LIT RPG 7 (Patreon)

The first time the security camera swept their way, Jack and Brett cringed. Yes, Jack was pretty sure he’d disabled the camera, but there was always a little doubt. The camera saw nothing. There was no alarm.  So, they continued down the hall, came to a door that, ridiculously enough, had the words “Experimental Lab” written on the door and went in.

“Yes!” Brett said. It was the room from the film. The old fashioned movie camera, perched on a tripod, was even still there.

“There must be some clue around here,” Jack said, inspecting the first of the mind swap chairs. Wood, with a metal helmet bristling with wires. It looked like something Doc Brown would have built in his garage. “It doesn’t make a lot of sense that the film from this lab was in the laundry mat,” Jack said out loud as he moved to the next chair.

“I know. It’s kind of annoying,” Brett said.”Something so random like that.”

“The designers could at least try a little harder. Make things plausible.”

“Unless we’re missing something. Maybe there is a connection.”

“Maybe… ahhhh. Look here.”  Jack had found a log book.

Brett came over, standing behind Brett, looking over his shoulder. The first pages listed trial runs of the machine, with dates and subjects. The first were all animals. Cats and Dogs. Then a monkey and a parrot. “Just skip to the end,” Brett said.

Jack did, and they saw the names of the two subjects: Rene Brand and Tommy Grant. “Who and who?” Jack said.

“Hey, siri,” Brett said. “Who are Rene Brand and Tommy Grant?”

“Okay. Here’s what I found on the internet.”

“Hmmmn,” Brett said. Jack turned to see he was looking at his phone.

“You have a phone?”

“It was in my inventory. You probably have one, too.”

Jack checked. He did, indeed, have a phone.

“It seems Tommy Grant is chairman and CEO of Essenetulus,” Brett said.

“The evil corporation that owns Recon Junction?”

“The same.”

“Well, he’s not anymore from what we’ve seen. What about the girl?”

“An actual movie star.”

“So, he’s her now? I can see a motive for the swap– taking over Essentulus. But why swap him into such a high-profile person?”

“Well, she’s an actor, so that kinda makes sense. She can impersonate him.”

“But what will they do with him?”

“Maybe just lazy writing again,” Brett said. “I wonder what we’re supposed to do next?”

“Log out,” Jack said. “I really need to study.”

“I hear ya. Hey, what about we at least take the briefcase back and finish that mission, then shut it down.”

“Deal.”

Checking around the lab one more time for any more clues or treasure, the boys snuck back out and made their way back to Frenchie. Jack once more found himself weaving, turning and stepping to the side, a small little woman in a big, cold world. He found himself getting used to it, though, as well as feeling almost like Brett’s sidekick when they did walk side by side. Brett was so much taller. It was kind of weird to be the small one. He’d gotten used to the body to the point where he didn’t think about the way he bounced and jiggled when he walked, the tightness of his bra. He’d just tuned it out, but now that they were about to finish, he was thinking about it again, the weight, the way they stuck out, giving him all this mass in front of himself. The way all the guys kept checking them out.

I’m glad I don’t have tits like this in real life, he thought. The shit women have to put up with!

They got back to Frenchie’s. “Mademoiselles!” He said. “So good to see you again! I trust you have my materials? The currier returned some time ago.”

“Yup.” They handed the briefcase over to Frenchie.

The bell sounded. “Mission Complete. +500 bonus.”

Jack and Brett both felt a little surge of pleasure at the sound of the bell, the words “mission complete/” It was a purely pavlovian response, built into the game to create an addictive quality. The next thing they saw was LVL UP! Followed by another LVL UP, and then a third.”

“Wow,” Brett said, endorphins flowing in his real brain. “Three levels? Sweet.”

“Not bad,” Jack said, feeling the same rush. “Not bad at all.” He’d automatically gone to his skills list and was allocating the new points, not even worrying about his vow to never play the game. He still had no such intention, but the game had trained him into a new habit– Level, feel good, allocate skill points, feel even better.

“So, that’s it?” Brett said.

“That’s it.”

“Pardon?” Frenchie said. “Perhaps you could tell me, why were you delayed in your return? I am curious?”

Three options appeared. 1) Tell Frenchie about the secret lab  2) Ask Frenchie why he wants to know?  3) Tell him it’s none of his business.

Jack went to their private intercom. “What do you think?”

“I don’t trust him. It’s interesting there’s this tie-in, though. Might be worth to just do it to find out what happens?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t really matter. I have to go. Let’s just log out.”

“I hear ya. It’s probably getting pretty late. Bye, Frenchie.”

“I’m out,” Jack said, and his character dissolved.

Brett lingered for a second, thinking he might just see what happened, but he stopped himself, knowing he might get sucked into another long mission chain. So, he logged out as well, only to return to the real world to hear Jack cursing.

“It’s fucking 3:30 in the morning,” Jack said, rubbing his eyes. “Motherfucker.”

“I can’t believe we were in that long.”

“Shit.” Jack headed toward the door. “I’ll catch ya later.”

“Later.”

Brett rubbed his eyes. His head hurt, and he felt off. Not uncommon traits after a long night of gaming. He wasn’t too happy about the time, either, as he climbed into bed, fully clothed. He was not going to get a good night’s sleep. That was for sure.

Jack collapsed into bed, all thoughts of cramming for the test gone. Like Brett, he felt off– his head full of cobwebs and aching. He plunged immediately into a deep sleep, and then into a dream.

Jack found himself in a candle lit bedroom. There was a woman on the bed, watching him. He looked down to see his breasts, crushed together and lifted by the black corset he now realized he wore. There was hair falling across his eyes, and he left it there, because he knew it was sexy. The woman clearly wanted him, and as she stared he turned, so she could take all of him in.

“Come here,” she said.

Jack obeyed. She was hot, but not beautiful. He wanted her to want him, and he felt a growing need to please her. Jack climbed onto the bed. The woman got on her knees, and they kissed, and it was a good kiss. Jack felt it through his whole body. They kept kissing, feeling, groping, their bodies getting hotter and wetter, and Jack just followed his instincts, kissing her on the throat, the chest, on and between her breasts, down the link of her taut tummy and then he found himself with his head planted between her legs, and eagerly drank of her. The dream seemed to leap forward. They were laying side by side, gazing into each other’s eyes.

The other woman reached out and brushed Jack’s hair back, then cupped his cheek. They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to. Jack felt like they were reading each other’s thoughts, living in each other’s heads. He’d never felt this close to anyone, and to his surprise, he found himself crying.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know. I’m just—?”

“What? You can tell me.”

“It’s just…”  We may never know what words Jack meant to speak, because just at that moment, he recognized the other woman. “Brett?” It was not Brett, but Brett’s avatar from the game. “Fuck.”

The shock woke Jack, who sat up, still feeling the Gamer Hangover, and his mind reeling with emotional turmoil. He put his head in his hands.  “Why did I ever agree to play a bitch?” He felt comfortable blaming the game, and less comfortable thinking about the possibility the game had merely opened a door that had already existed. His room was typical college bro, much like Brett’s with posters of sports and half-naled women, a sloppy, messy space. His “wet” dream had woken him up a little after six. There was nothing to do but cram for his test. He went out to the common area, poured some fruit loops into a bowl, splashed some milk and started to eat. Something seemed wrong. His body felt– off– somehow. His hand kept going to his flat, bony chest.

Later, as he walked across campus, the off sensation continued. It was good to be tall again, and he decided he preferred to look at the world from this angle, but his walk felt wrong, and there was that feeling that he was– missing something. It wasn’t until he saw a girl with large breasts wearing a very tight sweater that he realized what was happening. Of course, he took a look and felt a little horny, but then he was stunned as he looked at her to realize he was missing the weight of his breasts– or his avatar’s breasts, he corrected himself- and his body felt wrong because he’d gotten used to her body, and he’d gotten used to wearing high heels.

Fuck. I am never playing that game again. Fucking Brett and his bullshit ideas.. Jack looked around, now feeling utterly self-conscious over the fact that he was actually missing the feeling of having his own tits. It made no sense, but he felt like people would know, somehow. Guys were NOT supposed to miss their tits, or even have tits. This is so fucked.

It’ll fade. It’s just some lingering after-effect. I’m not going to keep feeling this– emptiness?

Won’t it?

Jack got to class, took his exam. He actually felt like he did pretty well despite the lack of study. Walking back across campus, he still felt all wrong, felt super-conscious of the flat, lack of his chest, his flat butt, his flat shoes. Everything about him felt flat and wrong. He even caught himself reaching up to brush back the long hair he no longer had, stopping himself, humiliated to make what he considered a feminine movement. Then, there were the memories of that dream as well.

Was he turning gay? But “Brett” had been a woman in the dream, so that wouldn’t make him gay, except he was a woman in the dream, too, so did that make him a lesbian?

“I’m not a lesbian,” he mumbled as he walked across The Green.

A passing coed gave him an almost supportive glance from over the rims of her glasses. “Be who you are,” she said.

Jack, mortified, raced back to the dorm.

Hannah, one of his quad mates, was sitting at the kitchen table, munching her own bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios, bed headed and bleary eyed. Jack sat down, determined to assert his “true” self. “Hey gorgeous,” he said.

“I am so not right now,” Hannah said, plucking at her frizzy hair.

“You look great,” Jack lied.”How about some morning glory?”

Hannah considered for a minute. Hell, she decided, she could use a good fucking. Maybe it would help with this hangover. “Sure.”

“Come on.”

“My room,” Hannah said, crinckling her nose. “Your room is disgusting.”

It was fast and raw, Jack getting right down to business, pounding her, then getting off. Hannah grabbed her vape pipe and took a long drag. “Later,” she said, their transaction done.

“Later,” Jack said, pleased with himself. He was a man. A regular man.  Back in his room, though, he still couldn’t get comfortable.  There was this ache, this feeling that he was supposed to have breasts. And it just wouldn’t seem to go away.