Chapter Ten - A New Maplewood

One Year Ago

Harry Walker strode through the bustling corridors of Pacific Coast University, his broad shoulders squared, a confident smirk curling his lips. Students swarmed around him, their voices a chorus of praise that fueled his arrogant ego. Hands clapped his back, and eager faces pressed closer, their words tumbling in a wave of admiration.

“Harry, you killed it, man!” a lanky guy in a graphic tee shouted, his fist raised in a celebratory pump.

“You’re amazing, Harry!” another called, a petite brunette with a wide grin, her eyes sparkling with awe.

“Best New Streamer? That’s huge! Congratulations,” a stocky nerd added, shoving through the crowd to slap Harry’s shoulder.

The gamer soaked it in, his reddish-brown hair tousled just right, his fitted black blazer hugging his toned frame, paired with dark jeans that accentuated his lean legs. “Thanks, everyone,” he said smoothly, his confident voice carrying over the chatter. “Just doing what I do best.” He flashed a flirtatious wink at the brunette, who blushed and giggled, her friends whispering excitedly.

Georgia Roberts trailed at his side, her lithe, athletic body draped in a body-forming red dress that clung to her curves, the neckline dipping just enough to hint at her modest cleavage. The woman’s blonde hair flowed in soft waves, framing her breathtaking face, her pouty lips in bold red. She smiled tightly, her green eyes flickering with a false sense of pride mixed with jealousy as Harry’s hand rested possessively on her backside, guiding her through the throng.

“I signed up to your stream last week, I love it!” a bespectacled student called, his voice eager but tinged with envy.

Harry grinned, his hand gently squeezing Georgia’s ass, prompting a subtle stiffening of her posture. “I appreciate it, man,” he replied, his tone dripping with charm. “Big things are coming to the channel, just wait.” The crowd parted as he moved, their adulation a drug that swelled his chest, his swagger unstoppable.

Harry had just claimed the Best New Streamer award at the annual Video Streaming Awards in Los Angeles, a glittering event to honor the best in video content creators over the past 12 months. At nineteen, he’d skyrocketed from an awkward gamer to a GlitchCast superstar, each stream now drawing millions of views. The award had cemented his status as a minor celebrity, a digital heartthrob with a growing fan base and a reputation that appealed to his predominantly male audience. Georgia, his blonde cheerleader girlfriend, had been his dazzling accessory that night, her beauty amplifying her triumph. That was the reason he had started dating her, after all.

The warm Santa Cruz evening enveloped the couple as Harry pushed through the university’s glass doors, Georgia’s heels clicking sharply against the pavement. Harry’s hand lingered on her lower back, his fingers pressing against her as they approached his black SUV parked under a streetlamp. The crowd’s cheers faded behind them, but Harry’s ego still thrummed, his lips curled in a self-assured smirk.

“Babe, I have some big news to share,” Georgia said as she slid into the passenger seat of her boyfriend’s car, her voice soft but eager. She slid on her seatbelt, her green eyes searching the man’s face.

Harry barely glanced at her, his keys jangling as he settled into the driver’s seat, the leather creaking under his weight. “Yeah, Georgie, tell me later,” he said, his tone casual but dismissive, his focus on the rearview mirror as he adjusted it. “Tonight’s my night, you know? Gotta soak it up.” He flashed the blonde a grin, his hand reaching over to pat her thigh as he slid her dress up to reveal a generous amount of her upper leg.

Georgia’s lips tightened, her fingers clenching the edge of her seatbelt as if she was holding her tongue. Instead, she forced a nod. “Sure, Harry,” she murmured, her voice barely masking the sting of his indifference. She turned her gaze to the window, the city lights blurring past as Harry gunned the engine, the SUV roaring down the street.

The drive to Harry’s luxury apartment was swift, his mind buzzing with the thrill of the past couple of days. Georgia sat silently, her hands folded in her lap, the dress clinging to her athletic curves. Harry didn’t notice his girlfriend’s tension, his thoughts consumed by the adulation still echoing in his ears. He found his calling, and he had big plans on how to capitalize on it.

Inside the apartment, the atmosphere shifted to one of intense heat. Harry kicked off his shoes, tossing his blazer onto a chair, the fitted white shirt beneath hugging his chest. Georgia followed, slipping off her heels, the red dress swaying with each step. The gamer’s eyes locked onto her, desire flaring as he closed the distance, his hands gripping her waist, pulling the blonde against him.

“You look so fucking hot in that dress,” the man growled, his lips crashing against hers, his tongue plunging into her mouth with possessive hunger. Georgia kissed him back, her hands sliding up his chest, fingers grazing the taut fabric. Harry’s hands roamed lower, cupping her ass through the dress, squeezing firmly as he pressed his growing erection against her.

“One your knees, babe,” he commanded after they entered Harry’s bedroom, his voice thick with lust, his hands guiding the blonde down with a gentle but insistent push on her shoulders. Georgia complied, her knees sinking into the plush carpet, her red lips parting as she unzipped her boyfriend’s jeans, freeing his hard member. The cheerleader’s tongue flicked out, teasing the tip with slow, sensual licks, her lips wrapping around him, warm and wet.

Georgia sucked with practiced skill, her mouth gliding along the shaft, tongue swirling along the sensitive underside, drawing a deep groan from Harry’s throat. His hands tangled in her blonde waves, guiding her rhythm, his hips thrusting slightly to push deeper, her lips stretching to accommodate the man.

“Fuck, you’re a pro, babe,” Harry murmured objectifyingly, his head tilting back, pleasure coursing through him as Georgia’s mouth worked, her cheeks hollowing with each suck, saliva slicking his length. The blonde’s hands rested on his thighs, nails digging lightly to emphasize the intensity, despite her eyes flickering with a quiet frustration. She hated being treated this way.

Minutes later, Harry pulled his girlfriend up, his hands yanking the red dress over her head, revealing lacy black lingerie that hugged her athletic frame, her breasts pert beneath the delicate fabric. He pushed her onto the bed, the mattress dipping under their weight, and tore her panties aside, exposing the woman’s slick folds. Without pause, Harry pushed his prepared cock inside her, his member filling her tight pussy with a single, forceful push. Georgia gasped, her hands gripping the sheets, her body rocking with relentless pace.

Harry’s thrusts were hard and fast, his hands pinning her wrists above her head, his lips grazing her neck as he pounded into her. “So fucking tight,” he growled, his voice rough with desire, the streamer’s focus locked on his own pleasure. Georgia’s moans were soft, her body responding instinctively, but her climax remained out of reach. With a final, deep thrust, Harry came inside his girl, his cum spilling into her in a hot rush, leaving him panting. He collapsed beside the woman, sated, his chest heaving, once again oblivious to the blonde’s unfulfilled arousal.

Georgia lay still, her breath shallow. She was used to her boyfriend finishing before she had a chance to climax, but it didn’t make it any less frustrating. She tried to push it out of her mind, knowing Harry wouldn’t care to continue. After a moment, she rolled onto her side, believing now to be the best opportunity to share her news. “Harry, I got selected for an internship with EchoLife Gaming,” she said, her green eyes fixed on him. “It’s a huge opportunity for me.”

Harry propped himself on an elbow, a lazy chuckle escaping his lips as he traced a finger along her hip. “EchoLife, huh? The big games company?” he said, his tone teasing. “What do they need a cheerleader for? I admit, you’d make one hell of a sexy promo girl for their games, though.” The gamer’s grin widened, his hand cupping her ass playfully.

Georgia’s jaw tightened, her eyes flashing with irritation. “I’m not just a cheerleader, Harry,” she growled. “You know I’m studying software engineering. This is my career we’re talking about.”

The reddish-brown haired man nodded, his grin unfazed as he wrapped his arm around the blonde cheerleader. “Yeah, I know, babe,” he said, leaning in to kiss her forehead, his lips lingering. “But my streaming’s blowing up now. I think it’s time to forget about that silly nonsense. You don’t need to worry about all that anymore. Just keep looking gorgeous, and I’ll take care of you.” His hand slid up her thigh, his fingers brushing the edge of her lingerie, as if sealing his words with a possessive touch.

The blonde’s lips parted, her voice rising with indignation. “I have my own life, Harry,” she said sharply. “I’m not just your bimbo girlfriend to parade around for your fans.”

The man’s smile softened, but his eyes glinted with patronizing amusement. “I know, babe. You’re way more than that, Georgie,” he said, his voice syrupy as he pulled her closer, his hand cupping his girlfriend’s face. “But if you were just my bimbo girlfriend, you’d be the hottest bimbo I could ever ask for.” He kissed her deeply before Georgia could respond, his tongue invading her mouth, slow and possessive, before rolling over, reaching for the lamp. “Night, babe,” he murmured, flicking it off, plunging the room into darkness.

Georgia lay rigid, her fists clenched, her green eyes burning into the dark ceiling. Her breaths came sharp and quick, the blonde’s anger a coiled spring ready to snap. Harry’s dismissal, his casual assumption that her ambitions were secondary to his success, ignited a fire in her chest. As the man drifted to sleep, oblivious to his lover’s fury, her mind churned with a faraway plan. She’d take that internship, and she’d show him that she was more than just a pretty face. The seeds of her retribution had been planted, and the man who’d reduced her to a trophy would soon feel the weight of her wrath.

❖

Present Day

Georgia’s naked body slumped against the computer chair, her lithe frame bound tightly by soft, nylon ropes that bit into her smooth, athletic skin. Her long blonde hair was parted in twin pigtails, the rope tightened around her base and attached to the head of her chair, ensuring her face stayed upright. The woman’s pert C-cup breasts, modest yet firm, pressed against the ropes crisscrossing her chest, the bindings accentuating her slender torso and toned thighs. The blonde’s arms were fastened to each armrest, rope tight in various spots to ensure she couldn’t escape, and her legs were tied tightly together at her ankles and thighs. Her glossy, pouty lips parted faintly, her breath shallow as unconsciousness held her in its grip.

The woman stirred, a soft moan escaping her lips as her head tilted slightly, the ropes tugging at her pigtails to keep her upright. Her green eyes fluttered open, hazy with disorientation, her mind struggling to piece together the fog of her predicament. A dull ache pulsed at the back of her skull, a remnant of Michael’s blow, and her body tensed as she registered the red ropes biting into her skin. Her breasts pressed against the cords, her nipples hardening from the friction, a subtle flush spreading across her chest. The woman yanked at her bound wrists, but they held firm, her toned muscles flexing uselessly. Panic surged through her, the cheerleader’s breath quickening as she scanned the room, her heart pounding with a hint of fear.

Georgia’s gaze dropped to her hand, and she gasped sharply. The slave ring, once Harry’s torment, now encircled her own finger, its cold metal snug against her skin. Her eyes widened in horror, her pouty lips parting in shock as the realization hit her like a slap. She tugged frantically at the ropes, her breasts jiggling with the effort, but the ring’s presence mocked her struggle, a symbol of her new captivity.

“You’re awake,” Michael said, his voice slicing through the silence. He stood in the doorway, his slim frame clad in a fitted black t-shirt and jeans, his bespectacled eyes sharp with resolve. The Master ring sat prominently on his finger, its subtle hieroglyphs a perfect compliment to the oppressive weight of Georgia’s new accessory. The nerd stepped forward with his gaze fixed on the trussed-up woman’s bound, naked form.

Harry stood beside him, his curvaceous body a shocking sight in the real world. A tight pink tube top hugged his DD-cup breasts, the word “Tease” emblazoned across the fabric, his hard nipples faintly visible beneath. White hotpants clung to his rounded ass, riding low to expose his hips, while 4-inch pink heels forced a seductive sway in his posture. His platinum blonde hair, streaked with pink highlights, flowed over his shoulders, framing his big, pouty lips. His big blue eyes burned with fury as he stared at the woman who had betrayed him, who had turned him into this caricature of a bimbo.

Georgia’s lips formed a sneer, her eyes blazing despite her vulnerable state. “Michael, what the fuck is all this?” she said, her voice sharp with scorn as she tugged at the ropes again. “Get me the hell out of here!”

Michael’s smile was cold, his arms crossing as he leaned against the desk, his gaze raking over Georgia’s form. “Not a chance, Georgia,” he said firmly. “You’re going to tell us everything you know. You’re going to tell us what you did to Harry, to me, and what you know about Lifesynced. You already know that ring on your finger will ensure you don’t lie to me.”

Georgia’s green eyes narrowed, her pouty lips curling in defiance as she yanked at the ropes. “Over my dead body, loser,” she snapped, her voice dripping with venom. “I’m not going to tell you a damn word!” He struggled again, but the knots held firm.

The bespectacled nerd chuckled, stepping closer, approaching Georgia as he crouched down to eye level, cupping her chin. “Ohh, really?” he taunted. “Now, tell me the truth. What is your involvement with LifeSynced? How did you become so powerful in the game?”

The blonde woman’s jaw clenched, her toned body straining against the ropes as she attempted to ignore his question, fighting the compulsion surging inside of her. The slave ring warmed on her finger, a tingling force that pried at her will, forcing words to bubble up despite her resistance. The cheerleader’s lips parted, her voice low and reluctant. “I started working with EchoLife last year, and they offered me a full-time role developing LifeSynced after they discovered my skills,” she started, unable to stop herself. “I co-developed various important features in the game, including the code-rewriting device that turned you both into this.” She gasped for breath as she stopped speaking.

Michael’s fists clenched as he stood up, his voice more commanding now. “What was the purpose of the code-rewriting device? How is any of this possible? Tell me the truth!” He stared directly into her eyes as he shouted.

Georgia shook her head, but the ring’s power was too intense, and it wasn’t long before she was compelled to give Michael the answer he sought. “It was originally designed as a mechanism to create changes in-game, but we soon discovered interesting side effects. The device communicated with a user’s neural device and made real-life alterations to the user’s DNA, altering a player’s body and mannerisms in the real world. It wasn’t designed for that purpose, but after the breakthrough was revealed, EchoLife commissioned me to test it further.”

Harry’s pink lips parted, his pink nails digging into his palms as his girlfriend explained what she had been up to while Harry was busy taking in the adoration of his fans. “What does this have to do with Harry? Why does he look like that?” Michael barked, glancing over at the bimbofied man.

The bound blonde’s body tensed, her breasts pressing harder against the rope as she fought the ring’s compulsion. “I chose Harry because he treated me like a fucking trophy,” she spat, her voice sharp despite the ring’s warmth forcing her words. “He paraded me around like I was a dumb slut, dismissed my ambitions and intellect, called me his sexy little cheerleader like I was nothing else.” The fiery woman took a breath before continuing. “I wanted him to know what it felt like to be objectified, to have every eye on his body, seeing him as nothing but a stupid bimbo.” She grinned slightly. “I think I accomplished that too well.”

The busty blonde in the doorway stepped forward, his body trembling. “You turned me into this fucking freak show because I called you a few names you didn’t like?” he said, his voice a sultry coo that barely masked his fury. His heels clicked as the gamer stepped forward, the tube top straining against his enhanced breasts. “You ruined my career, my damn life, Georgia, just because I didn’t give a damn about your stupid internship!”

Georgia’s eyes flashed with defiance, her pouty lips curling into a smirk despite her bound state. “You did this to yourself, Hayley,” she said, purposely using Harry’s in-game name. “You’re a misogynist, plain and simple. The company allowed me to select someone as a test subject, and you were the perfect option.” The software engineer’s breasts heaved against the ropes as she tried to lean forward. “And look at you now, strutting around like the perfect little slut. It suits you.”

Michael’s hand shot up, silencing them both with a sharp gesture. “Enough,” he said commandingly. “Tell us about EchoLife’s plan. What were they doing with the device?” He stepped closer, his bespectacled eyes boring into the young blonde woman.

Georgia’s grin disappeared, her body struggling as she fought the compulsion, but the ring’s warmth surged again, forcing her words. “LifeSynced was truthfully planned to become an all-immersive game. However, when the device was created, it became a front,” she said reluctantly. “They wanted to test the device’s real-world DNA implications. If it did what they expected, they’d sell it to corporations, governments, or anyone with enough money. As Lex Marvel, I controlled the game’s economy and kept the players hooked with not-safe-for-work content.”

Michael shook his head. “Where the hell do I come in to all this?”

The bound woman chuckled softly. “I used you, Michael,” she said, complying with the ring’s command. “I used your hatred for Harry to distract him, to keep him trapped as Hayley while I tested the device’s limits.” Her lips curled into a bitter smile, her eyes flicking to Harry. “I think I underestimated how much you hated him.”

Michael’s hands shot up, his fingers splayed in a commanding gesture that silenced the woman. He stepped closer. “Now, you’re going to listen to me very closely, Georgia,” he said with an authoritative tone, his glasses-covered eyes narrowing as he stepped closer to her bound form. “You’re going to help me get that device, and we’re going to make things right.” His hand hovered over the Master ring, its intricate design a reminder of his control, his fingers brushing the metal as if to emphasize its power.

Georgia’s green eyes widened, her plush lips parting in a sharp gasp as the slave ring’s warmth pulsed through her finger. She tugged at the ropes, her toned legs flexing, but she knew resistance was futile. The ring’s power would enforce her compliance, bending her will to Michael’s command. “You can’t do this,” she pleaded, her voice straining. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with, how addictive the device is!”

Michael’s smile was cold, his hand dropping to the desk where her laptop sat, and he turned it on. “Ohh, you’re going to log in, and you’re going to retrieve the device,” he said slowly. “Whatever happens after that will happen.” The man untied the blonde’s wrists and slipped the neural device around her neck, grinning as the software engineer complied with his commands.

❖

Two Months Later

Harry sat at a polished oak table in Dustin’s Bar, his curvaceous body a stark contrast to the understated outfit he’d chosen for the evening since Michael had permitted him to start picking his own outfits again. A snug red t-shirt hugged his DD-cup breasts, the fabric stretching to accentuate their unnatural firmness, his nipples faintly outlined against the soft cotton. Blue jeans clung to his wide hips, molding to his plump ass and tapering down his long legs, a more modest choice than the revealing ensembles he’d been forced into before. Three-inch red heels lifted his feet, adding a subtle sway to his posture, a compromise between his exhibitionist trait’s demands and his desire to blend into the revamped bar. His platinum blonde hair, still streaked with delicate pink highlights, was pulled back into a tight ponytail at the back of his head, showcasing his pouty, pink lips and high cheekbones. The transformed gamer’s big blue eyes scanned the bustling bar, taking in the transformed Lowtown with a sense of pride.

Michael lounged across from his, his newly bulked-up frame draped in a tailored gray suit, the crisp white shirt beneath open at the collar to reveal a hint of his firm chest. His eyes, devoid of spectacles, sparkled a smug, satisfied grin, his lips curling as he surveyed the vibrant world he’s spent the last couple of months reshaping, starting with the most impoverished area of the game, Lowtown. The once-dingy bar now boasted sleek wooden floors and modern tables, its patrons clad in stylish attire, their laughter and clinking glasses a symphony of enjoyment, rather than the hopeless dive it had once been. As Mitch Wandsworth, Michael’s gamertag hovering above, he exuded quiet confidence, his fingers tracing the edge of his whiskey glass as he savored the triumph of his vision.

Maplewood had transformed into a beacon of equality. In this virtual paradise, the oppressive class system of old had been dismantled. Michael had wielded the code-rewriting device to level the playing field, ensuring every player, whether a fresh recruit or a seasoned veteran, began with equal resources and the freedom to craft their own path. The game’s economy no longer favored the privileged few, replaced with systems that allowed players to shape their avatars and playstyles without fear of being stuck in unenjoyable roles.

Lowtown, once a rundown starting area within the Lifesynced ecosystem, now pulsed with life, its patrons mingling freely and often choosing to settle in the area instead of aiming for the traditionally more affluent communities. The bar’s lively chatter and clinking glasses were a testament to the prosperity Michael had engineered, a stark contrast to the grim desperation Harry had endured in his early days here. However, despite the transformation, not everyone in Maplewood was enjoying their new role.

Harry’s gaze drifted to a woman weaving through the crowded bar, her movements stiff and hesitant, her sexy body encased in a tight fetish maid outfit that left little to the imagination. The black latex dress clung to her voluptuous frame, its plunging neckline showcasing her round 32D breasts, the fabric straining to contain their ample bounce as she balances a tray of frosted glasses. A scandalously short skirt flared from her hips, barely covering her rounded ass, revealing fishnet stockings that hugged her toned thighs, their lace tops digging into her smooth skin. Five-inch black patent stilettos forced the woman into a teetering gait, and a white lace choker encircled her slender neck, accentuating her submissive appearance. Her light blonde hair hung loosely down her back as a maid cap sat in place, with the words ‘Dustin’s Bar’ in black script displaying her role as one of Dustin’s waitresses. As the blonde woman passed a table, a burly patron with a leering grin smacked her ass hard, the sharp slap echoing over the bar’s chatter, prompting a high-pitched yelp from her lips, her cheeks flushing with humiliation as she stumbled forward, nearly spilling the tray.

Harry’s eyes flicked to the woman’s gamertag, and a grim smile curled his pouty lips. “Georgia Luvcox,” it read, a far cry from the powerful masculine avatar his ex-girlfriend created as Lex Marvel. It was a fitting punishment orchestrated by Michael for the woman’s role in Harry’s transformation and the dystopian world she’d helped build with her reality-altering device, now in Michael’s possession. Georgia’s green eyes darted nervously, her full lips forced into a tight, subservient smile, her body tense under the patrons’ perverted stares. Harry’s smile widened, knowing his former cheerleader girlfriend now endured the same objectification she’d forced upon him.

Michael raised his whiskey glass, his smug grin softening into a toast. “To a better Maplewood,” he said, his voice rich with pride, his eyes locking onto Harry’s. “We did this together, you and me.”

The feminized man lifted his own glass, the red wine swirling as he clicked it to Michael’s. “Like, to a better Maplewood,” he echoed, his bimbo dialect having returned since reentering the game world, his eyes flickering to the clock on the bar’s wall. It read 11:25 PM, the minutes clicking closer to midnight. After Michael had obtained the reality-warping device, Harry asked his former nemesis to change him back. Michael promised to do it, but only after he altered Lifesynced to his liking. He asked Harry to give him two months to make a difference, and after the time had elapsed, he promised to change Harry back to his original form. Harry had just 35 minutes left before he could ask the man to change him again.

Harry’s gaze lingered on the clock, his heart quickening as the seconds ticked closer to midnight. He took a slow sip of wine, the liquid warming his throat, his fingers tightening around the glass as he fought the urge to press Michael now.

Michael notices his blonde companion’s glance at the wall, and chuckled, silently enjoying the moment of control he held inside the game.

Harry softly bit his glossy, pink lower lip. “You’ve, like, totally changed this place,” he said, his voice a sultry coo, his tone carrying a grudging respect. “This is totally how the game should’ve been from the start.”

The confident man leaned back, his tailored suit shifting to reveal more of his chiseled chest, his grin widening with satisfaction. “It’s only the beginning,” he said as he swirled his whiskey. “I have plans for every corner of this world. Players can live their fantasies the way they like, without being restricted by shady corporations.” His eyes flicked to Georgia, who yelped again as another patron’s hand grazed her thigh before pinching her backside. “Some, though, needed to learn their lesson,” he added, his tone sharp with vindication, his gaze lingering on the blonde waitress’s submissive form as he relaxed in his chair.

❖

Harry’s eyes locked onto the clock on the wall of Dustin’s Bar, its hands ticking slowly toward midnight. The seconds dragged, each tick a hammer against the transformed man’s nerves, marking the end of Michael’s two-month deadline to restore him to his original body. His slutty form shifted in the chair, as his long pink fingernails tapped the arm of the seat. As the clock struck midnight, Harry wasted no time, his voice sharp with urgency. “It’s time, Michael,” he said, his conditioned sultry coo barely masking his determination. “You promised to change me back, like, right now.”

Soft feminine moans echoed from a nearby table, momentarily drawing Harry’s gaze. Georgia, now known as Georgia Luvcox, was bent over a polished table, her fetish maid outfit gone, her naked body exposed to the bar’s patrons. Her round, enhanced breasts bounced with each thrust, her toned thighs trembling as one man, a lanky patron with tattoos covering both arms, fucked her pussy from behind, his hips slamming into her with wet, rhythmic slaps. Another patron gripped her light blonde hair, his cock filling her mouth, her lips stretching wide as the waitress moaned, her green eyes blazed with humiliation. Now that her dress was removed, a prominent tattoo on her lower back stood out, its bold letters reading “Nothing But A Trophy Bimbo,” a cruel callback to the objectification she despised from Harry, the spark that ignited her vengeful transformation of him. Dustin, the bar owner, stood nearby, his arms crossed, overseeing the woman’s work with a stern expression, ensuring she performed her duties as expected.

Michael paused momentarily, his eyes glinting with a satisfaction that sent an eerie chill through Harry’s body. He casually accessed his inventory with a deft flick of his wrists, revealing the famed code-rewriting device in his possession, and placed it on the table, its golden pyramid shape standing grandly. The young man’s hand caressed its smooth surface, fingers tracing its contours with a possessive intimacy that made Harry’s stomach twist. “I gotta be honest, Harry,” Michael said, his voice low and rich with pleasure,” rewriting the game’s code, watching my vision take shape, it’s been the greatest thrill of my life.” He leaned back, his grin widening as he admired Harry’s slutty curves encased in their modest attire. “You know, I keep thinking back to college. You filling my locker with water after one of your fans told you they had preferred my stream to yours, cutting holes in my clothes while I was working out in the gym just for a cheap laugh. I’ve forgiven you for all that, but forgetting? That’s not so easy.”

Harry’s fists clenched, his pink nails digging into his palms, his breasts heaving against the snug t-shirt. “You’re, like, bringing up that old crap now?” he said in a fiery coo, his blue eyes blazing with fire. “I’ve been totally stuck in this fucking body for months, Michael! You, like, promised to fix me! Totally keep your damn word and, like, end this nightmare already!” The transformed man’s shoes clicked as he leaned forward, his ponytail swaying with the motion.

Michael’s gaze flickered to the device, his fingers still stroking its golden surface. “My vision was all about equality, Harry,” he said smoothly. “But without a ruler, someone with evil intentions will inevitably step in and tear it all down. Maplewood needs a leader to keep that dystopian shit Echolife created from ever coming back.” The man’s eyes drifted to Georgia, her moans escalating as the tall patron’s thrusts grew frantic, her lower back glistening with sweat as she was double-ended by Dustin’s customers.

The feminized man’s heart pounding, his top stretching as he leaned forward in a panic. “Can you, like, hear yourself, Michael?” he squealed, his eyes wide with alarm. “Georgia was totally right about that device! It’s messing with your head, corrupting you! You need to, like, do the right thing!”

The power-wielding man laughed, a deep, dismissive sound that echoed over Georgia’s lustful moans, his head shaking as he stared at Harry. “You got it all wrong, Harry,” he said, his voice dripping with conviction, his eyes gleaming with dangerous certainty. “You’ll see in the end.”

Michael absently rubbed the device. “What this place needs is a leader,” he said as a golden crown materialized atop his head, its sharp spikes gleaming with regal authority. “Someone who knows what the gamers need, and will defend them against destructive forces.” Michael’s gamertag, formerly labeled ‘Mitch Wandsworth,’ was altered, changing to ‘King Mitch of Maplewood.” The bar’s patrons glanced over, their chatter quieting as their eyes were drawn to the newly crowned monarch, a ripple of awe spreading through the crowd.

Harry’s heart raced as his eyes widened, shocked by the change in Michael’s demeanor. “Like, change me back, Michael!” he pleaded again, looking around at the faces glancing their way. “I totally don’t care what you do to this place. Fix me first, then, like, do whatever you want with this stupid game!”

Michael’s grin turned predatory, his eyes raking over Harry’s bimbom form with a lustful intensity. “I’m the King of Maplewood now,” he said, his voice thick with authority, his crown sitting perfectly atop his head as he leaned forward. “I’ll ensure this world runs exactly as intended, a paradise for every player.” His fingers lingered on the device, his gaze fixed on Harry’s heaving breasts. “However, every king needs a queen to rule by his side, doesn’t he?” His tone dripped with jovial possession, his eyes glinting with a hunger that made Harry’s stomach churn with bile.

The blonde shook his head, his voice trembling with desperation. “No, Michael, like, don’t you dare!” he said, his heels clicking as he pushed back in his chair. “You can’t do this to me!”

The new king’s fingers rubbed the device again, his eyes closing briefly as he rewrote the game’s code. Harry’s body shimmered, his red t-shirt and jeans dissolving, replaced by something new altogether: a slutty royal gown. The sheer, gold-trimmed fabric clung to his curves, its plunging neckline exposing the full swell of his round DD-cup breasts. He winced as a pair of jeweled barbell piercings attached to his nipples, their decoration starkly visible through the translucent material. Thigh-high slits showed off his bare thighs, and the material showed off his plump ass and bare pussy. Harry’s ponytail falls loose, spilling his platinum blonde curls over his shoulders as a dainty silver crown perched atop his head. A golden-colored ball gag hung loosely around his neck, its straps grazing his collarbone as 6-inch gold platform heels adorned his feet. The transformed man’s gametag shifted to “Queen Hayley of Maplewood,” emphasizing his new role in the game. The scantily-clad blonde’s exhibitionist trait surged, an unwanted heat flooding his body, his pussy slick with forced arousal as the patrons stared at the new royal couple.

Harry’s glossy pink lips parted, his voice a frantic coo. “No, Michael,” he said, his heels wobbling as he stood in shock. “Like, what did you do?”

Michael stood, his golden crown a stark symbol of his new power, his gray suit shifting as he towered over Harry. “My queen should be kneeling for her king,” he said commandingly.

Harry’s body obeyed instantly, as if he was still wearing the slave ring, despite its absence from his finger, forcing him to drop to his knees before the new king, his head lowered and ass pushed up, the sheer gown pooling around him to expose his backside to the bar’s hungry gazes.

The King’s hand reached down, his fingers tangling in Harry’s blonde curls, stroking them with a tenderness that sent an unwanted shiver through the kneeling gamer’s body. “We’ll rule Maplewood together, Hayley,” he said, his voice thick with triumph, his eyes sweeping over the bar where Georgia’s moans mingled with the patrons’ cheers. “This is our kingdom now,  and you’ll be by my side, acting like my perfect queen.” His grip tightened, forcing Harry to stare up at his tormentor.

Harry silently whimpered as he felt a surge of humiliated pleasure run through him. He was helpless. He had escaped the controlling clutches of his ex-girlfriend pulling the strings, only to walk straight into another trap, and become the toy of the most powerful man in Maplewood.

❖

High atop a verdant hill in Crestwood Heights, Maplewood Castle stood as a majestic monument to the new order, its towering spires piercing the virtual sky. The throne room, grand and opulent, buzzed with the murmurs of subjects, their line snaking out the ornate doors as they awaited their audience with the king. Rich tapestries adorned the walls, and a long velvet carpet led to a golden throne elevated on a dais, where King Mitch presided over the concerns of his people, his authority unquestioned in the supposed equitable paradise he had forged.

King Mitch sat resplendent in his regal attire, a crimson velvet robe trimmed with ermine flowing over his broad shoulders, its golden clasps glinting with status. A heavy gold crown rested on his head, its intricate filigree studded with virtual gems. A tailored black tunic hugged his reality-altered, muscled chest, paired with fitted trousers that emphasized his powerful legs; his gametag, “King Mitch of Maplewood,” hovered proudly above. His eyes, sharp and commanding, scanned the crowd, a satisfied smile curling his lips as he listened to his subjects’ pleas.

Queen Hayley knelt on a plush velvet pillow beside the throne, her curvaceous form a vision of submissive allure. Her sheer, jewel-encrusted gown clung to her bimbofied body, its translucent fabric revealing the full swell of her plastic breasts, jeweled barbell piercings adorning her nipples, starkly visible through the delicate material. A gold collar encircled the gamer’s slender neck, its weight a constant reminder of her role, while a gold, leather armbinder pinned her arms uselessly behind her back, forcing her impressive chest forward. Her blonde hair, still streaked with pink highlights, cascaded over her shoulders, framing her pouty, pink lips and feminine features. Her big blue eyes burned with silent fury, her head lowered in obedience despite the constant fire raging within.

A player character, a wiry man with the gametag “ChefVibe77,” stepped forward, his hands clasped nervously. “Your Majesty,” he said, his voice trembling as he attempted to address the monarch with his request. “My restaurant in Millworth is struggling. The new place across the street has been stealing all my business, and I won’t last much longer if things continue. I need a loan to refurbish, but the Maplewood Bank declined my proposal. I’m sure that if I can add some fresh features to my restaurant, it will survive. Can you help?”

King Mitch leaned forward, his robe shifting, his tone measured but generous. “I hear your concern, citizen,” he said, relishing his newfound authority. “I’ll authorize a loan of 1,500 Echo Bucks to be delivered first thing tomorrow morning. Refurbish your establishment, and let’s keep Maplewood thriving.” The chef’s face lit up, his hands clasping in gratitude as he bowed deeply.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” he said, his voice thick with relief. “You won’t regret this.” He stepped back, ushered away by a guard as the next subject approached.

A stout woman, her gametag “HillviewMom42,” stepped forward, her expression fraught with worry. “Your Majesty,” she started, buttering up the new king as she spoke nervously. “There has been a wave of burglaries in Hillview. Homes are being ransacked, and the authorities haven’t done a damn thing to stop it. We need protection.”

Michael’s brow furrowed, his fingers tapping the armrest as he thought deeply about his next move. After a moment’s deliberation, he nodded decisively. “I’ll commission an investigation into Hillview’s crime rate and will ban those found to be responsible,” he said, his voice commanding. “The authorities will increase their security presence in your district, effective immediately. You have my word.” The woman’s shoulders relaxed, her face breaking into a grateful smile.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” she said, bowing before stepping back, ushered out by a guard as the crowd murmured approval.

Another player character, a sleazy older man with the gametag “OldFart69,” stepped forward, his eyes lingering lustfully on Hayley’s exposed curves, her sheer gown leaving nothing to the imagination. The man cleared his throat, addressing the king. “Your Majesty,” he said, his voice bold. “I’ve just opened a new strip club in Lowtown, and I want something big for the opening night, something to pull in the crowds and show that we can compete with the other districts.” His gaze flicked back to Hayley, her breasts heaving against the gown, her armbinder accentuating her submissive posture.

Michael’s serious expression melted into a soft grin, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Interesting, and what exactly are you suggesting?” he asked, leaning forward, his robe parting to reveal more of his toned chest.

The man shifted nervously, his hands fidgeting as his eyes stayed pegged on Hayley’s form. “I was hoping you’d make an appearance, Your Majesty,” he said, his voice gaining confidence. “Maybe cut the red tape for the opening. It’d draw a huge crowd and show how much you support the businesses of Lowtown.” The older man’s eyes lingered on Hayley’s tits, his tone suggestive.

The king’s grin widened, his gaze drifting to his new queen, her head still lowered, her body trembling. “I’d be happy to mark the opening of a fine new establishment in Lowtown,” he said, his voice rich with jovial authority. “And not only that, my queen will perform on stage during the opening night, too.” He looked down at Hayley, his eyes gleaming with possession. “You’re looking forward to that, aren’t you, my queen?”

Hayley shuddered, her glossy pink lips parting, her voice a sultry coo despite the fire in her eyes. “Yes, Your Highness,” she said with a forced reverence, her body betraying her with a flush of heat, her pussy slick with unwanted arousal as the patrons’ stares intensified her ‘Sexually Submissive’ trait.

The man’s face lit up, his voice thick with excitement. “Oh my god, thank you, Your Majesty!” he said, bowing deeply. “This will be the biggest opening Lowtown’s ever seen!” He was ushered out, his grin wide, as the crowd spoke with excitement.

A guard in polished armor stepped forward, raising a hand. “That’s enough requests for today,” he said to the crowd. “Return tomorrow to have your cases heard.” The audience groaned with disappointment, their footsteps echoing as they reluctantly shuffled out, leaving the throne room silent except for the faint rustle of Hayley’s slutty gown.

Michael leaned back, a satisfied grin sat on his lips. “Another successful session,” he said, his voice brimming with pride. He looked down at Hayley, her head still low, her armbinder forcing her chest forward. “We’re doing a pretty good job with all this ruling, Hayley. Now that it’s over, I think it’s time to put that pretty mouth to work, my queen,” he said, his tone thick with lust, his eyes glinting with dominance.

The blonde gamer complied, her body moving without protest despite the anger in her eyes. She crawled on her knees from the velvet pillow, her hands still useless behind her back, her 6-inch gold heels pressing against the marble floor as she settled between Michael’s legs.

Michael lowered his trousers, freeing his hardening cock. The blonde’s glossy lips parted, her tongue flicking out to tease the tip with a slow, sensual lick, drawing a low groan from her king. Hayley’s mouth enveloped him, warm and wet, her Blowjob Expert trait guiding her tongue to swirl along the shaft’s sensitive underside, her lips stretching wide as she sucked with practiced skill. Hayley’s head bobbed, taking him deeper, her throat opening to accommodate Michael’s new, impressive length, saliva slicking his cock as she worked, her muffled moans a mix of humiliation and forced arousal.

Michael’s hands tangled in her platinum hair, stroking with a possessive tenderness that sent a shiver through the feminized gamer’s body. “Mmm, Maplewood is ours to rule, Hayley,” he said triumphantly as his hips thrust slightly to meet the queen’s rhythm. “And you, my queen, are exactly where you belong.”

Hayley’s tongue danced along the man’s shaft, trying to keep her taunting words from her mind, teasing every ridge, her lips tightening as she sucked harder, drawing him closer to release. Her mind raged against her permanent entrapment, the code-rewriting device compelling her to obey and accept every command from his lips, but her body betrayed her, her pussy clenching with forced arousal, her nipples hardening against their piercings. As Michael groaned, his climax nearing, Hayley’s body shuddered, an orgasm ripping through her, her lustful moans vibrating against his cock. She looked up furiously as Michael’s conditioning forced another orgasm, her blue eyes blazing with defiance despite her obedient sucking.

As the man came inside her mouth, groaning lewdly as the queen swallowed his virtual seed, Hayley was defeated. She had gotten to the bottom of who had transformed her like this, and watched the culprit receive apt justice, only to fall into a new trap. Hayley was the bimbo queen of Maplewood, and she would serve her king faithfully until he decided otherwise.

The End