23 - BE, True

This part is new: the game fills my head with a list of possible things I could do now:

1. Continue following the game's line of inquiry until it stops me.

2. Find a more interesting pose.

3. Ask to be freed for the purpose of sex with Lyra, in front of Rada, with the game choosing words for me to express to her that the decision of where we do it is hers and that the game is not allowing me to orgasm currently.

The game makes me think about each of them, guiding me through weighing each one so it never feels like being in control of my thinking, and yet I can say that I've actually thought about this and can make a decision that will be mine.

It's the most incredible feeling, easy, safe, and comforting.

And then the game chooses for me, before I know what my decision would have been.

I'm going do the boring one and continue it's line of questioning!?

At least the loss of control feels good, and I won't have to wonder if fucking Lyra without being able to come in her would break me...and the understand that I've just been shown how the game can make me feel involved in the choices it makes for me without allowing me a single pixel of agency is thrilling.

The game now changes my subject to part of it about having to write about my adventures regularly, and share this publicly.

"When you were describing the games at the start shinycunt you said we would be made to write about what we were doing regularly. Can creative stuff like playing with Legos be part of this kind of super-tight mind-control and still give me the creative outlet I can't live without? I think it would be incredibly sexy and lots of cute fun to just be played through my playtime! How can I be powerless and have this need met?"

"Goddess it can the game can make you see options and watch you think and feel about them without it being your choice how you go through them and then decide each part of your creation for you but so it will still be something you would make. It says that can meet the need because you'll see how it made what you might make."

The pressure in my voicebox returns...

"This feels weird but exciting and does make me feel very vulnerable and powerless which is a huge turn-on but why isn't the game letting me move or breathe on my own right now?"

"Mommy the game is keeping you stable by making your body as still as it can possibly be and holding the clamp on your heartstrings so you won't feel things because it's scary to find out the angel weapon thing. It says it's making it fun too but if it didn't hold you so tightly you would freak out so bad it might make you faint by yourself so it's making you process it this way by controlling you to absorb it without without freaking out."

The angel weapon thing is what to focus on, game says.

"It's so horrifying and scary and I can't understand how I knew all that stuff! I want to be done, I want to not be the Virgin of Atlantis I want to just be me! Please could the game just make me forget about it? I know it can't change my memories but it can keep me from thinking of them, right? So it just never comes up?"

"If it's scaring you so badly, I think you should talk about it. Will game make you do that?"

It will, and it does.

"I'm scared because I can remember things and use this fucking strategic analysis thing and it feels like this must be real and maybe in the context it shouldn't but this makes me feel like I'm so going crazy!! I mean Mary? Really? Are you going to tell me where Jesus comes into this next? I can believe in Lyra being something out of my universe and taking me to one with different laws of physics and being controlled by ontological engineering made of her love for me but come on if I wrote a book and put this in it even with all of this other stuff as the setting everyone would laugh at me and be like 'your Mary Sue character doesn't even make sense'! Can you imagine how I feel having to think it's real and remember how I woke up and found Lyra and then destroyed a whole history because of it? I'm not a weapon or an angel or anything but some kid I'M JUST SOME KID OKAY Atlantis used me because I was innocent because I didn't think about anything but the toys they gave me HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO THAT WAS MY WHOLE EXISTENCE! I'm cute, but look at me! How am innocent!? Now I just want to go back to my toys I never wanted to be turned into an angel or weapon or anything like that and what if it wasn't for Lyra's sake what if I just turned on them for what they did to me because I'm pretty sure I hate them now. That's only the beginning though, because what if I am crazy I'd have to be, wouldn't I, to think any of this is real? Maybe if it wasn't for the conspiracies and history changing and Atlantis and all this tinfoil hat bullshit I'd be able to believe all of this is just real and existence is so much bigger and more wonderful than I thought it was but if I'm doing this Atlantis thing I must just be in some fucked up schizophrenic delusion and all of you are going to disappear or turn into actually evil monsters instead of loving cool monsters and I'll have to die because now that I know you cocksleeve I NEED YOU TOO! I NEED YOU TO BE REAL!!! I NEED YOU TO BE REAL AND IF THIS ANGEL THING IS YOU CAN'T BE! You can't talk me out of this Rada I know you will because even though you like to trap kids like me you're kind and you'll help me but the delusions always say it's real especially when things really start to go crazy!"

"What if I tell you it isn't real? Would you believe in me then? If you can't believe in me, can you believe in your seedling? I think it's not something you can decide."

The games fixes me on her words until I've understood: she's right, it's not something I can decide. I need Lyra to be real, and if that means being crazy, I'm still going to believe in her.

Motion enters my field of view, and the captain sets a white Chess pawn in front of me on the floor by the edge of Lyra's puddle. Her hand retreats, and then returns with a Queen she sets next to the pawn.

"When the pawn fight to the end of the board, it turns into a Queen that can do anything. Usually when people have the kind of delusion you're worried about, it's like their delusion is telling the story where they find themselves turned into a queen, even though like you many say they don't want to be. Very few of the people who have delusions like this do what you're doing, and go the other way. At the beginning of the story you told me, you had the ability to stand against thousands of perfekti and destroy all of them without even know you were doing it. That's being a Queen if anything is."

"Now, you're literally a pawn in the game Lyra made for you. It's going to choose whether you think about Atlantis any more after this, so maybe I'm telling you this redundantly, but either you have something even more weird than usual happening in your head, or it's true that you're actually the Virgin of Atlantis, or maybe that whole idea is a mindfuck scene the game is playing with you and I'm in on it. You can't really know, so why not just give in to not knowing and let the game play you how it's going to?"

Knowledge arrives, sounding just like Strategic Analysis, but marked as being from the game:

The game would be capable of protecting us during the journey through Limbo, and of utilizing any exit previous cataclysms left behind on Earth, even if it were exceedingly obscure. It would be capable of pretending to be a "guardian angel" described to me by Lyra, the game's creator. It did assist me in Limbo by creating the Deliverator's computer systems, and the angel at the shore may or may not have been it acting as well--it would be able to control me sufficiently to activate Cleavage without my realizing I was doing it. All of this would be helpful in allowing me to accept Lyra by making it seem like it was safe to be close to her because she'd come to me naked bringing a sword that was only a useful weapon when I held it, whereas if she'd lead with the power this game is displaying now, even in the name of protecting us during our journey across Limbo, I would have been afraid of her whether the game hid its intentions or not.

Finally, the memories I seem to have remembered could be the suggestive power of this situation and I should note that it's the only story that's been told to me while I've been in this state, and that the lack of detail of shape and color in them is possibly explained better by that than degradation due to thousands of years of stasis.

The egregore Eden is real, and is a part of Earth it's my prerogative to hear about because of my being born there, but its existence assigns me none of the cosmic significance to which I object.

Ozymandias is also real, and is a person I could meet at least in theory, but his memory does contain the gaps the story I heard described and there's no chance he would recognize me if I were the Virgin of Atlantis. This is true of all the other known former residents of Atlantis as well, and it may be that the Virgin of Atlantis per se is the equivalent of one of the tinfoil-hat stories "everyone knows" to be true on Earth now, and that Atlantis was actually destroyed by some other means.

I'm given the ability to process this, and feel strangely floaty: what is more likely? More importantly, I'm totally certain Lyra would be capable of arranging to create a mindfuck scene like this in such a way that she would be deceived by it with me to keep the illusion intact, and...what would the ultimate loss of control be?

If I know anything about the creature kneeling before me, it's that she wouldn't stop with her game until it went all the way, and then one step further, into territory she'd believe must get spiked, but which she'd pray wasn't. It wouldn't be an option to just implant a false memory: one single manipulation of that kind, and we lose our family and the childhood I've only just learned we had together, but what if she created--or rather set up this game to be able to create, and hid the act of doing behind a veil of indirection and complexity her temporary superintelligence would be able to create that her normal self would never be able to see in her recollection of her making of this game, backstory and special effects that would throw into unresolvable doubt the basic nature of my origin, by making a story that the experiences leading to my capture by the game would seem to corroborate, but which would perfectly play on my sense of the improbable so that I could never accept it, leaving me with what Rada's just said: I can't know. I can only play the game--or rather, let the game play me.

Game, decide for me what I should know about this, and how much I can think about it after this.

Knowledge arrives: nothing about being the Virgin of Atlantis is true...the game was just demonstrating that it could make me believe it.

And there's the intention to bring me closer to Lyra through making see that she's safe to be with.

Most importantly, however, is, to show that while I can rely on the reality of the family and life on Earth I remember, and the immediate experience I'm having of Lyra and Rada and this ship and the Four Dreams, and that I must believe in Lyra as she presents herself to me of a compulsion that has nothing to do with this game and to which it could add not one jot of force I'm not already giving it, in everything else, I'm a child now, following the edicts and story of existence the game creates for me. It can deceive and manipulate me into believing even this story, and was able to bring a random, if very kindly predatory ship's captain in on the deception seamlessly, so what hope do I have of being able to do anything at all but just let the game play me, without trying to be responsible for whether what I believe is true?

The answer, the game tells me, is none. The story it tells me is my reality now.

Period. I must let go, and accept what it tells me, not because I need to be credulous, but because I'm going to believe the story it wants me to believe anyway. The point wasn't to make me give in, the point was to show me it already has me.

Rushing warmth suddenly weirdly throbs between my legs, pouring down the empty spot under the panties, and in my purse, my untouched cock pounds with incipient orgasm: the game has made me cum, not by any manipulation of my body (though there's no way it doesn't have that capability), just by fucking with my head until I came from it.

Message received. I gulp--

The game puts in my mind the option for me to formulate an order to Lyra which it will dreamtalk to her for me, just as it's been choosing my words vocally. I do.

Get my cock out of my purse and get inside your cunt and fuck on it using the floor to keep it steady until I'm done pumping cum into you and say you can move again and do it now, pussy!

AAH yes Goddess up get purse unzip whoosh take cock out ooh throbbing get back on knees sllliiiiiddeee haaaah you inside me and kneel spread my legs way out to get down to the ffffflooor uhn yum pump pump pump my hips fuck fffuck fuck hhaaaaah yum...

Glorious, wonderful, wet hot slippery cunt enveloping it...it's weird to feel what she's doing with what to all appearances is a hyper-realistic dildo, but I'm too busy watching her spread her legs wide and with her supernatural flexibly lean forward and arch so that the dildo my cock is held to the floor by her pussy while her back arches so that braced on her arms she can smile up and bare her breasts to me and still have flexibility left to thrust raunchy and satisfying up and down my shaft, to be really distracted by the strangeness, and then I'm cumming and the game breaks me free of the stuff encasing me and gives me a deep gasping breath and perfectly expresses exactly what I'm feeling by making me scream pleasure as loudly as my significant voice will go, arch, and tremble and buck with each throb of ejaculation.

The game tells me who I am and what I'm going to believe as I cum. I'm the child of my Earth parents, but they carry genes normally recessive which in my case became dominant and recreated the ancient species of human created in an experiment to create space travelers who would be happy in the interstellar travel environment cooped up in spacecraft for generations. The experiment worked, but had unintended consequences--

My balls compress between Lyra's cunt and the floor, but they're just the start of the ocean of cum inside me--I can feel pressure in my rearranged midsection contract like cumming, the flowing of cum but deep in my body, and Lyra reacts with the determination to give a good orgasm and get a good meal that becomes an increasingly overwhelmed and very raunchy expression of pleasure as I fill her that at last turns no less pleasurable but much more determined as she fights to keep all of it inside her.

The experiment created people who were happy living in indoor spaces indefinitely, within the confines of the starship guide computer's--

This is going to be a perfectly acceptable, coherent backstory with no conflicting evidence and a heavy weight in favor of its whole ancient astronauts thing just in that I can easily believe the idea of Rada and her ship being older than the length of human existence on Earth, and maybe if my brain weren't being melted by what definitely is almost-dangerous levels of test--estro--horny juice I'd just sit back and take it, but in this state my mind squeezes out something entirely else alongside the screaming and cum, all of its own accord:

Game, that's so boring! Come on, I want to think something really nuts! Interesting and fun nuts, but nuts! Can't you make me a fairy princess or something?

Oh fuck oops is the last I can think about whatever was distracting me from this rapture before the game picks the thought out of my attention for a time I happily know it will choose for me. I can be so silly sometimes. It's so comforting to know I don't have the agency for that to get me in trouble.


As soon as the last throb of it has been squeezed into Lyra's panting, sated-looking frame, the game puts the promise I made Lyra to tell her when she could move again into my mind. Am I going to do so now?

Knowing that the only contribution I get to make is the decision of what to do and how feels amazing. I've barely even finished coming, am still panting as prettily as I can, and it already feels like I could fuck again...better make sure we don't have any more near misses.

Also, if the game can word my orders for me, what else can it do? Where does it consider to be the line of interfering in my control of Lyra? It is being studiously respectful of our relationship, but...

Game, decide for me how Lyra is going to find out my order, and how she's going to accomplish having that harness buckled onto her so it holds my cock in her, and that she's going to then writhe and move on it however it feels good to do, and if her instincts say I'd be able to cum, try to make me cum without using her hands below her waist.

The game will do it! Lyra stares at me, eyes locked, and--whoah--I can see her absorb the order directly, as the game extends a part of my mind I didn't know could move that way and plunges the knowledge of what she's going to do into her soul as choicelessly as the game's Orders affect me, but far more sensually, like simultaneously puppeting her and fingerbanging her mind, complete with a wet, slippery-soft embracing sense of her surrounding me, joyful to be penetrated by her beloved, and left with something of me as the game withdraws me again.

Fuck. Definitely doing more things like that! I'm envious though, why doesn't the game give me my orders that way?

I gasp and coo out loud, under the game's control but genuine, and arch with pleasure, as a phallic finger of thought that really does feel like it's made of Lyra's love and desire for me to have the rapture of domination she experience gently, caressingly pushes its way into the core of my mind and ejaculates the game's answer: because now, when it communicates with me this way, I'll know every time that it's because I'm so hungry to be controlled by it I wanted its control over me to become even more dominating, sensual, invasive, than it already was...and that it can make just about everything else it does to me similarly sexier...if I beg pitifully enough to Rada or another willing spectator of my abjection.

The game, because it was created by someone who loves me more than anything in the world, now nails my attention to Lyra so that nothing else exists for me, the better to let me enjoy the results of its interpretation of my commands.

Put down my arms behind back helpless. Lay flat, you didn't tell me I could move yet, but can't be arched without arms!

"Goddess would you please help your cocksleeve put on your strap-in harness? She can't use her hands below her waist."

The predatory grin the game plasters across my face as it gets me up to descend on her where she's halfway to hogtied lying in a puddle of her own nectar is pixel-perfect accuracy of what I want to express.

A strange thought occurs as I kneel one-kneed over her: if the game is better at being me than I am, but can involve me in every step of doing that, so perfectly that I can have the benefit of things like creative play without ever having the agency in them, what does that mean? Isn't agency a need in and of itself?

The game's response is fascinating: it fucks, so deliciously and joyfully into my head I feel teary, the answer that it's calling me to the adventure of being, for myself, this me it knows how to be better than I do, by showing me through carrying me through every motion of it, what it is to be that new self, giving me a front row seat to every detail of how it plays me, so I can learn to play myself that way.

It leads me picking my way over her prone form to plop atop her wide-spread thighs and bring them together with my knees, pinning her down with my full weight, then makes me take up the buckles at either side of the harness and roughly buckle them over her hips, cruelly tight so she gasps and the straps cut deeply into the soft swells of her hips, a twistedly sexy sight.


The sounds that escape her as it uses me to carry out the torment I've designed with the gusto my heart desires but mind still dares not would have confused me an hour ago. Now...game, you'd better not be going easy on her, she'll be crushed.

I'm going to become this person. The agency the game offers me is that which leads toward it happening, only. Agency and helplessness are both needs I have, and it will make sure I never starve or even go hungry for either, but it's going to use them to carry me inexorably along the path of transformation it calculates moment-by-moment as the most fun route forward for me.

Game, she needs a smack on the ass of appropriate hardness, and then to be tail-controllered into a tight slave-pose with hands back and presenting.


So hot...

My hand rises from her ass and I wind up the instant the straps are adjusted, and the game makes me whack her so I can see the shockwave travel through every inch of her softness, driving an explosive gasp of pleasurepain out of her and setting my own hand stinging so that I wonder she's not crying, but when as the game makes me simultaneously stand and grab for her tail, mash slave pose and present, and step back so she can obey, I can see my vivid purple handprint marking her ass already, I resolve never to spank her so timidly as I did on the raft again.

Get up slave pose present hhhaaah cock moving so thick and long...mmh...

The game keeps me still to focus on the feeling of her cunt sliding and squeezing as she changes position, the way her weight settling onto it drives it deeper inside her, as it plays my voice in a whimpering, definitely-out-loud, moan of pleasure, tells me it's time to get back to displaying myself--by making me tell Rada:

"The game is offering me to you to be eye-candy in whatever situation you want to see me, or by standing and shaking my assets for you, until the rest of my watch in this clothing passes, but even if I get fucked for display like before you can't have sex with me even if I beg for it."

"How much time have I got? That's really nice, and I want to take advantage."

I'm held in a few moments of just standing, breathing raggedly with an edge of cooing, the pleasure plastered across my face, as Lyra starts squirming out her enjoyment of her impalement, before the game gives me the answer to tell her, puppeting the words out of my mouth so I don't even know what I'm saying until I hear the words:

"Twenty-one minutes and forty-eight seconds as of now."

"Lie face down on top of my knees. Will the game let me spank you?"

She shifts from her side-sitting posture on the couch to have a lap, and without a moment's hesitation the game marches me towards her, hips swaying as if to say 'the game will make sure you want to spank me'. I gulp in fear of the impending pain, but the game doesn't answer her request until it's sat me primly down beside her with my knees together, and arms between them to squeeze my breasts, then turned me to smile submissively at her and crawled me sensuously over her knees and let my weight onto them. Were it not for the way Lyra looks at me, I'd weep with never having felt so beautiful.

It then fucks me gently with the order to reply:

"You can purchase spanking me if you negotiate a price," I whisper-moan, voice drowning in Lyra's movements.

Why does the possibility of being sold feel so good? Especially to a depredation I'm not even sure I'll like--assuming I haven't already been transformed into a slut who just likes anything as long as it pleases you...

"What kind of deals is it offering?"

My mind is lovingly impaled once more.

"The usual prices for prostitution...around...this part...of Rl'yeh Sade..."

My reply is broken by gasping: Lyra is fucking up and down rhythmically, and shockingly far given the range of motion I've left her, and she's right to do it: I can already cum, will be soon enough...especially with, oh dear, being made to help negotiate my own going rate helping...

Hey, why is Rada keeping her hands to herself? My thong-bare ass is right in her lap! Touch me! Enjoy me, dammit! If my foot were under my control and on the floor I'd stomp with impatience.

"How about twelve spanks on either cheek to check the shelves and the toychest in here for one thing to be given as payment?"

The game fucks me the reply:

"The expected trade is twelve spanks altogether for the choice and keep of one thing from the shelves and toychest in this room including all shelving that's in here. Everything else is further charge, including the orgasm I'll have while you're spanking me if you buy it."

"Oooh, good bargain! Yes I'll buy the orgasm, if it's the right price. What is it charging to have you cum in my lap?"

My mind stretches so joyously to let the answer in:

"Of the objects in trade from the toychest and shelves, out the half least valuable, a single thing to keep."

"That works if it lets me feel up your back and thighs while I'm spanking you."

"Down to the kinks of my knees and up to the nape of my neck. Avoid the slits my wings extend from, they're not for playing with. Is that sufficient range for you?"

So good. The rhythm of the conversation is becoming like sex...and Lyra's ride on my cock is sex...

"I'm saying deal. Does the game say deal too?"

The game fucks an order:

"Yes," I breathe, smiling as the game makes me, though the smile is true: I'm afraid of the pain, but excited.

Something important's been gathering in my heart, a wish, and the game now sets it on top where I can see it, think what I think of it, feel it clearly.

There's not even the chance to take the step of deciding to verbally express the wish to myself. As soon as the game sees that I know my mind, it implements my wish: until Rada finishes spanking me, it's going to carefully make sure I experience my thoughts and feelings and sensations in the way I might, but I won't have even the slightest speck of agency, and (this isn't part of the wish, but it's happening anyway) may not for as long afterwards as the game sees fit--and I'm to know I've encouraged it to keep me held so by making this request.

It even promises to reward me handsomely for making the wish, though it doesn't say how.

Then suddenly the entire world fades to a vague blur, there but un-attended-to, and the air on my backside becomes crystalline in detail, electric: the game is going to make me feel this. Good, and also AAAH, it shows me the emotions beside each other in my heart, drowning in a sea of lust and excitement. Lyra's pussy wrapped around my dick--there's something about having to use these terms that makes me feel young so the game is making me--is every bit as clear, making my hands sweat and heart race. Or is that the spanking that's about to happen? Who cares, I am loving this.

The game is choosing each and every thought for me, word by word, except these would be exactly the thoughts I'd have if I were free and dared to think truly as myself. The game is better at being me than I am because I'm always afraid to be me.

Tears well up in my eyes as I realize this, and it makes me squeeze every part of my face into the pain of understanding how much better this feels and why, even not including the ecstasy of being operated like a precious musical instrument.

Hands are on my ass, bigger than Lyra's, gentle, feeling me out, exploring under the thong-strings and garter belts, making my butt huge--that's the way it feels, to be felt up with a shape I'm still not used to my mind can't admit to itself isn't the strong, hard ass I used to secretly wish to see in the bathroom mirror of my parents' house and find replaced by what Rada is feeling out now.

She stops to--OUCH! I whimper with the pain, choking back the sob it's knocked loose. My heart pounds with agony and despair not because of Rada spanking which hurt deliciously and made me hungry for another, but of knowing that when the game lets me go again, I'll disappear!

The game stops me and changes what my heart feels to let me enjoy the fun of Lyra being bound with my cock inside her while I'm lying on Rada's lap while she spanks me AAAH OW! I cry out, pitiful, cutely agonized, hope Rada enjoys my suffering.

Next she puts a hand down between my garter-belt and body. Why is she doing that--oooh god, it feels amazing, she's sliding her hand over the flesh underneath just to feel where the tiny shred of clothing is the only thing covering me other than the translucent stockings and tiny thong, and somehow this makes the skin beneath sensitive like fire. I moan aloud, joyful to be played with, throbbing now inside Lyra, able to nearly taste her cunt with how intimately the sex brings us together over the length of the room. She feels down my stockinged thigh, pushing my legs apart with fingers just barely between them, and the game makes me comply quietly--AAHAAH whine owieee!

This one makes my heart race and eyes close because Lyra is squeezing my cock hungrily and I want to save the orgasm for later in the spanking which apparently the game thinks I should also because it's acting on the desire for me. Rada's hand still rests at the fold where the top of my thigh becomes the round bottom of my left butt cheek, and it makes the flesh surrounding burn for her to grope me. Rada please enjoy me, please have fun while you use me. You bought me, take me! She slowly takes her hand away, and the sound of it falling hits my ears just after the feeling enters my consciousnessAAAAH OWWWW WHINE FUCK!

Her spanks are getting heavier, bringing tears to my eyes and making me bounce with the impact, to say nothing of the the way I flinch when she hits me--the game makes me, because even being myself fearlessly I flinch when you spank me--and the AAAAAAAAASOB weeping next breaks the tears out of me so I convulse on her knees, sobbing desperately, crying out the agony of knowing I can only feel and think so honestly if the game forces me to. There must--

The game stops the idea from forming any further but keeps pouring the sadness out of me OUCH AAAH! I barely manage to keep from leaping out of her reach, or that would be a hazard but the game will keep me from doing anything but being a good spanking plaything steady in her lap.

I weep and cry and scream, bawling into the couch's silky blanket, holding onto it with fistfuls of fabric twisted around my fingers, desperately trying to hold onto this existing for as long as possible. Harder! Hit me HARDER! I need something to keep me grounded to reality, I feel beautiful as she spanks so delicately cruelly surely leaving handprints like the one I gave Lyra I'll wear proudly--oh no, will Lyra's nectar erase them!? The game reassures me, marks that I identify with with be part of me until they heal naturally.

Rada's taking her--AAAAAH WOW FUCK THAT FELT LIKE GAH SHE SPANKED AGAIN AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHnineteneleveltwelve the game can make me count them so I don't freak out and think it will never end, then finally it does and I'm disappointed, there's still something left of me maybe she can hit me some more for free, game?

It doesn't let me offer, and soon she's pressing something softly feeling like the cloth I'm also lying on slick with something like nectar against it and the pain numbs instantly.

"That's your seedling's nectar, from where she dripped while you had her kneeling. It's clean, you can eat off my decks without getting so much as a grain of sand in your teeth, isn't that right, Klapta?"

"Captain is very particular about scrubbing me. It feels so good!"

It's such beautiful poetry to think Lyra's urgent need for me is what's making me feel better now. Good drippy cunt, I dreamtalk her at the game's direction.

Now my cock is throbbing. Why is that happening--right it's inside Lyra "hhhaaaaaaaah fuck ooooh!"

I writhe in Rada's lap, snuggling the couch's silky covering, getting up and falling down again trying to thrust into her without anything to thrust with, being helpless to press myself into Lyra like I usually can--but she's not just sitting on my cock, she's forcing it inside herself by something--her tail, I can feel the buttons on its surface pressing against the end of my cock in the harness, forcing me into her with amazing strength, and I tell the game to please make me make her squeeze me with it as hard as she can soon. There's something strange in how I feel the buttons on her tail, but the game won't let me think--

Rada holds me gently, petting my back carefully away from wing-slits that do seem to be the only part of the entire landscape of this fun sexy toy I've changed into that isn't desperately wailing USE ME PLEASE. The game makes me find the voice to say:

"How did you like me?"

"Beautiful, and the orgasm felt so cute with you pointlessly trying to fuck the couch between my knees. It was sweet how you didn't seem to realize your cock's inside your seedling across my nursery instead of being crushed against my legs. How did your first spanking feel?"

"How could you tell it was my first?"

"The size of your eyes when you lay down on me said you were terrified, but you showed me your were curious by eagerly laying down--or did the game make you do that?"

I can't say exactly how it tells me, but the game assures me the eagerness it used to tell her was it expressing exactly how I was feeling openly, and I'm sure it's true.

The game isn't making me do anything. What's happening?


The freakout displays so perfectly how carefully it plays me. These words are words its giving me BUT YES I AM FREAKING OUT ABOUT THIS! HELP, GAME, PLEASE!

Terrifying silence.