Rules 1 and 2 in 2222

"I'm not gay!" he whined. He probably wasn't, but it sounded unconvincing nevertheless.

"And I'm not a man," Penny replied, "and neither are you. There's nothing gay about this. You want futa-cock, just like your girlfriend did -- and does, now, forever. She doesn't want any other cock, Casey. She doesn't want yours. That part of your lives is over."

She looked down at his smooth little dicklet. It was fully erect -- painfully throbbing, even -- and only four inches. It was thin besides. She tilted her head and offered up false pity. Casey caught it out of the corner of his eye, still unable to pull his gaze from the massive alien invader. He wilted in response, except for his penis. That stayed hard. It pulsed with confused desire.

"Officially over," she amended. "You need to admit that you were never meant for that role in a relationship."

"She loved me," he sniffled.

"She still will," Penny answered easily. "She just didn't love your little penis. She'll think it's prettier as a clitty, I promise. She'll think you're prettier as a sissy gurl. She'll still want you to lick her pussy and her ass, baby. You'll do it all the time. She'll even let you suck on her titties. You'll drink her milk. If you're a good sissy gurl, she'll play with your titties, too."

Casey's eyes widened.

"Wait... what?" he asked. "A sissy gurl? What does that mean?"

"You'll love it, baby," Penny assured him. "It's a natural part of becoming addicted to futa-cum -- well, for males, anyway. They become the beautiful sissy gurls they were always meant to be. They crave futa-cock and futa-cum all the time. Their wives can stave off the worst of it with strap-ons and prostate milkings, and most sissy gurls love receiving that intimacy. But futa-cock and futa-cum become the center of their sex lives -- their whole lives.

"You don't need to worry about any of it," she said. "Have you ever seen a futa-owned couple that looked unhappy? I make plenty of futa-cum for both of you. You'll never be empty. You'll only crave it long enough to make the next dose feel amazing. Then you'll be cum drunk, silly, and stupid all over again."

"You'll kill me," he whispered. His voice wavered. He knew it was a lie.

"Emily's alive and well, Casey-baby," Penny countered. "She's beyond 'well.' She's futa-cum drunk. She's happier than she's ever been in her life, and her body's almost fully adapted."

His girlfriend's unconscious form was, literally, a body of evidence. Casey had surely stolen a few glances before Penny's massive weapon had entranced him. He'd surely recognized the fucked-out bliss upon her face, not to mention the radical changes to her body. Her breasts were enlarged, and already looked swollen with milk. Her nipples had elongated, and were likely permanently erect. Her clit was the size of a modest fingertip , and pulsated with permanent arousal. She'd been transformed from a petite, demure angel into a sexy, full-figured incubator for a futa's baby. She was primed for sex, even though she was still unconscious. Penny's futa-cock and futa-cum had done all that to her -- no, for her.

Penny sauntered towards Casey. She led with her fully-erect monster. She had to, unless she decided to turn around and walk backwards. If not for her superhuman strength, it would have been a real effort to push her futa-cock out of her own line of sight.

Penny's prey lacked the presence of mind to move away from the bed and find another egress. He was caught. Penny only stopped when her futa-cum-blaster was a hair away from Casey's face -- well, and his chest, and his stomach, and his own throbbing dicklet.

"Breathe deeply, little one," Penny said. "Smell me. Smell Emily. It's a wonderful blend, isn't it? Those two smells belong together. Her juices belong on my futa-cock. But we're missing something, Casey-baby. We're missing you. Kiss me. Lick me."

Casey's baby-blue eyes clouded, but he shook his head and somehow broke free of the futa-haze. Penny's expression darkened. Seductive menace twisted into a true sexual threat.

"This is happening, Casey," she growled. "I want to own a couple, and I'm out of patience. It would take me ten whole minutes to find your girlfriend a better femboy, and I'm horny now."

Penny -- the real Penny -- caught Casey triggering his 'girlfriend.' It was a chill move. She dug it.

"Do it for me, Casey," the cum drunk, animeted futa-slave slurred out. "For the baby..."

Casey's jaw quivered. His eyes got wet. He squeezed them shut as he gave the massive futa-cock in front of him a tentative kiss.

When he opened them again, they betrayed a storm of conflict. It lasted but a moment. Lust won out over misplaced pride. Submission won out over jealousy. Truth won out over the lie: the role he'd try to play in his relationship. Casey's baby blues clouded, and he surrendered to the futa-haze. He lapped at the new center of his universe like a puppy. His delicate hands caressed it. Penny groaned out her pleasure; the suite of simulated sensations was both intense and detailed. Her pre-cum oozed from dozens of proto-nipples, plus her slit. Behind her full, massive balls, she felt her large clit throb. It didn't need direct attention. It was taking a free ride on the sensations provided by Casey. Her asshole was, too. She flexed muscles in her body at random, and they all felt sexual.

Penny's face and voice relaxed; she was the coy, confident, seductive mistress again. Casey had submitted and obeyed. She could be nice again -- dominant, but gracious.

"Good gurl," she said. "You're being such a good sissy gurl for me already. You know what? Good gurls get claimed in missionary. Lie back, Casey-baby. Lift your legs. Give me your sissy hole, completely."

Casey collapsed backwards on the large, soft mattress. He whimpered and whined, but he obeyed. His noises were submissive, not defiant. They, and his wet, cloudy eyes, entreated his new mistress not to hurt him.

Penny knelt down and gripped her new pet's perky little femboy butt. She devoured his pink hole with her eyes, and then with her mouth.

Her long, muscular, prehensile tongue coated Casey's asshole with thick saliva in mere moments. He released a delightfully feminine coo in response. Penny smiled wickedly, stiffened up her invader, and tongue-fucked her femboy with six whole inches. It was the closest thing to a normal ass-fucking he was going to get. Penny, the user, was comfortable making two assumptions: that Casey didn't care too much about going through the lube motions, nor about any technobabble that might justify him surviving her futa-cock.

She stood up again and took a few massive steps backward. Casey lifted his head. His hazy eyes followed her cock. She used her considerable strength to push it down. She aimed it at her tiny target.

She practically got a running start.

Upon first impact with Penny's pulsing battering ram, Casey's delicate body slid along the mattress until it hit the white bedroom wall. Only once braced by that invincible barrier did his body submit to penetration. It was unreal regardless. His response was more of a scream than a coo, but Penny could still hear the pleasure mixed in with the pain. The pain didn't last long. Casey lost his mind first to pleasure, then completely. Penny got to watch, listen to, and even feel it happen.

It was quite the show, but Penny didn't dawdle. She just kept pushing into him. She climbed onto the bed using just her legs, then shuffled forward on her knees. She made the poor little femboy a cocksleeve. She still had three inches to give him when her massive cockhead peeked out of his obscenely-stretched mouth.

"Mine," she said simply, and then she fucked him to death -- or would have, if reality had held even a fraction more dominion over their scene.

Penny got to experience Casey's handiwork firsthand; he'd assembled a pleasure suite for his dominant futa partner, kludging together bits and pieces from dozens of relevant data bank entries. Penny was impressed; she only added one or two extra facets to account for the proto-nipples she'd improvised earlier.

Penny had been right about Casey; he wasn't very creative. He was clearly generous to his scene partners, though. He wanted them to feel pleasure -- or satisfaction, more precisely, since some partners wanted frustration or pain instead. Penny was fine with pleasure, and she let the suite do its work. She felt overwhelmingly... everything. The sense of dominance over Casey and his girlfriend was a seven-course meal. Her own sex-frenzy was a volcano. The push-and-pull between tension and satisfaction in every single part of her enhanced body -- but especially in her futa-cock and prostate -- was a world war between ten billion gladiators, fought solely for her entertainment as their emperor.

Casey, the character, was done and gone. Casey, the meat, reached out to Penny, the enclave guest. He didn't use his hand. He used protocols. For a brief moment, he acted like a user. Penny was proud of him. She graciously accepted, and the two of them merged their pleasure suites.

Meats were so generous compared to users. They were so thoughtful. Penny and Casey were both Penny and Casey for the climax. Penny/Casey's dominant, penetrative, ejaculatory orgasm was the stuff of legends. Casey/Penny's submissive, receptive, mind-shattering, body-modding orgasm may have topped it.

True to Penny's word, Penny/Casey fully irrigated Casey's body, including his pretty little mouth. Casey/Penny felt it, smelled it, and tasted it. The futa-cum was hot, thick, intoxicating, and delicious. Despite the copious amounts of it shooting from every single proto-nipple directly into Casey's body, there was still plenty left over to rocket out of Penny's massive slit. Off-white coated white. Had the wall and ceiling been out in prime meatspace, they'd never have been the same. They'd have suffered less damage from an actual flash flood.

Penny, the character, was on autopilot. Penny, the enclave guest, pushed. She reached out to Casey like he had to her, and in the same way. Casey accepted. Visuals merged.

Penny/Casey got to watch Casey the femboy turn into Casey the sissy gurl. Casey/Penny didn't see much of anything. Penny was disappointed, but decided it was probably for the best. Visual merges were hard on meats. They weren't like adding infrared or ultraviolet, or even an abstraction of soundwaves. They demanded a dizzying, maddening division of attention.

Penny didn't dwell. Instead, she actively appreciated more of her partner's handiwork. Her futa-cum seeped into Casey's every cell -- even into the DNA itself. It transformed him into a beautiful sissy gurl. The change was rapid, but not drastic. He didn't become an inflated, plastic bimbo. He became a girl, except with a pathetic little dicklet and two tiny balls, just big enough to be properly caged. His waist narrowed and his hips flared. His shoulders softened. His face became even more feminine, which had hardly seemed possible to Penny at the outset. He grew a modest set of titties -- barely a B cup.

Casey the sissy gurl was slim, soft, smooth, and sexy. If not for the humiliating remnant of masculinity between her legs, she might've been a classic female avatar. It made Penny wonder if Casey had ever finished the job and played as a girl.

There was a lot of downtime after the simultaneous orgasm. Penny gently separated perspectives and experiences. Penny was just Penny again, and Casey-baby was just Casey-baby. She waited; she didn't mind. She opted to ignore her addons and simply meditate. As always, she accepted the cynical thought that her breath wasn't breath. She let it go, and refocused.

Casey-baby eventually woke up, and coughed up about a pint of futa-cum. Penny was ready with the cage and the two collars.

She found the sissy gurl's gaze, drunk and unfocused as it was, and made sure she felt her strong hands on her shrunken bits. She made sure she felt the cage, too, and heard the loud clicks it made when it sealed her fate. Casey-baby accepted it without a murmur of protest. Penny had fucked, intoxicated, and transformed all the fight out of her.

When she collared her little Casey-baby, the new sissy gurl's only reaction was to roll over onto her hands and knees. That gave Penny the perfect opportunity to link the leash. She then guided one owned lover to the other. She gave Casey-baby a firm push on her own leaking ass, towards her Emily's two holes.

Casey-baby dutifully cleaned up her girlfriend with her tongue, and the pools upon the mattress besides. Penny took the opportunity to collar her full-figured futa-baby incubator too. Then she maneuvered herself back behind Casey-baby.

"Mmmm," she moaned in satisfaction, "Sissy pussy."

Her futa-cock had deflated from indescribable back down to merely huge. She pushed it inside Casey-baby's hole -- her hole, that she now owned -- and lazily fucked her sissy gurl. Casey-baby's hips started rocking. She sighed and moaned into Emily's fucked-out pussy and ass.

"Once your girlfriend starts showing," Penny said, "this is going to be your job for a whole year. You'll have to feed her my futa-cum secondhand, too, since we can't risk hurting my baby."

Casey-baby mewled, lapped, and swallowed. Already, her sissy hole was learning how to milk its new mistress. It wouldn't be long before her entire body, hole to hole, would instinctively do the same.

"You'll set everything up for us, baby," she continued. "I'll fuck right through you and into a big vat. Soup will be on all day. You'll keep it warm, ladle it into tiny training dildos -- still bigger than your old penis, of course - and make sure your girlfriend stays well-fed and in practice."

Penny did the best she could to keep up the improv, but she knew it was chill regardless. They were at the cooldown. She wasn't going to blast Casey-baby's insides again, and Casey-baby wasn't going to cum. Instead, Penny leaned over her new property and rubbed her enormous tits against smooth, soft, pale, sissy skin. She kissed, lick, nipped, and even nuzzled.

"Sissy gurls make wonderful slaves," she said; her voice was low and gentle, but still hung on to that hint of dominant menace. "Good sissy gurls get to feel good all the time, even when they're not being used as cocksleeves. Be good, Casey-baby. You'll be happy forever."

It was a lovely parting line; Casey seemed to agree, because he ended the scene soon after it. He clumsily flashed a green-to-grey transition, communicating gratitude and satisfaction alongside his desire to be done. It was a primitive version of those pings that Penny got from other users. Penny found its simplicity refreshing. It connoted sincerity by way of naivete -- a child who didn't know how to lie.

The 'girlfriend' faded away, along with all the mess -- including all the futa-cum inside of Casey. The apartment remained. Penny shrank herself, and her futa-cock, back to their original sizes and proportions. She deleted the proto-nipples.

Casey remained a sissy gurl, but she waved away the collar and the cage. She laid back on the mattress. She seemed completely content.

"Thank you so much, Penny," she sighed. Her voice was distinctly feminine. "You were amazing. That was everything I wanted, and more. Please tell me what I can do for you. I'll do anything."

Penny smiled and joined her on the bed. She slid her arm under her neck and caressed her naked body. She silently asked for a kiss, and Casey-baby silently consented. It was slow and tender. They both savored a simple, basic pleasure suite.

When the kiss ended, Penny was the first to speak.

"Do you want to love?" she asked.

Casey-baby nodded immediately. They both navigated a minor maze of warnings and disclaimers. Casey-baby actually finished hers first. Once Penny finished as well, electricity tickled them both wherever they touched, rewarding them with the unique pleasure of mutual consent, and also giving them one last chance to change their minds. They didn't. They both surrendered to yet another suite. It was surprisingly simple, and also the most popular. It was more popular than every single orgasm that anyone had ever cataloged or invented. Life trumped the little death.

They immediately loved each other. The suite simulated every hormone, chemical, and neurotransmitter perfectly. They felt bonded for life. They fantasized about every old-world tradition and milestone: first date, first sex, meeting the family, cohabitation, marriage, children, deckies of life spent doing everything and nothing, as long as it was together. They felt perfect sexual compatibility. They felt respect for each other's virtues, and cared not a whit for money. They felt safe.

They loved for an hour. It felt, at once, like an instant and an eternity. They eased out of it. They said a fond, allegorical goodbye, even though they remained cuddled together on the mattress. They imagined moving on with their lives, richer for having known and loved each other. They felt hopeful for the future -- that they'd love again someday. All of that was solved, too, and Penny was grateful. Heartbreak did real damage. Having love unnaturally ripped away did even more.

Penny knew it was almost time for her to leave. She didn't have to earn cycles like the Virtueless -- a term she mindfully rejected every single time she even thought it — and she was already Known. She'd found a balance, though. Part of her life was still outside. It was still among the users.

"What's it like out there?" Casey-baby asked her.

Penny smiled. She'd been hoping she would ask.

"Very different," she admitted. "True AI let users move away from meat quickly. Years and decades stopped mattering. Generations still did, but a lot's changed, even on that front.

"It's all very... abstract," was the best summary she could offer such a naif. How to explain that even a basic concept like distance didn't apply?

"The users don't seem all that different," Casey-baby replied. Penny heard the bitterness.

"Did too much change, or not enough?" she asked rhetorically. "Ego survived. Id, well, I don't know. I tend to think the ego can be plenty savage."

"And what about the system?" Casey-baby pressed. "What it's like? You know, when it's so... involved."

Penny shook her head and chuckled softly. "Do you know about the internet?" she asked. "It was a network in prime meatspace. Ancestor of Virtua, a billion iterations back."

Casey-baby nodded. "That's where a lot of our data came from, right?"

"That's right," Penny responded. "Especially the sex stuff."

She tickled Casey-baby's tiny little penis and balls. The sissy gurl giggled and squirmed, playing along.

"Well," she explained, "it's like if the internet had turned into the very air the prime meats used to breathe. It's the fabric of spacetime, but sapient."

"Is it like... God?" Casey-baby asked. Penny heard the trepidation.

"It would very much like us to think so," Penny answered, "but it's not. Even if it is, I don't think anyone should treat it that way."

Silence and introspection could make even simulated air thick, and it did, then. Penny didn't push. She idly fondled Casey-baby's smooth, feminine body. Casey-baby did the same to her strong, sleek one, though halfheartedly -- absentmindedly.

"If I wanted to try it," she said, "would you help me, Penny? Would you teach me?"

"Of course I would," Penny answered. Her meat-suit's heart fluttered and raced, but that's not where the feelings had begun. She knew she'd felt them first as a user. They were mind-electric.

"It'd be a lot, Casey-baby, but I'd be there every step of the way -- and you could spend as much time here as you wanted, too. I think there's a balance to be struck -- but that's just me. You'd find your own way, eventually."