Chapter Two - Customer Service

Harry stormed through the gleaming lobby of EchoLife Gaming HQ, his focus locked on the elevators ahead. The receptionist’s call for him to stop went unheeded as he moved with purpose, his face set in anger and determination.

A security guard lunged, clasping Harry’s shoulder. The contact with his now overly sensitive skin caused a shudder to run through him, reminding him of his humiliation, but he didn’t hesitate. With a swift move, he shrugged off the guard’s hand, his stride unbroken as he approached the elevators.

The doors slid shut just as the guard reached for him again, encapsulating Harry in the quiet of the rising elevator. His heart pounded with a mix of frustration and resolve as he made his way up to Claire Kirkland’s office, the only place the streamer believed he could find the answers he was looking for.

Claire was already on her feet when Harry stormed into her office. Her expression was one of controlled irritation. “Mr. Walker, you need to leave,” she stated firmly.

“I won’t leave until you hear me out,” Harry shot back, his voice a mix of anger and desperation. “Your game turned me into a chick, and it activated realism mode without my consent!”

Claire’s response was a smirk, taking a seat, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Oh, really? And how humiliating was that for you?” She wasn’t too pleased with his vague misogyny.

“How humiliating?” Harry said, his voice rising. “To enter a game with my millions of fans thinking I’m some dumb bimbo?”

“Millions?” Claire laughed, her tone mocking. “The highest viewership during your stream was barely over twelve thousand.”

Harry’s face flushed with embarrassment, but he continued, “You can’t do this to me. I signed up to help you promote this game, not this bullshit!”

“Actually, Mr. Walker,” Claire replied, her voice cool. Realism mode was one of the add-ons you agreed to in the contract, along with every other official add-on we created for the game.”

He stared at her, frustration boiling over. “Then fix it! Reset my character!” If they weren’t going to change his current character, he would need a new one.

Claire leaned back on her chair, crossing her arms. “You’ll have to visit City Hall in the game for that. We don’t interfere with gameplay from here.”

Harry clenched his fists, his breath coming in short, angry bursts. The idea of returning to that virtual nightmare to fix this mess was almost unbearable. He was running out of options.

“I won’t step foot in that game again until you’ve sorted out these issues,” Harry declared, his voice shaking with rage and fear. He thrust out his bare arms, the hem of his t-shirt riding up slightly, revealing his entirely hairless skin. “I logged out of that damn game, and look at me - I’m hairless!” His voice almost broke from his anger.

Claire’s amusement was evident as she leaned back, her eyes sparkling with mirth. “What you choose to do in your own time, Mr. Walker, is hardly our concern.”

Harry’s frustration boiled over. “You think I did this to myself? The game did this to me!” He waved his smooth arms in front of her, emphasizing the drastic change.

Her laughter was light, dismissive. “The game doesn’t possess that kind of ability, Mr. Walker. If you’ve decided to shave or wax, that’s on you. I personally feel more men should follow your lead.”

He stared at her, incredulous, his arms still extended. “You and this company will pay for this, you bitch. I will sue your asses off.” Her relaxed and dismissive demeanor infuriated Harry even further.

Claire’s expression remained unchanged, convinced of her stance. “I’m not responsible for your personal choices or what you choose to do for your fans. If you’re looking for someone to blame, perhaps you should look in the mirror.”

Harry’s hands balled into fists, his jaw clenched. The idea that Claire, the VP of R&D for EchoLife, could be so unaware or indifferent to the game’s potential effects was infuriating. He was caught between disbelief and the chilling realization that he might be alone in this.

As Harry opened his mouth to retort, Claire cut him off with a sharp tone. “If you fail to get back in there today, as stipulated in your contract, you’ll be in breach.” She grinned. “I suggest you log back in later if you don’t want to be on the wrong end of a $5 million fine.”

“That’s outrageous!” Harry exclaimed, his voice echoing his disbelief. He had never been one for reading agreements with a fine tooth comb, but that fine seemed excessive.

Claire’s response was dismissive, her eyes cold. “Now, are you going to leave the building of your own accord, or should I call security in here?”

Harry’s face reddened with anger, but he knew when he was cornered. With a final glare at Claire, he turned and stormed out of her office, his steps heavy with frustration and defeat.

As he left, Claire’s voice followed him, light and mocking. “Have a nice day, Mr. Walker.”

The door slammed behind him, leaving Claire alone in her office. Her demeanor was calm as if nothing of note had transpired.

As Harry stormed through the lobby of the EchoLife Gaming building, his phone vibrated with a text. He glanced at the screen, seeing a message from Georgia, his girlfriend, asking where he’d been since yesterday morning. Her concern for him was almost palpable through the text, but Harry’s response was a dismissive eye roll. He’d always seen her as more of a decorative accessory, someone to keep his bed warm and his arm looking good at events, and spend his hard-earned streaming money. She was not there to burden him with questions when he had larger issues at hand.

He pocketed his phone without replying, his mind already shifting back to his current problem - Lifesynced. The game had turned his life upside down, and now, with the threat of a $5 million fine, he had no choice but to dive back into that virtual nightmare and search for a resolution through the in-game Town Hall.

Stepping out into the bright Santa Cruz daylight, Harry’s steps were heavy but determined. He made his way to his car, the sun reflecting off the sleek metal, mirroring his resolve. He drove away in his nice SUV and headed back home.

❖

Harry slammed the door behind him as he entered his luxury apartment, the anger still fresh from his encounter with the EchoLife R&D VP. Without wasting a moment, he approached his gaming setup, the neural device lying ominously on his desk. Harry knew he had no choice; the potential $5 million fine was too much to ignore. Bracing himself, the college student attached the device around his neck, feeling the familiar prickling sensation as he loaded into “Lifesynced.”

His vision blurred, then focused. He was no longer in his apartment but back in the dingy room of the motel, the semi-transparent night dress clinging to his transformed body, the one he had last worn in the game. Before he could react to his situation, a notification popped up in his field of vision: “You’ve received a gift from a secret admirer. Would you like to accept?”

With a mix of curiosity and trepidation, Harry selected ‘Accept.’ Perhaps this was a saving grace. Instantly, his attire changed, and he realized his optimism was unfounded. The night dress vanished, replaced by a red bustier that cinched at his waist, emphasizing his new curves, paired with a black denim miniskirt that barely reached mid-thigh. He felt the unfamiliar tightness of the clothing, a stark contrast to the usual masculine armored attire he usually wore in VR games.

Panicking, Harry tried to remove the outfit by attempting to reattach his original starting clothes. But another message appeared before him, “Starter gear is unavailable once premium items have been worn.”

He stared at the message, his frustration mounting. “What kind of game is this?” he muttered, his voice still that high-pitched tone of Hayley. There was no escape from this new reality he found himself in, not without adhering to the game’s twisted rules. Harry was starting to think someone in the LifeSynced development team had it out for him.

Furious, Harry flicked up the main menu in his vision, his fingers trembling with anger. He navigated to the “Support” section, where an option to “Speak to Support at City Hall” appeared. Below it, a warning blinked, “This will use one support token. You have 1 remaining.”

Underneath, in smaller text, a message explained, “Earn more support tokens by assisting city officials.” With no other choice and his patience wearing thin, Harry selected the option, his last token vanishing from his inventory. With any luck, he wouldn’t need any more of those tokens anyway.

In an instant, the grimy motel room faded into a blur, replaced by the grandeur of a large, government-styled hallway. Marble floors echoed with his steps; high ceilings dwarfed his presence, and the air was thick with the scent of old leather and bureaucratic authority. He was in City Hall, the heart of Maplewood’s administrative power. Harry looked around, determined to find answers and regain control of this game.

Harry strode down the echoing hallway, his heels clicking against the marble in a rhythm that matched his rising irritation. He approached a booth devoid of a line, where a stern-faced, bald man sat, his expression as unwelcoming as the bureaucratic setting.

“I’m Simon Support,” the man announced, his voice as flat as his demeanor. “Name?”

“H—” Harry began, but the words that came out were, “Hayley Walker.” He tried again, “I’m Har—” but again, “Hayley Walker” slipped from his lips.

Frustrated, he explained, “Look, my character sheet, it’s totally different from what I set when I launched the game.”

Simon’s response was dismissive. “Impossible. The character sheet can only be edited by the player. It allows you to experience the world exactly how you see yourself.”

“I didn’t see myself as some vapid-sounding bimbo,” Harry protested, his voice rising angrily. “Look at me!” He gestured at his attire, the bustier and miniskirt feeling more like a punishment than a costume.

Simon’s grin was unexpectedly wide for his otherwise stern face. “There’s only one character per player, and we can’t reset it until the full launch. We don’t have that functionality yet.”

“When is the full launch?” Harry demanded, his patience threadbare.

“Should be in about six weeks,” Simon replied, almost nonchalantly.

Harry’s lips parted in horrified awe. “Is there anything you can do to help me?” He asked, hoping against hope for a solution.

Simon’s grin broadened, “Have some fun in the game. Who knows, you might enjoy it,” he said before pulling down a “Booth Closed” sign. With a flick of his hand, he vanished, leaving Harry alone with his frustration.

Angry and feeling more trapped than ever, Harry stormed towards the exit. The transition was abrupt; the grandeur of City Hall dissolved, and he was back in the grimy confines of his motel room, the red bustier and black miniskirt still mocking him with their presence.

Harry’s mind raced. Six weeks was an eternity in this form, in this situation. He had to contest with battling this world looking like a broad and having his viewers ridicule him or face a $5 million fine. It was an almost impossible choice.

❖

Back in the dingy motel room, the weight of his situation bore down on Harry. With a heavy heart and reluctant steps, he made his way back to Dustin’s Bar. The early light of day filtered through the windows, casting long shadows across the mostly empty room; only a few patrons lingered, nursing their morning drinks.

Dustin, the bar owner, looked up from wiping down the counter, his expression a mix of amusement and business. “Ready for another shift?” he asked, his voice carrying the same opportunistic tone Harry remembered from the night before.

Despite the anger simmering within him at his current predicament, Harry couldn’t help but be impressed by the realistic mechanics of the NPCs. They reacted, remembered, and interacted with a level of sophistication he had never encountered in any game before. Swallowing his pride, Harry knew there was no other way out of Lowtown, the poor starting area, without those Echo Bucks. “Yes,” he said reluctantly, his voice betraying none of his internal turmoil.

Dustin’s gaze swept over Harry’s new attire—the red bustier and black miniskirt—and he gave a disapproving shake of his head. “Nice outfit, but not work-appropriate for here,” he said with a smirk. With a flick of his wrist, as if by magic, the maid outfit from the previous night enveloped Harry once more. Suddenly, he was dressed in a sleek, form-fitting black and white French maid’s uniform, the material hugging every curve. The dress had a low neckline, accentuating the cleavage, with a short skirt that barely covered the essentials, ending in a ruffled hem. The outfit was completed with thigh-high black fishnet stockings, the same 4” black patent high-heel stiletto pumps, and a crisp white apron tied around his waist, enhancing the illusion of service. A small, stiff cap sat atop his head, branding him as Dustin’s employee.

In a desperate attempt of defiance, Harry tried to access his inventory to change back into his previous, albeit equally revealing, outfit. However, before he could even select an item, a message flashed across his vision: “During work hours, only uniforms approved by your employer may be worn.”

“Get to work,” Dustin commanded with a grin, clearly enjoying the control he had over Harry’s avatar.

Harry wanted to retort but held his tongue. He needed the Echo Bucks, and arguing wouldn’t help him get there. The maid outfit, though humiliating, was his ticket to possibly changing his circumstances in this game. He picked up a tray and got to work.

❖

Harry moved through the bar, serving tables with a tray balanced precariously in his hands, the room gradually filling with the morning crowd. Each step was a challenge on the 4” heels, his movements unsteady, his focus split between not spilling the drinks and not falling. He thought to himself that he’d never get used to these heels, then caught himself - he didn’t want to get used to them. This wasn’t his chosen life.

As he approached one table, a man with a leering smile looked him up and down, his gaze settling on Harry’s lips. “How about a blowjob, pretty lips?” he suggested with a crude grin.

Harry’s first reaction was disgust, but the words that came out of his mouth were shaped by his altered character sheet. “Oh, you can’t afford me,” he replied flirtatiously, his voice high-pitched and teasing, a stark contrast to his internal revulsion.

The man chuckled, pulling out his wallet. “How about 100 Echo Bucks?”

Still disgusted, Harry’s character giggled, the sound light and mocking. “I knew you couldn’t afford me,” he responded, his tone playful even as his mind recoiled.

“200 then,” the man upped his offer, his eyes never leaving Harry’s lips.

Again, the flirtatious rejection came automatically. “Still not enough, darling,” Harry’s character said, the words flowing out despite his inner disgust.

The man leaned back, a smirk on his face. “400 Echo Bucks, that’s my final offer.”

Harry felt the weight of his character’s submissive traits pulling at him. His mind screamed in protest, but his avatar, driven by the game’s mechanics and his changed character sheet, couldn’t resist. With a giggle that went against everything he felt, he leaned closer. “Looks like you just might be able to afford me after all,” he said, the words tasting bitter on his tongue.

Harry, his actions still dictated by his altered traits, leaned in closer, his voice dripping with a seductiveness he didn’t feel. “What’s your name, handsome?” he cooed, the words sounding foreign to his own ears.

The man scoffed, his arrogance clear. “My name’s not what you’ll remember when you’re done with me,” he boasted, the man’s tone crude and dismissive.

Still fighting his inner disdain, Harry suggested, “How about we take this upstairs to my room?” His character’s voice was coaxing, but the man wasn’t having it.

“Nah, right here’s fine,” he declared, pushing back his chair slightly. “I’m dropping 400 bucks on this, so it’s happening where I say. Get your pretty little mouth under this table, now.” His voice was thick with entitlement.

Reluctantly, Harry complied, his character’s submissive nature overpowering his own will. He slipped under the table, the world outside narrowing to the dim space beneath.

As he positioned himself, the words “Blowjob Expert” flashed in his vision, a mocking reminder of his character’s new sexual trait. His movements were automatic, his character taking over with an expertise that was not his own. He began with a confident grip, his lips wrapping around the man’s cock with practiced ease. His tongue worked in a rhythm that felt alien to him, swirling and teasing, while his head bobbed in a steady, expert motion. The act was mechanical, devoid of any personal desire, Hayley’s skill making the unwelcome task disturbingly efficient. He felt the man’s hand on his head, guiding him as he was forced to continue, and Harry’s eyes widened. His jaw began to ache, and he hated the disgusting taste of the man’s girth inside his mouth. Was this how his girlfriend felt when he made her do it? Harry thought. He dismissed those thoughts; she was a woman, so she was used to it.

As the man reached his climax, Harry’s “Blowjob Queen” trait compelled him to swallow, each drop an assault on his senses, his disgust palpable. The act concluded, but the degradation was far from over. Suddenly, comments from his subscribers invaded his vision, a mix of shock and encouragement. “What the hell are we watching?” some typed, while others cheered him on, their words a cacophony of confusion and perverse enjoyment.

At the bottom of his vision, a stark message from GlitchCast appeared: “This stream has been demonetized for NSFW content.” Humiliation washed over him, the taste in his mouth a bitter reminder of what had just transpired.

Rising from his knees, his face flushed with a mix of anger and revulsion, another patron at a nearby table crudely called out, “I’m next!” followed by another’s lewd inquiry, “How much for that ass?” The room spun around him, their voices like nails on a chalkboard, each word stoking the fire of his repulsion.

Overwhelmed, Harry bolted towards his rented room, the sound of his heels echoing and the bar’s noise fading behind him. As he rushed past Dustin, the bar owner called out, “Where you running to, lass?” but Harry didn’t even glance back, his mind and body recoiling from the ordeal.

Reaching his room, he slammed the door shut, the sanctuary of solitude the complete opposite of the chaos he’d just left. His breath came in ragged gasps, the taste in his mouth a vile reminder of his recent actions. He stared in the mirror at the pretty maid looking back at him and clenched his fists in frustration.

❖

After rinsing his mouth out with dirty water in the grimy bathroom of his rented room, Harry desperately attempted to log out, seeking escape. However, the system wouldn’t comply, informing him that he must be dressed appropriately before logging out.

The reddish-brown-haired feminized man groaned. He brought up his inventory, but a new yet familiar message flashed before his eyes: “During work hours, only uniforms approved by your employer may be worn.”

Frustrated, another option appeared beneath the message: “Would you like to end your shift now?”

Harry selected “Yes” without hesitation. Immediately, there was a sound of coins jingling, and a summary of his earnings appeared in his vision:

• Shift Earning: 0 Echo Bucks (due to leaving shift early)
• Negotiated Tips: 400 Echo Bucks
• Additional Tips: 150 Echo Bucks
• Current Balance: 615 Echo Bucks

Despite the disgust still lingering from his actions earlier, the sight of the Echo Bucks tally gave him a sliver of hope; at least his humiliation wasn’t for nothing. He was one step closer to leaving this wretched area of the game.

With a resolve to get out of the game world, Harry navigated to his inventory to change out of the maid’s uniform. The only sleepwear available was the semi-transparent nightdress he had woken in earlier. He donned it, feeling a strange sense of relief in changing out of the work attire despite the revealing nature of his sleepwear.

Now in the slutty nightwear, the option to log out became available. He approached the bed, the mattress creaking under him as he lay down. Without further ado, he selected “Log Out.” His vision blurred as he was pulled from the virtual hell of LifeSynced back to the reality of the real world.

❖

Harry jolted awake in his luxury apartment, the familiar surroundings a stark contrast to the virtual hell he’d just escaped. He ripped the neural device from his neck, tossing it onto the desk with a clatter, relief flooding through him as he realized he was back in his own skin. But that relief was short-lived.

A peculiar sensation buzzed across his mouth, an unsettling prickling that set his nerves on edge. Something was wrong, seriously wrong. He leaned closer to the reflection of his PC monitor, his heart pounding as he examined his face. To his abject horror, his lips had transformed, now plump and curved into noticeable cupid bow lips, mirroring the very features of Hayley from the game.

Harry screamed in despair, his eyes not leaving his reflection. How was this possible? Was he dreaming? That was the only possible explanation for the virtual world mixing with the real world. He pinched himself but gasped; the agony of his pinch was all too real from his newly hairless arm.

“What the fuck!” he screamed, his voice a raw mix of fury and desperation. He clenched his fists as anger overwhelmed him. What could he do? He couldn’t return to EchoLife headquarters; they would just play dumb again. His mind was void of options; what would he do now?

End of Chapter Two