by Alyson Belle
Mike wasn’t fooled. He flicked down to the system folders and looked for anything that looked strange. There it was. An innocent folder marked “System Files.” His dad might be old enough to be duped by that, but Mike knew that there weren’t any “system files” in the top level directory of the virtnet console.
He tapped in and suddenly had access to all of Kyla’s little personal projects. The list stretched longer than the cabinet screen allowed for. Mike flicked through it, impressed. This couldn’t all be her work... most of it looked like stuff she’d downloaded from virtnet, maybe adding a few tweaks of her own. What the hell were these programs?
Some of them were clearly coding tools, but some had such strange names he couldn’t begin to guess at their purpose. Things like TripleJackFadeIn, SwapCheckJump, and MemFuzzTimeLim. He’d assumed she wasn’t doing much more than fucking Amy in here. Apparently she’d been doing that and a lot of other stuff.
As he scanned the list, he looked for anything that might be a log hacker of some kind. He was quickly rewarded: LogEditEasyV4. He tapped it open... and crap. It was hacky, long, and pretty unintelligible. Mike had no idea how to use it. No preamble, no instructions, not even comments... it was spaghetti code. He wished, for the hundredth time, that he’d paid more attention in those computer classes. He banged his virtual palm against his virtual head. Damn it, Kyla!
Oh well. Maybe he could learn? He didn’t have much choice, anyway, and he was getting nervous about how much time he’d spent in Kyla’s room already... who knew when someone might stop back, even just to check on him? A few quick taps and he’d sent the file to his own account. He’d have to play with it later.
He tapped back out and spun the directory with a frustrated flick of his genderless wrist. Why couldn’t anything ever be easy? Why couldn’t... what the hell was that? His finger jammed down and stopped the directory spin. Sitting directly beneath the tip of his index finger was a file called KylaPWs. No. It couldn’t be. No way. He tapped in. His jaw dropped open.
There, before his eyes, was his sister’s username and password for virtnet, along with half a dozen other passwords for random virtroom addresses he’d never heard of. Her credentials hovered there in front of him, in virtual black and white. She might not be sloppy, but damn was she lazy. And apparently forgetful. But her bad memory was his gain. Right? Mike wrestled with himself for a long moment. Was he actually considering this, for real? If Kyla found out, if his father found out... say goodbye to virtnet. His dad would rip the virtjack out of the back of Mike’s skull himself.
He could barely restrain himself. His eyes strayed back to the smoky glass, where the ravishing amazon with the jade-green eyes lay hidden behind the swirling mist. He was three taps away from stepping into her, from feeling those long tan legs as his own, from feeling that perfect little V nestling in his own crotch, that long, soft hair grazing his shoulders... he swallowed.
No. He shook his head. Too risky, too risky. Not tonight. If he lost track of time, he’d get caught, and somehow he knew that once he was in that virtbod, he’d be enjoying himself entirely too much to pay attention to the clock. He’d have to plan it out, pick just the right time to do it... He made three quick taps and her password file was sent to his own account. At least he could log in to her account from his console now, so his dad wouldn’t suspect anything.
He cast one final, longing look at the darkened glass that hid Kyla’s avatar, and then he jacked out.
He was back in Kyla’s room, back in the soft glow of the unicorn, and his cock was rock-fucking-hard. Mike had never felt so horny in his life. He blinked and smacked his lips, fighting through the dry mouth and bleary eyes that came from being in virtnet for a while, and then headed straight for the bathroom to jack off.
As he stroked up and down, fist pounding against the base and rocking pleasure through his body with each shuddering slam, he tried to imagine what sex would feel like as Kyla’s avatar. He wasn’t fucking her in this fantasy... he was her. Grabbing handfuls of those huge breasts, touching that sweet, wet cunt, feeling that hair rain down her smooth, sculpted back... What must it feel like to get pounded in that tiny, perfect pussy she had? He came almost immediately, spurting everywhere, harder than he’d ever come before. Where had that thought come from? He felt his face grow warm, like it always did when he had these weird moments. But he’d been so close to feeling it for real, it was killing him. He panted in the aftermath, cleaning up the mess with a handful of thin tissues.
Later, when he’d settled down and was lying the dark of his own room, he stared at the grey-tinted ceiling and started to make his plans. He wouldn’t even need to alter the logs, he realized. Not if he used her virtnet account. Whatever techie magic she was doing would work to conceal his activities just the same as it concealed hers, as long as her account was logged in. He was sure of it. Now all he had to do was find some time when he knew she’d be away for a while, when it’d be impossible for her to jack into her console...
He smiled to himself in the dark. Kyla might have everything Mike didn’t... but Mike had her passwords, and that was the only thing he needed. They’d be his own, private invitation to the party, and Kyla would never need to know.
Caught
Two weeks passed before he found his chance, but then one night it finally came: Kyla had a sleepover party for a friend’s birthday, girls only. There was no chance she’d jack in that evening. Mike didn’t waste a minute. As soon as his father pulled away from the driveway with Kyla in tow, Mike raced over to his chair, hastily jacking into virtnet.
He found himself standing in his own virtnet lobby this time, wearing the same old grey default avatar as always. The room was remarkably like Kyla’s had been: a coffee table, a sofa, a cabinet. He’d never bothered to pick a decoration scheme, though, so he was stuck with boring defaults. Blue canvas couch. Industrial grey steel cabinet. Low, grey carpeting. More like a dentist’s office than the luxurious parlor Kyla enjoyed. Mike made a mental note to change that later.
He walked up to the glass wall across from the couch and tapped it once. His muscle-bound action hero avatar stared back at him, black crewcut tight and high, square jaw set in a growly grimace. He even wore a bandana around his forehead and dressed in military fatigues by default. Jungle Jim, the model was called. Mike stuck his tongue out at it. It was fine for action games, but so not what he wanted right now.
He tapped the screen again and whisked the password prompt to the side so that he could log into a different account. Jungle Jim faded into swirling mist. With trembling fingers, he typed in Kyla’s credentials. When he tapped again, the login screen whooshed away, and the swirling mist parted once more to reveal Kyla’s super-hot virtbod. The avatar looked just like he remembered: taut, rounded thighs, high breasts, and long tan legs, bound up in that tight white shift. Just like a present waiting to be unwrapped.
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?
Mike shook his head and sat up, looping tan arms around his knees. He tried to put his thoughts together, starting to adjust to this unfamiliar body. Yes, he was horny. And yes, everything felt amazing when he was this turned on. But no! He hadn’t come to virtnet in Kyla’s avatar to just finger himself and jack out. This was his one shot to do this without getting caught. The chance might never come again! He needed to make some real memories, damn it. He stood up, adjusting his shift so that everything was covered and in place again. The erotic thoughts threatened to flood in each time he touched himself, but he barely managed to hold them back.
He took a few, cautious steps and was surprised at how different everything felt. The avatar was about as tall as Mike was in real life, but the proportions felt completely dissimilar. Mike was thin and narrow. This body had hourglass curves. His center of balance felt lower. His hips felt wider. He was used to leading himself with his shoulders. Now it felt more comfortable to take rolling steps that led with his hips.
He stretched his hands high into the air, arched his back, pushed out his chest, and cracked his neck. Soon, it would probably all feel as familiar and natural as stepping into Jungle Jim, but for now the sensations and the motions of this body were new and foreign. He drank them in, carefully exploring his new proportions. He’d always been taught that girls were much weaker than boys. Maybe it was true in general, but this body didn’t feel much weaker than his own. If anything he felt more graceful, more strength and precision in his movements. He almost flowed. But then, he supposed, this body was custom-engineered for virtnet. Of course it would be perfect, just like Jungle Jim was the pinnacle of macho masculinity. He glanced again at himself in the mirrored wall and flashed a little row of immaculately white teeth. Eat your heart out, Barbie.
Now that he had control of Kyla’s account, he had Kyla’s parental controls. Unrestricted access, for the first time ever. All of the adult chat rooms were open to him. He crossed the lobby, tapped on the door in the far wall, and then he was through.
Mike stood on a small, circular platform which hung in the middle of a sea of stars, stretching around him as far as he could see. Some stood alone, dormant. Some were clustered together, buzzing brightly. He’d read about the virtnet chatspace but never seen it before. The glowing clusters arrayed against the blue-black backdrop of the simulated cosmos was surprisingly beautiful, he thought. He shivered in his tiny shift. And a little cold, too. Nice touch. He wondered what the appropriate etiquette was to invite someone to a sexy virtchat, or how you even figured out how someone was interested. Looking closely, he saw that each of the stars had their own little colors. Maybe those meant something?
Before he could begin to puzzle it out, he realized that one of the stars, a pink one with a faint green outline, was growing bigger by the second. It almost seemed to be zooming towards him. He watched, fascinated, as it swelled in the middle of starfield. Then, suddenly, it burst in front of him, revealing a ravishing woman standing on a disk that matched his own. It docked next to him, and she stepped across, smiling at him. Her avatar was taller than his, with the same proportions but different coloring. She was pale and blonde, with sapphire eyes and sharp features. High cheekbones, long nose; still beautiful, but more of a Roman Aphrodite than a tanned lingerie model. She wore clothes to fit the part: a white toga dress draped over one shoulder, tapering to her waist before flaring out into a pleated skirt, and golden gladiator sandals criss-crossed her feet before winding their way up to her knees. The hem of her pleats barely covered her ass. Mike was glad he didn’t have to worry about erections right now, although he did have to stifle a yelp at an involuntary pulse from his clit and another burst of slickness between his legs.
She was still smiling at him. He smiled back, feeling dopey, and suddenly shy.
“Hi there! You’re looking bashful,” she said.
“Um... thanks,” he replied. He was startled to hear the high, musical timbre of his voice. But obviously it would be female now. He fought back the urge to test it with a scale of notes.
“Well, get in here,” the woman said. Before he could protest she grabbed Mike’s wrist and pulled him onto her disk. As his foot crossed the threshold, the scene shifted around them...
...and then they were somewhere else.
He was standing in a small, door-less room done all in shades of scarlet. Each of the four walls was draped corner to corner in flowing velvet, with two low, richly-upholstered couches pushed into an L-shape in the corner. Kitty-corner to them, a queen-sized bed nestled in the other corner. Short cylindrical lamps that flickered with simulated candlelight ran along the base of the walls, throwing up soft, muted tones of yellow and orange that licked the drapes like tongues of harmless flame. It was warm here, warm enough that he felt his muscles relax from their instinctive tightening after the jarring transition. Was that cinnamon he smelled? Small was the wrong word to describe the room, he now realized. Every detail of the space seemed calculated to provoke a sense of intimacy. The designer had succeeded, as far as Mike was concerned.
“Close your mouth,” said the woman in Roman attire. “Unless you’d like me to find something to put there.” She was seated with legs crossed on one of the couches, her arm draped across the back. She raised an eyebrow.
Mike’s mouth snapped shut. He gave a tight smile, unsure of what to say.
The woman looked at him strangely now, eyes concerned. “What’s up with the default clothes? Are you in a hurry or something? And hey, I thought you had a sleep-over tonight...”
Uh-oh. Mike had a suspicion that he knew who he was standing in the room with, and it was growing side by side with a grasping panic that was whipping his pulse to an ever-quickening beat.
“Oh, you know...” he said. Think fast. Think faster. “I decided to log on real quick before I left. So yeah, default clothes.” He hadn’t even thought to change his avatar’s clothes, but of course Kyla would.
The woman seemed to buy it. Or at least she seemed to relax. She smiled at him again and got up then, walking towards him until she was standing just inches away, one hand resting casually on her hip. Her eyes looked huge, framed in thick black eyeliner. He could smell her perfume now, understated and classy, mixing faintly with the raw scent of her skin. It made his knees a little weak. She was uncomfortably close, if onl
y because he didn’t trust himself not to lean the few remaining inches forward and melt into her lips. He felt his nipples harden.
She grasped his chin lightly between her thumb and forefinger, tilted his head back ever so slightly, moved her lips an inch closer. “I think it’s cute that you logged in just to say goodbye to your girlfriend,” she said softly. Her hand slid past his hair to gently grip the back of his neck.
Mike fought to conceal the panic that had his heart hammering against his chest. He forced himself to keep still, to keep smiling. It was Amy holding him in place, Amy whose hot breath was making him so horny his avatar was almost dripping. Amy who was most definitely going to tell Kyla that Mike was joyriding in her virtnet account. He had to get out of here...
And then Amy pulled him forward and kissed him.
It was a deep, sweet kiss, glistening lips pressing against his own while her free hand started to stroke his long hair in sweeping movements down his arching back. The hand at his neck dropped down to grab his ass and she yanked his hips forward to meet her own. Their clothing was crushed between them. She held him tightly in place, and his toes turned in as he felt a warmth start to grow in his crotch that made him want to squirm against her.
Her face pulled back half an inch, eyes holding his gaze. Her hand didn’t move. “You must have just a little time before you leave...” she teased, smiling.
“No, I d-don’t think so...” he managed to stammer.
“No?” she purred. She leaned in once more and gently drew her teeth along his neck, which also drew an unexpected sigh out of him. His legs shook once more.
“N-no, I really don’t...” This was agony. Why did it have to be Amy? He was dying to give in to her, but there was too much risk!
“Wait, no for real?” Suddenly she was holding him by his shoulders and had stepped back to arms length. “Like really? Why did you log in then?” Her mischievous smile had wilted into a pout.
