“For this to work,” Frank reminded the guys, “she cannot receive any jolts right now. I don’t want you making any jokes. The obvious ones hurt more, and she’ll push back. The weaker ones, the subtle ones, they might make her think a little clearer when I don’t want that.

“So it’s important that you don’t pull any stupid shit. Now we may all be in our rooms, but you still all know who I’m looking at, right?”

The chat was filled with laughter, some of it good-natured, some of it smirking.

And that was the problem. If he’d heard the troublemakers sound sheepish or defensive, or even pre-emptively apologise he might have thought they were taking him seriously. He sighed.

“OK, guys. If that’s the way it is, I have a different way to play this. I’m hosting the chat, and I will server mute anyone I cannot trust and anyone else who slips up. And if you have a problem with that, you’re just going to have to hear about the proof from everyone else, because you’ll be getting kicked. Am I clear?”

This time, no laughter, but there was a little grumbling. That he could deal with. They might be indignant that he was calling the shots, but that didn’t have to stay the case for long. And with what he now knew he could deliver, it wouldn’t.

“Huey,” he said, “I’ve not heard from you?”

“Ricky didn’t say shit either!” Huey protested.

“I can trust Ricky, and Ricky knows it,” Frank retorted. “You are…”

He hesitated over what to say, and Graeme cut in with “A fucking liability.”

Everyone but Huey was laughing again. After a few moments, Huey’s bray of delight joined the chorus; he never stayed mad about all this for too long, and Frank believed he was secretly proud to create so much fuss.

Which, of course, was a problem of its own. But then, there was no better way to sum Huey up than as a problem hiding more problems under the surface.

“Alright. So. Be prepared for anything. If you have to comment, keep it complimentary. And I mean actually complimentary. No negging, Graeme.”

“One time! One fucking time I buy into that bullshit.” Graeme sounded more genuinely annoyed by the laughter than Huey had about something much more critical. Summed the two of them up. Huey would bounce off a failure and try again, heedless of the fact his plan made no more sense. Graeme would learn from mistakes, but hate the fact anyone knew he’d made them.

Frank took a deep breath. Maybe, he thought, just maybe, he’d see some growth out of them through this. He wasn’t sure how, but sometimes boys really did become men when they were given a chance to get close to a woman.

*

Jane was a little surprised to be doing this, but FisherKing had been kind of insistent on the idea, and as time went by, she’d come to understand that FisherKing was just smarter than her. If he said something was in her best interests, she believed him. How could she not?

She didn’t see how this could be a benefit to her, but FisherKing assured her it was. He was smart enough to see things she couldn’t. She didn’t need to understand what he saw; she could relax and follow his lead.

Maybe it would make her more confident. And maybe it would mean that his friends started to see her as a gamer, not a woman.

And just very maybe she might even enjoy it. If she did, maybe she’d stream again, but on Twitch this time, not for a limited audience.

She checked everything one last time and looked at the button to join the chat. After a few moments of hesitation, she decided she wasn’t quite ready yet.

She got up from her computer chair and padded across her ‘study’ then out into the hallway. Slipping into the kitchen, she enjoyed the feeling of her cold kitchen tiles under stocking feet - just about any surprising sensation seemed to be a thrill and a joy for her these days.

She took out a glass and opened up her booze cupboard. A generous tot of rum was disguised with a measure of Diet Coke, making herself a reasonably well-disguised glass of Dutch courage.

On her way back to the room, she paused to check how she looked in the mirror. After all, while the camera wouldn’t be on, just seeing her strong, muscular legs in sheer black stockings, the ripe swell of her ass in her high-waisted deep blue thong, the abs she was building now clearly visible, and the the soft curve of her breasts perfectly visible in a transparent black bra much more dedicated to dressing sexy at home than to providing support.

She was glad that the stream would just be the game and her voice, but it still made her feel better - and braver - just seeing how good she looked now. Being at peace with her body and embracing how it felt to dress sexy at home had been a godsend for her.

She frowned thoughtfully at her hair - scraped back into a lazy bun and secured in place with a black scrunchie, it and her makeup were the least fully realised part of her new look, but handling hair, lipstick, and the like hadn’t become an automatic part of her life for some reason; just the clothing.

Jane knew that, really, she should do something about that; all the same, it didn’t feel anything like as pressing, not in her head where it all mattered.

Returning to her gaming chair, she sat down, put the drink ready, and picked up her matte black headphones with the red sidelights and settled them in place. She had a message waiting.

FisherKing: Are you still game to do this?

Thunderwave: Of course :) Ready to go live when you are.

A popup emerged on her screen, and Jane read it as saying FisherKing has invited you to a group call. She accepted and tabbed across to her game screen.

The green light burning next to her webcam was completely invisible to her.

*

A little over two hours’ drive away, Frank and his friends in their own separate rooms all watched as Jane joined their chat. Her webcam was live while theirs were not, and as such, the camera feed immediately filled over half of the screen.

“Fuck…” Frank breathed, and was immediately glad he used push-to-talk as standard. After the lecture he’d given, he could have done without that.

This was the first time Jane had worn that particular bra and the result was stunning. He was already looking forward to offering her a game of Pastime later and getting a photo or two of the full outfit, especially as he couldn’t see so far down as her belly button from this camera angle.

His eyes briefly flicked to the gang’s private text chat. As he’d expected, emoji were already flooding in. His tongue flicked out over dry lips and he allowed himself a smile. If this didn’t persuade them that he was serious, he didn’t know what could.

He shifted position in his chair, smirking, and sat a little lower, his legs parted. He kept watching her even as the game window opened and took centre stage, easing the buckle of his belt loose. He unbuttoned his jeans and slid his hand into his boxers. As he took himself in hand, he tried to imagine how Jane would feel instead, Was she already an expert, or would she need training? She was focused in on his pleasure - would she keep that devotion into the bedroom without prompting, or would she need another nudge?

*

“So, uh, hi, guys,” Jane said. “As you can already see, this is X-Com. Well, X-Com 2,” She winced slightly as she corrected herself. She took a sip of her drink. “It’s an older game already, I know. But we’re going to whack the difficulty up and we’re going to run this Iron Man, and maybe we’ll just see where we go from there, OK?”

She made herself smile. Smiling made you sound happier. It could make you happier. And she was far more nervous about this stream, now that it was happening, than made any sense to her. She felt like she was exposed. Like she was showing herself in a way she shouldn’t.

“I know some of you won’t have played this so we’re going through the tutorial first, just so you can get the sense of it. The only thing you need to know first is the planet’s been conquered by aliens and most of them are kind of a slave population, but there’s a resistance fighting back…”

Before too long she was lost in the game, and was talking about what was going on only when prompted. Despite the difficulty, things were going well, and she’d almost come out of her chair more than once, bouncing forward each time. She’d have felt a bit silly about it if the same moments hadn’t made the guys watching along gasp or yell “fuck!” too - but clearly she had every right to get worked up, as her audience was too.

Honestly, it was a good thing she’d told FisherKing right from the start that the standard streaming setup with a webcam rolling wasn’t an option. Having to cover herself up for all this would have made everything much more stressful.

But the highlight of her evening was some praise from, of all people, Huey. “Oh damn,” he said, “you’re so good, baby.”

She’d frowned at the ‘baby’ part, but had nonetheless found herself grinning. “Thank you,” she said, with a little shimmy of her shoulders as she did. No question about it - she was feeling damn good.

She played for about an hour and a half before glancing across and seeing the time. “Oh, shit,” she said. “Guys, I should wrap this up so-”

“Uh, Jane?” FisherKing asked. At the sound of his voice her lips twitched back into a smile. She couldn’t help it. A tiny part of her mind registered that he’d just given his friends her first name, but he did understand what was best for her, so how badly could that possibly go?

“Yes?”

FisherKing said something else. She didn’t catch what he said but her vision swam.

Without really knowing why she reached up and took hold of her bra cups by their upper edges. With a single decisive tug she drew them down so her breasts were even more fully on display. She sat back in her chair for a second and blinked.

“You know what, guys?” she said. “I don’t think I’m going to cut this short after all, but I do need to get me a drink. Are you OK waiting a few before I tackle the next couple of missions?”

There was a chorus of positives. She nodded, smiling, picked up her empty glass, and bounced up from her seat and away from her desk.

The webcam she’d ignored allowed those watching her to enjoy the ass her workout had been building for several long seconds on her way out of shot.

*

Ricky was the first to call Frank while she was away. Frank had bet on him or Graeme. They always had the best reflexes, if that was the right word, for anything mental. Ricky was probably quicker on the uptake than Frank. He just didn’t apply that brain to pretty much anything, so he hit his limits faster.

“Dude, that was amazing. You gotta - how did you do that?”

“That’s gotta be my secret, man. At least for now. You know?”

“I… guess. But seriously, I would have been so sure this was a put-on if I didn’t know her voice. Someone who hates Huey that much could be the world’s biggest slut and she wouldn’t show her tits off for him.”

That startled a laugh out of Frank. “I mean,” he said eventually, “I guess when you put it like that, you’ve got a point. But she’s not a huge slut - she doesn’t need to be. She’s a classy slut, and she’s going to be our classy slut once we get this done.”

“This is for real, huh? You can push her further?”

“You know how far I plan on pushing her.”

“…Well, shit.”

Frank chuckled. “Look, man, she’ll be back in that chair soon. She’s going to eat into her own sleep rather than let us down. All we have to do right now is enjoy it.”

“Yeah. OK, yeah. But Frank - you’ve gotta let me help on this. Even if I don’t get the secret of how.”

“Maybe you get that in time, Ricky. But when I have something I need one of the guys to do, I’ll come to you. Actually… yeah. Maybe tomorrow… I’ll fill you in after this.”

“You do that, man. Shit - she’s coming back. I’ll speak to you later.”

Frank’s smile was wide enough that it ached as he watched Jane settle back into her chair. She bobbed up and down a couple of times, adjusting its settings, and she jiggled delightfully.

He was very much looking forward to having her secret selfies on his drive.

*

It was midnight before Jane ended her stream, apologising that she had to finish so early, but work the following morning meant she had to sleep sometime. She ended the call and never noticed the webcam’s light wink out. Sitting there, breathing heavily, her stomach growled and she abruptly realised she still needed to eat.

She bolted up out of her chair and hurried to the kitchen. It was going to have to be something fast; an omelette or something maybe. Some frozen spinach, a bit of chopped mushroom, some ham, and a splash of hot sauce.

The stream had gone so well that she still felt she was riding a high. Combined with the lack of food, she was shivering slightly despite the warmth of her kitchen as she stood there. Her skin felt supercharged, hypersensitive, and she realised only when the air flowed past them while she walked that her panties were sopping wet.

She’d cracked the eggs into her saute pan and was just splashing in some milk when she heard her phone chiming a call alert. Not a regular call - thank God at this time of night - but that meant it might be FisherKing.

She hurried back into her bedroom and scooped up her phone. On the way back into the kitchen she toggled it on, putting it down on the counter by the hob. “Hey,” she said.

“That was great, Jane,” he said enthusiastically. “Well done!”

“Thank you,” she said. It felt like too little; receiving his praise sent a shudder down her spine, and she seemed to tingle all over.

It might be time to face up to facts; she had a major crush on that young man. She was listening to him more than she should She was giving over decisions to a younger man. Which was ridiculous, even if he did understand what was best for her.

But imagining that she was cooking for him was something of a thrill.

“Listen, you did really well,” he continued. “Not just at the game, or even just the stream. You handled the guys just fine.” A beat. “Didn’t you?”

“Yes,” she agreed promptly. She found she usually did when he said things like that. It was something like reflex, although when she went over the questions afterward, she always found she really did agree with him.

“You know them better now. Their jokes don’t hurt so much.” Another pause. “Do they?”

“No,” she agreed again.

“They’re your friends,” FisherKing said. He paused, and Jane prepared to agree when he asked her about it. But instead, he started again. “They’re your boys.” And the familiar pause, as she tried to understand why he might change the wording. “Aren’t they?”

“Yes,” she agreed without hesitation. She would figure out why they were her boys later.

“Good girl,” FisherKing said, and even as she added the spinach to her omelette, she straightened slightly and preened from his judgement. Her thighs clenched with excitement.

She was really going to have to get this silly crush under control. Everything about FisherKing mattered more to her than made any sense. They didn’t even know what each other looked like, even.

“You’re going to stream again in two nights,” FisherKing said. “After a nice game of Pastime tomorrow.”

He fell silent, and she waited for that confirming question he always asked, but time ticked on past that point and he still hadn’t asked. When she realised he wasn’t going to ask she scrambled to respond. “Yes,” she said. “Of course!”

*

Jane was running on about two hours less sleep than she usually had when she made her way into work the next day. Yawning heavily was not helped by just how much her head was spinning at the success of the previous night. She didn’t think rum would be needed to encourage her for the second stream.

Even with that positivity, though, she was uneasy. The biggest revelation of the previous night had been just how far and how fast she’d fallen for one of the young men who were now the biggest part of her online social life.

She would have to decide, soon, what she was going to do about it. Heaven only knew where he even lived, or if he felt at all similarly to her. And she’d dated younger before, a couple of times. The second time she’d sworn off an age gap of more than about five years.

Guys who were or could be in college didn’t have the maturity she needed. And sooner or later, the culture clash was too strong. They would demand something childish once too often and the fun would be gone, leaving only a mess.

She knew this, but she was still protective of her connection to FisherKing. He wasn’t like the rest of her boys.

It was hard getting through the day. It wasn’t just that she was daydreaming about her man and her boys, wasn’t just that she wasn’t dressed sexy and it got in the way, and there was more to it even than a combination of the two. She took her job seriously, she cared for the company’s clients, and she was proud of the work she did, but over the past month or so, most of her work had taken more and more effort to accomplish.

That day was the day she realised it was less about effort and more that thinking her work through was a strain where before it had been simple. She seemed to be out of practice at organised thought - obviously a ridiculous idea, but it was certainly how she felt.

On the other hand, she was definitely happier than she had been…

*

She came home to a friend request from TBagNoScope, a name that would once have horrified her but she now recognised it as one of her boys. She accepted, of course; how could she not? It gave her a warm feeling. She wasn’t completely sure which one this was, mind. That was starting to weigh on her. She didn’t know nearly enough about her boys.

She’d only realised she thought of them that way after her conversation with FisherKing the previous night. It already felt natural. And that, too, was worrying her.

She knew, in vague terms, that FisherKing had changed the way she thought about many things, but it had largely happened during games of Pastime, and while she never seemed to remember those conversations afterward, that didn’t bother her.

It turned out that remembering them was somehow more difficult to deal with. She was still looking forward to her game of Pastime, though.

TBagNoScope: Hey! How you doing?

Thunderwave: I’m doing OK, honey. How about you?

TBagNoScope: Pretty good. I wanted to say thanks for the stream last night.

Thunderwave: Oh you’re welcome! It was a pleasure.

TBagNoScope: Awesome. Only I’ve kind of had it in my head that you didn’t think much of most of us. Except for the obvious. ;)

Thunderwave: Oh, dear. Is it that obvious?

TBagNoScope: Well we’ve all been trolling him about it. But seriously, if you ask me he’s a lucky guy.

Thunderwave: I don’t know if anything’s happening. But thank you, that’s very flattering.

TBagNoScope: You’re welcome. And yeah - you’re not too pissy with the rest of us?

Thunderwave: Not at all! I think you have the makings of some wonderful men. You just need some encouragement, that’s all.

TBagNoScope: Oh yeah? Even Huey?

Jane blinked. It was actually a struggle to choose her words, as two completely opposite answers seemed to spring up on her at once.

Thunderwave: Well, I should think he’ll take rather more extravagant encouragement.

TBagNoScope: LOL

TBagNoScope: What kind of encouragement would you give me?

He was flirting with her, Jane realised with a start.

Thunderwave: Well, that rather depends, doesn’t it?

Only after she’d sent that message did she realise that she was also flirting with him.

There was every reason not to. She knew that getting involved with men so much younger was a mistake. She was more interested in FisherKing, too. But he was one of her boys, and that meant she had a lot of warm feelings toward him. She’d already known that.

What she was now discovering was that the warmth came from the heat of lust.

TBagNoScope: Depends on what? I could treat you nice.

Thunderwave: You don’t have to.

Jane reread what she’d written several times, her cheeks flushed. She wasn’t embarrassed, she told herself; she was excited. Embarrassment made no sense for a classy slut like her; she was used to being blunt about sex. She enjoyed it.

TBagNoScope: So… what would you like?

She stared at the message for a long, long moment. Her fingers started typing ahead of her brain.

Thunderwave: I’m sure you’re an inventive young man. Why don’t you come up with something special?

Jane was a little surprised when the reply that came back was a picture. For a moment she was certain it would be a dick pic - an idea that revulsed her, although the idle heat and arousal that always built up on Pastime days had a little surge. She didn’t like the idea of one of her boys being that clumsy.

He was never going to get laid enough to grow up like that.

All the same, she opened the picture, and was surprised to see that his cock was nowhere in sight. He’d clearly snapped this photo after some thinking, and probably some time ago (maybe even for another woman originally, she acknowledged, but boys will be boys) - it was a summer’s day, he was shirtless in the sun, and the main focus was on soulful eyes and a young man’s effortlessly athletic body.

Jane’s breath caught in her throat. Maybe work wasn’t getting more complicated. Maybe she was just getting more straightforward, and had less patience for complex thinking, more comfort with the straightforward. Maybe she had sex on the brain, and anything else was harder. But her immediate reaction was so simple and straightforward it barely counted as a thought.

Mama like.

Thunderwave: Oh my

TBagNoScope: Special enough? ;)

Thunderwave: For encouragement? Certainly.

Thunderwave: What’s your name, by the way?

TBagNoScope: Ricky

She remembered Ricky. He came across as very sarcastic, not because he laid it on thick but because he almost never spoke when he didn’t have a joke to make. He clearly lived for approval.

Thunderwave: Well, Ricky, I’ll have to clear it with FisherKing, but

Jane blinked. She stopped and stared, rereading the half a sentence she’d typed but not yet sent. She didn’t have any actual deal with FisherKing (much as she lusted after him) but that idea had been so instinctive she’d written it out before thinking about it.

Was she actually willing to do that?

Thunderwave: Well, Ricky, I’ll have to clear it with FisherKing, but I think you deserve something encouraging.

TBagNoScope: What’s that mean?

Thunderwave: You’ll find out.

TBagNoScope: Looking forward to it.

She sat back from the screen and read back over the conversation. She didn’t remember deciding she was OK with knuckling under to FisherKing, but some part of herself clearly thought the idea was fine.

Her eyes flicked to the clock readout in the lower right, and she went from a contented smile to something more dreamy. It was nearly time for Pastime.

*

Ricky screenshotted his chat and sent it across to Frank. A few moments later his screen showed a call notification; he settled his headphones in place and answered the call.

“That was exactly what I needed to know,” Frank said as soon as the connection settled. He sounded jubilant. “And that was exactly the nudge she needed, too.”

“Do I get an explanation?”

Frank laughed. “Only if you’re OK with it being really vague.”

“That’ll do, if that’s what it has to be.”

“I’m still figuring out what changes I can make,” he said. “Still pushing her where I can, and then I have to sit back and see what she’s thinking. But at this point, while I’m working on her, she wants to tell me what she thinks will make me happy. You give me a clearer picture.”

Ricky let that hang there while he digested it. “Cool,” he settled on, at last.

“Plus, you’re giving her a nudge for the guys.”

“Ohhh.” Ricky nodded thoughtfully, even though it couldn’t be seen on a voice call. “That’s what the whole boys thing is about?”

“Right. I think I’ll be able to push her right over the edge soon. But I’ve got to walk her up to it first without her freaking out and running scared.”

*

Jane stood and slipped her panties off ahead of time and sat back down in a chair that now always kept the faint scent of her arousal, dripping wet. Her thighs parted willingly and her fingers found their spot. She began to tease and to stroke, thinking of FisherKing’s voice and Ricky’s body, of her man and her boys, her pussy and her mind slick with arousal.

FisherKing: Ready?

Thunderwave: So ready

Pastime loaded up on her screen and gave her something to watch. She felt her addled mind stir and ebb, and wondered idly and briefly if her struggles at work had come from her mind becoming more and more focused on the game. She was entertained by the fanciful mental image of a little more brainpower left behind every time FisherKing called their games over.

She was already softly whimpering against the backing track of her wet, sticky fingers when the voice call was established. By this time it didn’t occur to her to question FisherKing’s silence at the start of games.

She shifted position again. One of her feet came up to brace against the table edge. Now she was hitting the spot properly.

“Your other hand really should be playing with your tits when you do that,” FisherKing said. Jane gasped - there was no earthly way he should even know what she was doing - but after a moment, she shifted again, leaning forward in the chair and unsnapping her bra.

“Okay.”

She shrugged it off her shoulders, slipped her free arm out of the strap, and flipped it slightly so that it dangled from the arm whose fingers were currently buried deep within her.

Her breasts were free and clear now. She started stroking the upper slope of one, loving how sensitive it felt. Dressing sexy seemed to make her more sensitive the longer she did it; perfect for a classy slut like herself.

On the screen, her side of the Pastime game matched cards. Jane’s hands were both occupied with her own body, but she just mentally congratulated herself for a good play. Pastime was a great opportunity to feel just delicious. Nothing else mattered while she played. Not even the talks she had with FisherKing.

Her hand dropped from the upper slope, circling around her breast before coming to rest on a rock-hard nipple. She closed thumb and forefinger around it and tugged, idly conscious that she was behaving like she had an audience, although that was still ridiculous.

Her play that day was something else. Both hands and Pastime was a new combination and it was an astonishingly good one. It felt like her whole body was a hot, wet, mindless puddle of need.

“You trust me, Jane,” FisherKing said at last, when the tempo of her gasps was up to a point where his words barely registered. “Don’t you?”

“Yes,” she answered, but she could hardly hear it above her own moans. “Yes,” she said again, in case he hadn’t heard either.

“You trust me completely,” he said. “Don’t you?”

“Yes,” she said again. The fuzzy slowness that happened sometimes when FisherKing said things she hadn’t yet decided she agreed with was nowhere to be seen.

Every time she said yes was like an extra tongue at her nipple or inside her pussy. She came ragged and excited and her hands didn’t stop moving, her arousal didn’t stop building. Buoyed by her first orgasm, her mind opened wide.

“You want to make me happy,” FisherKing continued. “You’re dedicated to it. You crave my happiness.”

“I want to make you happy,” she agreed. “I’m dedicated to it. I crave your happiness.”

“You want me to fuck you,” he went on. “To use you. It will make us both happy.”

Another orgasm burst out of the slow build of need and lust and made fireworks through her mind and body.

“I want you to fuck me. To use me. It will make us both happy,” she echoed.

“You serve me. You obey me. It’s natural. It’s right.”

There was still no trace of that reluctance, that mental grinding of gears that seemed to slow down her agreement sometimes.

“I serve you. I obey you. It’s natural. It’s right.”

She was sticky all over now, mostly around her fingers but the intensity of sensation had sweat beading across every bare inch of her, which by now was everywhere except the stockings.

“I am your king, and you are my subject.”

“You are my King, and I am your subject.”

She was, finally, no longer seeing the Pastime screen; her eyes had rolled back in her head, and in the rare moments they almost dipped enough to see, half-closed eyelids kept them from being useful. She came again, a third or perhaps fourth wave of ecstasy ripping through the clarity of her thought.

Of course, she didn’t need clear thoughts. Not with a purpose like this.

“Good girl, Jane. Cum again.”

Five simple words led to a moment of absolute bliss.