Essence. She’d sucked off a human before, back at the tavern in Firstham, but Baron Squirham seems to have a little bit extra to offer.

“Oh… oh wow,” she mutters, the implication making itself clear. “Humans normally have Medium Quality, I think, but… because you’re a magic-user, yours is High Quality!”

Baron Squirham puffs up a little at the perceived compliment, while his cock reacts favourably to Tiffany’s hand wrapping around the veiny shaft. The Highborn status is less important – Tiffany certainly doesn’t intend on getting pregnant – but if she can find a higher level spellcaster, perhaps one from a race with inherently High Quality semen, then…

Maybe that would be a good way to find her third dose of Very High Quality semen, for her quest to upgrade her Cum-Guzzler perk? It’s certainly something to consider. But not right this moment, because Tiffany has a cock to suck, her plump lips already wrapping around the nobleman’s glans with a satisfied gasp.

Hopefully his boosted semen Quality won’t Overfill her too much…

At the other end of Squirham Hall, in the expansive guest bedroom that Princess Polly deserves, it’s time for her first lesson in being a Princess. A lesson which, according to Mrs Doherty, is to take place in the privacy of her bedroom.

While practically naked.

“Mrs D-Doherty, uh,” Paul asks, fidgeting slightly as he sits on the stool in front of the vanity, looking at his nude body in the mirror. “Is this… um… n-necessary? Not that I’m questioning you, or anything! I just…”

“Just what, your highness?” the maid asks, quite sternly. Since Mrs Doherty’s appraisal and subsequent dismissal of Paul’s abilities to fit into her royal role, it’s been clear that she will do what it takes to ensure that Princess Polly won’t embarrass Baron Squirham at the upcoming ball.

“Just… do I really need to sit here, uh… looking at myself? I get that acting like a Princess is important-“ he says, eyes flitting around, looking anywhere but at himself. Something that Mrs Doherty seems to notice, as she cuts Paul off again.

“And looking like one is, possibly, even more so. Like I said before, you have neglected your ability scores quite awfully,” Mrs Doherty scolds from behind Paul. “Did you improve your Suave score even once since gaining the Princess class, ma’am? And no, the set bonus from your equipment does not count.”

Paul’s mouth closes again, unable to defend himself, because that was what he was going to bring up. Aside from that, the levels that he gained in the mausoleum dungeon all went to Might, which is the Princess class’s secondary Ability… and one that won’t change his appearance any further, aside from some subtle muscle bulk. So, Paul shakes his head, eliciting a sigh from Mrs Doherty.

“Well, not to fret, ma’am,” she says, a tight smile on her face. “That can be corrected quite simply. You only have two class buffs available at present, but I can activate them for you. Just look in the mirror, and you’ll soon see how a Princess should look.”

Mrs Doherty gestures in the air, and Paul doesn’t have time to question what she’s doing before a window appears in the air in front of him – and a strange tingling starts to shudder through his body. A familiar one, like when he first placed the Scarlet Diadem on his head, except this time it’s focused on his chest and face.

“Hwuh?” Paul gasps, suddenly a lot more concerned as his muscles subtly atrophy, his body softening and swelling. It’s most obvious in his budding breasts, which pull him forwards with their increased weight, sagging down with a natural softness. “What are you d-doing to me? S-stop it!”

“I wouldn’t even if I could, ma’am,” Mrs Doherty says, manipulating another menu as Paul’s transformation progresses further. “This is for your own good.”

Another window appears, this one rather more alarming, as Paul feels a twinge between his pointed half-elf ears. Most of the online guides warn about temporary debuffs to the mental abilities, Acuity and Canny, and how they can diminish your thought processes while in the game. Similar to being drunk, or tired. But with the current mods extending these changes outside the game, Paul is especially worried to see a Permanent tag on the ‘buff’ that drops his Acuity by two whole points. Making him dumber, essentially.

At the same time, his body’s transformation starts to settle, a pair of rather hefty breasts with puffy areola sitting heavily on his chest. But they aren’t the only change – his rump has an extra layer of cushioning, rounding out nicely to press into the stool beneath him, and his lips are similarly plumped up into an inviting pair of kissers. Aside from that… he doesn’t think that he thinks any different, but it’s hard to tell.

And Mrs Doherty’s lessons have only just started.

“D-did I really have to… to change so much? I was p-plenty pretty enough before,” Paul tries to argue, raising a hand to lift one of his all-natural breasts. It’s heavy, soft and yielding under his touch, with a surprising density. “I didn’t think that Princesses were usually, so… um… won’t this make it more difficult to move gracefully, and all of that?”

“Well, yes ma’am,” Mrs Doherty admits, nodding her head to concede a point. “While a more modestly endowed Princess might find acts of elegance and sophistication more accessible, we don’t have the time to teach you all of that. So… shortcuts must be taken to increase your appeal in time for Lord Furthing’s Masquerade Ball at the end of the month.”

Even if he doesn’t like it, Paul has to admit that it makes sense. If the noblemen of this world are anything like the real-life corpos and politicians of Rothquay, they should respond quite favourably to Paul’s new look. He can only hope that they won’t expect anything more than a look, because he can already tell that his new chest is rather more sensitive than before.

“Plus, the peasantry responds much better to Princesses that possess, as they might say, a pair of… ahem… milky, jiggling sloshers,” she remarks, with a slight smirk accompanying her diversion from proper speech. “Any minor missteps or faux pas can be forgiven if they assume you to be simple, with more breasts than brains.”

Furrowing his brow at the veiled insult, Paul continued wondering if he’s actually less intelligent, while Mrs Doherty starts looking through the wardrobe behind them. He gets as far as trying to recall what was covered in his most recent physics lecture before Mrs Doherty interrupts him.

“Now then!” the maid says, clapping her hands together. “Let’s put you into something more fitting, and continue on to our second lesson. With your new figure, I think you’ll need to relearn how to walk anyway. So, why don’t we make sure that you can only move like a Princess from now on?”

Paul gets to his feet, swaying for a moment as his body moves completely differently. Muscles weakened, brain pliable, and centre of mass completely off, he knows deep down that Mrs Doherty will be able to do exactly that.

Waking up where she logged out, after the Stray Mutt had finally satisfied itself with her body, Charlie looks up at the beams of morning sunlight streaming through the barn windows. It’s not particularly comfortable lying on a pile of straw, covered in dried mud, but it’s better than waking her Owner, who is softly snoring beside her.

Reaching up to her neck, Charlie absently tugs at the Bronze Training Collar still locked around her throat, as she tries to get her thoughts in order. Obviously, she can’t let this dumb groundsman train her, so that leaves her with two options. The first of which, sorely tempting, is to escape.

The barn door is open, and she can feel no lingering orders, which means she could hop the gate and run away. Into the woods, several miles from the closest town, unable to equip any armour or weapons. The Stray Mutt would probably follow her, and then she’d be naked and muddy in the middle of the forest, with a dog that’s recently discovered how fun it is to mount and fuck her… while also being completely unable to protect herself.

And that would also mean leaving Paul and Tiffany behind, so Charlie begrudgingly strikes it off as a possibility. Which leaves her best option – staying here, and making Rufus the groundsman think that he’s training her. Even if she’s currently a Stray Mutt’s Pet, Charlie is still a person, and undoubtedly smarter than some random NPC! She’ll work on building her Obedience stat, persuade Rufus to take off the collar, and then grind her way up to getting free.

Making that decision brings a renewed sense of determination to her mood, and just in time, because the groundsman is already approaching the barn. Whistling as he goes, Rufus calls out as he enters, which rouses all the other animals. It rouses the animals. Not other animals.

“Mornin’, all! Time for breakfast!” he says, working on the unicorn and donkey first, grabbing hay, leafy greens, and whatever other stuff horses eat. It doesn’t take him long, while the Stray Mutt wags his tail and lifts onto his hind legs to look over the gate, and Rufus soon arrives at their pen with two bowls in hand.

“Ugh, f-finally…” Charlie mutters, her virtual stomach rumbling. The Hunger debuff isn’t too severe until it’s been a couple days, but it feels as bad as real-life hunger. “Couldn’t you have brought me something from the mansion last night?”

Rufus clicks his tongue, ignoring her snarky question, as he places the first bowl down for the Stray Mutt. Meat scraps and boiled beans, all mashed together with some kind of coarse porridge – it looks worryingly similar to the wet food that she feeds to Louie. But the other bowl is placed high up on the wall of her stall, and as unappealing as it looks, Charlie’s not going to stay hungry for the entire day. So, she stands up to grab her own breakfast.

“Ah! Sit, Chili!” Rufus commands, and Charlie’s legs buckle again, dropping her down to sit on the muddy floor. “You c’n have yer breakfast in a minute. First, I gotta give you a proper inspection. Gotta know what I’m workin’ with, hmm?”

Charlie’s frown deepens into a scowl, not appreciating being talked down to like that, but the Training Collar keeps her on the floor. While the Stray Mutt is occupied scarfing down his food, Rufus kneels down behind Charlie and places a firm hand on her shoulder – the other reaching for her muddy chest.

“Huh? H-hey! There’s n-no need to… mmf!” she gasps out, but Rufus doesn’t stop. With no build up or fanfare, he simply grabs at her body, squeezing and hefting each of her bare tits in turn.

“Mmmn… feels healthy to me. Prob’ly ain’t gonna make a Milker outta you, but it’ll be enough for other purposes,” Rufus says, letting her go – and sliding his hand downwards. Charlie’s eyes follow, alighting on her pussy. Still throbbing and tender, she’d been trying to ignore the sensation of lukewarm dog jizz starting to dribble out of it, and her thighs go to close.

“Chili, stay!” another order comes from Rufus, and she freezes in place – which allows the man to put his hand between her legs, and press a finger into her leaking slit. Charlie lets out an annoyed gasp at the unwanted intrusion, averting her eyes and trying to endure the indignity. It’s not as disgusting as being fucked by the Stray Mutt, but humiliating in a different way, as Rufus’s finger sinks deeper, rubbing around in circles to inspect her insides.

That would’ve all been bad enough, but the tip of his finger found something.

“There… feel that, Chili?” he says, brushing his finger against her insides while withdrawing – and reaching a strange bump. Not just in one place, either. Instead, keeping the tip of his finger barely half an inch past the opening, he circles around to rub against an entire ring of raised tissue surrounding her vaginal canal. Almost like a bruise or something, but evenly swollen and… sensitive…

“Mmmf~… y-yeah? What… what is it?” Charlie asks, her curiosity and worry overriding the disdain for her trainer.

“That is yer body startin’ to adapt,” he answers, sending a chill down Charlie’s spine. She had felt strange back in the real world, more tenderness than she would’ve expected to transmit. Is this happening to her actual body as well? “That ring is there to grip tight to a big doggy knot! An’ if you look close, yer pussy lips are swellin’ as well. I wager they’ll soon begin to darken and spread out.”

Adapt, he’d said. And Charlie had heard about this, when researching for the class she’d wanted, to tame the Legendary Sire Wolf. Inside the game of Total Immersion II, tamed creatures will change to better fit the role they’re used for. Wolves don’t naturally have the musculature and bone structure to carry a person, no matter how large or Legendary, so they could become more suited to wearing a saddle. Similarly, a combat pet might grow sharper fangs and a tougher hide, a packhorse might carry more weight, and if a pet spends all their time being fucked…

“Ain’t gonna be that long afore you’ve got a nice fat spade, dark an’ wet like a proper breedin’ bitch!” Rufus exclaims happily, as if her pussy being turned into a canine cunt is something to be happy about, gradually moulded thrust by thrust into a hole designed for animal pleasure… and potentially something else.

More than ever, Charlie knows that she needs to get out of this situation as soon as she can. Shaking her head frantically, her thick curls bouncing against Rufus’s chest, the groundsman pulls his hand free and stands up, leaving Charlie to gaze up at him in desperation.

“P-please, no! I don’t… that’s… I don’t want to be like that!” she pleads, urgently trying to communicate with the NPC. A glorified computer program, holding so much control over her is galling, but currently the reality she has to face. “You need to help me!”

Looking at her for a long moment, Charlie is worried that Rufus is just going to leave her to her fate – or worse, hasten it along. She imagines that it wouldn’t take much for him to order her to stay on her hands and knees, just like he did last night. Then all he’d need to do is watch as the Stray Mutt fucked her over and over again, building her Submission Obedience every time, continually transforming her body until…

“Okay,” he says, crossing his arms as one corner of his mouth lifts into a begrudging smile. “Let’s see if’n we can’t work out another direction to train ya.”

Charlie heaves a sigh of relief. Though she doesn’t entirely trust that Rufus has her best interests at heart, she’s glad to have anything from him at all – even if he still plans on training up her Obedience, anything would be better than the path she’s currently on.

“But first things first,” he says, grabbing the second bowl of mashed up dog food, placing it on the floor in front of her. “You gotta eat yer breakfast. Go on, Chili! Eat!”

click, clack, click, clack, click, clack…

The sound of heels on a hardwood floor echoes through the foyer of Squirham Hall, accompanied by the thwip sound of someone keeping time by slapping a wooden cane into their palm. It continues until the time keeping halts, followed swiftly by a sharper thwap! as the cane impacts soft skin.

“Eep! S-sorry, Mrs Doherty!” Paul squeals, as another red stripe appears on his rump, softened though it is by his robe. “I th-thought that I was… doing, um… good that time?”

“Doing well, ma’am,” she corrects, her eyes tracking up the Princess’s body, an eyebrow raising as her gaze reaches the book balanced atop her head. “And you were. That was to see if you could keep your posture straight through distractions.”

Paul clenches and unclenches his fists, a little chagrined at the test. He’s been walking up and down for hours now, wearing naught but lingerie underneath his silk robe. A lacy blue brassiere with little golden bows keeps his new chest supported, lifting it quite ridiculously to point his plump nipples forward, exposed through a wide gap in the bra’s cups. And a matching pair of panties cup his balls - and only his balls, as his erection sways with his stride, a thin string of precum dripping from the tip.

His legs are encased in sheer white stockings, which lead down to the platform stilettos on his feet, that Mrs Doherty has been training him to walk in all day. And not just that either – a Princess’s back must be straight and level, balancing the book and crown on top of their head, while their arms must be held gracefully down at his sides.

Worst of all, Mrs Doherty’s instructions are working.

The gait that Paul had learned over two decades of living as a man is becoming harder and harder to emulate, and already feels like he’s just pretending. It’s starting to feel natural for Paul to place one foot directly in front of the other when he walks, to sway his hips while keeping his upper body level and breasts thrust forward.

“Oh, um… th-thank you, Mrs Doherty,” Paul nervously replies, falling into a feminine resting position. The maid’s cane corrects his hand posture to be held in front of him, pushing his shoulders down a little, and Paul can feel his muscles responding. “If I’m doing well, then… uh… do you think I could go and see my fr-… my Pet, down in the barn?”

Mrs Doherty’s thin smile twists downwards, and she starts counting time again. It only takes a moment for Paul to take the hint, stepping forwards carefully to continue his lesson. He doesn’t have any choice in the matter after accepting the Princess Training Quest, his supposed rank not meaning much while Mrs Doherty is teaching him.

“A barn is not a proper place for a Princess, ma’am,” Mrs Doherty sternly informs Paul, while continuing to tap her cane. “And we haven’t even started on walking while properly dressed.”

That’s some small relief – it’d been humiliating to be forced to walk back and forth with his pecker bobbing about, even if Mrs Doherty had assured him that they wouldn’t be disturbed. Even if he’ll only be supplied with clothing fit for a Princess, fit to his buxom new form, it’ll still be better than nothing but lingerie that doesn’t even cover his nipples.

Hopefully Mrs Doherty won’t have the same idea as Philomena when it comes to dealing with his arousal, but she hasn’t mentioned Paul’s visible sign of manhood. The only sign remaining, if he’s being honest with himself, and one he fully intends to keep for as long as he can. That… does give him an idea, though.

If the uptight Mrs Doherty won’t bring him to the barn because it isn’t proper for a Princess, then maybe Philomena would help him out? She seems a lot more laid-back, eager to do some things with Paul that should be decidedly improper for a Princess to be doing with her maid. In fact, even aside from getting out to the barn to see Charlie, it felt like there were a lot of things that Philomena wanted to teach Paul…

The unappetising dog food sits heavily in Charlie’s stomach, its taste lingering on her tongue, but she can already tell it isn’t going to be the grossest thing she eats today. Lying on his back in front of her, the Stray Mutt is panting happily and wagging his tail, glancing between her and Rufus standing above.

“You… you w-want me to do what?” she asks, not entirely sure that she heard the groundsman correctly. Still, it didn’t count as a ‘Basic Command’, so Charlie can’t be magically compelled into doing it. “I thought we were going to… to try and get away from, uh… that kind of thing.”

“Now, Chili, I never said that,” Rufus says, as if gently correcting a child. “I said we’d try a different path, an’ I meant it. But if you don’t wanna be stuck as a Submissive, we gotta raise yer Obedience another way.”

It makes sense, annoyingly. The only methods that she knows to release a Pet, including after some thorough research between gaming sessions, involve raising it to Obedience Level 5 first. Submission is widely seen as the easiest type of experience to gain, but also one that leads to the weakest, least intelligent pets. Above that is Cooperation, one mostly related to working alongside each other in combat, which Charlie had been expecting Rufus to go for. And then finally…

“Devotion ain’t nothin’ to turn yer nose up at,” he continues. “An’ you can’t exactly fight alongside a Stray Mutt! So, are you gonna suck its dick, or should I jus’ let it fuck yer brains out, an’ turn you into a dumb li’l puppy mill?”

Knowing that this is voluntary just makes it even worse, but Charlie quashes her doubts, and leans forward to rest on her elbows between the Stray Dog’s haunches. It seems to know something about what’s going on, because its sheath is already responding. A tapered red shaft starts to emerge right in front of Charlie’s eyes, as one of her hands hesitantly rubs around the base. Having that thrust inside of her is bad enough, but during sex, she can close her eyes and try not to think about it.

This, however, is inscribed firmly in her mind. Taking a deep breath, acrid doggy musk flooding her lungs, Charlie opens her mouth and presses her lips to the Stray Mutt’s hardening prick. The dog twitches excitedly, tail whapping against her muddy tits, but stays where he is. As if getting a blowjob from his Pet is expected. And almost immediately, he starts to leak thin precum onto Charlie’s tongue, a salty and pungent taste.

“Nnngh… it’s f-fucking disgusting… ahhh…” she gasps, pulling away with a grimace, as the rest of the Stray Mutt’s prick emerges from its furry sheath. “Is th-this… really necessary?”

It’s not that she’s against oral sex itself – but she’d been hoping to treat Paul with her mouth. Something that she’d been dreaming about for years, even surreptitiously practising with a dildo in case her crush was finally reciprocated. Though it was before they got together, even Tiffany got to give her boyfriend a blowjob, and here Charlie is giving away another of her first times by sucking off a grubby mongrel!

“Well, it’d hardly be a sign o’ Devotion if ya wanted to,” Rufus prompts her, bringing Charlie’s mind back to the throbbing, tapered shaft right in front of her. “But don’ worry, Chili. I’m sure you’ll get used to it!”

That’s hardly reassuring – her pussy is already starting to change, so the idea of her tastebuds shifting isn’t too far-fetched. But his earlier warning is still fresh in Charlie’s ears, so once more she opens her lips and starts to suck on the doggy dick in front of her. Its shape is strange in her mouth, pointed at the tip and bulbous around the middle, entirely covered in a layer of slick mucus. But the basic act of fellatio isn’t incompatible with it, so Charlie focuses on bobbing her head up and down, while her tongue slurps around the girth.

The Stray Mutt’s hips hump into the air instinctively, enough that it starts to poke at her throat, almost enough for her lips to meet the growing bulge at the base of his prick. A knot, designed for locking the entire shaft inside a bitch, and something that so far has had to content itself with squishing against the entrance to Charlie’s slit.

But Rufus’s earlier inspection of the growing changes in her body makes it clear that it would only be a matter of time before her pussy betrays her to the Stray Mutt’s cock. A ring of muscles squeezing her Owner’s knot, pulling the tapered prick flush with her cervix, to milk every spurt of canine jizz into her womb. Even her birth control is administered through the Immersion Helm, a cheap and efficient method that made sense when she was playing a normal game. Could that somehow be subverted…?

“Schlrrrp~… mmmmf… gllrghk~…” Charlie gags, all of these thoughts running through her head as she continues to slobber all over the Stray Mutt’s cock, which suddenly seems like a much better way of dealing with its urges. And her sloppy demonstration of her Devotion is rewarded, as the dog whines in satisfaction, its balls tensing as it finally ejaculates, filling Charlie’s mouth with its watery seed.

With that disgusting reward, a window pops up in her field of vision, still referring to her as Chili – and granting her a decent chunk of Devotion-flavoured Obedience. There’s still more than half of the bar to go though, and Charlie is sure that Rufus will have some other ideas for how to train her, but for now it’s done. Or should be.

Because one of the Stray Mutt’s excited yelps seems to have latched onto her mind, meaning Charlie can’t pull her head back and spit anything out. Instead, holding still just like she did when the Stray Mutt mounted her, the dog’s load is pumped down her throat and into her belly, forcing her to swallow as much as she can. The warmth settles, with a faint tingling, until Charlie can finally pull her mouth away with a retch.

“Theeeere we go, Chili…” Rufus praises her, squatting down to give Charlie a pat on the head, allowing her to clear her mouth out with the water bowl. “Tha’s a good girl! We’ll try that again later – but for now, let’s see if I can’t teach you s’more commands?”

Reminding herself of the plan, however tenuous, to convince Rufus that she’s being trained, Charlie only nods her head sharply. It’s the best idea she’s got right now, and sure beats being fucked again – although that’s probably only a matter of time. Maybe she should’ve taken Paul up on his offer to ask the Baron for help…?

While not as lavish as the quarters befitting a Princess that Paul finds himself in, the small servant’s chamber still has a soft bed and a door that locks, and a ground-level window looking out at the forest, which has to be better than the barn. And it’s here that Tiffany finds herself after finishing magic practise with the Baron, going over her status page again and checking out her new spell.

But there’s one spell which stands out to her, one that the Baron had almost surreptitiously handed her the scroll to learn from, when dismissing her for the day. One that is quite relevant to her next task, that she might have otherwise decided to put off.

A spell titled Contraceptive Charm.

“Ugh… I suppose I’ll need to do it at… um… some point,” she mutters to herself, lying in bed in the nude. One finger traces absently down her belly, running through the cute patch of pubic hair above her pretty pink slit. If she wants to… collect some Arcane Essence from the Baron’s unicorn, then Tiffany will need to lose her virginity. She’s not sure whether the original Tiffany already has, or if doing it in the real world would even count, but finding someone to do it with feels preferable to possibly being gored by a unicorn.

So, she just needs to decide who.

The Baron is out, of course. Sure, he’s sweet, and kind, and… maybe a little handsome, but he’s also a baron, and not about to roll in the hay with a random commoner. There’s also Rufus, the Baron’s groundsman, but Tiffany caught a glimpse of him through a window, and wasn’t particularly impressed. Especially if he’s going to be busy ‘training’ Charlie, it’s not a great option.

The only other men in the area are Baron Squirham’s footmen. Guards? Retainers? Whatever they’re called, they treat her as a respected guest, and seem worried that Mrs Doherty will have their heads if they sleep with Tiffany. Possibly literally – she wouldn’t put it past that grumpy old goat. The younger maid, Philomena, might be an option, but again, Tiffany isn’t sure if the virgin-trampling unicorn would recognise lesbian sex.

“Might still be fun, though…” she says, a finger sliding down to rub against her pussy. She’s been doing plenty of giving recently, sucking cocks aplenty, and even if this female body isn’t her preference, it still has needs. Her desire for semen is currently satiated, and she doesn’t get much privacy in the apartment with Reggie and Eustace, so…

tap tap tap!

Tiffany bolts upright, her eyes going to the door into her small bedroom and hoping that she’d remembered to lock it – but the latch isn’t moving, and it is locked. She also can’t hear anybody in the corridor, nor is it time for dinner yet. Then the tapping sound happens again, and she turns to see something at her window.

“EEK!” she squeals in surprise, lifting a hand to start conjuring an Arcane Bolt – only for her mind to catch up, and recognise the face looking back at her. Gnarled green, with knobbly nose and twinkling yellow eyes, grinning at her excitedly. It’s one of the Gobbo Scrubs that had been following her. All the way to Baron Squirham’s manor, apparently!

Hurrying over to the window, covering her chest with one arm, Tiffany unlatches the window and pushes it open – which also happens to destabilise the stack of goblins standing on each other’s shoulders, the three of them tumbling down to the grass with a squawk of indistinct Gobbo language.

“Warrk! Wiso nagarba fa granaka!” the leader says, getting to his feet with an undaunted smile, while the other two disentangle themselves. His loincloth is as inadequate as ever, a half-hard shaft lifting the thin leather, and making it clear that he was probably watching her for a while. Still…

He does present a potential solution to her problem.

Gobbos don’t care about ‘propriety’ or ‘respect’ – or consent, she imagines – and they’re not going to tell anyone else. So, if Tiffany wants to keep growing stronger, without being lumped into whatever unpleasant perk the Overfill five hundred Anima task will upgrade her Cum-Addict to, she needs to get fucked. She grimaces, but decides not to second-guess herself, reaching an arm out for the lead Gobbo to grab.

What did she call him? Honcho? That was it. Pulling Honcho into the room with her when he trustingly takes her hand, she lets him scramble up and through the window, then gestures towards the bed. Once he’s inside, she leans out with an apologetic smile at the other two, Fatso and Lankso.

“Oh… sorry! Maybe I can, um… granaka… you two later?” she says, then shuts the window again. The other Gobbos don’t seem to mind, perking up at the granaka comment, as Tiffany turns her attention back to the Gobbo on her bed.

His status page is nearly the same as before, except this time it includes a Species Compatibility statistic. Thankfully, it’s Very Low. But otherwise, Honcho is still a puny Level 2 Goblinoid with no redeeming features whatsoever – and he’s shed his loincloth, lying back on Tiffany’s bed with a smug grin on his ugly features, as a thick green cock juts up from his crotch. It’s… pretty big, doubly do considering the Gobbo’s vertically challenged proportions, with a wrinkled foreskin, veiny shaft, and hefty balls.

It also happens to be the first cock that Tiffany drained after arriving in Total Immersion, so perhaps it’s appropriate that she’s popping her cherry with it. Slapping both cheeks to spur her into action, she clambers onto the bed, straddling the Gobbo’s legs and swatting one of his groping hands away from her chest.

“Kekekhe~…” the Gobbo chuckles, not seeming to mind in the slightest. “Miso gonnawa granaka wumda gobboreeni!”

“Huh? Whatever,” Tiffany dismissively says to the Gobbo’s exclamation, reaching down to wrap her fingers around its shaft. “Just stay quiet, okay? Get it? Shhhh!”

The last thing she needs is Philomena or Mrs Doherty finding out that she’s been sneaking Gobbos into her room to fuck, let alone the news getting back to Baron Squirham. Maybe it’s because he’s been so kind while teaching her magic, or possibly it’s just that his dick was quite nice to suck, but Tiffany feels a strange urge not to disappoint him. Again, as if the game is reading her mind, a warning pops up in front of her vision.

“Reputation… uh… I’m already a Trollop, so these can’t be much worse,” Tiffany says, skimming through the page, not wanting to psyche herself out of going through with this. “Rabble Arouser… Trashy… wait, Gobbo Seedbed? Nuh-uh!”

Reaching for her magic again, Tiffany makes sure to cast the Contraceptive Charm on herself, a blue glow sinking into her abdomen before fading away. Now feeling a little more confident in herself, while the Gobbo is impatiently rocking his hips forwards to rub against her belly, Tiffany finally grits her teeth and raises herself up.

A few weeks ago, she’d been a typical guy in his early twenties, excited to explore a fantasy world. Making friends, wielding magic, fighting monsters… well, she supposes all of that is happening. She just didn’t expect to pass the time between quests by mounting a Gobbo. She doesn’t stop, though, lifting her hips until the uncut tip of the Gobbo’s prick is pressing against her wet slit… then carefully sliding downwards.

The stretching feeling is totally alien to her, even after her experience as a woman so far, a throbbing piece of another being sinking inside of her. The first inch stretches her wide around it, and then the rest pushes deeper, discomfort mixing with jolts of satisfying pleasure. She can even see a faint bulge travelling up her trim abdomen, while the Gobbo beneath her is groaning in pleasure, his eyes rolling back in disbelief.

Her pussy turns out to be quite pliable, stretching around the Gobbo’s fat prick like she was made for it, until she reaches the back once about two-thirds of its length is inside her. At this point, Tiffany takes a moment to catch her breath, acclimating herself to the intrusion inside of her, and the disarming fact that…

It feels good.

“F-fuck… mmmn~…” she mutters, her cunt muscles clenching around the shaft inside of her. But she wants more than just sitting here, and the Gobbo is already starting to shift impatiently, so she raises herself up again. The cock feels just as good sliding out of her, slick precum leaking from the tip to lubricate her even more, as the bed frame starts to squeak beneath her. Up and down, in and out, lifting turns into bouncing on it, Tiffany’s pleasure rising along with her voice.

“Ahn~! Oh, shit that feels… mmmngh~!” she squeals, putting a hand to her mouth as the Gobbo tenses, pushing his hips up to meet her. Tiffany can already feel something building within her, and while one hand steadies herself against the wall, the other reaches down to rub at her clit, pushing her into a swift orgasm.

“HNNGH~!”

Any attempt to keep herself quiet is thrown out the window, which one of the other Gobbos is watching through by now, while Honcho starts to get more into the act. Leaning up to paw at her body, Tiffany doesn’t have the ability to stop him from acting like he owns her, thrusting even quicker and deeper while her body yields to the Gobbo cock.

“Yahaaangh~! Mmmfgh~… yunomi granaka wangida!” the Gobbo rasps, nonsense syllables which elicit a cheer from his watching comrades. But his breathing quickens as well, despite lying back and simply enjoying the feeling of tight elven cunt around his repulsive cock, his pleasure rising as Tiffany approaches a second orgasm.

Clenching her eyes shut, grinding her hips as each bounce shoves the Gobbo’s fetid purple glans deeper into her pussy, getting off the ride doesn’t even occur to Tiffany. Surely it would’ve been enough to simply be penetrated, sliding his cock inside then tossing the Gobbo out of her room? But… but that wouldn’t be sex. Nor does Tiffany think she even could climb off, her body spasming and shaking until-

“Mmmmfuck~!”

“Grahnghaaah~!”

A second orgasm, even stronger than the first, shivers through her body – the squeezing apparently enough to trigger Honcho’s climax. Adding onto the precum that’d been leaking all this time, the Gobbo’s ejaculation is thick. Congealed, backed-up in his swollen nuts, the jizz clumps and splashes against Tiffany’s cervix, threatening to invade her womb with gross, misshapen sperm. All simulated, of course, but it feels real enough to Tiffany, who is thankful that she’d cast the Contraceptive Charm.

A hidden calculation (possibly obscured by Realism Mode) runs as the Gobbo seeds her pussy, probabilities and bonuses being calculated behind the scenes while the viscous yellowish cum taints Tiffany’s elven maidenhood. There is some mitigation from the Contraceptive Charm… but Tiffany’s sense of security might have been misplaced. Either that, or she’s just spectacularly unlucky.

Chapter Text

“Ughhh… it’s too f… fu-…” Paul mutters to himself – although his grasp of that name, as well as his gender, is feeling increasingly tenuous. “It’s t-too fucking hot.”

“I want to switch places with you, of course.”

Chapter Text

With Paul at college and Kenta at work, that leaves Charlie home alone. For the first time in a while, certainly since they arrived at Squirham Hall in-game, she doesn’t have to worry about anyone noticing her strange behaviour, or the more recent changes to her body. At least, that’s what she thought upon giving Paul a nervous kiss goodbye, hoping that she could spend some time relaxing. Clearing her head, researching the irritating Training Collar she was stuck with inside the game, working out how they’re going to fix this whole damn mess!

Unfortunately, she’s not entirely alone.

And it’s a little difficult to look at your pet the same way when you’re intimately familiar with every vein and bulge of his cock. When you’ve tasted his jizz, felt his paws wrap around your hips, and know exactly what it’s like to have him empty his hot, animal load into your shamefully orgasming womb…

“Ugh… Louieeee…” Charlie whines, looking down at his big, brown eyes. “This isn’t fair on you either, huh?”

Even if Charlie’s not eager to find out exactly how true to life the scan of her pet was, he really does look exactly like the Stray Mutt – or at least close enough. Any time Charlie sees him, or hears him, or smells him especially, her body reacts. Her nipples stiffen, and her cunt throbs, while standing up becomes even more difficult, as if her instincts want to follow Rufus’s training.

Every damn day, she logs into Total Immersion II, and makes it a little worse. The Stray Mutt continues to sculpt and reshape her body, and Rufus tweaks her mind. Logically, the decision to keep playing makes sense – Charlie needs to get rid of the stupid collar, so that she can use the AutoDresser again. She needs to work towards gaining Obedience, so she can be free of her canine ‘owner’. And in addition to all of that, she needs to be there to support Paul and Tiffany!

But Charlie knows, deep in her gut, that those reasons aren’t why she still puts the Immersion Helm on each evening. Instead, as she looks down at her real, flesh-and-blood canine companion, she’s scared of what might happen if she doesn’t go into the game.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, and making sure the front door is double locked in case anyone comes home early, Charlie peels her damp boxer shorts away from her crotch, forcing herself to look at the organ between her legs. At this point, it’s almost unrecognisable – unless you looked in a veterinary textbook.

The skin around her pussy has darkened considerably, while the ring of raised flesh that Rufus showed her has grown further, merging with her clitoris to become even more sensitive. At the same time, her labia have swollen and merged into a puffy, triangular vulva, turning her delicate human folds into a plump, wet animal cunt.

It’s not just for show either,  as it constantly leaks syrupy juices like a bitch in heat, accompanied by a potent aroma. Musky and rich, with an earthy undertone, she’s even noticed Louie starting to pay more attention to it. And the arousal just does not stop. Even masturbating doesn’t help, the sensitive areas moving from where Charlie is used to, so she only ends up with sticky fingers and a hotter, rekindled need in her pussy.

Even while Kenta’s out, there’s no way she wants Paul’s first time to be with that, after it was already stolen from him by the Stray Mutt. So, she’s continued to keep their time spent together in the real world somewhat chaste, sure that Paul understands.

“Mmmf~, fuck…” Charlie mutters, unaware of when she dropped to the floor. Being on her knees just feels natural now, just as comfortable as standing used to be – and this time, it’s brought her closer to Louie. The mongrel dog, a rescue that Charlie’s owned for a few years, pads towards her, his nose sniffling. “Louieeee~… mmmn… y-you’re not s’posed to…”

Charlie knows that she should get up, put some clean clothes on, have a cold shower, anything that isn’t encouraging her dog. But Chili knows her Owner when she sees it, even without the Immersion Helm’s systems forcing her behaviour. This all comes from inside her traitorous brain, keeping Charlie on the ground as Louie’s tongue flops out, and she reaches forwards to tentatively scritch behind his ear.

“There there, boy… mmm…” she says, soft and steady. Not submissive, though it’s close. She’s still his owner in reality, after all! But Charlie also doesn’t pull away as the dog gets closer still, nosing her thatch of pubic hairs until his tongue flicks out and brushes up against her dark, stinky mound. Her spade.

“BZZZZT!”

“EEP!” Charlie startles, looking up at a networked console beside the door, and scrambling to her feet again. The harsh tone isn’t one she’s heard often, but is unmistakable to any inhabitant of Rothquay city, followed by an announcement from a synthetic voice.

“Cease all – BESTIALITY – actions!” the console chirps. “This is your first warning!”

Pressing a button on the screen to silence the warning, Charlie calms her shaky nerves by swiping away the notification. No reason for Paul or Kenta to know about that – and it’s a slight relief. The city’s biometric monitoring would contact the police if she kept on doing that with her dog, and while she’s had plenty of ethical debates about the surveillance state at college, it will at least keep her from submitting to the actual pooch in a moment of weakness.

After making sure that Louie is okay, she shuts him out of the bathroom, and takes a long, cold shower. Hopefully, with that mysterious meeting she’s going to today, Tiffany is having a better morning than her when it comes to resolving this fucked-up situation they’re all in…

“I’m sorry, what?!”

Tiffany and the girl whose body she’s currently a clone of have moved further into the extravagant apartment for some privacy, while Raphael – the bulky bodyguard – keeps Reggie distracted. Kara stands at the edge of the room unobtrusively, apparently unsurprised by her boss’s behaviour. Sitting across from ‘Fanny’, as the real Tiffany Fournier prefers to be called, Tiffany tries not to look between girl’s thighs, where an all-too-familiar pussy is clearly visible from an open panel in the crotch of her bodystocking.

“Why the fuck would a stinking rich girl like you want to take over my shitty life?” Tiffany asks, for the second time. But Fanny just continues to smirk across at Tiffany from behind that fancy, clear smog-mask she’s wearing. As if her and Reggie would bring poor-people air up with them. “I work in a burger truck that makes me show off my tits, my stepbrother’s apparently fucking me while I’m inside that dumb virtual game, and my stepdad is blackmailing me for blowjobs. Why would you possibly want to swap places?”

Fanny doesn’t answer right away, letting out a soft sigh and looking away as if thinking. She lets the question hang in the air for a moment, idly shifting her hips like she’s showing off her glistening pussy to the room, before eventually replying.

“Do you know why I played that silly fantasy game to begin with?” she asks, and Tiffany shakes her head. “I actually played it without any modifications at first, and found it… rather boring. I had more than enough money to buy any item I wanted, and it’s not like I’m starved for beautiful scenery.”

She gestures around at the penthouse apartment, larger than an entire floor of the building that Tiffany and Reggie stay in. A large piano sits on a platform to one side of the room, there’s a fully-stocked bar with real non-printed spirits, and Tiffany can only imagine the rest of the luxury available here. Or, perhaps she won’t need to imagine for long.

“So, I started again,” Fanny continues her story, in that posh, enunciated accent of hers. “I found somebody that would crack my Immersion Helm, to add all of the hardest, weirdest modifications to the game. And it was good to start with, to have some actual hardship! But when I reached level… eleven, I think? Well, then I gained the Essence Mage class.”

Fanny says the word with a curl of derision, rolling her eyes exaggeratedly.

“A class that can only be played if you already have money – and I know that, as soon as I complained about it, Kara or Raphael would find some other player and bribe them to give me a boost,” she explains, as if that’s a bad thing, and not a fact that forced Tiffany to find a different way to play the class. Taking a steadying breath, Fanny forces a smile. “Just like reality, I’m not facing a challenge. After that, I got rid of the Immersion Helm, and decided that life can’t be found inside a computer. I thought I’d never see the damn thing again, and would have to resign myself to a life of indolence…”

That doesn’t sound too bad to Tiffany, but it’s at least understandable. If you’re someone that’s never faced any troubles in your life, then perhaps the idea of a legitimate challenge would appeal to you. One that can’t be solved with a phone call to your father, or a dip into your trust fund.

“Until, that is, you came along,” Fanny says, firmly. “And you gave me a chance that I never would’ve otherwise had. To actually live like one of you, like a common person, with actual problems!”

Fanny’s voice rises with genuine excitement, and Tiffany isn’t sure that it would be possible to puncture her enthusiasm – she’s already told the spoiled rich girl about the actual reality of living in the slums with everyone else. Still, though it seems delusional to someone that grew up there, it also sounds like an opportunity.

“Okay… I guess I kinda get it,” Tiffany carefully replies, not wanting to commit to anything yet. “You want to spend a while living my life, playing in the real world, as someone who doesn’t really exist. Meanwhile, I work to get my body back in the game, without having to worry about rent or bills.”

“Precisely!” Fanny says, clapping her hands together. “I’ll even pay you for it, enough for the energy cell and more. Then if the game’s admins can’t turn you back, you can get a Morphic Resonance Clinic to put you back to normal.”

It still sounds too good to be true, but Fanny’s tone appears genuine, and with two bodyguards looking after her, it’s not like she could get stuck down in the slums. This is just something that she expects to have fun with, then talk about at fancy dinner parties in a few years’ time. Looking around the magnificent penthouse apartment, it’s the family portrait on the wall that finally sways Tiffany, as a strangely familiar man rests his hand on Fanny’s shoulder. The girl sat opposite her seems happy and secure, with plenty enough money for her family, and Tiffany wants that for her mum.

Whenever she gets back from that damn business trip, and Tiffany’s told her that Eustace was cheating. With his stepdaughter, kinda, but… she doesn’t need to know that.

“Fine,” Tiffany finally agrees. “But I don’t want you pulling the plug and running back home as soon as you’re a little bit uncomfortable! So, what do we need to do?”

“Psssh, let me worry about the specifics,” Fanny says, brushing off the question. “I’ll make sure that our little game won’t end until you either get your body back, or find out that the moderators can’t help. Besides, there’s something you need to deal with before we can swap places. Can’t fool the biometrics with whatever that is, festering in your womb!”

Glancing down at the slight bulge in her belly, Tiffany can’t deny that her body has undergone some changes since that Gobbo Scrub screwed her. Even with the contraceptive charm that she used! And while she’s not about to give birth in real life, the Immersion Helm does an annoyingly realistic job creating some kind of pseudo-pregnancy until she gets rid of it in the game. Which, ideally, will be later today.

“Sure. Fine. I’ll deal with that. Anything else?”

Fanny’s smirk grows wider, and she wiggles her hips excitedly, lifting a hand to crook a finger at Tiffany, beckoning the almost-clone closer. A little worried, Tiffany gets up from her couch and steps towards Fanny, only for the girl’s hand to twist and point to the ground. And her uncovered cunny.

“Just one thing,” she says, sweet as honey. “I’ve always wondered what it would feel like to get eaten out… by myself.”

Opening her mouth to instinctively refuse, Tiffany pauses. She’s… well, she’s really a guy, right? And this is all to get back to her previous life, to the Taylor that has a college degree, job prospects, and an actual identity. And ‘Taylor’ was straight. Is straight! But since becoming Tiffany, she’s only been sucking cock – and a lot of it. Human, dwarf, gobbo, even unicorn, all dumping their thick, salty load down her throat as she expertly slurps at their manhood, while her cunt heats up and leaks into her panties...

So, why would she turn down the chance to do something with a hot girl instead? Even if she does look almost identical to said girl, which makes it a little weird, Tiffany’s not going to reject this opportunity.

“Y-yeah, of course!” Tiffany replies, nodding confidently as she tries to inject some enthusiasm into her tone, sinking to her knees. “I suppose I have got some experience with, um… this pussy in particular.”

It’s as pretty and pink as Tiffany remembers from between her own legs, identical in every way, with a clean, slightly sweet aroma. Folds of tender flesh, with a prominent clitoral hood, although Fanny keeps hers clean shaven. But looking won’t do anything, so Tiffany leans in closer and extends her tongue, swiping it up between her labia to swirl around Fanny’s clit. It’s an odd motion, one she’s never done before, yet it’s almost…

Boring.

“Mmmn…” Fanny gasps, reaching down to stroke Tiffany’s plain brunette hair, pulling her closer into her crotch. “You’re not… great at this. But it’s still a novel experience to see my own face between my legs.”

That assessment of her abilities is almost as humiliating as her position. Tiffany swiftly learned to give absolutely stellar blowjobs, but cunnilingus is somehow beyond her? The pussy in front of her doesn’t even have the rank, pungent stench of unwashed gobbo dick, or the barnyard musk of massive unicorn schlong… a good thing, Tiffany tells herself. There’s no grime or scrape out from under wrinkled foreskins, or sweaty balls to tongue-bath, while salty precum leaks down her throat…

“Now that’s a little better!” Fanny compliments, bringing Tiffany back to the present. “Just keep on like that, and… ahhhn~… I’ll be done in no time.”

It doesn’t miss Tiffany’s notice that Fanny only started enjoying being eaten out once Tiffany had started thinking about cock. Which she adamantly pushes from her mind again, focusing purely on the licking and kissing in front of her. All she needs to do is make Fanny cum, then go back to her apartment with Reggie, and get rid of those dumb gobbo babies, so that she can swap places with Fanny.

Simple!

“Uggghhhh…” Tiffany grunts, heaving her grossly swollen belly out of her borrowed bed in the servants’ quarters of Squirham Hall. “Stupid fuckin’ gobbo…”

Though the pregnancy went unnoticed at first, there’s no missing the gravid curve of her midsection, weighing down her body. It’s only been a week since she found out about it, but Gobbo pregnancies develop fast – and, worst of all, they can’t be terminated.

Which means Tiffany’s plan to swap places with Fanny has been postponed until she can give birth to the Gobbo Scrub’s… eggs. A little gross, but probably better than plopping out a litter of baby greenskins which she might have to take care of. With eggs, she can just give them to the trio of gobbos deal with. It’s the least they can do after all the times she’s drained their balls in the last week, to keep up with Baron Squirham’s training.

The nobleman’s been surprisingly understanding about her condition, even if Mrs Doherty was pretty judgemental, and Philomena found it very funny. Better than the mockery from Reggie and Eustace in real life, at least. Still, it’s hardly comfortable to be walking around with a stark reminder of her subjugated womb, even if only simulated, her bodily autonomy despoiled by a dumb green pervert…

“Least I don’t have to get dressed the normal way,” Tiffany mutters to herself, opening her inventory to equip her Enchanter’s Raiment gear, sans the corset. Today is finally the day that the Sire Wolf should be prowling the surrounding forest, according to the forums that Charlie’s been reading, so the two of them are going out to find the Legendary creature. Tiffany to gain another source of High Quality semen, and Charlie… well, if there’s any way to get out of being owned by a Stray Mutt, she’ll try it.

Waddling slightly as she leaves the room, Tiffany gets into her stride by the time she reaches the barn outside, giving Paul a wave from where the Princess is receiving another lesson from Mrs Doherty in the parlour. It’s been difficult, their party essentially separated while inside the game, but it’s not for much longer. Lord Furthing’s Masquerade Ball is only a few days away, and whether their training is finished or not, the three of them will be leaving afterwards!

“Ah! You must be Rufus,” Tiffany says, stopping abruptly to see the Baron’s stooped, dark-haired groundsman. “Nate – sorry, Baron Squirham told me that you’d let Charlie out with me today, to look around in the forest?”

“Charlie…? Oh! You must mean Chili,” he replies. “She’s a bit dirty, but I’ll get her ready for ya.”

When Rufus emerges again, Tiffany doesn’t feel quite so bad about her gobbo-stuffed belly. Charlie – or Chili – is crawling on all fours, entirely naked, with her tongue lolling out over her chin. Her olive-tanned skin is covered in a dried layer of mud, and her dark, swollen spade of a pussy is out in the open, pearly-white jizz drooling from its inhuman opening. She doesn’t even look up right away, following obediently at the end of a leather leash – until her eyes land on Tiffany’s boots, and she glances up with a start.

“Arf! I… I m-mean…” she shamefully stammers, after a surprised yelp to begin with. “T-Tiffany? It’s… ahhh~… are we g-going out today?”

They’d spoken the day before, in real life, but it seems that Charlie’s activities in the barn were a little distracting. Shifting back to kneel on her haunches, a deeply embarrassed look comes over her face, which almost looks comical paired with her tongue still hanging out. Tiffany takes the leash from Rufus with a tight smile, then continues into the woods, leaving the smirking groundsman behind.

Once he’s out of earshot, Tiffany drops the lead and stoops down to take Charlie’s hand, helping her up onto her feet.

“Charlie! You never said that it was so… so severe in there,” Tiffany says, compassion warring with anger in her eyes. “Should I speak to the Baron? I bet I can get that shitty groundsman fired for doing this to you. He’s clearly taking advantage!”

“Whuh…? What? N-no,” Charlie shakes her head, while wobbling a little as she stands on two feet. “He’s… um… actually h-helping me, with the Obedience stuff! And besides….”

Pulling her hands away, she drops back down to all fours, clearly more comfortable in that position. Then she lifts the leash from where it’d fallen, and offers it back up to Tiffany with a wry smile.

“If you do that, then we might miss the chance to find the Sire Wolf,” she says. “I’m… mmm… I’m okay. We can leave once my Obedience level increases, and I can take off this collar, and… and go back to normal!”

She doesn’t seem to entirely believe it herself, but Tiffany doesn’t push the matter right now, instead focusing on the task at hand.

Before arriving at Squirham Hall, Tiffany was… rather unprepared to be an adventurer. She’d relied on Charlie and Paul for most of the fighting when they tackled the Bridge Troll and the Mausoleum dungeon, but that also left her defenceless when the bandits caught her and Paul. But now, after receiving instruction from Baron Squirham in magical combat, she’s far from defenceless.

With the deep well of Anima available to power her spells, replenished by careful use of stored (mostly Gobbo…) Arcane Essence, she’s able to punch a hole through an iron cuirass at fifty paces. As she demonstrates on the Feral Hog that barrels from the bushes towards her and Charlie, squealing piggy murder until it’s abruptly cut off by a concentrated blast of arcane energy.

"Two more pork chops..." Tiffany mutters, stooping down to collect the creature's drops. "And still no sign of the Sire Wolf?"

She glances down at Charlie, still on all fours at the end of a leather leash, who shakes her head. It's discomforting to see her friend walking around like a dog, but Charlie is still a Ranger, and being a Pet hasn't affected her tracking abilities. Unfortunately, that's not worth much if the Sire Wolf isn't here to be tracked down.

“Sorry, Tiff,” Charlie replies, a little bashfully. "It's meant to have moved into these woods by now, but there's no sign of it. Someone would've posted online if they'd tamed it, so... maybe it won't get close because… b-because of me?"

Kneeling down to Charlie’s level, Tiffany puts a hand on her friend’s shoulder, tilting her chin up to meet her eyes. While Tiffany’s spent more time with Paul so far, especially with all of the delicious meals shared in Squirham Hall, she doesn’t want Charlie to feel like an afterthought. Like a Pet.

“Hey, hey! I won’t have any of that,” Tiffany scolds, though she smiles along with it. “I’d never be able to find it without you, and you’re putting up with a lot to be here. Thank you for toughing it out, Charlie. It means a lot, and we can always find some other Legendary creature.”

Charlie’s guilt and self-pity don’t entirely dissipate, but it does feel good to have her struggles noticed. Her body is changing and betraying her, but Tiffany and Paul have both gone through that, so… well, she didn’t want to complain. Then again, they’re probably the people that would understand best, all three of them working to fulfil unpleasant goals in order to free themselves of some indignity enforced by the system.

Just because Paul is spending his time in gorgeous dresses, sleeping in a warm bed, and eating delicious food, doesn’t mean he isn’t struggling to keep his masculinity from being further eroded. It’s still not quite the same as spending all of her time getting mounted and raped by a dog, while a perverted old man trains her mind, but… letting out a soft sigh, Charlie meets Tiffany’s smile with one of her own, and gives her a nod.

“Th-thanks, Tiffany… um… that means a lot,” she says, softly. “I’m sure things will get better once we’re done here.”

“We’ll make sure of it,” Tiffany asserts, with a wry glance down at her gobbo-swollen belly. “Now, if the Sire Wolf isn’t out here, we should probably go back, right? Anything else you need to do out here?”

Returning to the barn is hardly pleasant, but Charlie’s Obedience level has steadily been rising, with canine blowjobs and other humiliations adding to her Devotion affinity. It’s still a little close, with several actions overseen by Rufus leading to a gain in Submission instead, but she’s annoyingly certain that he knows exactly what he’s doing, for better or for worse.

Which also means, while she out in the woods, that there is something she needs to do. Charlie had been hoping that the Sire Wolf would distract Tiffany enough that she could do it without her friend noticing, but…

“I n-need to… um… d-do my,” Charlie stammers, pacing on the spot nervously. “My business. You know, uh… big girls? I… Ch-Chili needs to go pee-pee.”

“Oh!” Tiffany responds, deciding not to mention how Charlie unwittingly used her Pet name. “That’s… uhh… g-go right ahead, I guess.”

Bowel movements thankfully aren’t included in the game’s Realism Mode simulation – but a character’s bladder is. Tiffany had been using the privy in Squirham Hall without really thinking about it, and occasionally squatting to pee while out adventuring isn’t too bad, but the way Charlie said it seemed different.

Blushing with humiliation, Charlie paces around for a moment, sniffing the ground, until she seems to decide on a specific patch of grass. Then, while Tiffany averts her eyes, Charlie cocks one leg into the air, and releases a stream of yellow piss. Almost like she’s marking her territory, a faint pungent odour accompanying the urination, right out in the open like a dog. Another of Rufus’ behaviour modifications, forcing Charlie to pee like an animal.

When the stream finally dribbles to a stop, still flushed with humiliation, Charlie wordlessly leads Tiffany back towards the barn, obediently crawling by her side at the end of a leash. She wants to think that this couldn’t possibly get any worse, but… she’s still only at Obedience Level 2. Out of the five needed to get the Stray Mutt to release her…

At least the AutoDresser should start working again, once she gets rid of this damn collar!

After hearing from Tiffany about the failed expedition to find the Sire Wolf, and the state of his girlfriend, Paul knew that he couldn’t put off Philomena’s next ‘lesson’ any longer. The first one led to him being unable to stand up for himself – at least when it came to men degrading him and putting their hands on his body. It’s been another week of college since then, which Charlie has only been able to attend a couple of times due to her new wardrobe restrictions, and each solo journey has been more humiliating than the last.

Regular commuters had even started to recognise him, with more than one man walking down the metro platform to brazenly fondle his ‘jiggling gropemeat’, squeezing his buttocks and bosom while asking how much he enjoyed it. Even when Paul managed to deny their perverted assertions, the twitching bulge in his pants or under his skirt only confirmed their stupid ideas. That morning, on his way home, a man had even tried and kiss him! He was thankfully able to lean away from the middle-aged man’s cigarette-smoke breath… but kissing is, unfortunately, the topic of his next lesson with Philomena.

“I don’t see why this is necessary for a Princess,” he comments, walking slightly ahead of Philomena as they went to leave the confines of Squirham Hall itself. “Surely nobody cares how well I… kiss.”

Paul’s movements and tone of voice are fully suitable for a Princess by now, as Mrs Doherty’s lessons were continually drilled into his mind by the Immersion Helm. Elegantly stepping one foot in front of the other, hands clasped demurely in front of him, although today’s dress is still rather risqué. Rich red velvet with gold trimmings, and a medieval hood… cowl… thing covering his head, trailing down his back. Slits up the skirt of his dress show off Paul’s legs and lacy blue stockings, while a matching mesh bodysuit creates a generous window of cleavage.

“You would be surprised, m’lady,” Philomena comments, with her usual smirk. “Besides, I know how much you wish to see your pet again, and this is the only one of my lessons which takes place in the barn. Just be glad that we’re not going down to the guardhouse…”

Humming noncommittally, Paul glances to the side at one of the guardsmen standing by the entrance to Squirham Hall. He isn’t Derrick, the one that Philomena brought in to ‘teach’ him how to deal with harassment, but the way his eyes track down to ogle her form makes it clear that Derrick told the other guards all about the lesson. Even if they’re still acting respectfully, well-trained under Baron Squirham, they know exactly what they could get away with.

The barn isn’t far outside, although still further than ‘Princess Polly’ has been permitted to wander on her own, and Paul waits to let Philomena heave open the large, sliding doors of the wooden structure. A pungent stench of animal wafts out, but Paul keeps his composure while his maid looks inside.

“Ah, good!” she says, turning around to beckon Paul closer. “Old Rufus isn’t here. Now come on in, I’m sure he won’t be gone for long.”

Paul blinks. He’d been assuming that Philomena’s next lesson would use another of the estate’s employees – from what Charlie has told him, Rufus is a rather unpleasant man, and he’s sure that Philomena would delight in making Paul kiss him. Not something that Paul wants to do, but if it allowed him to see Charlie, he was willing to put up with it.

But if Rufus isn’t in the barn, then how…

“P-Paul…?” comes a voice from one side of the barn, distracting Paul from his train of thought. Looking over excitedly, he can finally see his loving girlfriend. “Paul! Y-you’re here?!”

“Charlie! Y-yes, I’m… I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner,” he says, stepping up to the gate into her stall. “You look… ah…”

She’s filthy, just as Tiffany said, but the light in her eyes is still there. The Stray Mutt is snoozing on the muddy ground behind her, and Charlie staggers to her feet to lean on the gate, her smile wider than Paul has seen it in days. While the contrast between them is starker than it has been in a while, a gorgeous Princess compared to a filthy Pet, Paul’s feelings haven’t waned in the slightest. Charlie’s tongue starts to extend, but she pulls it back into her mouth with some effort, letting out a sigh.

“I know… hah~…” she chuckles mirthlessly. “But we’re n-nearly done here! And it’s good to see your face. Even if you… w-wow, Paul, you look gorgeous.”

Paul blushes at that, the earnest, sweet compliment hitting him harder after all of the recent crudeness. Despite all that’s been happening, soured by Paul’s transformation and the actions of the Stray Mutt, him and Charlie still have that connection. It’s a relief, really – she’d been acting more reserved back in real life, and they hadn’t yet tried to make love again, so it’s good to have that confirmed.

He reaches forwards to take Charlie’s hand in his own. Even with a gorgeous, feminine face with makeup on it, inhabiting a buxom body, Paul’s green eyes are still the same, and they meet Charlie’s with a smile.

“Charlie, remember… I love you, okay?” he says, something that he’s realising has been left unspoken between them so far. “I don’t care if you… if you look or act different, or whatever’s b-between your legs. We should, um… once we’re back home, I mean… try again?”

Though he can’t bring himself to say it exactly, Paul’s meaning is clear – and his beloved doesn’t respond with words, but instead leans forwards. There’s a whiff of salty acridity on her breath, but Paul doesn’t care about that, and goes to meet her kiss with enthusiasm. They might not be able to be together as Princess and Pet, but Paul and Charlie will always-

“Ahem,” Philomena clears her throat, reminding them both that there’s someone else present – and that Paul’s visit wasn’t just to reconnect with Charlie. “Your lesson is over here, Princess.”

Freezing an inch from Charlie’s mouth, wanting nothing more than to meet her lips in a passionate, loving kiss, Paul regretfully steps back. It’s unbecoming for a Princess, and with someone there watching, he can’t overcome the training. Rolling his eyes, Paul glances over at Philomena, but the maid is unflinching in her duty, and Charlie gives his hand a reassuring squeeze as he reluctantly follows her deeper into the barn.

From behind, Paul can hear the Stray Mutt starting to stir, and he blocks out whatever noises that the stupid dog might be making with his girlfriend. Paul’s girlfriend, not the dog’s. Instead, he focuses on the stall at the end of the barn, which apparently contains his lesson. He’d stopped thinking about it when he found out that Rufus wasn’t here, distracted by seeing Charlie, but…

He never would have expected a donkey.

“Wha… what…” Paul stammers, while the short, ugly equine swishes its tail. “How is this any kind of… of lesson? A donkey?!”

“Princess Polly!” Philomena says, putting a hand to her chest in mock affront. “Smudge here isn’t just any old stinky donkey that Rufus has been too busy to wash in over a fortnight. He’s also the Baron’s pack-donkey, and went on all sorts of adventures with him!”

“HEE-HAW!” Smudge brays, as if agreeing. Paul notes that Philomena didn’t say he wasn’t any of those things, his patchy coat and irritable demeanour more than obvious despite Paul’s lack of experience with horses. Several flies buzz about, and the donkey’s sides are splattered with hay and mud, and if it weren’t for his compulsion to follow ‘lessons’, he would’ve left already.

“Of course,” Philomena continues, as if rehearsed. “I doubt he bedded many comely maidens like the handsome Baron did, nor was he prime stud material for all the best mares like Pelleas the magnificent unicorn… but he still worked just as hard! Don’t you think he deserves a little reward, m’lady?”

“Well, I suppose…” Paul reluctantly concurs, watching as Philomena carefully opens the gate to Smudge’s stall, then beckons for the Princess to follow her in. “But what does that have to do with me, and… and kissing?”

Philomena doesn’t reply, leading Paul around to the donkey’s rear end, brushing a hand along Smudge’s flank so that she doesn’t startle him – then carefully lifting his fuzzy tail to one side, to reveal a dark, puckered anus. It’s clean… ish… due to Total Immersion II thankfully not simulating that kind of waste product, but hardly pleasant, and it’s slowly starting to dawn on Paul what Philomena intends.

“A Princess should never lose her composure, whether bestowing a boon upon a peasant, or marrying an unsavoury suitor in front of the nobility,” Philomena explains, the words seeping into Paul’s mind, even as he tries and fails to walk away. “So, m’lady, what better way is there to learn to endure any kiss, no matter how unpleasant, than by making out with a donkey’s arsehole?”

The only reason that Paul came down here was to be able to see Charlie! But now he’s stuck in the lesson that he foolishly requested, Philomena’s venomous smirk making it clear that she knows he can’t refuse her. Even the maid’s plan is ostensibly reasonable – making Princess Polly kiss something she’d rather not, to harden her resolve against anything less unpleasant.

But a donkey…?

Despite his disgust, Paul is already stepping closer, trained too well to deny his tutors. That Mrs Doherty didn’t actually condone this lesson doesn’t cross his mind, but the equine funk is already stinging his nose as he breathes in the stink, opening his mouth… then planting a hesitant kiss onto Smudge’s twitching sphincter. It’s warm and damp, slightly sticky to his plump, glossed lips, but over with quickly.

Not that Philomena will let him leave until the lesson has fully sunk in.

“Ah, ah, ahhh, Princess!” she scolds, placing a hand gently at the back of Paul’s head, while the donkey’s tail hairs tangle in her golden, ruby-encrusted diadem. “You’re to kiss him properly – I want to see tongue. And you’re not leaving until you can convince me that you love rimming his horsey turdpipe!”

A moan bubbles up from Paul’s throat, dismayed and degraded all in one, but Philomena’s instructions are clear. When he next presses his face between Smudge’s flanks, his tongue extends to press into the donkey’s anal ring, tasting the oily sweat and accumulated grime. At the same time, he hears another sound of sloppy, oral worship coming from elsewhere in the barn, echoing glucks and slurps. If Charlie can deal with her problems, he can push through here.

So, even when Philomena’s hand releases the back of his head, Paul forcing himself to continue kissing and licking the donkey’s rear hole. A chuff of pleasure comes from the beast up ahead, and its genitals start to react, but Paul’s focus is narrowed to one spot. Pressing his lips tight to Smudge’s anus, his tongue presses forward more deliberately, pushing right into the animal’s anus.

Humiliatingly, his body is somehow responding to this. Perhaps the humiliation of being made to kiss a donkey’s arse, or maybe the sound of Charlie sucking off a dog mere meters away. And all of the stimulation, of his cock pressing against the inside of his dress, is heightened by thick, dizzying lungfuls of equine musk fuzzing his brain and encouraging him to dig even deeper into the rank, nasty hole that he’s been tasked to worship…

“Princess Polly!” barks a severe voice, jolting Paul from his stupor, and bringing his beleaguered mind back to the present. “What in the King’s name are you doing?!”

Jerking away from Smudge’s twitching black donut with a gasp, Paul looks around in confusion, finally spotting Mrs Doherty standing with her arms crossed outside the stall, glaring right at him. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since Philomena set him on the task, but the shadows cast across the barn have moved, and the donkey’s anus is shining with spit.

“I’m so sorry, Mrs Doherty,” says Philomena herself, wringing her hands with a look of utmost contrition on her face. “If I knew that Princess Polly was addicted to snogging donkey shitters, then I never would’ve escorted her down here…”

Stumbling forwards, Paul takes a moment to compose himself, wiping daintily at the drool running down his chin. Flashing Philomena a glare, he prepares to deny the lewd accusation that the maid levelled at him – only to open his mouth, and nothing comes out. Because it’s best not to make a scene when insulted, as Philomena so generously taught him, and even if this lesson wasn’t actually from Mrs Doherty herself…

Paul can still feel his body thrumming, warmth and heat accompanying the heady stink of donkey anus. The idea of turning around and continuing to kiss Smudge is still disgusting, and nothing that he’d ever want to do, but… his body seems to disagree. Already, he’s waited too long to put up any kind of defence, and Mrs Doherty’s gaze slips down to the prominent bulge tenting the skirt of his dress.

“Hmmm. I was afraid of this,” she mutters, sharply gesturing for Paul to leave the stall with the donkey. “It is clear, ma’am, that you are unable to control your perverted lusts, and may well lose your virginity before a proper suitor can be found. Luckily, I have prepared a remedy for that.”

As if on cue, there’s a faint knocking at the wall of the barn beside the entrance, and Tiffany pokes her head inside. Her eyes first go to Paul in concern, then at Philomena, her head turning to look into Charlie’s stall, before finally settling on the faun housekeeper.

“Ummm… Mrs Doherty? The Baron said you wanted to see me down here…” she says, this situation hardly being what she expected for the first time the three of them would be together since arriving. “Did you need something from me?”

“Indeed I do, Miss Fournier,” Mrs Doherty replies with a polite smile, respectfully treating the Baron’s pregnant guest better than either the Princess or the Pet. “Baron Squirham informed me of your rather unique abilities, and I thought that you could assist in Princess Polly’s training. Ma’am, if you could stand here…”

She gestures at Paul, who does as he’s told, moving to stand against the low wall separating the hall of the barn from Charlie’s stall. With the Stray Mutt apparently satisfied, Charlie stands up again, gesturing at Philomena indignantly.

“What’s going on? Th-this isn’t fair! It was Philomena who-“

“Chili, shush,” Philomena orders, and Chili obediently shushes, only dog-like whines coming from her mouth as she looks between Paul and the others. At the same time, Mrs Doherty had motioned for Tiffany to kneel down beside the Princess, who complied after a slight nod from Paul. This is, after all, still training for him, and they’ve come too far to mess things up now.

Once everybody is in position, Mrs Doherty smiles a tight-lipped smile, then looks at Paul again.

“Now, Princess…” she says, calm and collected. “You are to remove your dress.”

Paul accesses his inventory, and does as he’s told, despite the vast disparity in rank between him and Mrs Doherty. The red fabric falls away into the ether, allowing his hefty teats to drop down, unsupported by the mesh bodysuit that was part of his outfit. His nipples jut out proudly from his puffy areolae, the rear of the bodysuit swallowed by his bodacious rump, while in front…

“Just as I thought,” Mrs Doherty says, looking at the erection twitching in the air, exposed to everybody. A beam of golden sunlight illuminates the thin, watery precum dribbling from his uncut tip – diminished from Paul’s original size, though it’s still over four inches long. “Far too large for you, ma’am. Now Tiffany, if you wouldn’t mind…? Hands only, of course.”

“Ah… T-Tiffany?” Paul questions, looking down at his friend, who narrows her eyes. It’s clear that Tiffany isn’t going to do something just because Mrs Doherty told her to, unlike the well-trained Paul and Charlie. The latter of whom is practically panting as she leans over the gate, scolded into silence by a simple command from Philomena. Her tongue hangs out as she plaintively whines, while the Stray Mutt seems to have been woken up by the commotion, and humps her excitedly.

But Paul knows that this lesson is expected of him. It’s another part of his Princess Class Training quest, and one that he can’t resist. He might’ve been able to push against it when they initially arrived at Squirham Hall, but Paul has had plenty of practice giving in to Mrs Doherty’s orders by now. So, though his gut churns in embarrassment and apprehension, he nods at Tiffany.

“P-please… mmmn… shrink my… my c-cock,” he requests, and Tiffany warily lifts her hand to give the Princess’ throbbing penis a squeeze. After a long, sloppy make out session with a donkey’s waste-chute, it takes only the slightest of squeezes for Paul’s cock to twitch, spewing out a milky splash of cum onto the dirt floor of the barn. With it, a familiar debuff pops up in a status window, making it clear that Paul’s masculinity has been drained again.

“Ahhhn~!” he moans, breathy and feminine, as almost an inch melts away from Paul’s length, better suiting his soft, feminine form – although the temporary loss of Suave doesn’t seem to have affected his new ‘assets’. They both know that it can come back, as the debuff only lasts half a day, but it’s still abjectly humiliating to jizz away his manhood while Charlie and Tiffany watch.

“Again,” Mrs Doherty commands, to a stifled giggle from Philomena – who had promised to ‘do something’ about Paul’s prick, all the way back on the first night they were here. Still breathing heavily, Paul doesn’t resist when Tiffany’s fingers bring him to hardness a second time, wanking his foreskin up and down his sensitive glans.

Even though he’d already came once, it only takes a couple of minutes for Tiffany’s expert schlicking to coax another orgasm from Paul’s prick, stealing another inch to splash uselessly on the floor. At this point, it’s hard to call his manhood a cock anymore – something more like a dicklet is more apt.

“Again,” Mrs Doherty urges, steel in her voice, still not content with Paul’s emasculated genitals. A muffled gasp comes from Paul’s throat, but he doesn’t protest as Tiffany continues to rub his little stiffy, only needing thumb and forefinger to properly masturbate it. He’s even having trouble getting fully hard, his balls smooth and soft as they draw closer to his crotch, but Tiffany’s skills are up to the task.

Finally, increasing the Masculinity Drained debuff to the third level, Paul squeals as one more orgasm shudders through his body. You can barely even tell that his clitty came, crystal clear cummies not even shooting out, just oozing out over Tiffany’s fingers. She pulls away, looking up at Mrs Doherty for confirmation, who thankfully nods in satisfaction.

This time, to Paul’s great relief, there wasn’t a Permanent diminishing of his penis size, like all that time ago in the bandit cage. Mrs Doherty has taught a lesson on how to behave himself, and the ordeal is over. Closing his eyes, Paul focuses on steadying his breathing, and trying not to think about how Charlie might be looking at him. All he needs to do is put his dress back on, and…

click!

“Huh…?” he asks, as the sensation of cold metal presses down on his crotch. Looking down, he realises that Mrs Doherty has dropped down to inspect him… and had equipped something to him. A golden ring squeezes the base of his prick, connected by thin glass bars to a flat plate that squishes his puny length even further, decorated by five tiny rubies around the rim.

A chastity cage.

“There,” Mrs Doherty says, finally satisfied, lifting one of Paul’s shrunken testicles with her index finger. “I’m sure this will help you to protect your maidenhood, Princess Polly, as well as lend a much more flattering figure under a dress. In addition, it will help provide further training once you’ve left Squirham Hall, if you ever wish to remove it.”

Rendered speechless, Paul can only look down at the item description that pops up above the cage – aptly named the Princess Promise.

If Paul is going to want to remove it, which he obviously does, it seems that he’ll need to fulfil all five ‘Pledge’ conditions. The first of which, the only one visible right now, would mean not being a ‘he’ at all anymore… and Paul’s breath quickens. The Limpotent debuff that the cage applies only adds to his humiliation, but his defences are starting to crumble.

He’s looking down at himself, at his caged dicklet and hefty, natural tits, coming down from the shameful orgasms that squirted away his manhood. And Paul realises that the temporary diminishing is not temporary anymore, not now that there’s a sturdy metal cage locked tight around his puny, flaccid length. Which means even back in reality, he’s not going to be able to enjoy his first time with Charlie – and one of the rubies flickers to light with a soft red glow, as Polly realises that she is going to have to get used to this, which fulfils the conditions of Pledge I.

Princess Polly can only hope that the remaining four pledges aren’t as destructive to her self-image…

Meanwhile, in the apartment that Charlie and Paul share with Kenta, their roommate has recently arrived home from work. He takes a rare shower, washing away the lingering scent of burger grease and exhaust fumes, then feeds Louie a bowl of kibble. He looks at the two people lying beside each other in bed, practically holding hands as the Immersion Helms illuminate their faces with bright DO NO REMOVE! notices. Not that he’d ever do that, right?

Right.

Kenta’s tried virtual reality in the past, at one of the pay-per-hour internet cafes, but wasn’t a huge fan of the concept. It just felt like retreating from the world even further than he already does, and his laptop is more than enough for him. Or, at least, it was. Because now this technology is bringing the fantasies to him, out in real life, softening the bite of Charlie’s usual acerbic personality, and…

Softening Paul in plenty of different ways, which Kenta can’t help but notice, distracting him from the sanitised sluts on his laptop screen. This is a real woman, one with curves and personality, that eats food and sweats and wears skimpy clothes and does all manner of things that you don’t see in a porn film. Well, not the sort that Kenta settles for.

Ever since that pretty brunette at the burger van practically begged to let her suck him off, a sensation quite unlike his own hand or a cheap Onahole, Kenta has been re-evaluating what he wants out of life. And right now, after several hot, humid days of the redheaded cocktease jiggling about in tiny outfits, and the bluest balls that he’s had in years, all that Kenta wants is to wrap Paul’s soft, fat titties around his cock and jizz all over their face.

Paul obviously won’t agree to that, and Charlie would tear him a new one for even suggesting it, but Kenta is willing to compromise. He’ll settle for jizzing all over the visor of her Immersion Helm instead.

Once he came to that decision, a totally fair one in his mind, Kenta is swift to act. Stepping into the off-limits enclosure that includes Charlie’s bed and desk, one he’d been sneaking into for a few gropes and squeezes, Kenta heaves himself up onto the mattress and straddles Paul’s chest. Paul. Polly? That’s what he’d introduced himself as a while back. And even if he’s still got a prick… Kenta’s a worldly man. He’s seen plenty of women with pricks, and Polly’s looks even smaller than usual.

So, having decided that he now has two female roommates, Kenta grabs a handful of titflesh in one hand, while the other fumbles to pull her skimpy tank top down. Once her tits are out, he discovers that his hardening cock fits perfectly between them, cushioned and warm as if they were designed for it. He can hardly be blamed for using things for their intended purpose, right?

Right.

Squeezing them closer together, it’s uncomfortable at first, until enough of his precum leaks out to lubricate his way. Something to remember for next time. From then on, groping one of Polly’s tits in each hand, he starts to thrust between them eagerly. It’s absolutely heavenly, Kenta’s thumbs playing with her puffy nipples, and all right beside that irritable ‘girlfriend’ of hers. Charlie’s much less appealing to Kenta’s new lust for reality, but Louie seems interested, so he’s not about to judge his friend’s interests.

Instead, he focuses on the gorgeous girl in front of him. Years of frequent, death-grip masturbation means that Kenta’s stamina is more than you would expect from a bulky, antisocial virgin, so he spends a good long while treating Polly as his personal wank-toy. But finally, his heavy nutsack churning with a chunky, backed-up load, Kenta finishes. Her sleeping face is gorgeous inside the helm, freckled nose and delightfully plump lips practically inviting him to jerk off over, but for now he’s contented himself with splattering thick ropes of cum over the visor, and dribbling more down onto her collar to pool between her tits.

Breathing heavily as he recovers, Kenta already knows that this won’t be enough for him. It was one of the best orgasms he’s ever had – and he can tell that there’s still plenty more he can get out of this life. Mostly out of Polly, if he’s being honest with himself, but he can take his time working up to something more substantial. Nodding in satisfaction, he climbs off Polly and heads through to his own bed, not even bothering to clean his cooling load off her chest. After all, what he just did to her was essentially a compliment, right?

Right.

Chapter Text

Polly feels a little odd when she wakes up the next morning, heavy Immersion Helm darkening reality for another few moments – but that’s part of the issue. Because even back here in the real world, Polly knows that she’s a she, all the way deep inside her mind. It’s scary how much the game can change about her, and even her breasts feel more present in her mind, like…

Like they’re out. Sitting up with an unsupported jiggle, Polly pulls the Immersion Helm off, allowing her long ginger hair to flow down her shoulders, and brush against her bare teats. Rubbing the back of her head in confusion, she looks around at the apartment, same as it was when she descended into virtual reality.

But when she glances down, she sees that her tank top has been pulled down, underneath her heavy breasts… which have themselves been graced with several ropes of thick, pungent jizz. It’s unmistakeably semen, cold and congealed against her smooth, freckled skin – and as Polly’s gaze tracks lower, she can tell that it most certainly isn’t from her.

“Huhhn…? N-no… nonono, please…” she mutters, setting the Immersion Helm down (which also has a string of cum across the visor), to cradle her much diminished pricklet in one hand. Even if a golden cage can’t magically manifest in real life, the Limpotent debuff certainly seems to be in effect. Small and entirely flaccid, without even the slightest pleasure when she experimentally rubs it, Polly can’t help but admit that her dick – if she can even call it that – has become useless.

“Mornin’, Polly,” says a voice, causing her to squeal in surprise, looking up to see Kenta standing beside the partition between her and Charlie’s bed and the rest of the apartment. “You gotta real nice set o’ tits now, eh?”

Polly is momentarily lost for words, instinctively glancing to her side, to see that Charlie… is still asleep. The simulation is finished, so she could take her girlfriend’s Immersion Helm off and wake her up, but she often sleeps a little later. And besides, it would be rude to ignore Kenta, even if his comment was so crass.

“Umm~… y-yeah?” she manages, shuffling to slide her feet over the edge of the bed, while trying to cover herself. “I… I im-imagine it was you that, um… did…”

She gestures vaguely at the mess left on her chest, while her eyes flick down to the half-hard cock jutting out from under Kenta’s usual oversized t-shirt. Charlie had recommended that Polly keep on acting as normal around the apartment, but she didn’t expect their roommate to have the balls to do this. Well, physically he does. Heavy, hairy nuts, each one larger than Polly’s entire package and churning with thick, virile seed, a stark contrast to Polly’s pathetically sterile little balls.

“Yup,” Kenta replies, completely neutrally, as if Polly had asked if he’d finished the milk. He watches as she gets to her feet, quite a lot shorter than him now, awkwardly stepping towards the bathroom to clean up. Polly knows that Charlie would be so mad if she knew about this, but her Princess instincts are just telling her to sweep it under the rug and pretend it never happened.

Unfortunately, Kenta’s got more to say.

“Ain’tcha gonna thank me?”

Polly freezes, standing between Kenta and the wall, initially in confusion. But then her brain catches up, and she realises that the hefty slob is being serious, while her plush lips gape dumbly. She blinks up at him, and he keeps on talking, gesturing down at her cum-glazed mammaries.

“I mean, i’ssa compliment, right?” he says, totally deadpan. “That I thought yer titties were so nice, I used ‘em to jerk off with.”

He didn’t just rub himself off while looking at her, as Polly initially assumed – Kenta actually wrapped his cock between her jugs, squeezing them together to make a soft, warm titpussy. It’s violating and disgusting, but when Polly opens her mouth to tell Kenta exactly what she thinks, Philomena’s training rears its head again.

“Th… thank you, Kenta…” she manages, barely able to meet his smug gaze with her own.

“For…?” he prompts, leaning forwards to rest a hand on the wall above her shoulder.

“For… mmmn… for f-fucking my bosom, and…” Polly falters, but Kenta gestures for her to keep talking. “And e-ejaculating all over me with your… your semen.”

Kenta nods in satisfaction, and Polly breathes a sigh of relief – this humiliation certainly isn’t going to help her relationship with her roommate, especially if he actually believes her, but it could’ve been a lot worse.

“Now you just gotta clean it up, so’s I know it ain’t going to waste,” he says, and Polly is confused all over again. “I mean, it’s polite to eat somethin’ you been given, ain’t it?”

Her breath catches in her throat, but Polly’s hand is already lifting up to her chest, steady and dignified. Kenta’s words, deliberately or not, keep pushing the exact buttons that Mrs Doherty and Philomena spent the last couple of weeks drilling into her malleable mind. And even if she’s still herself… Polly finds herself unable to stop her hand from scooping up a glob of the cold jizz from her chest.

“Y-yesh…” she mutters, then brings that hand up to her mouth, and licks up the cum. It’s still a little warm from her skin, but salty and bitter, a flavour that she’d never expected to experience. Almost as bad as the donkey’s arsehole, but even worse because it’s real, the carelessly expended seed of a man sticks to the back of her throat as she swallows…

Then scrapes up another handful, while Kenta leans in even closer with an arrogant smile. He doesn’t even hesitate to give one of Polly’s exposed tits a squeeze, rubbing her nipple with his thumb while she slurps up his old ejaculate, as if it were a gift.

“Ahhhn~… f-fank you…” Polly mutters, after finally wiping the last from her body with one finger, and licking it clean. Her obligations fulfilled, she ducks away from Kenta and towards the bathroom, wanting to wash herself properly, and get rid of the lingering taste from her tongue.

“Well, now I know ya like it so much,” Kenta mutters while she leaves, idly stroking his half-hard cock. “Maybe I’ll feed it to ya fresh next time…”

The development of the virtual Gobbo Eggs inside Tiffany’s womb has continued rapidly – enough that, only a few days after her meeting with Polly and Charlie in the barn, she’s become entirely unable to go to work in the real world. Not that she really minds; working at Burger Tits was humiliating and strenuous, even before people started ogling her growing belly as well as her tits.

But when the tiny shorts stopped fitting, and it became impossible to even bend over the counter to hand someone their food, Tiffany was forced to stay at home. Which also means, without a job bringing in credits…

“Mister Gibson?” Tiffany hesitantly calls out, knocking on the door to his bedroom. Reggie is out of the house, and her ‘stepdad’ is in, which means it’s time to pay up on the agreement she made. “I’m, uh… r-ready, I guess.”

Trading blowjobs for a rent discount is one thing, but Tiffany is only a couple days away from getting to swap places with Fanny, once she’s given birth in game. But she doesn’t want to get kicked out before then, and lose access to the Immersion Helm, so… needs must. The door slides open to show Eustace lying on his bed, completely naked, with a small bottle of oil in one hand, and his half-hard prick in the other.

“Heh… c’mere, ya dumb slut,” he calls out, beckoning for Tiffany to approach. A girl who, as far as he knows, is his son’s pregnant, teenaged girlfriend. And the reality isn’t much better, seeing as Tiffany is his girlfriend’s son. “I’ve always had a thing for knocked up girls… just a shame I couldn’t do it myself! Hah!”

Gritting her teeth, Tiffany doesn’t contradict him. She’d already explained that Reggie didn’t do it to her, that it’s simply an inconvenient holdover from the virtual reality game she’s playing, but Mister Gibson didn’t seem to care. All he cares about is that it’s keeping Tiffany from working, and how he can use that to essentially blackmail her into his bed.

“Just… just one more day, Tiff…” she mutters to herself, swaying as she steps closer. “You can do it…”

Despite no actual children being present inside of her, Tiffany’s hips still ache from the weight, ankles swelling and breasts tender, even if the changes haven’t been quite as drastic as a real pregnancy. At least, Tiffany hopes to never find out what that’s really like. Still, she manages to lever herself up onto the bed, where Eustace lands an irreverent slap onto her gravid belly.

“Now the oil! Y’know what I asked for, honey,” Eustace says, handing her the small spray bottle. “An’ would it hurt to call me Daddy…?”

Tiffany grimaces at the disrespect, shaking her head vehemently. Sex is one thing, but to call him that… strangely, her mind wanders to Baron Squirham. He’s been much more understanding and respectful of her, not to mention hotter – not that Tiffany is attracted to men, or anything! The Baron just makes her breathing quicken and her cheeks flush, while her pussy moistens and aches whenever she’s on her knees sucking his dick, or even just being in the same room as him…

“Chop chop, slut! Or do ya wanna be out walkin’ the street for creds?” Eustace barks, interrupting her confusing daydream about a man who she totally isn’t crushing on. So, Tiffany rolls her eyes and sprays the glistening oil onto her round belly, which Eustace ‘helps’ to rub into her skin. The morphic resonance projector in the Immersion Helm should prevent any stretchmarks, unless she also gains them in-game, but a massage still feels kinda nice.

And all the while, Eustace’s thick, uncut cock rubs against her, the oil lubricating it as he hardens. But all too soon, it’s time for the main event, and Mister Gibson leans forwards to slide his hands underneath Tiffany’s belly, helping lift her up so that he can shimmy underneath, then let her go to…

“Mmmmf~!” Tiffany moans, her increased body mass slamming him right in to the hilt in one slick thrust. Despite being on top again, this feels entirely unlike her time with Honcho the Gobbo Scrub – that time, she was in control, easily able to stop whenever she wanted, and doing it for her own purposes. But this time, Eustace is calling the shots, shifting his hips to grind in and out of her sensitive hole.

It doesn’t help that being full of Gobbo Eggs has made it pretty damn hard to masturbate, so she’s pent up with inappropriate desire. Steadying her wobbling belly, Tiffany squirts more thick globs of oil onto her skin, all while trying to imagine that it’s anybody else beneath her. Not a goblin, impetuously knocking her up despite contraceptive magic. Not her stepbrother, fucking her while she’s asleep in the game. And certainly not Eustace, who clearly doesn’t care about her as a person, only enjoying the fact that he’s fucking a pregnant teenager.

Maybe… purely out of all the options available to her… Baron Squirham wouldn’t be so bad? Another slap on her shining belly brings Tiffany back to the present with a start, as she squeezes her cunt around Eustace’s cock, moving against him to milk a load of cum into her knocked-up pussy. That, thankfully, is a contraceptive that can’t not work. Which means when he finally releases a wordless groan, and ropes of thick, middle-aged jizz splash against her sealed cervix, Tiffany is glad that she won’t be getting a real baby.

“So… nnngh~…” Eustace grunts, rubbing Tiffany’s belly while his spent shaft starts to soften – although Tiffany’s pretty sure he’ll want a second round, she’s still glad that she won’t have to deal with him for much longer. “If this belly came from that stupid game o’ yours, what even put them in ya? Another player, or do white girls like you jus’ play so they can fuck dogs?”

“Ugh…” Tiffany grumbles at the mean stereotype, deciding not to tell him that the member of their party that copulates with dogs is actually Black. “If you must know, it was a-“

“-dumb, filthy, stupid gobbo!” she shouts, her legs spread and muscles pushing as another slimy Gobbo Egg starts to pry apart her prolapsed cervix. The father himself is kneeling beside her, somehow perfectly aware of when her body would finally decide that the incubation period is done, showing up at her window just as her water broke.

Tiffany had opened the window to give the diminutive greenskin a few choice words, only for her to be cut off by the start of the cramps. And just like how quickly the eggs developed, they seem to want to be birthed pretty quickly as well. Which is how she found herself lying on the floor of her quarters, grunting and gasping as she finally rids herself of the gross things that have spent the last week or so bloating her womb.

“Wiiiiha…” Honcho mutters surprisingly softly, his hand stroking Tiffany’s gravid belly despite the stream of insults hurled at him. “Yuso muchi eckersala granaka!”

It sounds like praise, but Tiffany doesn’t care to hear it, pushing at unfamiliar muscles to squeeze a soft, ribbed cylinder from her lower hole. There’s thankfully not all that much pain, even if the feeling of her cervix being pushed from her hole like a tube of toothpaste is hardly pleasant, the reverse penetration shamefully…

Pleasurable.

Not that Tiffany would admit it to the trio of Gobbos surrounding her, Honcho right beside her head, while Lankso and Fatso watch excitedly from the edge of the room. Her gasps and moans of discomfort are occasionally tempered by a jolt of arousal, the lumpy eggs scraping out of her cunt in just the right way, only to plop wetly onto the stone floor.

Almost halfway through the mass of Gobbo precursors, there’s an abrupt gasp from the others. They seemed fairly pleased by the second egg she’d laid, a sickly green colour distinct from the off-grey that the others were, but this one…

“Yahaha! Granaka-bubosa! Yuso maka pre-pre ganjingas!” Honcho calls out, directing Tiffany’s attention down to the next egg emerging from between her legs. The same shape as the others, perhaps a little larger, but the colour is… it’s golden. And not just a darkish-yellow – it literally sparkles in the morning sunlight. A status window pops into view above it, before it’s even fully exited Tiffany’s snatch, identifying it as a Legendary Gobbo Egg. No doubt enhanced by the effects of the unicorn’s semen, it’s obvious how excited Honcho is about the rare drop.

Pressing his hand down more firmly, Honcho ‘helps’ Tiffany lay the fascinating egg, something about it affecting her more. Each bump slides against her clit, the slime surrounding it tingling against her soft tissue, until with an undignified grunt, Tiffany reaches a climax – and the golden Gobbo egg plops out into Honcho’s palm, swiftly followed by the final three eggs sliding out of her stretched-out womb and onto the floor.

Slumping backwards, the weight inside of her finally released, Tiffany breathes out heavily. Now that her ‘pregnancy’ has been resolved in the game, she should return to normal in real life, allowing her and Fanny to swap places. Which is obviously the best course of action for Tiffany to take, living in the lap of luxury while working to return to her old life – but she can’t help but worry a little about Fanny. Reggie and Eustace are hardly the nicest people, and the way that her stepdad spoke to her earlier…

“HNNGH~!” Tiffany grunts, interrupted by the feeling of knobbly green fingers pressing against her stretched, oozing pussy – then shoving the prolapsed organ back inside of her with a careless squelch. She’s intimately thankful that Total Immersion II doesn’t simulate serious injuries without loss of health, as her uterus settles comfortably back into place, ready for-

Well, not ready for anything. She’s certainly not planning on allowing any of these greenskinned cretins to screw her again, especially when the contraceptive charm didn’t seem to work on their perverted, magical biology. Speaking of which, sitting up to look down at the Gobbos, she notices that Honcho is offering one of the eggs to her.

It’s one of the Uncommon ones, green and ribbed, covered in syrupy slime with what seems to be some kind of puckered opening at one end. Reluctantly taking it from the insistent Gobbo, Tiffany takes the chance to properly read the status window, now that she’s not busy plopping out more of the gross things. The description at the top is pretty nasty, putting a hand to her mouth while she keeps reading with morbid curiosity.

“Un… fertilized…?” she mutters, looking at its ‘Status’, then up at Honcho. He’s gripping the golden Gobbo Egg proudly, alongside a Common grey one, while the other two Gobbos have helped themselves to a couple as well. “Then does that mean you, um… you still need to use it?”

“Yackana-nagha! Miso nono granaka miso agganga?!” Honcho replies in clear disgust – but beside him, Fatso and Lankso are very much interested in their strange, gooey… sleeve like objects, pressing around the edges with their fingers. Is this some weird interaction with how Gobbos maintain genetic diversity? Impregnate a woman from another race, forcing her to lay eggs, which then need a third genetic donor from a different Gobbo – or even from another species, sapient or not.

It’s still warm from her body heat, with a rich, strangely compelling aroma around it, but Tiffany finds it easy enough to ignore. At the same time, Honcho seems to be waiting for her to do something. Looking at him with confusion clear on her face, the Gobbo then opens his mouth and gestures towards it, like he’s suggesting that she eat the damn thing. Even if the tooltip calls it a ‘delicacy’, like some kind of placenta, there’s no way that’s happening.

“Um… n-no, I’m not going to…” Tiffany says weakly, hardly believing it, but Honcho doesn’t want to take no for an answer. Thankfully, she manages to gesture and add it to her inventory, disappearing the Gobbo Egg, which seems to satisfy Honcho. And just like that, her birthing spectacle seems to be over, and the trio of Gobbos happily leave the way they came, with two eggs each, disappearing back into the forest and leaving their granaka alone.

For now, at least. Because Tiffany has a feeling that she’ll be seeing them again…

Blinking slowly awake, curled up next to the Stray Mutt in a pile of hay, Charlie is pretty used to her place in the game by now. Irritatingly so. She still knows that she’s a person, no matter what Rufus keeps saying, but it’s getting more and more difficult to resist both his training and the dumb dog’s desires. So, when it stirs as well, lifting his leg with a soft huff, Charlie swallows heavily.

She grits her teeth…

She squeezes her fists…

She closes her eyes…

And then reluctantly leans in to the Stray Mutt’s crotch, wrapping her lips around the pointed redness emerging from his hairy sheath. It’s a familiar action by now, her nose nestling close to his canine stink, which in turn elicits a deep, hot throb from her gut. Just below her gut, actually – the space above her dark, swollen puppy cunt, where the Stray Mutt’s knotted cock has found itself fitting more comfortably.

The exterior has stopped changing, even if the musky aroma has gotten worse, but Charlie knows deep down that it’s not a good thing when her insides tingle and ache with every load. But that’s not a problem if she satisfies the Stray Mutt in other ways, her tongue sliding forwards to coax his cock from the pouch, swirling inside and around the hardening shaft.

Charlie’s gotten very good at it now, a skill that she’d never want to admit to anyone, while she tells herself that it’s just to get this over and done with as quickly as possible. Bobbing her head up and down, squeezing the base of the Stray Mutt’s cock with one hand, while her lips press against the top of the dog’s swelling knot. That’s another thing she doesn’t want to think about, how the bulbous gland feels closer than ever to fitting inside of her, where it will do who knows what…

She doesn’t think about it, turning her mind off and focusing on the task at hand, until the Stray Mutt lets out a satisfied little whine, and a thin stream of hot, salty jizz spurts down Charlie’s throat. She swallows every drop of the faintly prickling cum, pooling around the ligaments to her tongue and settling in her stomach, even if the release doesn’t quell her own shameful arousal.

“Mornin’, Chili! Looks like you two are getting’ on just fine, eh?”

Pulling away with a surprised gasp, Charlie looks up to see Rufus grinning down at her from the stall door. She hadn’t heard him come in, but if that means he was here while she sucked the Stray Mutt off… not because she wanted to, or was doing it to show Devotion, but because the dog told her to, then…

“Sh-shit!” Charlie barks, looking at her Obedience track fill in with another sliver of yellow, one step closer to reaching Obedience Level 3 with a predominantly Submissive affinity. A mindlessly dutiful Pet, one that is beneath their Owner in every way, with who-knows-what effect to her actual mind. Becoming a Devoted Pet still isn’t great, but it should leave her with some autonomy.

“Eeeeyup,” Rufus says, apparently unsurprised by the status window. “Thought that might’a been the case.”

Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, not that it does much good to clean her off, Charlie glares up at the Animal Trainer that’s ‘helped’ her so much. Sure, he’s been good to his word about increasing her Obedience without allowing the Stray Mutt to take complete control… but he’s also continued modifying her behaviour, enough that using a regular toilet in the real world just feels wrong, instead of pissing against a fire hydrant.

Still, she can deal with it. Or at least, Charlie tells herself that she can deal with it, because she doesn’t have much choice in the matter. It’s the Obedience that is the main issue, and with her primary method of increasing her Devotion now scuppered…

“Don’tcha worry, Chili,” Rufus says with a smile, ignoring Charlie’s angry look. “I think we’re close enough now that we can do one last push ta Level 3. Plus, today’s that fancy party yer Princess friend’s going to!”

Charlie’s eyes widen – she’d not been keeping track of the days so well, but it is the end of the month! Which means Polly is about to go to that dumb Masquerade Ball to find a patron, after which she’ll be leaving… no, they will be leaving. All three of them! Even if Charlie’s on her hands and knees in the dirt, and Polly’s probably getting pampered and perfumed for the ball, they’re still together in this.

“Okay… ugh…” Charlie stammers, lowering her eyes. “Let’s hear it.”

It doesn’t take long for Rufus to explain his idea, but it takes even less time for Charlie to dismiss it. The idea itself is stupid, not to mention risky – sure, the Stray Mutt has been using her, but Charlie’s been careful not to give him any openings while Rufus is around. The Bronze Training Collar around her throat at least gives her that, preventing Obedience gain when Rufus isn’t present, even if it’s still blocking her from wearing non-Pet gear.

“Well… hmmm… the collar’ll fall off, once ya reach Obedience Level 3,” Rufus comments dryly. “An’ I s’pose, if ya wanted to put on some fancy clothes…”

And that’s what finally clinches it for Charlie. She might have been able to figure out some other way of raising her Devotion, but it likely would’ve been slow, taking her a couple days to reach the third level. By that time, the party will be over, and Polly… well, Charlie promised to support her, so she won’t allow her to attend on her own. Just the thought of all those slimy nobles drooling over her luscious curves, while Polly’s too damn polite to tell them to fuck off… Charlie can’t stand it.

So, she nods her head, and gets into position. On her hands and knees, with her rump in the air. A familiar position, but this time feels especially important.

“Hahhh~… o-okay, so… um…” she says, glancing up at Rufus while the Stray Mutt sniffs her behind. “Same as usual for… to start with…?”

“Yup. Then when it’s nearin’ the end…” Rufus says, and Charlie nods. She gets it. “You gotta mean it.”

It takes the barest wiggle of her butt to coax the Stray Mutt into jumping up, comfortably wrapping his paws around her hips in a way that he’s done dozens of times by now. Charlie never would’ve thought that getting screwed by a dog would feel normal – and it still doesn’t. Every time is almost as humiliating as the first, claws scraping her thighs and drool slobbering over the back of her neck. Then the dreaded moment where the Stray Mutt lines himself up, already raring to go after his morning blowie, and thrusts in.

“AHHHN~!” Charlie moans, each time reminding her of the night she lost her virginity to this animal’s cock. At least Polly isn’t here to watch this time, especially considering what she’ll need to do soon, but Rufus is a bad enough audience.

“Thaaaa’s a good li’l bitch,” he croons, apparently thinking that it might help, as Charlie tries to block him out. She focuses only on the heavy panting in one ear, the slap of hairy balls on her swollen spade, and the agonising jolt of pleasure as his bulbous shaft scrapes through the sensitive ring inside her hole. Any trace of a clitoris is long gone by now, at least gone to where Charlie can’t find it, but that doesn’t mean she can’t feel good.

Every thrust hits the perfect spots inside of her, a tunnel clamping down on the canine invader. Gross and muddy and stinky, but he OWNS Charlie – no, Chili – and her body knows it. Slick, wet and welcoming, hips grinding back against him without a thought from her, as the Stray Mutt gets into his rhythm. Pounding her down into the mud, her first orgasm already been and gone, squirting juices that only welcome him deeper.

But not the deepest parts. Those still haven’t been reached, as the Stray Mutt’s knot swells again, knocking for entrance. Ordinarily, Charlie would squeeze her muscles tight, or lodge a hand between their slapping skin, not wanting to take that step. But she knows now that she wasn’t ready… that she still isn’t ready. She’s going to have to be, though. Because this time, when his knot starts to squish against her discoloured cunt, Charlie relaxes.

“P-please… mmmf~…” she mutters, between pleasured gasps, unsure of entirely what she’s asking for. She leans further down, tilting her pelvis to give the Stray Mutt a better angle, but keeping Rufus’s advice in mind. What she says next, what she begs for, she has to mean. It’s dangerous, especially with her behaviours already so fragile and malleable, but the alternative is so much worse.

So, when the Stray Mutt speeds up, putting more force into his thrusts, Charlie keeps Polly in her mind. Paul, the guy she grew up with, giving up so much to stay with her in the game, the boy she’s loved all her life, and the girl she loves even now. Everything here is for them. For past Paul, present Polly, and whoever they become in the future, Charlie feels herself stretching, and she cries out-

“BREED ME~!”

schlop~

In that moment, not knowing if it’s even possible, she wants the filthy mongrel to pump her full of puppies. To conquer her eggs, for her Owner to force her to bear his litter. The knot finally pops into her canine spade, swelling further to lock it in place, as the pointed tip nudges into Charlie’s cervix, and floods her dubiously fertile womb with his virile, transformative jizz.

Charlie’s eyes roll back in her head, an orgasm more powerful than any she’s experienced before, tempered by shame and disgust with herself. Her mind is overwhelmed, unable to check any status windows or notice any changes to her mind – but she does, using the small amount of conscious thought she has available, feel the green and bronze training collar unlatch itself and fall from her throat.

“Tha’s a good girl, Chili,” Rufus says, after unlatching the gate and crouching down to pat her head. “Take it easy, till yer Owner’s knot goes down. Then, now yer trainin’s finished, I’m meant ta bring you up to see Mrs Doherty…”

It took Tiffany a couple of hours, most of which was spent in the bath, to feel comfortable again in her own skin. As much as she can call it ‘hers’, anyway. A deep cleanse to get rid of any lingering Gobbo Egg slime, and time to let her stretched pussy heal back to normal – one benefit of virtual reality that Realism Mode thankfully doesn’t do away with. Then once she’s done, a weight lifted from her shoulders (as well as her womb), Tiffany gets dressed in the black lace dress that Baron Squirham gave her.

Practically floating through the corridors of Squirham Hall, she spots Philomena bustling past her with a smile on her face, as well as several guardsmen working at something in a side room. Preparations for this evening’s Masquerade Ball, most likely – although Tiffany can’t see a carriage or anything, so momentarily wonders how they’ll get there. That’s not her problem though, so she continues up to that Baron’s office, and knocks on the door sharply.

“Um, Baron Squirham? N-Nate? It’s Tiffa-“ she starts to say, only to be surprised by the door flying open, and the tall, rugged man looking down at her with a wide smile. She’d been somewhat avoiding him recently, more than a little embarrassed of the condition that the Gobbo Scrub had left her in, even if the Baron seemed to understand.

“Miss Fournier! It’s good to see you, uh…” his eyes scan quickly down her body, lingering for a moment on Tiffany’s flat waist. “See you looking so well!”

Tiffany blushes slightly at the compliment, so much more comfortable hanging out with this man than she was with Eustace or Reggie, those perverts. It helps that he’s not really real, so she doesn’t have to worry about hurting the feelings of an actual person, even if he still reminds her of someone she saw recently. But she can’t quite put her finger on it, and doesn’t let it put her off.

“Th-thank you! So do you! Um…” she replies nervously, stepping past the Baron and into his office, allowing the man to close the door behind them. “Mrs Doherty said that you wanted to see me… to ask me something?”

This time, it’s Baron Squirham’s turn to blush, reaching up to rub the back of his neck as he walks over to the desk. Opening one of the drawers, he rummages through for a moment, before removing two slips of paper.

“Ah, y-yes, well… ahem…” he says, his eyes darting around. “I was just wondering if… well, seeing as both I and Princess Polly received invitations to tonight’s Masquerade Ball, ah…”

Tiffany can feel her heart thudding in her chest, her breath catching in her throat. She knows that there was something she likes about Baron Squirham, and he’s certainly been kind enough to help teach her how to use magic, and provide some Arcane Essence on occasion, but… it never occurred to her that he might like her as well.

“I wondered if you might like to accompany me, as… as my date?”

A few months ago, Taylor never would’ve expected to be interested in going to a fancy ball, much less with a man, but right now he can only feel excitement. Squealing happily, she practically jumps into Baron Squirham’s arms, wrapping her legs around his waist and bringing her mouth to him in a frantic kiss – which is thankfully reciprocated, as Baron Squirham turns to rest Tiffany’s butt on his desk.

“Mmmf… I, uahh…” the Baron gasps around smooches. “Assume this… mmmf… means you’ll go with me?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Tiffany says, pulling away with a smile on her face, as she finally starts to realise what just happened. A man asked her out on a date, and she didn’t just agree out of obligation… she wanted to go with him. Dealing with the Gobbos, Gibsons, and other men on her journey has so far been a simple necessity, whether keeping a roof over her head, or Anima in her reserves. Now, though, she’s wondering if she’s straight anymore… or, more accurately, if she’s still straight. Is that how it works?

Not that it matters right now, as she kisses Nate again, feeling a response in his pants which has her a little interested in going further… but as the Baron pulls her away, clearly reluctantly, she knows that’ll have to wait.

“Well, f-first, you’ll need to get ready. Mrs Doherty has some things looked out for you,” he says, breath warm against her face, as a shade of doubt creeps in. “And I’m still a Baron, which means we can’t… m-marry, or anything, ah…”

“Pfft, I don’t want anything like that,” Tiffany responds, rolling her eyes. “Just like I… well, can’t promise I won’t need to collect from… from other people?”

Baron Squirham smiles in relief, patting her on the head – he knows all about her Perks, and the ongoing quest to gather more High Quality Arcane Essence. They’ll take things as they come, but for now, they can enjoy each other’s company.

“Of course,” he says. “There might even be a powerful mage at the party, from what I’ve heard.”

It’s kind of him to think of her, but Tiffany doesn’t want to outright say that she’ll be sucking off other men – or animals – so for now, she just plants another quick peck on his lips, and excitedly heads out to get ready for the Masquerade Ball!

Standing in her bedchamber in Squirham Hall, the most luxurious living quarters she’s ever experienced, Polly almost feels sad to be leaving soon. But unfortunately, they can’t linger after the Masquerade Ball, not if they want to get to the game’s capital city as soon as possible. Charlie’s made the journey to King’s Ridge before, and while it’s not the same each time, there are certain story events they’ll need to overcome on the way.

“Hehe~… so, how are you feeling, m’lady?” asks Philomena, just as bratty as usual. “Looking forward to all the nobles ogling your fat jiggle-tits? Think you’ll let all of them give you a grope, or only the ones you want patronage from?”

Polly purses her lips together, and shoots her maid a glare, but doesn’t respond. Her training is deeply imprinted by now, but it’s starting not to bother her. When Philomena does it, at least. Glancing down, there’s a faint red glow from her caged crotch, indicative of the first Pledge that she’d completed. Four more to go, although the second one, which appeared a couple days ago…

Satisfying the ‘desires’ of peasants is not something that Polly is looking forward to. Still, if it means getting the damn thing off her cock, she’ll do it. Later.

Philomena’s teasing is cut off by the latch to Polly’s chambers clicking open, and Mrs Doherty entering with a stern look on her face. Raising an eyebrow at Philomena, the younger maid curtsies and scurries out into the corridor, leaving Polly alone with her. While nervous, she keeps her back straight and arms at her sides, despite the sheer red nightdress she’s wearing.

“Good,” Mrs Doherty says, high praise from her. “You still have a ways to go before you’re fit for royal court, but I believe that you won’t embarrass the Baron at tonight’s ball. Which means, Princess Polly, your training with me is complete.”

“Oh… oh! Th-thank you, Mrs Doherty!” Polly says, breathing a sigh of relief. No more lessons changing the way she talks or walk, and certainly no more from Philomena to try and change the way she thinks. All that’s left is to find an established noble house to grant patronage to her, at tonight’s ball, and she’ll be free to continue on her journey with Tiffany and Charlie!

Already, Polly is thinking of ways to apologise for Charlie for leaving her in that barn, how to make it up to her once they’re away from the strictures of Squirham Hall – or the lack of privacy in the real world. In fact, Polly is so engrossed in her thoughts that she didn’t entirely read the status window that appeared after her training was complete.

Because with it, came two more Princess Perks. And there’s no option not to accept them.

“Ahem… would you please make a decision, ma’am? I assume we’ll need to adjust your dress to fit…” Mrs Doherty says, bringing Polly back to the three choices in front of her. Princess Poise II, Princess Priorities II, and Princess Pliability I. It’s a lot of information in a brief time, but one of them is only at level one, so Polly jabs at it.

The next choice, apparently needing to be different, is between Poise and Priorities. Which one is which? Poise… that lowered her Might, Polly seems to remember, which wouldn’t be good for combat. And while the other lowers her Acuity, that’s not a statistic that the Princess class uses, so Polly begrudgingly taps it to raise to the second level.

“Mmmmf…” Polly grumbles, lifting a hand to cup one of her heavy, natural breasts as it starts to swell. “D-do I really need… ah~… this much Suave? I don’t really want to be dumber either.”

Her lips plump up at the same time, pouting outwards seductively, while the space between Polly’s ears tingles again. She knew that her Acuity had been drained last time, but now her Canny is decreasing as well, which feels… odd. Mental abilities aren’t meant to be able to affect your actual mind in Total Immersion II, but this version of the game has already screwed them over in other ways, and…

Ummm…

Is that, like, a problem? Polly’s not entirely sure, but Mrs Doherty is smiling at her, so she’s sure that it’s okay. As the changes slow to a halt, Polly’s breasts settle at an even larger size, drooping down from her chest in two teardrop shapes, with puffy nipples to match. Each one is nearing the size of her head, sure to draw attention, although… there is a part of her that didn’t change.

“Huh…” Polly muses, turning to look behind her. “My b-buttocks didn’t increase in size this time?”

“Ah, yes. Suave only increases your physical attributes towards an… ideal form,” Mrs Doherty explains. “For you, ma’am, it seems that the system has decided you’ll look best as a plush-lipped heifer. Of course, other effects can change your physical form or mental faculties still further.”

That’s four increases to her Suave so far, plus a bonus from her armour, reaching almost ten more stat points than when she started off as Paul. The Princess Perks seem powerful, even if they’re just redistributing without overall gain! Still, it means Polly’s also lost four entire points in Acuity, which is almost a quar-… no, a third of her original total? Hopefully, it won’t matter too much.

“Now!” Mrs Doherty says, clapping her hands together. “We still have much to do before the ball. Hair, makeup, deciding on dresses… I believe that Baron Squirham will be attending with your companion, Miss Fournier, and you’ll be taking one of the guardsmen as a chaperone, so-”

“W-wait!” Polly squeaks, barely managing to cut into the conversation. All that the housekeeper is saying is right, sure enough, but something is bothering her. Tiffany is coming with the Baron, which is nice, but Polly always thought… that if she was at a ball, then…

“What about Charlie?”

There’s a long moment of silence, and Mrs Doherty looks at Polly with an impassive expression, but Polly doesn’t crack. She grits her teeth, pushes down the impulse to apologise and go along with the flow of things. If she can’t help her friend now, then when can she?

“What about her, Princess Polly?” Mrs Doherty asks, her face impassive and neutral – although she put a strange emphasis on Polly’s rank.

“I…” Polly says, trailing off. Mrs Doherty is the manor’s housekeeper, sure enough, and the Baron usually does what she advises him to. But she doesn’t order him around. Because he outranks her. And as a Princess-

“I command you, to… to p-prepare her for the ball,” Polly intones, drawing back her shoulders, and looking up at Mrs Doherty. Despite their difference in height, Polly feels taller, the Scarlet Diadem on her head feeling lighter than it ever has. “Is that understood, Mrs Doherty?”

There’s another moment of silence, in which Polly half-expects to be laughed at, before Mrs Doherty relaxes, and a surprisingly genuine smile spread across her features.

“Of course, m’lady,” she says, dipping down into a lower curtsy than she’s ever done before. “That, if you don’t mind me saying, was the final lesson I could teach you. I will send Philomena to find a nice dress… no, I think that a lovely suit would work for your friend.”

Hearing an NPC refer to Charlie as her friend is another surprise, but a welcome one, even if she goes on to talk about how it’s normal for people to be friends with their pets. Even attending balls with them – dragons are remarkably intelligent, and can be tamed, while there are other companions that can take human form, so it’s not unheard of to enter with one on their arm.

The fact that Charlie is the Pet of a Stray Mutt just shows how devoted Polly is to her, in Mrs Doherty’s opinion, and no noble worth their title would think less of her because of it. So, it’s with a mounting excitement that Polly participates in getting ready for the ball, suddenly viewing all of it in the light of going with Charlie. And even if she’s still not entirely happy with being a Princess, well…

That’s no reason not to enjoy themselves when they can.

A few hours later, Princess Polly is finally ready for the ball. Styled, dressed, and instructed still further on proper etiquette, Polly’s heart is thumping as she descends the stairs of Squirham Hall towards the foyer, careful so as not to mess up her elaborate updo, or trip over her poofy red dress. And waiting for her…

“Daaaaamn, Pau… um, Polly! You look amazing!”

Charlie stands waiting for her.

A far cry from the muddy Pet that’d spent the last couple of weeks being mounted by a Stray Mutt in the barn, Charlie has been cleaned up quite marvellously. Her hair is short and waxed into a classic style, makeup adorns her face, and a rather smart waistcoat and tartan trouser combo flatters her body. A perfect, dapper gentleman, sending Polly’s heart all a-flutter – even Chili’s status window, showing that her reputation has been altered to Dog Fucker doesn’t faze her.

“Y-yeah!” Tiffany says, who is also there, drawing Polly away from staring at her girlfriend. “It really… ahem… suits you?”

Dressed in a black dress with a high slit up to the waist, Tiffany looks similarly gorgeous, showing off her legs in lacy black stockings and leather ankle boots, while Philomena bows deferentially behind them both. As they talk, a mote of green energy appears before the door, quickly spreading and enlarging into a swirling portal – with a status window popping up in front of it, identifying it as their method for travelling to Furthing Manor.

“Huh…” Polly says, pausing to look at the magical form of rapid transit. “Why don’t we just-“

“Use a portal to get to King’s Ridge?” Tiffany interrupts, a wry smile on her face. “Already asked, and you can’t do that until you get there naturally. As in, by walking.”

That would’ve been far too convenient and Total Immersion II is still a game, for all it’s affecting their real lives. While Polly and Charlie are simply happy to see each other again, in better circumstances this time, Baron Squirham emerges from one of the side rooms, after consulting with his guardsmen. There’s something tense about his smile, but he forces down any outward sign of stress, stepping up to casually slide an arm around Tiffany’s waist.

“Right then, are we all ready?” he asks, ignoring the excited looks that Charlie and Polly share while Tiffany blushes. “Excellent. Take your masks, then let’s make our way to the ball!”

Putting on their masks, with varying degrees of ornamentation, the four of them – two invitees, with a plus-one each – step through the swirling green portal… and appear, after a moment of gut-wrenching disorientation, in a small, wood-panelled entrance room. A grand chandelier hangs from the ceiling, with candelabra festooned with bright candles lighting the entire area, and a stained-glass window looking out onto green gardens that catch the afternoon sun.

There’s a muffled hubbub of chatter and string music coming through the doorway in front of them, as a liveried servant bows to welcome them to the manor. After a moment to recover from the teleportation, Charlie stands up straight and offers her arm to Princess Polly, who gratefully takes it.

“Well,” Charlie says, her smile soft and genuine, even as her free hand absently brushes against her belly. “Might I escort m’lady to the ball?”

“Hehe~!” Polly giggles, unable to keep a smile from her face either. “Of course, Charlie. There’s nobody else I’d rather attend with.”

Tiffany and Baron Squirham linger behind, not wanting to detract from Polly’s grand entrance, so the Princess and her escort approach the ballroom. The servant opens the doors, and a wash of sound comes over them both, although it quickly fades as they step through, drawing the attention of everybody in the room.

“Announcing the presence of Her Royal Highness, Princess Polly of the Scarlet Diadem!”

All eyes are on her, something that would’ve caused her to freeze not too long ago – but Mrs Doherty’s training kicks in, and she steps forwards, with Charlie a moment behind. She’s a little unsteady, but putting in the effort to keep up, especially important due to the size of Polly’s poofy dress.

Nobles of all description mill around. Old men with young women on their arms, old women with young men on their arms, as well as the inverse. Muscled women who wouldn’t look out of place on a battlefield, talking with delicate men that seem best suited for paperwork, all dressed in elaborate finery and complex masks, wearing their house colours proudly.

Polly is going to have to choose – and convince – one of these nobles to offer her patronage. That is, material and political support, all as part of developing her Princess class to a point that she can eventually abdicate it. Not that she’ll tell any of these NPCs that she plans on giving up the crown as soon as possible, so that she can return to normal, but it’s all a part of the game.

Stepping forwards, comfortable on her tall heels, Polly tries not to think about the golden disk compressing her penis into a tiny, impotent nub. It’s well-hidden under her dress, and besides, so long as she doesn’t choose a noble who only wants to marry her off to one of his sons… or himself… that shouldn’t make any difference. A servant approaches with a tray of drinks, with Polly and Charlie both graciously accept, while Baron Squirham is announced behind her to draw some of the attention away.

People go back to their conversations, although a few nobles seem intent on introducing themselves as soon as possible, so Polly mentally prepares herself for the incoming small-talk. Except, as she scans around the room from behind her twisting golden mask, she spots a group of three people… who are definitely not NPCs.

“What…?” she murmurs to herself, walking closer with Charlie still beside her. There’s a table at one side of the room, empty right now aside from a pair of candlesticks, in front of it is a tall, blonde man wearing ornate plate armour. Billowing cape, sword at his waist, and a smug grin on his unmasked face. Beside him, a blue-robed mage, and on the other, a dark-skinned woman in a gold-accented outfit of leather and lace.

The man’s status window pops up at Polly approaches.

“Well, well, well…” Prince Fabian says, apparently not caring how rude it is to show up armed, armoured, and without a mask. “Another royal! And here I thought this party was going to be all about me. Then again…”

He trails off, eyes tracking down to Polly’s rather prominent bust with an appraising smirk, then steps closer with a predatory gleam in his eyes. Charlie tenses, making to step in front of Polly, but the redheaded Princess squeezes her escort’s arm to calm her down. A real player is going to be more difficult to deal with than an NPC, but she can handle this.

She hopes. So long as this Prince Fabian is at least halfway decent.

“I have been looking for a new bedwarmer. Tell me, Princess Polly – are your lips as good at sucking cock as they look?”

Chapter Text

“Ugh~! I can’t believe I actually said that!”

Standing at Polly’s side, Charlie glares at Prince Fabian from across the crowded ballroom, all manner of fancy lords and ladies mingling and drinking. Several servants glide between the elaborate dresses and gilded tunics, refilling goblets and supply hors d’oeuvres – which are, admittedly, delicious.

“I mean, really?” Polly continues to mutter to herself. “He calls my lips good for b-blowjobs, and I apologise that I can’t try them out on him! Then… then say that I’ve only ever kissed arse?!”

“Mmmm… I think he took it as a joke, at least,” says Charlie, who knows that Polly was speaking all too literally. “So that’s a positive.”