LITRPG (Patreon)

“What if we play as girls this time?”

Bret dropped the question in an offhand way, like, what if we get some Rockstar?  Like he didn’t care. His heart, though, was racing.

Jack shrugged.  He was sprawled out in Bret’s gaming chair, the two of them lounging in Bret’s dorm room, a cluttered and sloppy room with clothes scattered on the floor, posters of swimsuit models on the walls, and all manner of sports gear— baseball bats and mitts, lacrosse sticks, footballs and soccer balls and jerseys.

“I’m kind of sick of gaming,” Jack said. “It’s always the same crap. Shoot this. Steal that.”

“But the reviews for Mindstrike…

“I know. I know. Revolutionary AI, blah blah. Just like every other game. But, like I said, in the end it’s always the same.”

“Why don’t we just go in, play the starter mission?”

“I don’t know.”

“What else is going on?” Indeed, rain pelted the window, and the dark, gloomy sky offered no hope for change.  Meanwhile, their quad-mates, Jen and Hannah, had commandeered the common room to watch some horrible chick flick. The dialogue leaked through Brett’s bedroom door:

“Why can’t you just admit you love me?”

“Because everyone I love dies….”

“Don’t tell me you can stomach any of that?” Bret added.

Jack thought. He was sick of gaming. That was true. And yet, as so often happened, when confronted with the challenge of finding something else to do, his mind went blank. How many hours had he wasted just grinding through missions only because he had no better ideas?

“Whatever,” Jack said. “But I swear to God, if even one NPC tasks us to collect ten wolf pelts…”

“They won’t.” Bret said, sitting up, excited. “They won’t. This isn’t just another paint by numbers game. The story is supposed to be amazing.”

“Okay. Just one mission.”

“And let’s be girls,” Brett said. “Just to mix it up.” He could feel his growing excitement at the idea of the two of them playing as girls, and he took a deep breath. He didn't want Jack to see how into it he was.

“I don’t know,” Jack said. “I always found it kind of weird, those guys always playing as girls. I mean, what’s the point?”

“We can check each other out during boring cut scenes,” Bret said.

“That actually sounds kind of creepy.”

“It’s just a game, and I mean check out our avatars.”

“What’s this thing with you wanting to play a girl all of a sudden?”

Bret slumped and went into who cares bro mode.  “Just to spice it up. I’m kind of bored with the same old thing, too. I mean, whatever.” Bret sat, waiting.

Jack’s face was blank. Later, he would not be able to explain why, but for some reason he just said, “Okay. Why not?” Had he given it more thought, he may well have said no. Mindstrike was a fully immersive game, and they would both experience being IN the bodies of their avatars.

“Why not?” Bret said, trying to keep his feelings hidden.

“So, let’s jack in and get started.”

“One more idea,” Bret said. “Just to mix it up.”

“Now what?”

“Well, you know, you’re always a brick, and I’m always some kind of stealth character.”

“So, you want to be the brick this time?”

“Yeah. I mean, since we’re both bored with the same old same old.”

Jack once more just said, yes. Why not?  Hell. Maybe it would be fun. “Just make sure you are hot as hell,” he added. “I want to have some good eye candy.”

“I will if you will.”

“And don’t tell anyone about this. Not anyone. I have a rep.”

“Oh, I am telling the whole world,” Bret said.

“Dick,” Jack said, and then he logged into Mindstrike.

Static. The world jumped. Flames and an explosion. A car reeling around a curve. Gunfire, and then the words Mind Strike flashed across Jack’s vision. He found himself in a dark, futuristic lounge that looked like a set from Star Trek, Next Generation.  Plastic couches and track lighting. The words Continue and New Game floated in the air.

Jack consciously focused on New Game, the words lit up, and then, Choose your Class. He cycled through— warrior, cybernetics, engineer, spy…  For a moment, he thought about ignoring his earlier promise, picking warrior again, but if they were both warriors they could run into troubles. So, he picked spy, and was immediately confronted with his next uncomfortable choice: gender. There were three choices: male identifying, female identifying, fluid.

So, woke culture has taken over video games, too? Jack thought, sourly. Why do they have to impose their agenda on everyone else? He stared at the choices. He couldn’t admit it to himself, but the thought of choosing female scared him. My Dad would kick my ass, he thought….

But Female lit up, and then he looked at a slender female figure, naked, with small breasts, round but slender hips, at this point hairless with generic features.  What would it feel like? What if people found out?

But his mind reeled away from the rest of that thought. He almost backed out, but then he just told himself— it’s only one mission, and it’s a game. It’s not like it really matters.

He started to build his character. The slender almost androgynous character felt safe, but also a little chickenshit. He figured Bret would give him hell, and once more an idea popped into his brain he couldn’t explain: I’m going to fuck with Bret, he decided. She’s going to be hot as hell.

He thought about different girls— some were girls he knew from college, some were models, actresses, porn girls.  Then, he started to design HER: a mass of glossy, wavy black hair poured down over her shoulders. The game zoomed in on her face, and he went to work. As he made his choices, her eyes grew bigger and turned a deep, emerald color. He loved girls with big, green eyes. He gave her a smaller, upturned nose and then paused, cycling through the different choices of lips.

He loved plump, full lips, but seeing her with those lips brought dirty thoughts to mind, and the thought of having those lips on that face made him— uneasy. Still. He didn’t like the other mouths, and finally once more just went with it, giving her the full, inviting lips he craved.  She smiled as he finished her face and tossed her hair, and Jack actually felt his heart flutter. That was a perfect female face as he was concerned.

Moving to the body, he smiled as her perky little breasts swelled and rounded into, as the game informed him, D cups.  They were gravity defying perfection, jutting out from her chest, so full they blocked his view of her little arms. Wait until Bret sees these honkers, he thought.  His resistance to making her his own wet dream fading, he made her waist smaller and her hips wider.  Rotating her to the side and then back, he could only sigh at the sight of her stunning, heart shaped rear. Her legs were already long and perfect, and he gave her a cinnamon complexion, her radiant skin glowing.

Next came height.  He was surprised to see the default had him only 5’ 1”, and he quickly dialed it up to 6 feet, but a red warning flashed: stealth characters lose effectiveness after 5’ 5”.  Damn.  Oh, well. He wasn’t a brick this time. And, it was only one mission. Might as well go all in, and he dialed it back down to 5’ 1”, pleased to see a new message in green that read all stealth skills receive a plus two bonus.

Rotating her once more, he liked what he saw. She was hot as hell. The next choice was voice, and now getting into the idea of the character, he decided she should have a small, high pitched voice, so he dialed it to the highest pitch possible. “Hi!” She said, and the sound of that sexy little voice gave him chills. He found that little girl voice so damn hot in real life it was too crazy.

Next was name.  Hmmmmn.  He really had no idea, and almost just went with Jack.  He knew a girl who went by Jack, but then again, he didn’t want anyone to even suspect this was HIM.  Who knew who they might run into in the game? A name popped into his mind: Kiyo.  She was a girl in his Western Civ class, cute, petite, kind of like this character but not with that bombshell body.  Fine. He entered the name, and the character giggled and said, “I’m Kiyo!”

“Oh, my God,” he thought, “I want to make out with her, not be her.” Next was her characteristics.  The two stealth choices were spy and assassin.  He figured on assassin so he would at least have some better kill moves.  As for her stats, he honestly had no idea about this game, so he just went with the defaults for an assassin character without really paying any attention to what they were.  Then, rotating her one more time, taking in those dramatic curves, he resisted the urge to start over and mentally clicked Inter Mindstrike.

Static, and a kind of falling motion as the system synched his mind to his new body.  Then, as if slowly waking from a dream, Jack found himself blinking as the world materialized around him: he was back in the lounge he’d seen in the set up.  Now, there was added ambience— soft techno music.

Jack immediately became aware of something crushing his chest, like a compression wrap around his upper body. Looking down he saw the swell of those huge breasts swelling out from his chest. Impulsively, he cupped his breasts, lifting and squeezing. Hey, he’s a guy. He’d had his hands on more than a few, but feeling hands on HIS breasts, feeling the way the soft, sensitive skin reacted, he couldn’t help but laugh, surprised at the sound of that pretty little voice he’d selected.

“Agent!” He heard a man shout. “You need to get to work.”

Jack jumped, surprised and embarrassed, immediately pulling his hands away from his chest. Turning, his hair fell in his face, and he brushed it away, looking at a huge, muscle bound man with a thick beard, wearing a tattered general’s uniform. NPC, he realized.

“Work?”  He asked, feeling super self-conscious of how he sounded.

“I’m General Grizz, your handler for this mission.” The man walked over and put an arm around Jack’s shoulders, bringing him into very clear awareness of how small he was now— he only came up to the bottom of the man’s rib cage. Having that big, meaty arm draped over him made him feel super uncomfortable, and he tried to free himself, but the man’s hand clamped hard on his shoulder, and he found himself being dragged toward a small observation slit that cut across one side of the bunker. “Get off me.”

The man ignored him, effortlessly dragging him along. “What kind of game is this?”  He activated the Intercom function and called, “Bret? Where are you?”

“On my way,” he heard a strong, woman’s voice answer.

Jack found himself at the wall, beneath a window.  The man peered out the window, keeping his hand firmly gripped on Jack’s shoulder. “See? Over there?”

Jack could not see. He was too short.  He found himself staring at the wall. Grabbing the window ledge, he tried to pull himself up, his breasts pressing against the wall, but with a pretty little grunt he fell back down, his little arms too weak to do a pull up.

“Shit.”

“Come on! We don’t have much time!” The man growled.

“Pause!” Jack demanded.  “Pause.”

The scene froze. Jack freed himself from the man’s grip.  He did not like that way this was going at all.  “Brett?  Come on!”

“Just a sec.”

“Shoot.”  Jack pulled up his inventory.  Like most games, his character did not start with much. A medical kit. A holster and a pistol. A blow gun and four darts. Rudimentary armor— the skin tight outfit that made him feel like a sausage.  And the “tactical bra” that did give him +1 armor.  He suddenly realized why he felt all that compression around his chest. Grabbing at the bra, he tried to stretch and adjust it, but his effort did nothing.

Equipping the holster and pistol, he felt the belt drape across his full hips. He pulled the pistol and thought about shooting the NPC idiot, but in all likelihood that would just reset the mission. So, with a grunt of displeasure, he holstered the pistol and, after a moment, could not resist the distraction of his new bust, once more planting his hands on them and giving them a squeeze.

“Having fun?” Bret asked as he materialized.

“Yup,” Jack said, not wanting to show any embarrassment over playing with himself.

“Wow,” Bret said, letting his eyes roam over Jack’s body. “You went all in.”

“Don’t check me out,” Jack said, though he was doing the same thing to Bret, who had gone in a very different direction. “I thought we both agreed to be hot?”

“I should probably be offended by that,” Bret said.

Jack had to look up to meet Bret’s eyes. Waaaaay up. “How tall are you?”

“I don’t know. 5’ 11”.” Brett said.  “You know volleyball players drive me crazy.”

Brett did look like he could be a star on the women’s volleyball team. Tall, athletic, broad shouldered for a woman.  Small, firm breasts swelled beneath his own black bodysuit, and Jack couldn’t help but notice his legs went on forever.

Like Jack, Bret couldn’t resist putting his hands on his new breasts, squeezing. “Yikes,” he said, surprised at how sensitive they were despite having been told by every girlfriend he’d ever had. “Maybe we should just skip the mission and play with these?” Bret said.

“Maybe we should just bail,” Jack said.  “This is weird.” Curious, he hopped up and down,  feeling his whole body jiggle and bounce.

Bret did the same, laughing. “How do girls put up with this?”

“I feel like my body is made out of Jello-o.”

“Oh, you are Jello-O.”  Bret had a rich, mature woman’s voice, and it made Jack feel even — he wasn’t even sure of the word, but he deeply regretted his choice to go with the sexy little girl voice.  “You’re so cute.”

“I think I’ve experienced enough. I have to study anyway.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t chicken out.  One mission.”

“I don’t like it.”

“We haven’t even started.”

“It’s stupid to play as girls.”

“So, let’s just embrace the stupid. It’s just one mission.”

“It’s stupid.”

“Man, I knew you would be a little bitch about it.”

“Fuck you!” Jack said.

Bret couldn’t help but laugh. Jack was really cute when he was angry now.

“What?”

“Nothing. Nothing,” Brett said, not wanting to unnerve Jack any further. “One mission. Come on.”

“Just shut up,” Jack said. “Let’s get this mission over with.”

“What’s the mission?”

“I’m not sure yet. I froze it waiting for you to get here.”

“So, let’s do it.”

“Over here.”

Jack turned and walked back toward the wall, his long hair swaying. Bret couldn’t help but enjoy the view, and the feelings he had made him feel all kinds of confused. He was checking out a gorgeous little female. Gorgeous, and yet he knew she was actually his best guy friend.

“What’s with Soldier McGrizzleface?”

“Unpause,” Jack said.

The NPC flickered, the AI adjusting to the addition of a new character. “Ladies,” he said, turning to address them both. “We don’t have all day. Look.”

Bret and Jack exchanged a glance. It was strange to be referred to as ladies.

Bret went to the window. They were up very high, and he had a sweeping view of the city. Long and narrow, the city nestled in a valley between a pair of snow capped mountains. Above the whole city read the words, Recon Junction, with three neighborhoods named Georgian Pond, Outer Vail and Inner Vail. “Recon Junction,” the NPC said. “The best mess on the planet.”

“Cool,” Brett said, looking over the city, his eyes immediately drawn to a tall, narrow spire-like building in the distance that dominated the whole city, looking down over the whole length like a watchtower.

“What is it?” Jack said, jumping, trying to get a look.

“It’s just basic orientation,” Bret said, “Kind of a disappointing start. Lore dump right at the top?”

“I can’t see.”

“Oh,” Bret said. “You are tiny.”

“It’s an advantage for stealth characters,” Jack said. “I didn’t want to be this small.”

“Okay,” Bret said, then without asking he put his hands on Jack’s waist and lifted him.

“Hey! Put me down.” Jack hadn’t been picked up like that since he’d been a child.

“You said you wanted to see.”

“Oh, right,” Jack said, looking over the city. “It does look cool.”

Bret was surprised and pleased at how easy it was to lift and hold Jack. He had shifted points from charisma— why would a brick need charisma?— to strength, but he didn’t expect to be this strong. It made him feel powerful to pick up this little female.

“Here’s what you need to know about the city,”  Grizz said. “Georgian Pond— rich people. Upper Vail— business district. Lower Vail— poor people.”

“What about that?” Jack asked, pointing toward the tower.

“Essentialus. They own the town. Maybe even the planet.”

“So, what’s the mission?” Bret said.

“Okay, put me down,” Jack said.

Bret set him down, patted him on the head.

Jack slapped his arm away. “Cut it out.”

“Ah, yes, the mission—“ Grizz said.

“A client of mine needs something acquired. I’m transmitting the details now.”

A box popped up in the air. “To access your messages, go to Inventory and choose data pad.”

They both did, reading the location for their meeting, a place called Threads. Another help box popped up explaining the fast travel feature and identifying jump points.

“Thank God,” Jack said. “I hate games where you spend half your time walking around from place to place.”

“Or trying to drive cars that don’t really drive right,” Bret added.

“Don’t remind me. Cryberpunk. Ugh.”

“Let’s roll.”

There was, mercifully, a fast transport hub right outside the door, so they headed. Bret let Jack walk first, enjoying the view.

“Girls,” Grizz said. “One more thing.”

“Yeah?”

“If you do this right, there are more missions— and credits, to come.”

The fast transport took them right to Lower Vail.  Jack pulled up the mission map and saw Threads just a couple blocks away.  “This way,” he said.

The sidewalks were narrow, cracked and worn. “Go ahead,” Bret said. Jack started to weave through the crowded sidewalks, easily weaving his way among the other pedestrians.  Once more, he felt like a child, with all the NPCs towering over him. Bret found it a little more difficult with his bigger body.  He accidentally collided with a man in a suit, and instantly a red bubble formed above the man’s head. “Watch it!” The man said.

A help box appeared: red bubbles indicate a character is angry. Escalating the situation can lead to violence.  De-escalating will likely result in them moving on.

Bret was tempted to start something. He’d spent more than a few hours playing Grand Theft Auto, constantly beating the crap out of random people for no reason. Something in him liked it.  Plus, he wanted to test out his Brick. “You got a problem?” He said, stepping toward the man.

“Yeah, I got a problem.”

Jack, seeing what was happening, started back toward Bret. “Let’s just get to the mission.”

“Listen to your friend,” the man said. “I got no problem hitting a woman.”

“Oh, I am the only one doing the hitting here,” Bret said.

“Ohhhhhh!” The crowd gathering around them said.

“You got a big mouth and—“

Bret unleashed a roundhouse punch that slammed into the man’s chin and sent him reeling. Clearly stunned, he wobbled unsteadily on his feet. Bret charged and punched him in the face and then gut.  He collapsed to the ground.

“Call the cops!” Someone yelled.

“That was tight!”

“Let’s go,” Jack said. “Before we get sidetracked.”

Alert! Alert! A box appeared. You have committed a crime and it is currently being reported to the police.

“Now!” Jack said.

Bret laughed and the two of them bolted through the crowd, running around the corner and plunging through the door to Threads.

Bret and Jack both laughed. “I never get tired of beating NPCs asses,” Bret said.

“I wish I had jumped in now,” Jack said. “How did the action feel?”

“Very good,” Bret said. “Everything feels so real.”

“Yeah. The world is primo.”

“Ah, hem.”

The two looked to see a man in a three piece suit, a well trimmed beard and full head of salt and pepper hair. “Mademoiselles? Judging by your, er, clothes, you are here about a little business?”

“Yeah,” Jack said. “Grizz sent us.”

“I am Pierre,” the man said, locking the door and turning the Closed sign to face out. “Please join me in the back.”

“Of course,” Bret said, mocking the man’s French accent.

The showroom at threads was old world elegance— all oak shelves, brass fixtures and mannequins dressed in high end suits.  The door to the backroom led first to a storeroom that looked much the same, but then Pierre touched a spot on the wall, and a secret panel slid aside to reveal something much different— a modernistic surgical room with masses of computers, bundles of wires snaking along the ceiling.

“This some kind of chop shop?” Jack said.

“I perform surgical procedures here, primarily related to cybernetics,” Pierre answered with a sniff. “I do not— chop.”

“So we can get mods here?” Bret asked.

“If you can afford them, yes.  Since you come with recommendations from The General. Please, take a seat.” He gestured toward a card table in the corner.

Bret and Jack plopped down in the seats. “I hope this scene isn’t going to go on forever,” Jack said.

“I will be brief,” Pierre said. “I need you to recover a briefcase. It was stolen from a courier meant to be delivered to me yesterday.  It is currently being held by a man who calls himself simply Badness.  Not very creative. He means to sell this briefcase to my rival this evening, so you must recover it right away.”

A box appeared. “Do you accept the mission?”

“That’s why we’re here, right?” Jack said.

“Good.”

Both boys pulled up their mission maps. The job paid 500 credits, with a bonus if they rescued the courier.  Badness was located a few blocks away, working out of the back room of a coin laundry operation. “We’ll be back in a few,” Jack said.

“See, ya, Frenchie,” Bret said.

“Good fortune,” Pierre said.

“Yeah, yeah.”

They headed back out, plunging back onto the crowded sidewalks. “I don’t have any weapons,” Bret said. “I hope the mish isn’t too nuts.”

“Check your inventory. You have to equip.”

“Oh. Duh.”