Chapter 2

Even using early models of the camera, it became clear that digitizing a human consciousness carried with it a set of unique problems. We recreated the neural connections of subjects as closely as we could, and in doing so progressed closer and closer to emulating what we called True Human, but the closer we got, the greater the risk of the consciousness splintering or cracking when introduced to the reality that they were no longer who they thought they were.

You have to imagine yourself in their position to really grasp the implications of what we were doing. Imagine going to sleep tonight and waking up moments later in a strange room with a man telling you that you’re no longer a real person. Not only are you stripped of rights, civil liberties, citizenship status, and material belongings, but you’re also stripped of a body that you can call your own. You now exist solely in a computer simulation. Your consciousness can now be flipped on and off like a light switch. Your conception of time is no longer connected to reality. Your physical and mental framework can now be altered and molded without your consent or knowledge. It’s a terrifying thought to come to grips with, and most early subjects broke down or cracked within the first few hours or days. They went insane.

There was, however, a fairly simple solution to this problem. We kept them busy. We learned over time that echoes only started to break down when their attention was focused upon their own personal existential plight for too long. So we gave them other plights that they needed to deal with first. It’s hard to ruminate over your existence while battling enemies in a life or death struggle. It’s difficult to sit and cry about your situation when you’re dealing with hunger, thirst, or freezing temperatures. And it’s nigh impossible to focus on anything negative at all when you’re reposing in a private bedroom with half dozen naked beauties all begging you to satisfy them.

Thus, Invictus was born. It was created as a set of artificial struggles to keep the mind from thinking about the real struggle of being a mind severed from reality. Of course, Lovejoy Industries built upon the concept and created alternate versions of Invictus to serve different purposes. Everyone knew about the public version, as gamers and media had been following its development for over 5 years. They didn’t know about how we used Invictus in-house, however. Parts of the game served a myriad of other purposes ranging from studying the effects of VR learning on sleeping subjects, to conditioning pre-built echoes to serve as obedient love dolls. Even prior to launch, it was already being touted as the new backbone of LoveJoy Toys inc., and my father considered it his greatest creation. Even greater than me.

Three months earlier:

I opened the classroom door to find it empty. Thirty empty desks sat facing an antique green chalkboard, and in front of the board stood Miss Proud, looking just as imposing as usual. Something about seeing the room empty for the first time gave me a chill, as did the sight of Miss Proud’s disapproving half-smile at my arrival. I felt a few sharp stabs of anxiety.

“Deacon,” she said. “Take a seat.” She gestured with one hand to the empty seat facing her teacher’s desk. “I’m just finishing something for tomorrow’s class.”

I crossed the room and obeyed as commanded, dropping my backpack at my feet as I plopped into the desk. Miss Proud was working on a color-coded guide outlining the metaphors present in Hamlet, her bubbly behind tracing little circles in the air as she scribbled on the blackboard with a tiny cylinder of chalk. “Remarkable,” I thought. “Absolutely remarkable.”

Once finished with her final point, she shelved the chalk and turned to face me, shaking her head in disappointment. “So I suppose you know why you’re here?”

I nodded. “Yeah. At least I know why you think I’m here.”

“I see,” she said, approaching her desk. In lieu of using her chair, she merely sat on the desk facing me, only a few feet away, close enough for her perfume to begin clouding my thoughts. “You’re here because of your grades, Deacon. I called you here to explain to you that you are, in no uncertain terms, in danger of failing this class.”

I nodded and swallowed. “I know,” I said, actually feeling some genuine guilt over my poor performance. “I just ... I have some trouble paying attention in your class.” As I spoke, she absent-mindedly proved my point by crossing her legs as I sat several feet away, eye-level with the bottom of her skirt. It wasn’t a blatantly sexual flash, but it wasn’t something she ordinarily would’ve done. Even the way she sat back upon her palms, thrusting her chest forward, was definitely out-of-character for her.

“I see. Do you have trouble paying attention in your other classes?”

I shook my head. “Nope.”

“Then what’s going on, Deacon?” She suddenly leaned forward toward me, her gaze intense and scrutinizing. “What’s the problem?” Two of the problems were staring right at me. The gap in her blouse was sizable and again, completely out-of character. I couldn’t quite see her bra, but I had an ample view of what that bra was struggling to contain. My throat was suddenly parched.

“I can’t stop thinking about other things. I try to pay attention to you, I really do, but there are just so many...” Her breasts were round and perfect. “ ... distractions.” She gave me a knowing look.

“I think I understand, Deacon.” She smiled with amusement.

“Do you?”

“Oh sure.” She came to her feet once more. “Zoey is a very pretty young girl, Deacon. It’s completely normal to be curious about girls at your age.” Her eyes sparkled. “But why don’t you just ask her out, Deacon? Maybe you could study together. It certainly wouldn’t hurt your grades to consider. And maybe then, you could focus on my class instead of staring at her with googly eyes.”

“Probably,” I admitted. I actually didn’t think studying with Zoey would do much for my grades. The only thing I’d be studying would be her. “But Zoey isn’t really the problem. She’s cute and all but the real problem is you.” She stopped smiling almost immediately. She blinked a few times at me.

“Me?”

I nodded. I took a deep breath and let my eyes wander over her as she fixed me with a look of pity.

“Oh Deacon ... I ... I mean, it’s normal for a young man like yourself to have thoughts that are...”

“I can’t stop thinking about fucking you,” I said. Her eyes went wide. The situation felt so real that I actually got chills as I said the words. I would normally never say things like this. It gave me a thrill to see her reaction.

“I beg your pardon!”

“Fucking you,” I explained. “Every day while you stand up here spouting your stupid useless bullshit, I imagine what it would be like to fuck you. Sometimes, I think about pulling up your skirt and bending you over your desk. Other times, I imagine tearing your shirt open and fucking you against the blackboard.” Her eyes grew angry.

“Deacon, this is entirely inappropriate. I’m getting another teacher...” She quickly spun and headed toward the door with brisk authoritative steps.

“Pause,” I commanded. She stopped dead in her tracks, rooted in position. I smiled and stood, unbuttoning my collar and loosening my necktie. “Obedience plus twenty.” She twitched where she stood. “Authoritativeness, minus ten. And uhh ... breast size plus five.” I walked up to her from behind and glanced over her shoulder to watch her bust slowly expand, the uppermost button snapping off and flying across the room. While she was frozen in place, I took the opportunity to fondle her breasts from behind. They felt completely real, better than real. “Remarkable,” I thought. “Absolutely remarkable.”

I walked back to my desk and sat back down. “Sleaziness plus fifty. Rewind twenty seconds.” She twitched once more as the computer altered her attributes, and then she freakishly walked backward and uncoiled back onto the desk to sit where she’d been before. “Unpause.”

“I mean, it’s normal for a young man like yourself to have thoughts that are...”

“I can’t stop thinking about fucking you,” I said. This time here eyes didn’t widen. This time, she merely raised one eyebrow.

“Fucking me?” She laughed out loud. “You sure don’t mince words, do you Deac?” She glanced down and seemed surprised to see her top blouse button missing. She fingered the small hole where the button had been previously attached. “I can appreciate your honesty Deacon, but you know that this is inappropriate. I’m afraid I need to get another teacher to avoid any...”

“Pause,” I said once more. “Obedience plus twenty. Sleaziness plus fifty. Raise confidence and sex drive levels to eighty percent.” I watched her body twitch with each command, finding some sick fascination at making her jerk like a puppet on its strings. “Rewind ten seconds. Unpause.”

“I mean, it’s normal for a young man like yourself to have...”

“I can’t stop thinking about fucking you,” I said. Her eyes flashed, and then she smiled.

“Oh Deac,” she said, tsking tsking me. “What’s wrong? Girls your age don’t do it for you?” I smiled in turn.

“Not like you,” I said. “I know it’s inappropriate, but I can’t stop thinking about tearing your clothes off and ravishing you.” She laughed out loud. “Those outfits aren’t helping either.”

“What, this?” She held her hands out wide. “This is a suit, Deacon. This is probably the most appropriate outfit I own!” She stood up and shook her head at me. “If I showed you the outfits I wear to the club, you’d probably have a heart attack.” She turned and began walking toward the door. I sighed.

“Going to get another teacher?” I asked. She glanced over her shoulder at me as she strode.

“Now why on Earth would I do that?” she said. She reached the door and locked it, pulling the blinds down. “We haven’t decided what to do about your problem yet.” She started to walk back to me, her fingers popping open the next button, and then the next. She sat back down at the desk but didn’t bother crossing her legs this time. I could see the faint outline of crimson panties between them. She watched me watch her. “Your grades are very important to me, Deacon. We have to find a proactive way for you to focus your attention.”

“I umm ... yes, well...” I couldn’t believe my ears. It worked. It really worked. I squirmed slightly in my chair and tried to covertly shift my pants into a more comfortable position. She giggled at my efforts. “Umm ... what do you have in mind?”

“I believe in simple solutions,” she said, reaching up to untie her hair. “I want you to be able to concentrate during my class, but you claim there are too many distractions.” She pulled off her scrunchy and her long curly hair fell free across her shoulders. She shook it out. “So we just need to identify the distractions and get rid of them. Easy peasy.” She undid the last button of her jacket and opened it, exposing the tight white blouse underneath. Because of the breast size increase, the fabric in-between the buttons was pulled to the sides, hanging on for dear life. “So tell me what’s distracting you, Deacon.” She licked her lips. “ ... and I’ll get rid of it.”

“Oh Jesus.” I started to sweat. “That blouse needs to go for starters.” She smiled and pushed forward her chest.

“This little thing?” She carefully removed the jacket, folding it in her lap and placing it on the desk beside her. Then her fingers moved to the way-too-tight shirt. She struggled with the next button and flushed. “I swear this wasn’t so tight when I put it on this morning.” She raised her eyes to me. “I can’t seem to open these buttons. Could you please help me, Deacon?”

Before I’d even formulated a response, I was on my feet. Everything seemed dreamlike and wondrous. I reached out towards her with shaking hands and started fiddling with the button. It really was too tight. “Just rip it open, Deacon. I’m tired of waiting.” I obliged. I grabbed both sides of the shirt and pulled, the tiny clear buttons snapping off and flying in various directions. Her heavy breasts dropped a quarter-inch, free of the shirt but still supported by a satiny red bra.

“Oh my God,” I said, drinking in the sight of her nearly bare upper half. She had a smooth slim waist underneath that blouse, utterly incongruous with the magnitude of her tits. I brushed my fingers against her bare skin. “You’re fucking beautiful.”

She laughed. “I do try to look good for you boys when I can get away with it,” she said, sliding one high-heel up the inside of my pant leg. “I apologize for being so ‘distracting’ but I can’t get enough of the way you desperate young men look at me.” Her leg crept higher until her shin was nearly nudging my ballsack. “Don’t tell anyone,” she whispered, “But I kind of get off on it.” I was so shocked by her words and tone that I froze in place. As a virgin, I had no conception where to go from here. Fortunately, she saw my indecision and told me what to do. “Take my bra off, Deacon.”

Heart hammering, I reached underneath her arms to fumble with the clasp at her back. It took a moment to figure out the mechanism, and while I struggled, her bare leg straight up molested me through my slacks. My erection, neatly tucked into my pant-leg was now jutting out straight towards her and she audibly purred as she ran her shinbone along its length. Because we were in VR, I’d taken a small liberty with my appearance. My cock was an obscene fourteen inches long, every bit as hard as steel, steel that became even more rigid when I got that clasp unfastened. Her bra fell away from her breasts and I latched onto her enormous tits with two curious hands.

I’d never felt breasts before. They were so soft. The nipples were so hard like little eraser tips. I lowered my head and sucked one into my mouth, flicking it with my tongue. She grabbed on the back of my head, running her fingers through my hair while murmuring encouragement. “That’s it, baby. Suck on my big fat titties.” I sucked, I fondled, and I squeezed. And when I finished with the one, I immediately latched onto the other. Miss Proud’s gigantic tits were in my mouth, and she was moaning and asking for more. That is, until she pushed me away.

“Slow down Deac,” she said, laughing at my enthusiasm, “Relax. No ones around.” She took her leg from between mine and instead spread them wide, wrapping her thighs around mine and drawing me closer until my knees touched the desk. Her skirt slid up in process, bunching just above her panty line, just below the unbelievably huge tent in my pants. “These pants are becoming a distraction,” she said. “I need to get rid of them.”

I was panting as she went for my belt and I inched forward until my thighs were pushing against hers. Anxious to see what she would do to me, I went for my zipper but she slapped my hands away before I could yank it down. “Hands off, Deacon,” she said. “My classroom; my rules. This penis now officially belongs to me.” She leaned back slowly and used her legs to pull me even closer. Then she brought one dainty hand to the cloth covered cock hovering over her sex and squeezed. I shook from the attention and her lips curled into a smile.

I held my breath as she snapped open my belt, pulling it free of the pantloops and tossing it across the room. Then went for the zipper. While she slowly worked it down and around the length of my dick, she slid off the desk into a crouch in front of me. Then she reached into the folds to pull out a monster.

The cock I’d designed for myself was gigantic, ludicrously so. It was probably three times the size of my actual dick. Her tiny little hand with her tiny little fingers couldn’t even wrap around its girth, and it was so long that it took her several seconds to maneuver the beast out of my pant-leg, while I gritted my teeth and tried not to explode like the teenager I totally was.

“Holy shit, Deacon!” Her smile was exuberant. “What in the fuck is this?” She brought another hand to it and started gently pumping it with both hands while staring into my eyes. “Is this why you’re failing? Can’t stop imagining fucking me with this ridiculous penis? My God Deacon, if I had this beautiful dick in my life, I’d fuck it fifteen times a day.” She gave it two more playful tugs, corkscrewing me with her hands, and then bent forward to plant a single chaste kiss onto the top of the head. With a tortured yell, I came all over her.

In the real world, my recumbent body began to shake, and the silicone sleeve around my cock started to milk me. The visual and auditory stimulus from my biojack was enough to trick my brain into believing the artificial reality, and as my real world dick started filling the reservoir of the Lovebox, my artificial dick in the VR world started hosing down Miss Proud with an absolutely reprehensible amount of semen. It was like watching a dog trying to drink from a fire hydrant.

“Oh! Oh my! FUCK!” Miss Proud was caught off-guard when she took the first blast across the chin, but then the Lovergurl in her took over, steadily pumping my shaft with both hands as my cock angrily swelled and sprayed her down. Each blast splashed against her face and tits, until she had creamy white rivulets running down her stomach to pool against the skirt around her waist. She angled my cock upward after that, smiling and laughing as massive jets of cum turned her face into a frosted donut. For my part, I simply stood there and shook, overcome with more physical pleasure than I’d ever even imagined existed.

It felt like an entire minute transpired before I finally regained control over my body, and I looked down to find Miss Proud stroking my dick against her cheek and giggling hysterically. Both of her eyes were shut against the gooey white globs, and she was licking off the ample amounts that had landed around her lips. “Good Lord. Wow! What the fuck was that, Deacon? You need to buy me a new outfit.” She kissed the head reverently. “Maybe give me a warning next time?”

“Sure thing,” I panted. “Pause. Rewind 90 seconds.” Once again, Miss Proud started moving in reverse, and I bore witness to the unsettling spectacle of my cum sliding up her tits and jumping back into my dick. For several seconds, my cock became a shop-vac. Once I passed the point of no return in reverse, I unpaused once more and gave her the warning she’d asked for. “OH GOD I’M CUMMING!” I grabbed her by the hair and roughly shoved my cock toward her. Like a good little fuck toy, she opened her mouth and sucked in my first few inches before I exploded once more.

My cock started to spasm and fire again and the pleasure coursing through my body felt every bit as good as the first time. In the real world, I knew my cock was spent, but my brain was responsible for flooding my neurons with dopamine and my brain was firmly under the spell cast by the program and the lovely version of my English teacher that inhabited it. So while my poor real world member dribbled out what little cum remained in my balls, my avatar’s elephantine penis (and my brain) unloaded onto Miss Proud once more, this time filling her mouth to exploding before once again pasting her eyes shut. Once another minute had elapsed she collapsed back against the front of the desk coughing up lungfuls of jizz. I was beginning to feel weary myself, but not weary enough to stop.

“Pause. Rewind 90 seconds. Oh FUCK! I’m Cumming!”

“Pause. Rewind 90 seconds. Oh FUUUUCK!! Cum. I’m cumming”

“Pause. Rewind 90 seconds. Oh Jesus FUCK! Ugghh. I love you!”

“Pause. Rewind 90 seconds. Cumming. Oh God. The Cum. Cumming again...” After the sixth time, my shaking knees were beginning to give out, so I turned around and collapsed onto my back atop the desk. My cum-drenched teacher stood up to stand over me, her reaction just as shocked as before.

“WOW! What the fuck, Deacon? It feels like you dumped a milk carton onto my face. Do you have a medical condition or something?”

“I just. I just gotta.” I could barely see straight, let alone think. “Whatever you say...”

“Are you alright? I haven’t killed you, have I? I barely touched you.” She flashed me a wicked creamy grin. “So far.”

“I’m OK,” I lied. In truth, my mind was fried. People shoot heroin to feel this good. “I just need a minute.” In my peripheral vision, I could see her shaking her head.

“Fuck that,” she said, pulling down the side zipper of her skirt. She pulled it down off of her thighs along with her panties, and I craned my head upwards to gawk at her puffy baby-smooth pussy. I’d assembled her echo from a picture I’d snapped of her tanning in her backyard, and though I obviously couldn’t see underneath her swimsuit, the camera certainly could. I’d been surprised and incredibly turned on to discover that she waxed all the way up.

“You might not be able to hold your load like a man,” she said, “But now you better fuck me like one. You’re not leaving until I’m satisified.” Maybe I turned the confidence up a little too high... I held my breath as the nude goddess climbed onto the desk, straddling me.

On the one hand, I was glad she was taking control, as my stupid virginal ass had no idea how the mechanics of this worked except for what knowledge I’d gleaned from watching Pornhub. On the other hand ... she kind of terrified me. She pressed both hands against my chest for balance and sat her bubbly ass upon my thighs, my vertical glistening fuckstick resting against her belly. The gargantuan thing came nearly up to her rib cage.