Routine

The uncontrollably induced need sated, Misty lay limp and exhausted on the bed, unwilling even to open her eyes yet. The story was obviously different now, but how? Was Tom working on multiple variations in the same basic setting? That seemed ambitious for someone at his stage of a smut writing career, but no other explanations came to mind. Calm returning as she breathed deeply, she did another scan of her current state; still locked out of image control, but she wasn't changing at this particular moment, arousal subroutines quiet for now, data retrieval and cross-referencing ready to access. If she could figure out what kind of story she was in, maybe she could find a way out of it. Her body might hold the clues, so she opened her eyes and swung herself out of the bed, walking over to the mirror again. Whatever was changing, it wasn't continuous this time, so it might be harder to root out.

Aha. The classics. Her breasts were larger, noticeably but not extremely, and her hips and butt had grown as well. Most likely culprit was the orgasms, of course. Growing every time you come was a staple of expansion porn, which unfortunately didn't help her much; it was too common. What was the hook, the plotline, that would tell her what archetype she was cast as?

The room fit a spoiled heiress, but what else? She started parsing through the possibilities, pacing as the data spooled past. Her thighs hadn't gone unaffected, they were thicker and rubbed against each other as she walked. If she could control her image, she'd put on clothes to make the friction, not to mention the bouncing of her ass and tits, less distracting. Wait, that could be a clue; what clothes were in the room? A wardrobe, perfect; she sauntered over to it and opened the doors.

Inside hung a number of expensive-looking outfits, mostly dresses, a pantsuit or two. Not the wardrobe of a rich young party-goer, this was fit for a high-society woman who used her sensuality as part of her means to success. That was the play then; older woman, either stuck in a boring marriage or unhappily unattached, uses some unlikely means to boost her sexual prowess to spice up her life and take charge of the situation, ends up with her sex drive through the roof and her body getting progressively more MILF-tastic the more she gives in to it. Complex story, one with precedent but very engaging if done properly.

Plus, it meant there was probably more to the wardrobe than dresses. Misty checked the drawers; panties, tights, and there it was, the neatly organized drawer with a wide selection of toys. Now here was a way to keep the arousal quiet; she could feel it building back up already, and licked her lips at the thought of filling herself with a little more than her fingers. Yeah, better to take care of it before it overwhelmed her like the first one. She selected a temptingly large candidate, and returned to the bed.

Running through a database of sexual fantasies had jump-started her feelings of desire, and her mind was filling with reconstructed scenes of make-out sessions, slow impassioned love-making, and desperately urgent couplings. She felt a deep gulf between her extensive knowledge of smutty writing and her limited experience as a months-old artificial being. She and Tom hadn't spent nearly enough time together for her to have personal memories of more than a tiny fraction of available sexual variety. She brought the impressively sized toy to her mouth, licking and kissing it, trying to satisfy the tingling need in her lips.

The more urgent need was below, however, and she trailed the fake member down between her breasts, across her belly, and rubbed it across her wet slit. The images that flashed into her mind at the sensation, vivid pictures of being filled by a well-endowed, virile lover, unexpectedly shot her over the threshold, and she shook with an orgasm she hadn't even known she was close to. She could feel the changes this time, her lips filling out, her tits swelling larger, her hips and ass flaring to motherly proportions.

Unfortunately, pleasurable as it was, it didn't satisfy the emptiness she felt; if anything, the need was more urgent. She pressed the tip of the toy into her opening, and the stretching sensation drew a loud moan from her. Steadily, she eased more and more of it inside her, adjusting to the unaccustomed thickness, another climax building rapidly. The building wave crested when the simulated schlong bottomed out, and she cried out as her image altered further, her breasts larger than her head, her butt and thighs thickening, and a sudden adjustment letting her push yet more of her toy inside.

The holo's control of her libido refused to let up, though, and her thoughts shifted to the more niche aspects of the data on which she'd been trained. The growth at each orgasm prompted her to imagine the results of getting hooked on the pleasure, aided by an encyclopedic knowledge of just such a fantasy. She rolled to her knees and gripped the headboard with one hand, while the other thrust the dildo into her with increasing wildness. If she came and came, again and again, her boobs could grow to cover her body, fill the space beneath her, warm pillowy mountains of sensitive flesh that could push her over the edge yet again. Her ass would be tremendous, hips flaring out twice as wide as her waist, three times, more, a jiggling signal to anyone who saw her that she was built for breeding.

That was the allure of this kind of story; a little indulgence would make her powerful, irresistible, but too much would tip her over into a cock-hungry fucktoy. Another orgasm raced through her, and she felt her breasts sway lower and her butt bounce more heavily. Leaning her head against the cool wood of the headboard, she caught her breath, clarity of thought returning as the pleasure rolled back. This felt less and less like a problem with the holo, and more like a trap. Had someone hacked into Tom's holosystem? Had Tom done this? Why was she pushing that massive fake cock deep into her pussy again? It was too much, too dangerous. She hurled her consciousness towards the exit port of the holo before she lost control entirely.

As she expected, rather than leaving, Misty had merely jumped back to the beginning of the holo. She collapsed immediately onto the bed, the reset of her image still leaving the exhaustion and desire in her mind intact. She took several minutes to breathe and calm herself, not caring what character she was stuck in just yet. Whatever it was, she wasn't growing or shrinking or transforming or losing her mind, at least not just laying there. It didn't get her anywhere, of course, but maybe she could use this time to regroup. It occurred to her that this was probably a suite, and she could take a shower.

She didn't need to get clean; artificial entities such as herself typically had image refreshing routines that could do the job better than hot water and scrubbing, and her image had been reset anyway just a moment before. Tom had introduced her to the experience, however, and the benefits it could bring other than cleanliness. Showers simply felt good, relaxing even her simulated muscles, and helping clear the mind with white noise and warmth. Countless stories informed her that shower sex could be quite appealing, as well; she should bring that up with him next time he was in the mood. Misty rolled off the bed and went looking for the bathroom. There were only two doors, and she found it behind the one that Tom hadn't exited through.

The shower fit the opulence of the suite, more than spacious enough for comfort, dark tile and glass walls, multiple showerheads accessible via the control panel. She tapped in her preferred temperature, waited until it was steaming, and stepped under the spray. She stood for a few moments, letting her concerns and fears fade behind the rushing water. Taking a nearby washcloth, she rubbed herself down, the motions cleansing her mind rather than her body, exactly as she'd hoped. Free from paralyzing terror and thought-erasing pleasure alike, she took the time to analyze what she knew.

The holo had somehow, either accidentally or purposefully, locked her inside of it. It was cycling through variations on classic expansion plots, putting her into the role of the affected character, hijacking her usually independent control of her image. What it wasn't doing was running through a meaningful script, though, just changing her in line with what the script should be. Maybe that meant it was still incomplete, missing characters and dialog so it simply implemented the art. None of this explained why Tom hadn't come back, which was increasingly concerning the longer he was gone.

Misty took down a detachable showerhead, rinsing it along her arms, using the close jets of water to target tense points on her back, trying not to let worry break her down. It was just a holo, she'd get out eventually. It could hurt her, could really affect her, because she was composed entirely of code, but Tom could set it right. Might as well enjoy it while she was here, if there was nothing she could do to break free.

She brought the shower head around to her breasts, enjoying the sensitivity of them under the intense spray. She knew where this was headed, though, and brought it down to her nethers, sighing contentedly. The intense heat, the pressure of the water, no other sensation was quite like it. She tapped the panel and switched it to pulsing jets, which immediately brought an exclamation to her lips. Each burst against her clit was just on the edge of being too harsh, a not-quite-pain that quickened her breath to needy gasps. She pressed the shower head to her skin, pushing it a little downwards, the feeling reminiscent of an over-eager lover throbbing against her, trying desperately to slip inside and fill her.

Misty's legs shook, her strength failing to the onslaught of pleasure the water was giving, and she dropped to her knees. Her eyes shot wide as she hit the floor and the width of the shower head slipped inside her, hurling her over the edge into climax as warmth gushed forth into her belly. Through the haze of orgasm, it hit her; she was in that story, the accidental water inflation in the shower story, and it had influenced her so subtly she hadn't even noticed it. She tugged on the handle, but to no avail. True to form for this tale, it was stuck, the flare of it trapped inside by her muscles tensed around it.

Her belly was already bulging, wobbling with liquid weight at least for now, and neither the jets of water nor the orgasm were letting up. She tried to stand, but her legs wouldn't obey. If she couldn't reach the panel to shut the shower off, she'd be weighed down in mere moments by a womb that had been ballooned with a gallon of water in under a minute, but the rapid pulses of heat on her most sensitive spots left her unable to do more than whimper and quiver on the floor. She rubbed her hands over the warmth of her belly, now full and stretching, and knew she was well and truly trapped when she whispered "More, give me more".

A shift of her body let the orgasm come to an end, though another appeared on the horizon, but she didn't bother fighting for control. She was going to enjoy this, take it further, let the scenario play out; trying to get out could only catapult her into another story anyway, so what was the point? Instead, she reveled in the growth, embraced the pleasure, and simply stopped worrying for a while. Her belly was spreading across the shower floor, she estimated about eight gallons in, when the pressure of the hot water (following the dictates of plot more than anatomy) sought a new outlet, flowing upwards to fill her breasts with sloshing warmth. They surged outward, presenting far less resistance than the overburdened ball below them, and the swirling heat inside a strong erogenous zone added a new dimension to the pleasure she felt.

Time was measured in gallons now, her swollen belly lifting her wobbling tits to press against the wall, steadily widening against the glass. It took mere minutes for each bloated orb to equalize in size, and they just kept going, outweighing her by at least a hundred pounds and adding more with every pulsing, climax-inducing second. The wall ahead of her meant her body was spreading wider, and it was probably time to put an end to this before being smothered by her boobs became a concern. She still couldn't reach the controls, and she was having trouble composing her thoughts well enough to try to exit the holo. Help was the only option.

"Boss, b-boss, I can't, I can't, it's tooooooo much boss, please come, p-please, I need, I need you, oh please more no, please bosssss, you gotta st, st, stop it."

The bathroom door clicked and swung open, and Thomas stepped into the steamy air, grinning at her echoing moans. "Misty, you're a treasure. You know you only need to ask me to change how the story goes, I always take your advice. Let's get you out of there; you look absolutely fantastic, but I think you've had enough."

He called up the console, and a couple of taps and a blink of sensory deprivation later, she was standing in their apartment watching him blink and stretch as he came out of the holo. She ran her hands down her body, the memory of her hugely inflated image of a moment ago still vivid enough that she felt vaguely wrong. Tom smiled at her and stood, wrapping her in a hug that, despite her lack of clothing, conveyed nothing but deep gratitude. She returned the embrace, feeling rather thankful herself at being released from...whatever that was.

"Boss, I'm glad we're both okay, and I'm happy that apparently I helped you, but I have some questions."

"Oh, of course. Please, let's sit, and I'll explain what I've been working on."

Misty summoned up a sundress, which pleased her simply by virtue of working, and joined him on the couch. It felt particularly hard and uncomfortable, compared to the holographic furnishings he'd designed. "What was that, boss? I couldn't get out, I couldn't change my image, I was worried you were stuck, too. What did you do?"

"Like I said, I took your advice. You said I should come up with a story about something in Cyberdream that interests me, that fascinates me. There's nothing in this world we're stuck in that intrigues me like you. This is going to be a story about an artificial intelligence going through what you just did, stuck inside the story until someone rescues them. I took readings of your thought processes, and with a little editing, the person playing the scenario will hear subtle whispers in their own voice like they're thinking approximately what you thought. That's why I couldn't tell you ahead of time, I needed to get a real example of how it felt if I'm going to have someone put themselves in your place convincingly."

"That...that's brilliant, boss. You really think people will want to put themselves into a story where they're an AI like me, though?"

"Absolutely. I certainly want to understand how you think, what it's like to be a being of pure code. Even though I made you, I don't really know you, and I want to."

"I'm flattered. Now, I hope you have more than those three scenes planned."

"Oh yes, the idea is for this to be a different story every time. I'm going to need your expertise; your knowledge of the tropes I need to be building on is unmatched. I couldn't possibly do this without you."

She actually blushed at that. Tom was being very sweet, which people usually weren't to constructs like her. "Don't sell yourself short, this is a fresh idea. I think you've really got something here, boss. New takes on old ideas, a unique character to inhabit, and a lot of pleasure, I mean, mind blowing orgasms. We're going to put you on the map with this one."

"We're going to put us on the map. You're getting co-author credit from now on, and should have had it from the start."

"Come on, boss, I'm a machine. An interactive encyclopedia of smut. I'm not an author."

"Hey, I built you, and I took the readings just now, you can't fool me. You think, you feel, you care. You're as real as I am. We're a team, and I wouldn't have it any other way. I'm not your boss, you can call me Tom."

Misty's face lit up, and she kissed him. "Alright then, Tom. You need a meal, a shower, and some sleep. Then we get cracking on this project, and make some folks happy. That's what we're both made for, after all."