3am

by Evestrial

Copyright© 2018 by Evestrial

Science Fiction Sex Story: A cyber-punk psychological horror story about a young woman just trying to move up in life. When you have nothing you will do whatever it takes to get something, to be better. Anything to take the edge off, but to also give you an edge. But what happens when your mind is on 24-7, what's real, what happens when you sleep, and can you wake up again?

Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Mult   Consensual   Drunk/Drugged   NonConsensual   Rape   Slavery   Heterosexual   Horror   Science Fiction   BDSM   Humiliation   Torture   .

I woke up around three in the morning. The pink glow of the LED lamps reflected off of the mirrored walls and ceiling, filling the room with a dim, sensual light. I was sticky, covered in what I can assume was male ejaculate; it was all over my face, my breasts, and my legs. Cool, almost hardened runnels of the stuff led down the insides of my thighs from where it had drained out from my slit. I felt dirty, not just physically, but emotionally as well. Apparently, the janitor had not come by after the last customer.

No one else was in the room with me; I lay back on the large, pillowy, rose colored bed. The blanket, sheet, and pillows all lay scattered around the floor; having been knocked off the bed during the throws of lust. I felt exhausted and awake at the same time. A slow pulsing pane throbbed behind my eyes. My muscles ached like I’d just run a marathon. But mentally I felt like I had just woken from a great sleep. It was both a blessing and a curse. Even though my mind was telling me to get up; my body was telling me to stay on the soft bed and get some real sleep.

But three in the morning was as late as I could push it for sleep.

I sat back up, pulled my long black hair away from my neck and pressed the sim-stim switch at the base of my skull. The little Teflon nub twitched under my skin as I pressed it in and a small display in my left eye informed me that I was now in broadcast-only mode. Doesn’t hurt if someone wants to pay to piggyback as I went through my day. Most of it was boring, but some people like it, and I’m not going to say no to the money.

I walked over to one of the mirrored walls and with a practiced motion touched one of the mirror panels which swung out on smooth hydraulics to reveal a tiny shower-stall behind it. Slate-colored concrete walls with a bright fluorescent light in the ceiling cast harsh shadows from the dingy plastic sink and the mildew covered shower head left barely enough room to turn around in place. I shoved the sink into the wall and popped the door to the thin locker to its left. Pulling out my toothbrush, some hard soap, a shampoo and conditioner combo, and pill of AMP which I immediately cracked open and inhaled. The super light powder tasted bitter as some floated down into my throat, but the buzz and energy were worth it. I felt fully awake and ready to go. Closing the closet door, I started the shower. The water was never hot, barely more than lukewarm; today was no exception. I drowned myself in the water, using the hard bar of soap to scrub every inch of my skin. The water reconstituted the congealed scum that was stuck to my chest and the smell made me gag until I was able to replace it with the scent of the soap.

When I got to my lower half I just spread my legs and used my fingers to reach up inside myself and clean as much as I could with the lukewarm water. A shiver of disgust went through me as I scooped out a gob of the last customer’s leavings. I rubbed the soap over my fingers and hands as much as I could, letting the abrasive soap redden my soft skin.

The lather from the shampoo was thick and oily smooth as it coated my hair; I let it sit while I brushed my teeth, rinsing with the shower water, and then rinsed out my hair. The suds ran down the curves of my body to disappear down the drain in the floor, gone forever and soon forgotten.

Switching the water off I popped the locker door open again and pulled out my towel, nice and soft, freshly laundered two days ago. At least it hadn’t started to smell like mildew yet. I rubbed myself down as thoroughly as I could, tousled and toweled my hair till it was a semblance of dry, then replaced the towel, stashed my toiletries, and pulled out my school uniform. Standing in the cold pool of water in the floor I carefully slipped my plain white panties on, making sure not to get my wet feet on them, the soft cotton felt warm and nice as it slid over my hips. Shouldering the elastic tube braw over my head was always difficult, and the tightness across my chest was somewhat comforting, but always left me breathless for a moment. I buttoned the skirt around my waist, buttoned down my fitted white shirt and snapped the corners onto the skirt, holding it securely. The next part was always the hardest; balancing on one foot, drying the other off, slipping a knee-high sock up over my calf, and slipping on a shoe before I could put that foot back down. Every once in a while I slip, or lost my balance and set a half socked foot down on the wet floor. There is nothing more uncomfortable than wet socks.

I picked up my blazer with the university’s logo on it and my school bag at the same time and carried them out of the shower coffin. Just a couple mirrored panels to the left of the shower door was another hidden door. This one led to a maze of halls that the girls, cleaning staff, and management use to get around without the customers seeing.

I walked through the thin, dirty, concrete corridors till I got to a large room in the back. Three large men sat at a table playing cards and smoking black, foul-smelling cigarillos. “You off?” asked one of the men as I walked over to the terminal next to a large red door.

“Yep,” I said as I clocked myself out, “school starts in an hour.”

“You should wear that uniform in some time,” said one of the others, “I’m certain some of the customers would love it.”

I walked over to him, seductively rolling my hips and stretching my arms into the air, “Someone like you Uri?” I asked, sounding as sweet and innocent as possible. He leaned back and made some kind of noncommittal sound in the back of his throat as I got close to him. I could see the bulge in his pants, the tension in his neck, “But not today.” I stepped back away from him and the other two men laughed. “Besides, do you know how much this thing costs, no way am I letting some Stiff mess it up.”

“Well,” said Uri, “let me know if you ever need a ride to school, or home, or to dinner?”

“In your dreams dear,” I said as I walked backwards out through the door. I bent forward and blew him an exaggerated kiss. He gave me the finger and made a kissing face back at me. I turned and the door slammed shut behind me with a whir of electricity as the maglocks engaged.

Celeste was getting off her scooter and hurrying to the door. “You heading out Lynn,” she asked as she reached the door and started putting in her code.

“Yeah, I got to get to class. Good luck today.”

She popped a hip, put her hand on it, tilted her head, and pushed her chest out, showing off her immense cleavage. “Oh honey, luck’s got nothing to do with it.”

“Of course,” I said as I smiled and backed away.

We waved our goodbyes and I headed off down the alley at a quick walk. Two blocks later and the bus stop was in sight, the bus already there and waiting; I had to run to catch it. Luckily the driver saw me coming and popped the doors back open for me. “Thank you,” I said, smiling as kindly as I could to the old man driving. I swiped my key-pass and he nodded assent and started driving before I had even found a seat.

I sat back into one of the hard plastic seats near the middle, this early there were not a lot of people riding. I leaned my head back against the cold plastic wall of the bus, still out of breath, chest heaving from the sprint to the bus. A man sitting with a group of four a few seats down and on the opposite side kept looking at me as I smoothed out the wrinkles in my skirt. After a few blocks, he got up and sat down right next to me, the others watching. He wore a dark business suit, had salt and pepper hair, and a face that looked like he had been dropped as a child. His teeth were crooked, his nose was bulbous and his face was flat. He was not appealing to look at.

“I know you,” he said quietly, leaning over to me. I tried to ignore him, pretending to look out the window on the opposite side of the bus. “You’re a stim-girl, I’ve seen you on the net.”

“Sir,” I said turning to face him, “I think you have me confused with someone else. I’m just heading to classes.” He had a hand in his pocket and there was a lot of motion in his pants.

“I’m rubbing it for you, making it nice and hard,” he said. “Why don’t you come with me to the back of the bus and you can suck it off for me.” It wasn’t a question; he didn’t think I would refuse.

“No,” I said, disgusted at his presumption, “you really have me confused for someone else.”

Just then I felt someone connect to my sim-stim. “I’ll make it worth your while, twenty thousand, direct transfer.”

I saw text pop up in the peripheral of my left eye, the sim-stim user was messaging me. -Do it, fuck him on the bus, that will be so hot.-

“Sir,” I said, “I don’t care how much your offering, I don’t do that.”

“Thirty thousand,” he said.

-I’ll tip ten thousand too if you do it, - the text read.

I shook my head, “I’m sorry, no.”

Two of the men he had been sitting with came over, one stood in front of me, the other sat down next to me and grabbed my arm. “I’m not giving you a choice, and I will pay you for your time, don’t make this any harder on yourself,” the ugly man said. The fear started to rise, but I stuffed it back into a box, out of sight of my mind, felt the rest of me hide back there too, out of sight of the world.

-Oh yeah, - the text read, -this is so fucking hot.-

The man holding my arm stood up, pulling me with him, and the two apes pushed me down toward the back, following the ugly businessman. I stumbled as the bus hit a bump, then was shoved to my knees in front of where he had seated himself at the back most row. He undid his belt and pants and pulled his dick free. It was a pretty average thing, although twisted oddly to the side with a large pulsing vein. He was already fully erect. The man behind me pushed my head forward and my face was mashed into it with my mouth over his large balls, the fine, stiff here in my eyes and mouth.

He twitched his cock under my face, almost like he was trying to caress me with it. “Now suck it, you little whore.”

I did as I was told. Retreating into the back of my mind I barely noticed what I was doing. I ignored the texts that were rolling up from the sim-stim user. I felt his cock sliding in and out of my mouth as I rolled my tongue around his head. I took it all the way down, feeling it press against the back of my throat. The man behind me was grabbing tightly onto my hair and bobbing my head up and down for me. The businessman was groaning as I slobbered and sucked his dick.

Then he came, deep into my throat as the man behind me shoved my head down all the way. The businessman thrust up too. I felt his bush on my tongue; he was all the way in me. He pulsed again and again, he just kept coming and I kept suppressing a gag as it slid down my throat, forcing me to swallow it. I was almost swallowing his dick; I could feel my throat rippling over his head. He was grunting with ecstasy, a new sound with every twitch of his manhood, a new spurt with every twitch.

Eventually, he stopped and the bruiser behind me let me up, his flaccid cock falling out of my mouth, covered in drool. The ugly man pulled a handkerchief out of a pocket and wiped off his member, then threw it in my face. “Wipe yourself off, you look disgusting.”

The cloth was sodden with my spit and his semen, all I really did was push it around till it was dry and hardened on my face. One of the guards was still holding my hair keeping me from moving. One of the others handed the businessman my wallet from my bag. “Hey,” I started to reach up for it, but the hand in my hair tightened and the pain held me in place.

The businessman pulled out my bank chit and swiped it against his own. The left side of my left eye showed a transfer of thirty thousand credits. I also saw another ten thousand come through from the sim-stim user along with the text, -let the guards do you all at once, I’ll tip you ten thousand each.-

My stomach turned, disgusted at myself. The businessman dropped my wallet in my lap and stepped past me, the guards following. -Why are you just sitting there, go fuck them.- I didn’t move, I didn’t respond. -This is boring, I’m out of here.- I started to cry. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want any of it.

Eventually, I crawled into the seat beside me, the bus shaking and rattling gently as we rolled down the old streets. It stopped outside of a strip club and the ugly man and his bodyguards got up to get off. I vaguely realized this was not a regular stop, the driver knew them, spoke to him as a friend, money changed hands.

More people got on the bus as we went on, some got off, and after almost an hour it arrived at my school. At this point, it was nearly teeming with people, many of whom were students. We all filed out of the two sets of doors, off the bus and onto the campus walk.

I didn’t know many of the students, I didn’t associate with them, and I didn’t party with them. While the main group of them went toward the center of campus, everyone talking and laughing among themselves, I turned and headed around the back of the bus and across the street.

The convenience store was small, but popular because it was so close to campus, crushed in between an architectural firm and a laundromat. I went straight to the back, grabbed a toothbrush, mouthwash, wet-wipes, and a bottle of spray on fabric freshener, and then dipped into the washroom.

I turned the faucet on, adding more noise to the exhaust fan buzzing in the ceiling. The water splashed down into the grimy sink, where it reflected the harsh white light of the fluorescent lamp. Pulling a handful of wet-wipes out of the bag I started scrubbing at my face, the acid burn of the alcohol filled my nostrils and mouth, my face felt both hot and cold as the alcohol evaporated off. I ripped open the toothbrush and squeezed the handle so a small amount of toothpaste came out on top, then vigorously started brushing the taste of semen out. I kept scrubbing, harder and harder, spitting as I went. Slowly the spit changed from foamy white to a bubbly red as my gums bled from the abrasion.

I was crying, sobbing around the toothbrush, my knees shaking, barely holding me up. Why me? It’s not supposed to happen when I’m awake. I’m not that kind of person. I’m not supposed to remember it. When I flip that switch I leave and let someone else use my body, like letting someone borrow your car, or stay at your flat. I don’t need to know what’s happening as long as nothing gets broken. The toothbrush clattered into the sink as it finally slipped from my fingers, the water washing away the last of my blood and toothpaste.

The top of the mouthwash clicked loose as the safety seal broke away under my fingers. The wash tasted like mint fire, the acid burning against my bleeding gums and raw tongue. Trying to swish it around my mouth I nearly screamed but instead swallowed some of it. A quick turn landed me in front of the toilet where the contents of my stomach emptied themselves into the bowl. My stomach cramped and I heaved again, expelling bile and whatever was left inside me by my customers. The next several heaves were empty, harsh, and painful as my stomach squeezed out nothing but air and acid. Eventually, I was able to stand up enough to fill my mouth and keep from vomiting again.

Pulling my makeup out of my bag I arranged the myriad small items around the flat rim of the sink, balancing them like oddly shaped dominos. The foundation was cool against my skin as I rubbed a thin layer over my cheeks and under my eyes to hide the darkening circles. ‘At least he paid you,’ I thought to myself. ‘Forty thousand for only about fifteen minutes of work, that’s not bad, and a direct transfer is basically tax-free.’

‘No,’ I thought back to myself, ‘he raped me and because he paid me for it there is no way to prove it.’ These days it had become a common tactic to pay victims. As long as your victim is a registered sex worker it makes it almost impossible to prove that it wasn’t consensual when there is a record of money changing hands. I would need the recording from the bus, and I doubt it still exists, not after that man paid the driver. It very well might not have been running from the beginning.

Pretty much every girl has registered as a sex worker, even most men. It’s an easy way to make some money, and pretty much a rite of passage these days. After you turn sixteen, you’re not cool till you’ve registered and shown your friends you’re on the registry. It requires renewal every three years, and most just let it expire, but even then it can be said that it was just a laps or oversight. Everyone sells themselves once in a while.

A little contouring and eyeliner then I was ready to leave the washroom. I looked into the mirror and barely recognized myself. My lips shone brightly with fresh red lipstick the color of under ripe strawberries; matching the red of my hair, which was still in a loose ponytail, falling straight down behind me. Contrast to the red of my hair, the deep green of my eyes reflected the white light of the little washroom and twinkled, still damp and full of tears from when I vomited.

The label of the fabric freshener showed a spring field, flowers and tall grass rolling under a bright, crisp sun. After spraying a large puff into the air around me I discovered that it smelled, and tasted, like soap. Nothing summery or crisp about it, it was just a clean soapy smell, which was certainly better than vomit and ejaculate.

The light clicked off as I left the room, hiding the pale green tiles on the walls like the toothpaste and makeup hid my shame. The man behind the counter arched an eyebrow as I checked out, buying items I had opened and used. I smiled my most beguiling smile and shrugged. Neither of us spoke. There was no reason to.

Most of the day went normal, unavoidably dull. Lecture followed by a lab, then another lecture. A few people said hello as I walked by, others waved in vague recognition. I didn’t end up talking to a single person the entire time. Lunch was a lonely thirty minutes between two lectures where I ate a small sandwich from the lounge. I ate and sat in silence, reading course material.

Lunch was a prepacked sandwich from a vending machine and another AMP. After eating I cracked the plastic pill in half and put a piece up to each nostril, inhaled a quick, sharp breath through my nose letting the fine powder coat the inside of my nasal passages. The familiar bitter taste crawled down my throat as a bit of powder drifted down, followed by the familiar buzz of energy crawling back up to my head. I felt a bit light headed and elated, the events of this morning pushed so far back that they didn’t even matter anymore. I was in a much better mood, awake, aware, and ready to take on the rest of the day.

After lunch was a lecture on the techniques of practical microbial horticulture. The subject was interesting, but the lecturer was boring, he put everything in cold, clinical terms. It was all so precise and exact and there was no expounding on specifics. I found myself slumped over the table, nodding off into a daydream when I felt the small emotional jolt of someone piggybacking into my sim-stim feed. -This looks like a boring class, - the sim-stim user said.

-Tell me about it, - I messaged back. -What do you want me to do about it?-

-I’ve got a killer hard-on right now; you should do something sexy to help me out.-

-You planning to tip anything, - I sent back, or -is this pro-boner?-

The pun appeared to be lost on him. -I’ve already paid the thousand creds just to connect.-

-Thousand’s nothing, not even enough for a proper dinner at a decent restaurant.-

-One hundred thousand if you suck that guys dick, the one to your right.-

I looked to my right, about halfway around the curve of the amphitheater-style lecture hall was a jock type guy. Big, strong, pretty, probably pretty small in the pouch. -No, - I sent, -I don’t do that sort of thing, especially not in class.-

-Then what good are you?- I slid one of my hands up the inside of my thigh and felt myself start to get wet. He felt it too, -Ohh, this could still be good I guess.- I started rubbing myself through my panties, gently, letting the anxiety build, making sure he could feel every twitch and stirring that I felt.

-I want to watch, not just feel, - he messaged.

Still gently rubbing with my left hand I slipped my right hand up and grabbed my phone by the shooting star charm hanging off the back and gently slid it under the desk where it was out of sight. Quickly I tapped on the camera and connected it to my sim-stim ID. Now I could see through the camera and through my eyes. It was a little disorienting and the vertigo of having multiple points of view in my mind made my head spin for a moment. Twisting the phone in my hand the second vision swung strangely and centered on my panties. My finger rubbing up and down the shape of my cleft, a thin dark line of dampness was starting to show through.

-You should pull your panties off.-

-Tips first, - I sent in reply. There was no response at first, so I stopped rubbing and twisted my phone down toward my feet. Then fifteen thousand credits as a tip showed across my left peripheral. -What happened to the hundred, I asked?-

-There’s not a dick in you, fifteen is more than enough.- I shrugged and turned the camera back up, then started rubbing again, slipping a finger under the edge of my panties. Pressing them to the side, I rubbed gently while holding the phone in my other hand.

My breathing started to quicken, the heat in my abdomen started to rise and I was nearly dripping. I slid my finger in and out now, my panties stretched open wide. -Take them off.- I set the phone down next to me and shimmied them down to my knees, then picked up the phone again. -Ohh yes, you look good down there, I bet you would love my fat dick in there instead of your finger.-

I tried to imagine he was someone I wanted, a favorite sim-star, so I could keep up the feeling. I was not very good at faking my feelings, and if I let it slip, he would notice, which meant fewer tips. Another five thousand slid past my vision, -do it faster and harder.- I obeyed, jamming in a second finger, banging my clit with the heel of my palm. My fingers made a soft, wet sucking sound and my palm made a gentle smacking that I really hoped the other few people in the room could not hear. The mix of possibly being discovered and being embarrassed was actually exhilarating and added a deeper excitement to my masturbation.

Nearly breathless I started to slow down. -No, not yet, - another six thousand slid past my vision. I increased my intensity. -Ohh yeah, that’s so good. I’m so close.- I sped up again, twisting my hand as I went, adding another intensity to it.

I came. I came hard and squeaked out a stifled scream of ecstasy. The jock to my right looked over, confused but looked back down to the lecture, his face as a board as I was before I started touching myself.

-Thanks, - the user sent, -that was perfect. I came so hard. Want me to send you a pic of it?-

-No thanks. But if you want to hang around after the lecture I’ll go to the washroom, strip, and set the phone so you can watch me fuck a dildo in the stall.- Just the thought of it quickened my heart rate and made me warm inside. I gently rubbed myself a bit more as I pulled my panties back up.

-Mmmm, don’t mind if I do.- Another four thousand passed through my vision.

Thanking him I spent the next twenty minutes squirming in my seat, touching myself occasionally. I chatted dirty fantasies with the sim-stim user as we waited. Word got around on my host site and by the end of class, I had seven users attached. My head felt full as everyone talked, trying to get me to do things now, or telling me what to do when I got to the washroom. I mostly ignored them, occasionally chatting how horny I was, or that I really needed to go fuck myself. Eventually class let out and I nearly ran out of the hall toward the washroom.

The halls were crowded as I pushed passed identical uniform after identical uniform. It didn’t take long before the users were asking me to bring this guy or that girl into the washroom with me. I didn’t answer most of them, and redirected the others; if you say no too many times they will go away, better to just let them have their fantasies.

Their choices were based entirely off of estimated physique. I ran Spec-Tor which automatically blurred out the faces and uniform logos of people I passed, it also blurred external logos and any text so as to hide the location and provide a minimal amount of anonymity and security. It causes a quarter of a second delay in what’s broadcast to the sim-stim users, but most don’t notice as they’re too busy rubbing off whatever’s between their legs.

I pushed through a gaggle of other girls and pressed my way into the washroom amongst a flood of requests to pull them in and start an orgy. Sex may pervade our society, but it’s not like I can just grab a bunch of people and be like, ‘Hey, wanna have an orgy with a lot of people watching?’ I mean, I could, but I wouldn’t. Sex still inspires a modicum of privacy. Besides, I would get thrown out of school for starting an orgy in the women’s washroom.

The washroom itself was much quieter than the halls, although still filled with the chattering of girls gossiping about this or that. I barely noticed how clean everything was as I darted past the girls and dove into one of the stalls. The tile on the walls shown with a nearly mirror surface and the old wooden floors gleamed with fresh wax, even with all the foot traffic. Even the toilet was pristine brushed aluminum with antimicrobial brass plating on the commonly touched surface. The silver and brass colors also augment the school’s colors, giving the washroom an oddly ‘School Spirit’ feeling.

I used the small dangling charm on my phone to hang it from the jacket hook on the inside of the stall door. The phone hung at a bit of an angle but the camera auto-corrected for that and gave the viewers a straight look. I brought up the music player in my sim-stim and put on a mix of energetic electronica hits, then started swinging my hips back and forth. I turned slowly, rolling my hips as I went, making sure to give everyone watching through my camera a good show. Once my back was to the camera I locked my knees and slowly bent down. Albeit my face was toward the toilet, I kept my gaze on my legs and slid my hands down slowly as I bent. I could almost bend in half by wrapping my arms around my legs, everyone seemed to love this. It also caused my skirt to ride up so high that nothing was left to the imagination. Letting go of my legs I shook my ass and bent one leg, then the other, rolling my hips as I did, and arching my back, raising myself up slowly and as erotically as possible.

I turned around and danced slowly again, in time to the music, and unbuttoned my school blouse, just letting it hang open, revealing cleavage and my bra. Flipping my skirt up, I leaned back and sat down on the toilet then started rubbing and cupping my breasts. Then slid one hand down and started rubbing my slit through my plain white panties.

-Take the bar off, - one viewer sent.

-Take the panties off, - came another.

-Come on. Fuck yourself. I’m so ready to cum but I need to see your pink!- sent a third.

-Mmm, tips would help.- I sent back, pinching a nipple and gently flicking my clit. Suddenly a small avalanche of tips sprang up, almost everyone watching had tipped at least a thousand. -Mmm, you guys are ready.-

I slid my hand over and popped the fastener in the middle of my bra and my tits popped out. I reached up and gently tugged on my nipples, running my fingertips around my areolas. I teased up my nipples till they were nice and hard and starting to get over sensitized. So I slid my hands down and pulled off my panties. I used both hands to spread myself wide, then rubbed quickly and forcefully over the top, feeling the skin and muscle roll over my pelvic bone, setting alight a whole new range of nerves and sensations.

Reaching down into my bag I pulled out my dildo; I showed it off to the camera and pulled it out of its bag. I licked it seductively, then slid it into my mouth, and deep throated it. The feeling of sucking on it excited me more and I fingered myself a bit deeper. I was pretty wet now, almost dripping. The comments from the viewers were no longer requests, just expletives and comments on how hot I was or derogatory, dirty talking. Mostly men asserting their dominance over their sexual pray. It didn’t matter that I was the one in control, or that, if anything, I was praying on them since they were paying me.

I slowly pulled it out, feeling it run across my tongue and roof of my mouth. When it came all the way out I let it go from my lips with a wet kiss, the brought it down and slowly started to rub it up and down, slowly spreading my lips apart. Slowly coating the end in lubricating fluids and raising the anticipation of all of my viewers. I then started to press it in. Slowly at first, pulling it back and forth, pushing it in a little further with each time. I was practically laying back across the tank now, my legs sticking out almost to the door.

Then I pushed it in, hard, hitting myself all the way in the back. I stifled a gasp and started pumping it in and out and twisting it, rubbing as much of the back wall as possible. My other hand was rubbing my clit, bringing me closer to orgasm.

I clicked on the vibrator and piston function. The piston started to slide back and forth, pulling in on itself and punching back out, doing the work for me. The vibrator started to buzz and twirl up and down the shaft, filling every part of the hole with erotic ecstasy. I was getting close.

Then it happened. I felt something I shouldn’t have. I felt myself rubbing my dick. Except it wasn’t me, it was my viewer’s. It was so many, all at once, maybe not all of them, but most. It was exciting and unexpected, and so different, and so intense. I came hard, four spasms from my abdomen and hot fluid rushed down around my dildo.

Whatever bleed-over I had gotten from my users was gone. And so was I; that was exhausting.

-That was intense, - a messages read, -you really get into it, thanks.-

A small pile of other thank you messages and tips rolled in and I felt everyone disconnect. I don’t know if they all came at the same time or not, but it’s not uncommon with the linking of sensations.

I cleaned myself up and got dressed again, dropping my dildo back into its bag after wiping it down with special cleaning pads.

The washroom was empty, and I felt pretty much the same. Whatever had happened there had drained me; I was now wiped, and still with one class left. So I popped another AMP. The rush of energy and buzz mixed with the elation of having just gotten off and I was feeling great again. Not to mention the tips from my little bathroom show were a decent bonus. If every day was like that I wouldn’t need to work. Unfortunately, tips like that were pretty uncommon. And it was also about time to get to my next class.

Once I was out of class I took the bus down to the West Wall. The bus was crowded, people packed in like cigarettes. Luckily a couple of men moved to allow me space along the central handrail so I was able to actually get on. I thanked them and they each nodded acceptance, only one of whom stared down at my cleavage.

As the bus bumped along, turn after turn, more people pushed on to the bus and the men that had moved for me were forced to press into me. I felt one of them grind gently against the small of my back. I stiffened instinctively and then tried to ignore it. There were too many people here for him to try anything, right? Maybe it wasn’t intentional and was just from the motion of the bus?

Then I felt a hand slide down my ass. I closed my eyes and tried to ignore it. I would be at my stop soon and I could forget the whole thing. His hand made it past my skirt and onto my leg where it stopped and started sliding back up, pulling the skirt back up with it. He gently grabbed my ass, squeezing and twisting a little, sliding his fingers in between and pressing my panties in with them. I could feel him getting hard where he had pressed his crotch into the small of my back.

“You enjoying this?” he whispered right into my ear.

I tried to say no, but all I could get out was a little whimper as his other hand slid around my hip, under my skirt, and started rubbing me through my panties.

“That sounds like a yes.” He let go of my ass and slid his hand around to my breasts, squeezing one.

“Stop,” I said, more quietly and much more meekly then I meant to. I tried to bring up my free hand to push him away but I was having trouble moving it while being pushed into people on all sides. If I dropped my bag to free my other hand I would likely never see it again.

“More you say,” he smirked, “I can accommodate that.” He deftly slipped his fingers up then down around the waistband of my panties and started sliding his finger back and forth between my lips.

I tried not to moan as he rubbed against my clit; despite how revolting this was, it felt good. My body wanted to respond naturally to pleasant stimuli, but my mind was yelling at me how wrong this was and to get away from the situation.

I wiggled my arm lose enough to grab his wrist and pull his hand out. In the process, he managed to hang onto my waistband and pulled my panties down a bit. “Oh,” he whispered, you are a naughty girl aren’t you? You want something more? Hmmm.”

His breath was hot in my ear and made me cringe away. “No,” I whimpered quietly. But that didn’t stop him, he used his other hand to reach down and unzip his pants. I felt him lift up the back of my skirt and he lowered himself down, his freed cock slipping between my panties and ass cheeks. “Please stop,” I said a little louder, but no one seemed to hear.

He started gyrating, sliding himself back and forth between my legs and cheeks. I tried to twist away or pull away but there were too many people and he just grunted in my ear and pressed harder. It only took a minute, but it felt like hours. He came between my legs, grunting breathlessly into my ear while pulsing; three hot wads of slime filled my panties and ran down the insides of my legs. “Thanks, little girl, I hope it was as good for you.” Then he was gone, drifted somewhere into the crowd. Someone else bumped up behind me and I adjusted my panties back up, feeling the rapidly cooling semen press against my thighs. I wanted to cry.

Two stops later I got off the bus. I stepped into an alley and pulled out another AMP, cracked it open and inhaled deeply. After the initial buzz subsided I pulled off my panties and threw them into a dumpster, then raced down the street to work.

I came in through the back door and as soon as I came in Mr. Koval grabbed me by the arm, “Good, you’re here early, one of the girls called out, I need you on the floor as soon as your changed.”

I sighed, bowed my head, “Yes sir, I’ll get right out there.” He let go and I walked straight back to the dressing room. The green door swung in easily and I stripped, stuffing my uniform into my bag and locking it my locker. The first thing I did was slip a diaphragm into my vagina, it slid all the way in, being invisible and supposedly men couldn’t tell the difference. It felt odd, conforming, but not right.

I pulled the thin latex suit off the wall and started powdering it and myself, getting ready to roll myself into the black latex body suit. Usually, someone would help me with this, it’s skin tight and extremely hard to get into. But with persistence, and the harness hook on the wall, not impossible. The rubbery surface slid smoothly against my powered legs as I stepped into it from the back, pulling it slowly up my legs a little at a time. Once I had it up to my waist I stuck the face on the hook and wiggled my left arm in, pulling it with my right as I went to keep it from rolling and creasing. I gently set my breasts into shaped recesses for them, feeling my chest compress under the tension of the material. I slipped my right arm in the same way I did the left, then pulled the hood off the hook and over my face. I had to tease my hair out the hole in the back and wiggle it around till my nose was in the correct recess so I could breathe properly. I reached behind my back and pulled the zipper up, closing myself in this plastic shell. I slipped on the black high heel shoes and headed out towards the floor.

The club floor was dark; you could barely see anyone’s face. The other floor staff moved around nearly invisible in their black latex suits. The only thing that distinguished them at all was the white cross on the front of the suits; a thin white line that ran straight across the breasts and another that ran down from collarbone to crotch, basically pointing out that there was no crotch to the suit and everything was available. The air was cool, almost cold. The latex kept me warm for the most part, though my pussy felt the brunt of the air and was a constant reminder that I was open.

There were only three other floor staff on duty, so I went and to the login terminal and signed on, joining the local network and disconnecting from the internet, my sim-stim becoming available for the patrons. I had the group section tonight. That’s usually pretty easy, not a lot of large groups come in.

The main stage had a woman who was half cybernetic replacements, but all smooth curves. Her left arm and leg, most of her stomach and pelvis look to have been replaced; it must have been a horrible accident. I wonder why she didn’t opt for a full prosthesis?

Not that it mattered, she was new, I hadn’t met her yet, and depending on when she left, I may not meet her. To most of the dancers, the floor staff are just machines, we have no faces, our bodies look the same, and we’re not allowed to talk while on the floor unless specifically ordered to by a customer.

I wandered over to my section and relieved Allice by touching her shoulder and pointing at the group section, she nodded and handed me her tablet, then headed back to the kiosk. There was a small group of five men at one of the booths, watching the cyborg dancer; none of them seemed to be paying much attention. I tapped my employee number into the tablet and walked over to the booth where I stood quietly nearby till I was needed.

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