Sounds Good Ch. 02

I went back to the game with renewed energy.

It would be a full week (in-game) before I could have another date with Heather. I passed the days working, to make more money, and bought her another gift: perfume. She was pleased, but not especially so. Still, she agreed to go to the pub with me on Saturday night.

I spent the remaining time with the other girls when they were available. Laura and Ronnie were out most evenings, but I progressed to friend with Michelle, and to close friend with Nalani (she had another computer problem, which I was easily able to solve for her).

Then we had an interesting conversation about goals and ambitions. I chose 'travel' as one of my dreams for the future. It must have been the best choice, because she responded enthusiastically - almost passionately.

- I want to go absolutely everywhere. she said, wistfully. There was a beautiful render of Nalani's face, in profile, with a faraway look in her eyes. The voice actress did a fantastic job of speaking the line, too.

I felt a tear in my own eye. Stupid steroids.

***

My second date with Heather was at the pub. We talked about her swimming, at first, but then she began to ask questions about me.

That was a little more difficult, since I didn't know anything about what Tristan (my character) was supposed to be. I just chose the replies that were farthest from my own limited (and somewhat pathetic) life experience.

I ordered (and paid for) a second round for us - and then a third. I declined a fourth. I didn't want Heather drunk. Glowing, maybe. A little frisky, sure. But not hammered.

The illustration of Heather in the pub, leaning against the wall with a beer in her hand, was really good. Long brown hair, big blue eyes, and slightly inebriated smile - it was excellent. I made myself a note to praise Snogg yet again.

We walked home together, with Heather telling me that she'd had a good time out with me. Just outside the door to our apartment, she kissed me again. I had the option to push her away. As if ...

This was a much more passionate kiss. I could hear the difference in my headphones, as Heather moaned in my ear.

- I don't ... I don't want the evening to end, just yet. Could we ... go to your room?

Wow. I hadn't expected things to progress so rapidly. Wasn't Heather a somewhat shy small-town girl?

The next screen showed us standing beside my bed, kissing, arms wrapped around each other (Tristan's face was hidden, of course).

- You're a great kisser. she said.

- So are you. I responded. Then I had the option to caress her breast. I liked that description - not grab her boob, or squeeze her tit - caress. Even the word itself is sensual.

Heather's moans became a little louder, a little more pronounced.

More options appeared. I chose to fondle her ass. Again - fondle - much nicer than grab, or grope. Patience deserved props for using better language. The illustration of Tristan's (my?) big hands on her ass was quite simple - but effective nonetheless.

My next option was to undo the button on Heather's jeans.

The moans stopped. Instantly.

- I'm sorry. she said. I'm not ... ready for more. Yet.

My dialogue options were ... limited. I could be an asshole, or a major asshole. Or I could accept her decision.

- We don't have to do anything you don't want to. It wasn't ideal, but it was something that I could easily imagine myself saying.

- Well ... said Heather. I would like to do something for you.

She reaches for your belt - and undoes it. Heather unbuttons your pants, and pulls down your zipper. Then she reaches into your underwear ...

The next illustration showed a female hand wrapped around my (Tristan's) reasonably large cock.

Consider that I'd gone into my date with Heather with no expectations. Hopes, maybe - but no expectations. Consider, too, that Tristan and I had virtually the same amount of sexual experience - that is, none.

I felt remarkably engaged, and involved - as if it was my cock that Heather was stroking.

My health problems had never affected my ... genitals. I had no trouble masturbating to orgasm. So I reached into my sweatpants, and grabbed hold of my erection.

Heather moaned as she stroked me; I grunted along as I rubbed one out. Heather was kind enough to keep moaning in my ear until I came.

***

Somehow, I managed to keep my discipline. Exercises, breakfast, schoolwork until noon. Lunch and email. Exercises. But I had to get back to the game in the afternoon.

There was a whole week of game time ahead before I could get Heather out on a 3rd date. I worked on my computer, bought her gifts, and went to her swimming practice, so that I could walk her home afterwards.

I discovered that Heather didn't like baked goods as gifts (who doesn't like donuts?). She didn't care for wine, either. I didn't bother with lingerie from the online catalogue. But she was happy with imported beer, and very enthusiastic about a brand-new wok.

She also agreed to go the restaurant with me on Saturday night. Over the rest of that week, I had a mildly flirtatious conversation with Laura, another TV watching evening with Michelle, and I was given the option to ask Nalani about her studies.

- I'm still trying to decide whether to major in literature, or in anthropology. she said.

- Which do you like better?

- That's the problem: I can't make up my mind. I like them both.

Immediately afterwards, I went to check the computer in my room. Inventory.

Heather - girlfriend?

Laura - friend

Michelle - close friend

Nalani - intrigued

Ronnie - stranger

Fascinating. I'd made progress with three of the girls. I wondered why there was a question mark after girlfriend for Heather - does a handjob not indicate a certain level of intimacy?

But I was also surprised to see that my relationship with Ronnie had actually take a step backwards. I hadn't interacted with her much at all, but we'd been at 'acquaintance'.

The lesson was quite clear: if you don't use 'em, you lose 'em. Sorry: that's a bit crude. But it made perfect sense. If you ignored a girl for a week or more, you couldn't expect her to still be interested in you.

***

Nalani had night school on Wednesday evening, so I hung out with Michelle. She liked old movies, so we watched one together.

- You're an easy guy to get along with, Tristan. she said.

- I like hanging out with you too, Michelle (I thought it was too early to tell her that she was hot). There was no option to tell her that I liked her voice, as well: it was warm, and friendly.

There was no dialogue choice to ask her out yet, either.

- So how are things between you and Heather? she asked.

Wait - what was that? I rolled back to the previous screen (another nice feature of Mike's game), and listened to her ask me that question again.

Wow. It may not mean anything to you, if you haven't played this type of game before. Or maybe I'd been playing the wrong games. I'd never seen - or heard - something like this before. A character who's aware of what I've been doing with another character?

I had five options (Five!)

We're dating

Heather who?

We're just good friends

I think I'm in love

I don't think it will work out between us

Honestly - I sat back for a moment, just to consider the choices I'd been presented. And maybe that was the key word: honestly. If I told the truth, the very first answer was the best.

- That's good. said Michelle. She deserves a chance to be happy, you know? And you seem like a decent guy.

- I don't understand. What are you saying?

- Just treat her right, okay?

That exchange left me a little frustrated. What was Michelle referring to? I wish I'd had the option to ask her more questions, to find out what she was hinting about.

But the game was surprising me again.

In my (admittedly somewhat limited) experience with this sort of game, you just had to discover the right key to unlock the girls: conversation choices, the correct gifts, a series of dates. There might be some mysterious trigger to find - and sometimes these elements were almost counter-intuitive. Without a walkthrough, there was often no way to figure out the right path, unless you were prepared for several long, frustrating sessions of saving and reloading.

Trial and error ad nauseam (and sometimes, the nausea was very real).

Here, though, there seemed to be no hidden switch to flip. No rooting around for secrets. Just be a decent guy. Tell the truth.

What a concept.

Most games I'd seen had some sort of harem ending. Find the correct triggers, and you could have group sex with everyone, including your teacher, the yoga instructor, the librarian, and your grandmother (and sometimes, the librarian's grandmother).

But Michelle had just made it pretty plain - without spelling it out in capital letters - that she wasn't about to go out with me if I was dating Heather.

Far from being disappointed, I was actually impressed. In fact, it made me like Michelle and Heather even more. They almost seemed like ... real people.

That made me wonder what Snogg and Patience were up to. The Apartment used standard techniques, for the most part, even if some of the multiple options must have created a lot more work for the developers. But several aspects of their approach were very original.

I began to think of them as real people, too. What did they do for a living? Poor students? Rich layabouts?

Mike could spare the time for all this coding; he had no life (unless this Angie was a girlfriend. Mike with a girlfriend? What was the world coming to?). How could Snogg and Patience devote so many hours to this game?

Many devs released their first versions for free, and then solicited financial support, like on a Patreon page. Sometimes, they actually finished their games.

But these guys had finished 3 instalments, without releasing anything. What were they up to? And how could they afford to do this?

***

I decided that Heather deserved to be treated fairly. Whatever Michelle had been alluding to might be none of my business, but I could try to act like what she was encouraging me to be: a decent boyfriend.

So I gave up trying to advance my relationships with all of the other roommates, and concentrated on Heather alone.

I worked at my job in the morning, talked to Heather in the kitchen in the afternoons, and went to her swimming meets and practices. Then I walked her home.

On Thursday night (when she had a competition, rather than a practice), I heard a familiar voice in my headphones.

- Hey Roomie!

- Laura? What are you doing here? There was a picture of the buxom Latina sitting on the seat beside me, grinning.

- We all like to come out sometimes, to support our girl. She's good, isn't she?

- She's great.

It was nice to see that Michelle wasn't the only one who looked out for her roommates.

On the weekend, I took Heather out to the pub again. There was nothing new in our dialogue; she even asked if we could go back to my room again. Same lines, same handjob. But even if there was no sign that it mattered in the game, or in my relationship status with Heather, it made a difference to me.

I followed the same routine on the following Monday and Tuesday, going to the pool to watch her practice, and then walking her home. That's when I discovered that it did indeed make a difference.

- You're being so sweet to me, Tristan. she said. Thank you.

The option to ask her out came up again. This time I chose 'restaurant'.

- I'd like to take you out to dinner, Heather.

- Really? Are you sure? She sounded hesitant - unsure of herself.

- Of course I'm sure. I love spending time with you, and I'd like to get to know you even better.

Her big smile was all the reward I needed.

I probably could have done something useful with the days leading up to our date. Instead, I just clicked through them. Then I saved the game right before taking Heather out - in case I screwed it up.

The restaurant was a bit fancy, with curtains and candlelight, linen on the tables, and elaborate place settings. There wasn't another soul in the place - a bit unrealistic, but perfectly acceptable, in this case. After all, who cares about the other people when you're out on a romantic date?

Not that I'd ever been out on a romantic date. But that's how I would imagine it.

Our waitress was ... Ronnie. She was wearing a dirndl, and looked remarkably cute in it.

- Hey, you two! Anything you want, you just ask me.

- Thanks, Ronnie. said Heather.

- Anything for you, sweetheart. Would you like a drink before dinner? Or perhaps a bottle of wine?

The options came up for me. Cocktails, beer ... but Heather liked to cook - she would probably appreciate a nice wine. What I knew about wine, though, could have fit on the back of a coaster (with room left over).

But were Snogg or Patience wine aficionados? (Mike only knew that wine was cheaper if it came in a box). I knew the names of the two wines offered, and that one of those was a white. I picked the red, because it seemed just a little bit classier.

- Good choice. said Ronnie.

- This is such a nice place. said Heather. It's ... my first time in here.

- Me too.

To my intense relief, I had enough money for even the most expensive items on the menu (unless Heather wanted a second bottle of wine, and a specialty coffee for dessert).

There were a few conversational choices about the wine, and the appetizer, but the first option of any consequence came up over the main course.

- It was so sweet of you to bring me here. she said.

- You deserve the best. I responded - that sounded very close to what Michelle had said.

- I ... I haven't dated much.

- I find that hard to believe.

- No. It's true. Her smile had vanished, and her eyes were downcast. Heather looked - and sounded - very vulnerable as she dredged up old memories.

I was chubby as a kid. But I also developed early. You know - I had boobs before most of the other girls. Guys at school thought that I was ... a slut, because I had ... breasts. They grabbed or groped me whenever they could.

And because I was fat, and not very pretty, they thought I'd be willing to do anything they wanted. Like they thought I'd be grateful, or something, if they paid me any attention.

There was no option for me to respond. I'm not sure what I could have said, to be honest. Damn - were all guys such pigs?

And I'd offered her donuts ...

- I got asked out a couple of times. Not a real date - like a movie, or for ice cream ... but to the park, at night, or behind the school.

The guys expected me to ... do things for them.

I started to grow out of the fat near the end of high school. Swimming helped. I still had the boobs, though. I got asked out a bit more. But the boys still ... you know.

My prom date got really mad - he thought buying me a corsage and borrowing his Dad's car meant that I had to have sex with him. I told him that I wasn't ready to go all the way. I ended up walking home.

- Heather - I'm so sorry.

- Don't be, Tristan. You've been so wonderful to me. You're helping me to remember that all those old memories are in the past. My present ... and my future ... are so much more pleasant to envision.

Maybe she was right. It was odd, of course. I was playing a simulation, going through the steps to get Heather to a point where I could see illustrations of her naked, and performing sex acts (theoretically, with me).

How was that any different from the (fictional, but realistic-sounding) assholes she was describing?

- I feel comfortable with you. I like you. she continued. And I feel that you like me, too.

- I do. I think you're really sweet. 'Sweet' sounded like a better, more honest choice than 'Hot', 'Beautiful' (not that she wasn't), or 'Incredible'.

I got to enjoy a lovely render of Heather, blushing a bit, while smiling shyly.

- So do I. I mean, I know that you'd like to ... do things with me, too. But it doesn't bother me. Actually ... I think I like it.

- You do?

- Yeah. In fact, I think maybe we should skip dessert.

- Are you sure?

- Yes. I'm actually ... curious. Not ...

- Not?

- I should probably warn you, Tristan. I'm still not ready to ... go all the way. But if you're ok with that, maybe we could ...

I saved the game, at that stage. Then I re-loaded at the point just before the date began. When I re-read it all, and listened to Heather's voice again, I realized that she was as shy, as insecure, and yet just as curious ... as I was.

Yeah. It was just a game. I could pretend to be the mighty Thor, or Casanova, or ... whatever. I wasn't, though. I was a lot more like Heather than anyone except Mike knew.

***

The scene in her bedroom was ... really nice. I'm not quite sure how to describe it otherwise. There was a description of us kissing, with Heather sighing.

- Let me ... do something for you. she began.

- No, Heather. Let me do something for you. I thought that that option sounded best. After that choice, though, the rest of the scene followed a script.

There was a beautiful render of Heather taking her shirt off. She had sizeable breasts, which swept gracefully to either side of her chest.

I was surprised to see her distinct tan lines. For some reason, it seemed to add to her wholesome appeal.

The next illustration showed her lying on her back, with her knees together, and one hand modestly (but only partly) covering her mound. Her breasts kept their shape, sticking up on either side of her chest. They were shaped somewhat like Hershey's Kisses, I thought.

You lie down on the bed beside her. You kiss her again, and she responds, her tongue seeking out yours. Meanwhile your hand roams over her smooth, warm skin.

You caress her full breasts, fondling and squeezing them gently, watching her pink nipples swell with arousal.

This was accompanied by soft moaning from Heather, and then a quiet 'Oh!'

Your hand trails over her stomach, down into the juncture between her thighs. She spreads her legs a little, granting you a bit more access.

You lower your head, so that you can kiss her breast, and run your tongue over and around her nipple. At the same time, you run your fingertip softly over her nether lips.

You slide down the bed a little further, trailing kisses over stomach, and to the top of her thigh. She is clean-shaven. You kiss her pussy, feeling her heat and tasting her wetness.

- 'Oh - you don't have to ...' she said.

- 'Sshh ... I want to.' you reply.

The next image showed Heather on her back, legs spread, with the back of Tristan's - or my - head between her thighs. Her eyes were closed, but her mouth was open.

- Ah ... ahh ... she moaned, softly.

Lovely image. Great sounds - nothing over the top, just natural and very, very appealing.

The next image showed a similar position, with the back of my head again. But this time, Heather had one hand caressing my hair, and a look of - was that disbelief? - on her face.