by Alyson Belle
SLIPPING IN
The Virtnet Chronicles (Book 1)
by
Alyson Belle
Copyright © 2017 Alyson Belle
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
All characters in this book are over the age of 18 (18+ only). All characters, locations, and situations are entirely fictional representations and any resemblance to real world scenarios are entirely coincidental.
You can see more of Alyson Belle’s work, get in touch, and follow her blog on AlysonBelle.com.
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Table of Contents
Disclaimer
Slipping In (The Virtnet Chronicles, #1)
Beginning
Beseeching
Trespassing
Caught
Anticipation
Sexy Times
About the Author
An excerpt from Slipping In:
Mike’s hand hovered over the screen. He suddenly had the disorienting sensation of feeling aroused in an avatar with no physical way to express it. Well, there was an easy way to fix that. He tapped.
He gasped. His arousal collided with a flood of unfamiliar sensations, washing away conscious thought in a torrent of sexy feelings. It was too much, too much. His pussy (his pussy?) gushed suddenly, flooding him with erotic sensation and driving him to his knees, but there was more padding on his ass than he was used to. The sensation of it smacking against his shins drove him forward onto his hands and knees with a moan. His breasts (his breasts?) bounced forward and fell out of the filmy cotton shift, nipples frozen into razor sharp points as they grazed the edge of the fabric in their frenzied tumble to freedom. He sucked in a tight breath and bit his lip as they escaped. His long, chestnut hair ran everywhere... hanging over his face, cascading down his back, tickling his shoulders. There was a yearning, pulling, gaping need that seemed to center right between his legs. He slammed his thighs together, straining vainly against it, trying to contain it, but he couldn’t close it in. He could feel the gap of air between his tightly pressed legs and the soft, downy hair that ran in a small strip over his pussy. He was dying to fill it with something, anything. Anything.
He blew some hair out of his face and rolled onto his back, panting. He couldn’t stop touching his breasts, his abs, his thighs, hands running over the silky skin that electrified him with sensation at every touch. His fingers soon found their way down to his lips, the sweet, downy lips of his tight little cunt. But then he held himself back, barely. He had to get a grip! He forced his hands to his sides in a sudden burst of will, his legs to the floor, his heaving bust to be still. He took long, even breaths. He stared at the ceiling. It was torture to keep his hips from writhing. His pussy was slick and wet, throbbing for attention. He hadn’t even left the lobby yet.
Apparently this was what happened when years of fantasies of being in such a hot body collided with the actuality of stepping into the flesh. He blinked, clearing his eyes. He was still a little dazed. He still wanted to get fucked. Or that’s what the avatar was telling his mind that his arousal meant, anyway. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to get fucked or not. He did. Didn’t he? This was all very confusing. He felt his cheeks get hot when he realized what he was thinking. He threw a sidelong glance at the virtbod selection wall, hardened into a mirrored silver sheen now that he’d made a choice, and saw a half-naked supermodel sprawled on her back, meeting him with a disoriented, wide-eyed gaze. Her mouth hung open in a perfect little O-shape. Her cheeks (his cheeks?) bloomed with an ever-deepening blush as he realized the wanton girl whose image he was lusting after was himself.
What exactly had Mike gotten himself into?
Beginning
Mike undocked and pulled the plug from the tiny virtjack behind his ear. His bedroom swam back into focus as his eyes readjusted to being used after hours of inactivity. Had he left the lights on, or had his dad checked in on him? Didn’t matter now. Bookshelves, a computer desk, and the low boxspring base that held his bed fought for dominance in his mind with the reality of the steamy jungle he’d been crawling through moments before. His t-shirt and boxers both clung to him, damp and unpleasant, soaked through with sweat. They said that eventually you stopped sweating as your body adjusted to being in the virtnet, but for now there were still a few physical side effects. He made a face and leaned forward to set the plug back on the holding stand.
For a moment all he could do was sit back in wonder. What a match! VR was such a trip, and even after dozens of sessions he could still hardly believe it. It really felt like he was there, in a real place, in a different body. His brain certainly thought he was. He could still smell the oily steel and gunpowder of the machine guns, feel the wet splash of the waist-high marsh, the warmth of the explosions, and the rippling chest and biceps of his virtbod. Man, oh man... if the combat sims felt that real, he could only imagine what the sex programs were like.
It was too bad he couldn’t take one of the jungle girl bodies for a ride, though... the rippling chest and biceps were neat, but somehow felt sort of wrong, too. He wondered what their smooth skin and skimpy bikinis might feel like in that jungle heat, and—he shook his head. Silly thoughts. He knew he couldn’t. His dad would kill him, and as long as he was stuck living at home with his parents, he’d have to live by their rules.
What time was it? Mike groped around on the floor for his phone. Just after nine in the evening. No messages. He could hear his parents downstairs watching television. They’d be going to bed soon. He should get ready for bed too, or at least pretend to until he was sure it was safe to jack back in without getting into trouble.
He sighed and stood up, still thinking about the jungle girls. Why was life so unfair? Everything was so much easier for girls, so much better. They didn’t have to worry about fights, or being tough, and they could have sex whenever they wanted it. Just look at Christy Parker, for example. She could snap her fingers and have any guy in school. He tried to imagine what it might feel like to press himself against her yielding body, to kiss her full lips. Just thinking about her soft, creamy thighs poking out of her too-short cheer-leading skirt made his cheeks flush, and he had to make a quick adjustment in his boxers to avoid poking out like a sideways tent as he hurried through the hallway and slipped into the bathroom.
He frowned at the slender, boyish figure in the mirror. Instead he was stuck with this. Arms like a girl. Short for his age. Eighteen years old and he didn’t even have any facial hair. His dad did, a big blonde burly mess of a beard, but Mike had gotten a few too many of his grandma’s Korean genes, apparently. Stupid body. Stupid life.
He brushed his teeth and ran his fingers through a mop of messy, black hair, another gift from his mother. He slicked it back with some water, trying to make it look shorter than it was. Mike would’ve just as soon let it grow long, but his father would never stand for that in this house. “Men have short hair,” he’d said sternly, the one time Mike had suggested it. “What... do you want to be a girl?” Well, what was he supposed to say to that? He’d hung his head and marched into the barber shop while his dad watched from the car. He’d have to go get it trimmed, soon. There was no reason to go through more ridicule than he had to.
As he walked back down the long hallway towards his room, he noticed that Kyla’s door was cracked open. It was dark inside. That was weird. She hardly ever left it open these days. It reminded him of when they were little, when they’d hang out in her room before bed. He’d brush his teeth, slip in, and they’d play with her toys by the light of her unicorn nightlight, telling each other everything. Sometimes she’d even let him brush her hair. He smiled at the memory. How long had it been? A lifetime ago, it felt like. Things were so different now that they were both eighteen and getting ready to leave for college.
He paused, considering. She was being awfully quiet in there. Almost certainly jacked in. She’d be furious if he barged in without knocking. Then she’d tattle, and he’d have two angry parents to deal with and a long lecture about invading his step-sister’s privacy. But still, he was curious what she was up to...
He knocked very softly on the door, hardly more than a light thump. “Kyla?” he whispered. “Kyla, I’m coming in...” When she didn’t reply, he gave the door a little push. It swung in on silent hinges. Light from the hallway spilled in, falling across the familiar fluffy white comforter on her four-post bed and casting long shadows against the boy-band posters lining her walls. Did she still listen to those guys? The room was decorated in shades of pink and white, a princess theme from when she’d been little. Kyla had gotten over princesses by the time she was seven, but it suited her fine to let her parents think she was still their little princess. It meant she could get away with anything.
Right now she was reclining on a twin of Mike’s long, low virtnet chair. She had her hands at her sides, her virtjack blinking green just below her ear, and a crumpled blanket lay on the floor next to her. It must have slipped off. He blushed when he realized how little she was wearing, but he couldn’t turn away. All of the things Mike hated about his body, about his stupid quarter-Korean genes, helped to make Kyla one of the hottest girls in school. Why couldn’t his dad have had two girls? He wondered what it felt like to be that attractive.
Her smooth, slender legs spread out in front of her, climbing up to the tight, white cotton panties that curved around her perfectly rounded ass. A too-tight babydoll t-shirt tried and failed to reach down to her flat, muscled abs. She was bra-less underneath, and practically bursting out of it. He gasped to see that her face was flushed and pink, and a thin, translucent line in the crotch of her otherwise pristine panties informed him that she was soaking wet down there. That bitch!
There were two conditions his parents had laid down when they finally agreed to let Mike and his sister get virtjacks: One virtbod each, and strict parental controls enabled. He’d watched his step-sister select a virtbod that was even hotter and more voluptuous than her real one, a pretty brunette with green eyes that could have been a supermodel. Mike’s eyes had lingered on the one next to hers, a similar design that looked remarkably like a living Barbie doll, but then he’d selected a musclebound action-hero avatar named “Jungle Jim” under the stern gaze of his father. When they got home, his father set their accounts up, ticking off all the boxes in the virtnet “family-friendly” area of Mike’s account. No sex-sims. No body-hopping. No nudity. Not even masturbation. His account was sexless, through and through. Jungle Jim would have all the sexual potency and excitement of Barbie’s Ken. Then his dad password protected it all and sent Mike off to try it out with all the combat sims he could handle.
But Mike hadn’t thought to wonder if his father had done the same with Kyla’s account. Of course he hadn’t, Mike realized now. His parents would never suspect innocent little Kyla might want to dive into a raunchy, pornographic sex-sim. He pictured his father hemming and hawing awkwardly at the idea of his little girl in a compromising position like that. No way he would have gone through each account option and asked himself whether she needed those locks while she sat innocently beside him. It would have been too awkward for him. Of course Kyla got unrestricted access.
And man, was she taking advantage of it right now. Her eyes were glassy and unfocused, and as Mike watched, her lips parted slightly and a small whimper escaped. The dampness at her crotch spread. In time, all of those physical tells would go away, but it seemed that she was still getting used to her virtjack, too. He was almost choking with envy.
It probably wasn’t even a sex-sim, if he knew Kyla. He wondered what his parents would do if they knew about their precious baby girl’s big secret: her girlfriend, Amy. They were probably in a virtchat room right now, going over every hot inch of each other’s avatars. Everyone at school whispered stories about their steamy sessions under the bleachers. They were shameless! It drove all the guys crazy. Two of the hottest chicks in school, and they only wanted to fuck each other. Now it looked like they’d taken it online. In secret. A little more private. His cock stiffened again as he imagined what they might be doing in there to each other, and he bit his lip as he touched it.
“Michael Dean Wantry! What the hell are you doing?”
His father’s sudden roar yanked him back into reality for the second time tonight. He spun around to see his dad’s towering form at the top of the hallway staircase. His face was bright red and his fingers were digging into the wood of the bannister so hard that his knuckles were white.
“N-nothing, sir,” Mike stammered. Behind him he heard scrambling and then a click as Kyla unjacked herself, the virtjack volume sensors tripped. He turned to see her shaking her head, long brown curls flying back and forth. She was blinking rapidly, vision clearing, and then she looked up at him.
“Mike? You asshole! Were you spying on me while I was jacked in?” She yanked the crumpled blanket back up over her exposed body.
“No! I wasn’t, I swear...” Mike said. Sweat broke out across his back as his father advanced down the hallway and came to stand behind him, arms folded. “She left her door open, and I thought she made a noise. I was worried so—”
“So you thought you might just stand there and creepily gawk at me?”
“No, I literally just walked in when—”
“You’re so gross, Mike!”
“If you’d just listen—”
“Dad, do something!” she said. “I shouldn’t have to worry about being spied on by a pervy brother in my own bedroom. God! This? This is why I need a lock on my door.” She pouted at their father.
“No locks,” he snapped, tired of having the argument, and then grabbed Mike by the shoulders and roughly shoved him forward. “You, get your ass back to your bedroom! We’re going to have a little chat.” His voice was deadly serious.
Mike knew better than to protest as he stumbled back down the hall, his dad marching right behind him. He sat down on the edge of his bed, hands shaking, not sure what to expect. His chest was tight, and his stomach was doing backflips. His dad hardly ever got physical with him like that. Tears formed at the edges of his eyes, but he couldn’t think of anything that would make the situation worse than crying right now. He forced them back, forced himself to look up at his father. Joe Wantry stood quivering in the doorway, massive form silhouetted in the light of the hallway. His face was all in shadow. He had one finger raised up towards Mike, primed and ready to launch into a tirade, and one hand balled into a tight fist at his side. He stood like that, frozen in anger for several seconds, as though trying to decide exactly which profanity-peppered words would give Mike the flaying he deserved. But then his shoulders slumped, and he slowly lowered his hand. His balled fist uncurled, and he tapped one hand against the other as he looked away. Mike wondered what he must be thinking.
“Mike, Mike...” he said. He took a deep breath and walked over, plopping himself down heavily beside Mike on the bed. Mike shied away, still cautious. His father wrapped his big arm around Mike’s shoulders and gave a deep sigh, pulling him closer.
“Listen. I remember what it’s like to be your age,” his father said. “ And believe me, I understand what your step-sister must look like for you. But you need to control yourself.
Do you understand?”
Mike was horrified. “I wasn’t looking at her like that,” he protested. “I mean, she’s family! I just wanted—”
“Don’t play stupid, boy.” His father’s eyes were hard. “I’m very disappointed in you. What you did was wrong. Those feelings you have? Bottle them up, son.”
“Do you know what she was doing?”
“She wasn’t doing nothing but jacking into one of her little adventure games before bed.”
“But sir—”
“I know, because I have access to the logs for both of your accounts. Just like I know you’ve been playing Killpoint 3 all night.” He pulled his phone out of his back pocket and waved it in front of Mike. “Now stop it. Your sister is a sweet, innocent girl, and she’s right. You need to quit it. Why don’t you get a girlfriend? Christ, find a magazine. But leave your sister alone.”
Mike wondered how his sister had faked the logs on her account. It was infuriating. There was nothing he could say now, though. “You’re right, sir,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry sir. It won’t happen again.”
“It’d better not. Next time I catch you doing something like this, I’ll break your console in half.” Mike’s breath caught in his throat. His father’s tone implied he wasn’t joking. He really would break Mike’s virtnet console.
“Never again,” he promised. His dad nodded, patting him on the chest.
It was bad enough that Kyla was getting laid in virtnet on the sly and he couldn’t prove it. The last thing he needed was his dad also thinking he was attracted to her. It wasn’t like that at all! It was just... she was so lucky, looking the way she did, and it wasn’t fair! But there was no way he’d be able to explain that to his dad. Better to let him think what he wanted and just move forward, hoping he’d forget about this. Stupid girls. They got away with everything.
After his dad had withdrawn his arm and left the room, making his way back downstairs to return to his TV shows, Kyla slinked over and leaned against Mike’s doorframe, smiling sweetly at him. She’d slipped on a pair of tight yoga pants for modesty’s sake, but all it did was show off her curves. She was teasing him.
