Full Immersion (Commission for Joducus)

“Alright Jeremy, everything’s ready. We’re lowering the headset. Please stay still.”

His excitement was hard to contain, the young man shaking all over the place with the stupidest, widest grin stuck on his face. He’d been waiting so long for that opportunity that now that it finally arrived, he didn’t even know what to do with himself; most of him wanted to start squealing in delight at the prospect of testing the very first full-immersion VR suite, while a good chunk of his mind was telling him to at least try to remain somewhat respectable and not descend into self-indulgent madness too quickly. In the end, Jeremy settled for buzzing in his spot as quietly as he could, prompting the observation team to ask him to please keep quiet while the equipment calibrated, a process that took the better part of an hour.

It was no simple set of peripherals nor advanced scanners. His whole body was covered by a skintight suit, dotted with the same kind of motion trackers used for big budget Hollywood mocap productions, while his head was completely encased in something that looked like a cross between a racing helmet, standard VR headset, and massive pile of misshapen machinery. Underneath the lump of metal, plastic and wires, however, was the proprietary technology that the company claimed would revolutionize the world of virtual reality, as it allowed their users to not have to rely on phantom sense alone to enjoy whatever it was they were seeing.

Hidden away inside one of the sub-compartments was a small set of needles, each one designed specifically for use with one person and one person alone; creating them wasn’t as simple as just taking measurements, requiring instead extensive medical examinations and brainwave pattern scanning, for their goal was to block all motor neuron signals being sent by the brain to the rest of the body. While Jeremy initially balked at the idea as something straight out the minds of a deranged, cartoonishly-evil scientist, the research team informed him that the theory behind the whole thing was, at the very least, sound; by blocking outbound signals, they could prevent the suite’s users from moving away from it, while allowing the inbound signals to still pass, thus making it so that whatever the suit was “seeing” could be translated into direct neural impulses, translated by the brain into something akin to reality.

Or, in other words, the suit would deliberately trick the brain into feeling the VR experience, rather than relying on the brain deluding itself.

It carried with it a non-zero chance of backfiring horribly and causing no end of brain damage, though the research team assured him that it was such a minute, remote possibility that standard medical procedures could statistically be considered more dangerous. Jeremy, meanwhile, was so taken in by the promise of actual VR-reality translation that he didn’t even consider the odd choice of the word “could”, instantly signing himself off as a test subject the first opportunity he was given. What he was told afterwards just helped seal the deal.

In order to adequately test the full range of possibilities offered by the device, Rivtech was paying its participants to deliberately try and break the whole system as hard as they could, not just with model creation, but by stretching the physics simulation and straining the calculations required to keep the system running by whatever means necessary. If stress-testing was important for something as simple as a headset, one could imagine how vital it would be for a full-immersion suite that fudged up brain signals for the sake of improving one’s connection to their avatar, hence why the observation team informed him that they would be removing all safety locks before turning the simulation on.

Once again, Jeremy at no point questioned why there were safety locks in place, but wasn’t exactly in a position where such a thing could even come to mind.

The machinery placed the helmet on his head, isolating him from the outside world until all he could see was complete blackness and the only words that he understood were the occasional technical jargon that he’d spent so long listening to. Beyond that, he was alone in the dark, waiting for someone else to pull the proverbial lever and send him down into the brand new simulated world he’d been dreaming of for so long.

“Jeremy, you alright in there?” one of the techies asked through the intercom connected to the in-built headphones, “We’re just finishing things up in here and then we’ll work on activating the neural blocker. We’ll be able to hear you once you’re inside, but for now, just give us a thumbs-up if you can hear me” - Jeremy did just that - “Wonderful. Just a few more minutes.”

The excitement was so much Jeremy could barely contain himself, yet somehow he managed to keep everything in place without moving a single inch. Admittedly, the threat of a botched cerebellum puncturing was enough of a threat to keep him from literally jumping in place, even if it wasn’t quite everything needed to tip him over to the side of fear and anxiety. Both were certainly there, and it’d be unthinkable for them not to be; the suite was going to pierce one of the most vital parts of his brain with a set of needles deliberately designed to penetrate deeply enough to mess with his “wiring”, leaving at least forty-percent of him terrified at the prospect of being left unable to walk just because he wanted to see himself with big titties. It just so happened that the other sixty were so giddy at that exact same prospect that they overpowered what some would consider to be the saner aspects of him.

Jeremy hadn’t had any contact with the other test subjects running the same experiment as him. There were six others, each with their own full-immersion suite and specially-designed neural blocker, each with their own room and research team; the experiment had been designed to maximize both comfort and familiarity, so that when push came to shove, the participants wouldn’t be afraid to cut loose and show the observation staff what they needed to see. In all respects, it had been a resounding success; Jeremy knew everyone in that glass cubicle by name, and if not for the trial run being recorded, he’d be referring to them that way. As it stood, however, some professionalism was required, and thus Jeremy waited for the signal to start working his magic.

“Everything is ready,” the speaker rang up again, “Jeremy, we’re going to need you to be extremely still. Any sudden movement can and will ruin the experiment and possibly cause injury, understand? On the count of three.”

It was really happening. Trying to keep his body from shaking was an herculean task.

“One.”

Just two seconds and it would all start. He couldn’t wait!

“Two.”

Oh God, what did he do?!

“Three.”

***

Jeremy awoke an indeterminate amount of time later, feeling… weird. It was comparable to when he slept on one of his arms the whole night, cutting off so much circulation that it was rendered unusable for upwards of ten minutes after he woke up, prompting much panic and worry about whether there was nerve damage… except literally everywhere. He couldn’t feel his body, nor even begin to move it, leaving him with an overwhelming sensation of dread that only began to quiet down once he remembered just where he was and what happened to him.

“...emy? Jeremy?”

Someone was talking to him, but the constant, annoying buzzing was making it hard to hear them. If only he could move his arms, he might actually be able to do something about it, but even getting his head to shake was impossible. Should it be?

“Jeremy, please, we need you to talk to us!”

The sounds were oddly muffled, like they were coming from very close by and yet still behind some kind of obstacle. He knew he was in some kind of experiment, but parts of his memory were still so foggy that he couldn’t for the life of him recall just who might be interested in speaking to him.

“Jeremy, for feck’s sakes, talk to us!”

Oh wait, right, that was it! That was him! He’d recognize that lilt on the curse word anywhere, it had to be... Paul? But if that was Paul, then that meant he had to be somewhere inside the research compound, and if he was in the compound…

… that’s right. He was inside the full-immersion suite and had just woken up from having several spikes shoved into his brain. At least it didn’t hurt, or at least he thought it didn’t; for all he knew, it was actually extremely painful and the same system blocking him from moving was also preventing his brain from telling him how much agony it was suffering in that exact moment. But that wasn’t important, he had to say something, even if he’d somehow forgotten how to do that. It was kind of funny, because if it wasn’t, he’d have to start panicking, but Jeremy could not remember how to speak. Intellectually, he was aware that it involved moving his lips and expelling air from his lungs in just the right way to produce a sequence of sounds, but even as he tried to do it, nothing really happened, not even a whimper.

For a few brief moments, it all felt like it was going to collapse around him; the trial run would be called off, the experiment deemed a failure and his body left an ungovernable mess, fit only for occasional visits from whatever nurse or carer was assigned to him. Every one of his fears, realized in a single, piercing instant, all because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. It was fitting, in its own weird way, that the grandest punishment came from his own hands; he just hated the fact that it had to happen there, when he was feeling so helpless.

But he still tried. He knew it was pointless, but he kept on trying to speak, and the more he did, the more he convinced himself that he might be able to. It was folly, complete and utter madness to assume he could power his way through brain damage with sheer force of will, but the second he heard himself let out a quiet whimper, that was all the evidence he needed. He had to speak, had to do it, and after straining his brain for what felt like hours (but were more than likely just seconds), something came out. It wasn’t his regular voice and still felt like miles off from what he should be saying, but it was something. Two letters.

“Ok.”

The whole observation staff let loose a collective sigh of relief, some of it infecting Jeremy himself, who kept trying to push himself to say something else. It became easier with time, and as his cognitive functions returned, he began to realize that what he had just gone through had most likely had only lasted a couple of minutes at best, a frankly ridiculously small amount of time for his brain to recover from having one of its parts stabbed in multiple locations. With a few more tries, he was back to saying full words, and within moments the young man was completing whole sentences, communication finally reestablished between both sides.

“You had us scared there for a moment, Jeremy,” Paul told him, “you sure you’re alright? We can call this off if you want us to.”

“There are needles. In my brain,” Jeremy replied, trying his best not to smile at the choice of words, “I don’t think we should… back away now.”

“You don’t sound so good, Jeremy.”

“That’s my name. Don’t wear it out.”

A moment of silence followed that dumb joke, with Paul then having to stifle a chuckle before turning the intercom off. The test subject could still hear them talk, obviously; just couldn’t catch any words in particular. Meanwhile, the set of needles stuck inside of him began to itch, though Jeremy quickly discovered this was only when he attempted to move; if he remained perfectly still, his whole body might as well not be there, but any time he tried to move a finger or readjust one of his feet, the back of his neck, the lowermost pair of him that he could still feel, felt like someone was digging into it with a sharp nail.

“Jeremy, please do not attempt to move yet. We haven’t started the simulation.”

Well, that explained it. 

He’d never been claustrophobic, but being forced to lie there in complete darkness without even the smallest of logos being displayed in front of him brought to mind images of being stuck inside of a coffin, which didn’t really help with the mounting anxiety building up inside of him. He tried to reassure himself that things were fine; if they weren’t, then the observation staff would’ve terminated the trial run and sent him back to his room rather than give him the choice to continue… hopefully. It must mean that things were going according to plan, whatever that might be.

His thoughts continued to run wild while the outside world carried on without him, at least until he heard a familiar click; someone had turned on the headset feed, and finally he was seeing something in front of him, even if it was just the company logo flying around and bouncing off the sides of the screen. A short jingle played, and soon enough he was flying through the air in the familiar intro cinematic, approaching the ground at breakneck speed before slowing down at just the right moment to cause a cloud of dust to kick up around the landing area, only to settle a few seconds later. The camera left first-person view, swivelling around to reveal their chosen avatar; which, given the nature of that experiment, was a photorealistic depiction of Jeremy himself.

He had to hand it to the techies, they did a wonderful job on the scanning software, because it was just like looking in the mirror, down to the smallest of details. What made it even more impressive is that no one had taken a full picture of his body before; the avatar was created right there and then by the suit he was wearing running several thousands scan cycles before assembling everything into one workable model, leaving him with a perfect baseline to work off of.

The camera returned to first-person, and he was given full control over himself in-game. Unfortunately, he didn’t really know what to do, courtesy of never being told, so he had to wait until one of the researchers, Sandra, appeared next to him as a featureless floating sphere.

“Sorry for showing up like this, but we didn’t really have time to make something better,” she said, flying around him to inspect the results, “though honestly, judging by what I’m seeing, we probably should. Guys, check this out!”

Through the headset, Jeremy could hear the whole team agreeing with his own assessment, expressing genuine amazement at how lifelike his avatar was.

“Alright, so, you’re going to want to walk all the way over here,” Sandra carried on, floating next to a simulated mirror, “and when I say walk, I do mean walk. The neural blocker will stop you from moving in reality, but it should be able to interpret the signals it’s receiving and translate them into virtual motion. So, just… try walking!”

Far easier said than done. The disconnect between his real self and his virtual representation left Jeremy feeling incredibly confused as to what exactly he was supposed to do. It was almost like vertigo, except reverse but not really; his brain was straining to comprehend what the hell was happening to it, given that it was sending messages and expecting one kind of answer, only to be given a quite literally artificial replacement it didn’t know what to do with. Thus, it took Jeremy quite a while before the first step ever came… but when it did, everything changed.

He felt it. The ground beneath his feet was real, despite not being so, the motion was real despite being simulated. He had taken a single step, and before remembering that it was supposed to be happening to his virtual representation, was thoroughly convinced that it was going on in real life. Another step, and the sensations were mimicked, leaving him marvelling at how that piece of tech had successfully fooled his brain meat into thinking that it was his avatar!

It wasn’t just moving around either. Before going for the mirror, Jeremy opted to sit down on a couch, with the resulting sinking into soft upholstery feeling exactly like it should. It wasn’t just accurately simulating what it was like to sit on a comfy couch, but feeding back the exact same sensations that came along with it, so much so that he felt an intense need to open his mouth and let out a long sigh… which was exactly what he did, leaving the observation team feeling so victorious they barely avoided fistbumping one another.

Still, a trial run was a trial run and he had things he needed to do; therefore, the young man got up and walked towards the standing mirror, where he could more thoroughly examine his avatar. Most importantly, however, it was the only place in the entire simulation where he could edit his model, courtesy of the company’s simulation software coming with that capability in-built into it (hence the astronomically high price they expected to charge for it). To be fair, they had every right to ask for that much, seeing as they were giving everyone who purchased that suite the ability to perform 3D modelling work on the fly without having to worry about all the intricacies that normally came with it; how exactly they did that was anyone’s guess, and the R&D department certainly wasn’t telling.

It was at that point that Jeremy knew his dreams could finally come true, if only inside of a virtual world. He’d discussed his fantasies in depth with his assigned research team, after they broke through his awkwardness and got him to admit what he was into; it was important, they said, since they were fully expecting people to milk the editor for all it was worth, thus making it a necessity to know if it could withstand the kind of abuse they figured would be levied at it. For Jeremy, however, proper protocol was less important than holding his cards close to his chest; the kind of stuff he fantasized about wasn’t necessarily something that most others would, leaving him somewhat isolated even from most kink communities. The staff assigned to his case, however, were nothing if not supportive and understanding, thus eventually making it easier for him to reveal what his intentions were.

The floating sphere was polite enough to take its leave, with Sandra telling him that he now had full control over both the simulation and the model editor. She bid him farewell and the intercom was turned off, allowing the headset to feed back the simulations’s soothing background music and occasional sound effects.

What to do first?

He thought to start with the most obvious change needed: the one on his chest. Curiously, the simulation had options for a variety of implant types, ranging from typical silicone, to the forbidden polypropylene and even saline-based expanders, each with their own set of characteristics, traits and sizes. It was hard to pick, given the sudden amount of choice, but seeing as Jeremy was always a fan of artificiality and the whole “plastic” look, he figured he’d settle for silicone. A second menu opened, giving him two sliders controlling the size of his bosom, which helpfully enough appeared on his avatar to let him know how they’d look like. He felt disappointed at the complete lack of weight or feel to them, but carried on nonetheless, hoping it’s kick in eventually.

Jeremy found it odd that he could leave both breasts at wildly different sizes, and for a while had a bit of stupid fun growing one while shrinking the other and vice-versa, eventually settling on what he felt was a perfect size for him: just about half of his chest being covered by a pair of perfectly spherical, fat titties, primed and ready for squeezing until they began creaking.

The moment he pressed the “Apply” button floating in front of him was the moment his back screamed for help at the sudden increase of weight tugging at it. Not expecting it to come into play so soon, Jeremy almost doubled over when the sudden appearance of two gargantuan, implant-stuffed tits on his body marked the point where he began indulging his fantasies. If that’s what those porn stars had to deal with every day of their lives…

… he wanted more of it.

Some might say that having a rack that covered most of his chest was already too big, but not Jeremy; no, he wanted to keep going until he could barely walk properly, then carry on even more to the point of near-immobility. Sadly, the system could only move in increments of limited size, so while he could technically go that large, the second boost left him carrying such a colossal weight that his back gave in and forced him to kneel, his enormous implants having already pinned him down to the ground within five minutes of him starting to play around with the system.

Frankly, to be expected; no one in the observation room had thought it would go any other. The only question was what to do next.

“Alright Jeremy, here’s what we’re gonna do,” Sandra spoke again, the featureless sphere making its reappearance by nestling on top of his cleavage, “we can shrink down your breasts from the control station if you want us to, but me and the rest of the team were discussing things and we were wondering if you’d be up for something a bit more, uhm… extreme.”

He was always up for extreme things. Even more so now that his mind was being assaulted with the incomprehensibly powerful feeling of having two tits too big for him to move. Jeremy nodded furiously, so much that the neural blocker began to itch again.

“So, we’re looking to try and stress test this whole system, right? So we thought, why not try to find an alternate solution to your problem? Something that would fix your mobility issue while also letting us see how far we can take this simulation and the neural feedback without breaking everything. You up for it?”

Truth be told, some part of Jeremy wanted to ask some actual questions about what they were planning. A very small part, the same one that urged caution about size and was duly ignored before he gifted himself those immense mammaries. Easy enough to make it go away again and end up mindlessly saying “Yu-huh!” over and over again until Sandra told him to be quiet and vanished again, leaving him alone with his two silicone-stuffed beanbags. He wondered what he was going to get; maybe some kind of powered exoskeleton to help with the lift, or even a boost to his overall size to see how his body would react to being thrice its size, the possibilities were almost endless when it came to simulations like those, which made it all the more surprising that what happened next left him as speechless as it did.

Rather than change his size or give them some extra support, the observation team chose to alter his shape. It started innocuously enough, with his spine elongating and growing in thickness, but quickly took a turn for the weird when the joints in his arms began to crack and pop as they adjusted to a completely new form; it didn’t hurt a single bit, even if it was psychologically distressing as all hell to see himself be turned into something he couldn’t even describe. Within seconds, his neck began to grow, protruding off one end of a torso that started to widen and thicken considerably, until, when his hands touched the group with a small clop, Jeremy understood what was happening to him.

The photorealism made it slightly disturbing, seeing as he still had most of his body hair on him, just… spread across what was now a fully equine body, complete with an elongated skull, thick haunches and even a long tail and mane. Admittedly, it looked a lot worse than how he had envisioned it, but that was quickly rectified as soon as he was given full control over himself again.

“We could fix this on our end, but this is your simulation, Jeremy,” Sandra spoke up again, “we just gave you a bit of a pick-me-up to get you back on track, you’ll need to do the rest yourself.”

The horse-Jeremy nodded, but instead of going directly for more bodily modifications, decided to try out this new body of his before he did anything else; if the whole idea behind the project was to simulate what it was like for the users to receive a whole range of sensory feedback they shouldn’t be able to, he figured that trying to force his body to walk on all fours would produce some good data.

Surprisingly enough, it came to him as easily as it would in real life, albeit without as much waddling around; it was exactly like getting on all fours, except his joints actually made it feel a lot more natural, like he was designed to walk that way. It was a wonderfully efficient way of getting around as well, making even his new tits not feel like as much of a hassle. They were obviously still there, still wide and tight enough that they squished against his forelegs and needed to occasionally be shoved out of the way, but at least he could carry them!

“You guys getting this?” Jeremy called out, “Feels great!”

“We’re getting everything, Jeremy, just keep going as instructed,” Paul replied.

The man in the simulation was having so much fun that he failed to notice the clear hint of panic adorning Paul’s voice. In the outside world, the observation team was currently facing an ethical dilemma about as big as their test subject’s new tits, tits that they could very clearly see both on and off their screens.

They were warned by the research project’s central committee that a “transference” effect might take place, loosely defined and explained as the virtual avatar imposing itself onto the user’s physical body by way of the suit trying to make sense of what was going on so it could inform the brain properly. It was a necessity, they claimed, to guarantee that their customers were as immersed as possible; if the suit had to physically rearrange the physical properties of what it was stretched over to make it better fit the simulation, that’s exactly what it was going to do.

In Jeremy’s case, this “stretchiness” was being tested already, by virtue of the immense pair of silicone-stuffed mounds they’d given themselves. Even behind the thick cover of glass, the whole team could hear them creak and groan gently, kept from making more noise purely thanks to Jeremy’s body being paralyzed from the neck down. While the suit itself held back the initial surge, it was clearly having a lot more trouble with the radical changes brought about the equine transformation, partly suggested by Sandra herself out of a pragmatic desire to see the stress testing be conducted properly… and partly by Paul because he really just wanted to see what it would be like. As Jeremy had made it clear that he was more than fine with that kind of transformation, no one thought it’d be too bad to shift his body that much, especially since the process was supposed to be fully reversible. In theory, at least.

In the meantime, the virtual avatar was spending a good amount of time just walking around aimlessly, until Jeremy finally stopped in front of the mirror and began fiddling with the controls, finding them finicky and nearly impossible to use when given hooves to work with. He made sure to relay that information to the observation team, who reacted with a simple “Mhmm,” before communication was turned off again.

Jeremy saw a lot of things that could be fixed about that body of his, not the least of which was the hairiness of it. Thank heavens that there was a “smooth skin” option, leaving his whole body bereft of even the tiniest of follicles and giving him a beautiful, shiny sheen. A quick look through the associated options allowed him to select the “fresh bath” look, turning his equine self into even more of a beautiful example of proper grooming. It was a bit weird that it was nothing but skin on there, but it looked… oddly alluring. Especially coupled with the breasts squished between his legs out front, it really was something straight out of his browsing history.

And if that was the case, why not keep going even further? There was nothing stopping him, after all.

The only real question was what to do next. He had a couple of ideas for where he wanted to go, but none that really struck out as more important than any other. He settled for opening up the object spawn menu, thoroughly alarming the observation team for a few good seconds, before finding what he wanted: a coloured wheel with a spinning arrow stuck to the middle. It was a rudimentary instrument, especially since it didn’t even have any pictures or anything, but it would serve perfectly for what he wanted to do.

With some difficulty, he spun the arrow, making a mental note of what every colour was meant to represent. He really wanted it to land on red, given what he’d have to sacrifice to get it, but… well, green was good too, he supposed. He’d just have to come up with an interesting way to have it happen.

“You guys have any option for food around there?” he asked out loud, startling the people watching him. For a while, they said nothing, though Jeremy could hear them speak on the outside, even muffled as he was by the large headset. When the answer came through the intercom, even he had to notice how unnaturally calm their tone was.

“It’s still experimental, but so is most of the system. It’s in the spawnables menu.”

Jeremy had half a mind to say something about how strangely that was worded all of a sudden, but given that he was presented with the perfect opportunity to indulge in yet another of his kinks, he wasn’t in the mood to start looking gift horses in the mouth.

Quite literally, at that.

Finding some room to place a large table, he spawned in as much food as there were options, and there were a lot of those spread across what had to be a dozen or so menus with everything from simple pieces of fruit to full meals. He didn’t know who exactly had the job of making models for all of those things, but he made a mental note to himself to congratulate them once he was done in there, possibly even give them a gift to show his appreciation for all of their hard work. He even felt bad, in a way; someone had clearly spent a long time lovingly rendering all of those items for use in that amazing simulation, and there he was spawning in dozens of copies just so he could stuff them right down his gullet.

It was mind-boggling how real it felt, probably thanks to the neural blocker being so close to his throat that maybe some signals got mixed up in there or something; Jeremy wasn’t a neurosurgeon, but he couldn’t really come up with any explanation as to why it genuinely felt like he was swallowing down copious amounts of both meat and vegetables, very little care given as to what they would taste like. It surprised him even then, that he could taste those things at all; from what he was told, the system was meant to confuse the brain by giving it fake signals from below the needles stuck into his brain, and his mouth and taste buds, last he checked, were above them. With such a sumptuous feast at his disposal, however, Jeremy couldn’t bring himself to care; he was too busy opening his mouth, craning his neck upwards and hitting the “SPAWN” button until he couldn’t fit anything more into himself.

All of that gorging was having an impact on his avatar’s figure, though given his equine nature it still took a bit before he noticed it. A little bit of extra weight was nothing when his tits alone were already such an enormous hassle to carry around, so he only took note of something being wrong when he tried moving a few steps forward and sensed something new entirely rubbing against the floor.

It didn’t surprise him, to be fair; with his virtual self being as malleable as it was, and the company clearly wanting to push into the lucrative market of fulfilling people’s sexual fantasies, was it any wonder then that his stomach bloated so much that it turned itself into a legitimate liability? For once, all Jeremy could do was nod and look at it like it was the most normal thing in the world, because right then and there, it honestly was; he ate, he gorged, he feasted, and now his belly was several times its original size and dragging along the floor. If this didn’t make sense, then he didn’t want to be sane; the simulation offered a much better alternative to his actual life anyway.

Meanwhile, in his actual life, the observation team was scrambling to deal with the damage control that suddenly became extremely necessary. Contrary to expectations, the transference didn’t stop, only growing increasingly worse the more Jeremy pushed the limits of the simulation to satisfy his kinks; as much as they all wanted to shut it down and return him to normal, the system had automatically tripped some kind of failsafe and alerted the central research office, who immediately ordered that the trial run be kept online until such a time as they could send someone to inspect the procedures. Something about good data and opportunities that couldn’t be wasted, corporate nonsense like that.

On the other hoof, even Paul, the one person in there that was most honestly interested in seeing how far Jeremy would go, was finding the whole thing both incredibly unethical and unbearably arousing. It wasn’t enough for his test subject and genuine friend to suddenly sprout a pair of chest-obscuring tits, no; he then had to go on and turn himself into a horse, only to immediately turn around and eat so much virtual food that his real self was being buried by a gut that threatened to tear apart the immersion suite.

That alone left them all on edge; again, in theory, it should be possible to reverse the effects and turn Jeremy back to normal, but all of that assumed things were kept nominal and the equipment wasn’t tampered with or damaged in any way. Taking all of those groaning noises into consideration, at least the ones that weren’t coming from the man-horse himself, none of them were sure that condition was being met anymore; hell, they’d be surprised if the whole thing could even be reused after they were done with the experiment.

Heavens know just what was going on with the other test subjects; thank goodness the walls were soundproofed, or else they might have had to contend with a lot of odd moaning noises.

Despite it all, Jeremy was remarkably composed, especially given their predilection for the sort of thing he was mindlessly indulging in. There were plenty of lurid noises coming out of their throat, yes, but as soon as he was done eating, his voice was just as composed as it always had been, probably as a result of them not being aware of what was happening to him on the outside; the observation team seriously doubted he’d be able to act normally should that piece of information be disclosed, and silently agreed to keep him out of the loop until further orders from the central office.

Meanwhile, in the simulation, Jeremy was having the time of his life coming up with solutions for his weight problem. He wanted to keep the belly, obviously, but everything tied back together in the most wonderful way the moment he looked back and noticed his ass was about as flat as it always had been, extra equine haunches notwithstanding. It was time to do something about it, especially since the coloured wheel landed on his rear end rather than tits; the idea of giving those silicone spheres an extra boost was always nice, but the arrow showed the way. Those were the rules.

Even for a simulation as detailed as that one, it was naive of him to think that there’d be some direct conversion button that allowed him to live out his fantasies of transforming fat to hand-filling pudge. What he did have were a series of convoluted, interconnected functions that allowed his in-game model to be sculpted so that the exact same effect could be achieved, and while it took a few tries before he got the hang of it, during which the people watching him got to see his body twist in ways that were better left forgotten, he transferred the mass he had stored in his stomach to his ass.

All of the mass.

The result was delightfully quick and so powerful that, if he weren’t already on four legs, he would’ve collapsed from the sudden shift in weight; so colossal was his new rear that he could hear its cheeks rub up against one another whenever he took a step. His thighs as well, giving him practically the same sensations as the pair of artificial udders smushed between his forelegs. All of him was soft flesh to be rubbed or to rub against itself, so obviously the logical step was to just walk around and appreciate it. The suit was performing admirably in that respect; for Jeremy, who still had no idea as to what was happening to him, the experience felt exactly like he hoped and thought it would, leaving him somewhere beyond the realms of your typical satisfied customer. If he could, he’d stay in that virtual world forever, feeling his transformed, bloated body creaking and groaning under its own weight, the equipment dutifully translating all that flesh mashed against itself into an unspeakably powerful maelstrom of rapturous pleasure that threatened to break his mind in half with every step.

Though he did his best to keep his voice as steady as possible, there wasn’t a lot holding back the flood of sexual desires from bursting free from his head and invading the real world as well; by that point, if Jeremy were to be released from his avatar, he might genuinely do something he’d regret just to get back inside… which given how he had befriended everyone currently watching him, caused him to take a step back and reconsider his approach. It was still pleasurable, that would never change, but suddenly having violent thoughts if anyone dared to yank him out of his personal paradise was entirely unlike him; he was still himself behind all that self-indulgence, and he’d do well to remind himself of that, even if it took physically banging his head against the wall a couple of times.

“You alright there, J-Jeremy?” Paul chimed in, unable to stop his voice from cracking once.

“Yeah, just… getting stuff out of my system. You guys alright in there?”

“Yes, we’re fine. Proceed with the experiment.”

Oddly clinical for him, but fitting given how the man must be feeling quite horny himself; Jeremy wasn’t blind to how the team reacted to him confessing his kinks, and Paul definitely shared some of them given how blushy he got when he brought them up. In fact, now that he thought about it, it was probably his idea to turn him into a horse to begin with, probably handed out disguised as a way of stress testing the simulation. The sly dog…

Well, if he was going to play that game, then he’d get exactly what he bargained for and more; if Paul wanted a stress test then he’d get one, with Jeremy’s long face breaking into a longer smile when he turned his body towards the table, eliciting several stifled groans and a terror-filled gasp from the people watching from outside. His real body was already causing severe damage to the suite’s equipment, the neural blocker hanging on by a thread as it was, and yet none inside the glass box had the good sense to just turn everything off and call it a loss. They all knew what would happen to them if they disobeyed direct orders from the central office, especially ones given with such urgency as theirs, so while they stared down the OFF button, it remained unpressed.

All the while, Jeremy’s real body continued to perfectly mirror his virtual one, the suit working on overdrive as the bed it was attached to began to break down. The weight, the volume, the width, it all contributed to stretch out what were precisely-machined components and finely-tuned electronics, making it nothing short of a miracle that the whole assembly hadn’t just crashed and sent Jeremy back to the proverbial desktop, probably keeping him in that form permanently. The possibility of brain damage as well was still on the table, and was the one thing seriously pushing the researchers towards an early termination of the trial run.

Blissfully unaware of any of this, Jeremy began eating again, this time purely to keep his belly bloated and nothing else. He’d already gotten rid of what remained of his male apparatus already, giving him that extra bit of comfort room he needed to truly gorge until his underside became a stuffed, overinflated blimp, and when he resumed the feast, he did so lying down. He wanted to feel his body being lifted by its own gut, even its weight unable to keep it down; it was especially sweet given that this position let both his dangling tits and overflowing ass settle gently against the virtual floor, giving him the perfect early warning system for when his belly grew “too much”.

As he kept on eating far past the point where he should be able to, this lift-off happened quite unceremoniously and without any kind of warning; one moment he was fine, in the next his feet were struggling to reach the floor and the only thing keeping him from tipping forward thanks to the impressive weight of his bosom was the counterbalance provided by the gigantic cheeks he had attached to his hind legs. It was a curious balance, where one side constantly attempted to tip the other, while they grew progressively insignificant compared to the giant belly growing underneath him.

The food was delicious, the taste supreme, and there wasn’t a single thing he could do to stop himself. At that point, the only way for that to happen would be through outside intervention or the simulation itself failing; and when it came down to it, it was both of those things happening at once.

Even the sturdy suite couldn’t hold back against the growing mass on top of it for much longer. Its support struts buckled and bent as they struggled to withstand the pressure, leaving themselves increasingly weakened and filled with oddly-shaped cracks and fissures, until, after a tipping point was reached, the whole thing came crashing down. This had two effects happening rapidly in sequence:

The complete structural failure of the immersion suite shut it off from its power supply, instantly terminating its connection to the simulation and shunting Jeremy back to the real world, stuck in darkness and unable to move his body once again. He could still hear the sounds of metal creaking, and for a few brief moments considered the possibility that maybe there had been some kind of earthquake or other similar disaster.

“Un”fortunately for him, the sudden loss of power meant that the remaining, untouched mechanical components, the one failsafe designed to prevent a complete termination of the test subject’s mental functions, kicked into gear; in one motion, the hydraulics pulled back the needles that formed the neural blocker, thus allowing everything below the neck to come back into play as his “real” body once again.

Oddly enough, Jeremy didn’t feel any different from when he was in the simulation. He chalked it up to it being some kind of residual effect, but the moment he tried to take off his helmet to ask just what happened and instead of hands found hooves, he froze. Was all of that ruckus just a part of the simulation as well? The sudden removal of the neural blocker was something he noticed, yes, but it didn’t hurt, something he felt was quite odd; maybe he was still in some weird layer, subject to the whims of an observation team that clearly liked to have fun with him. If this meant he had to fiddle around with his helmet, then so be it; he’d learnt to use hooves once, he could do it again.

Five minutes later he was ripping off the weirdly-shaped headset, watching it crash onto the ground and crack in half, spilling so many precious components in such precious detail that the truth hit him: this wasn’t a simulation. The virtual world was photorealistic, but still clearly artificial; there was no way it’d be able to so perfectly replicate all of those tiny particles flying everywhere, nor the sense of dread that came with looking up and seeing his friends huddled up inside of their glass box, staring at him with what was very obviously fear.

“Guys? Guys, what’s going on?” he asked, finding it difficult to speak. Something was getting in the way of his teeth… a tongue? His lips?

Though the idea brought him no end of discomfort, Jeremy still looked down. Even after doing so for what felt like hours, he still didn’t know if it had been a good idea or not.

It was quite clear why he felt no different from when inside the simulation, or why those people were all staring at him like they couldn’t believe what was happening; hell, he couldn’t believe it either, hence why he turned around and jokingly-not-jokingly demanded they turn the headset off and bring him back to normal. When they did nothing, not even offer a single word of encouragement, that’s when panic began to set in.

But panic quickly gave way to curiosity, and curiosity paved its own way to tacit acceptance. Sure, getting up was going to be hell of a ride, considering his gut was about twice as big as the rest of him combined, plus he still had to deal with the sudden surge of titflesh on his face and the two anchors on his ass… but this was his body. He made it like that, knowing that this was his ideal, fantasy self. Wouldn’t be the most easily acceptable by others out in the world, but then again, that’s exactly why he wanted to try virtual reality in the first place. Suddenly, the thought of trying out this new form didn’t seem so bad!

After all, they could just plug him back into the simulation and revert him if it came down to it.

Right?