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The Virtual Tourist

By Medkit for Starduster

Am I really doing this? Matthew thought guilty, clicking okay on a notification that popped up on his computer's screen to let him know the device's recreation of the steamy short story was ready.

He was holding the device he'd been given as a birthday gift yesterday. As excited as he was to put the strange gray plastic halo to use, he was anxious. He'd heard about little flaws with the experimental technology online, before. And this was a hand-me-down, a gift from a friend who'd already gotten the latest model this Spring.

It was hard to believe such a simple-looking apparatus was capable of so much. The advanced neuro-tap connectors were just little chrome bumps on the inside of the halo. They'd touch his head and allow for the intense virtual experience.

“Dreamwriter 1.3" was written in a bold blue block text across the 'front' of the halo-like device. All Matthew had to do to leave this reality and to enter a digital one replicating one of his commissioned short stories was put on the damn thing.

Still, he sat naked on the edge of his bed. His hands felt clammy as he turned it over in his pale white hands. All I have to do is put it on, and I'll be at that club. He thought, shivering with excitement.

With a sigh, he raised it over his head of short dirty-blonde hair and carefully seated it in place. It was oddly comfortable, light and snug.

This is so weird… I wonder how many other people have done this? Matthew thought, idly touching his barely-erect cock. It drooled pre-cum across his sack. Just re-reading the short story had turned him on, but the nerve-wracking wait for the device to compile the story into a digital world had dulled his arousal.

He reached a sticky finger up and touched the power button on the device. For a brief moment, Matthew heard a simple chime indicating the device was active. An automated feminine voice informed him that the simulation would begin in ten seconds. He felt almost giddy as the world around him began to fade into blackness. His senses slowly dulled until he couldn't tell he was even sitting on anything. It was like he was floating in a void.

Another chime, this one longer and more gentle, began to play. The world around him changed from black to stark grey. Then, little details popped into place. Distant voices. Distant noises. Walls of dull grey appeared around him. Within about a minute, Matthew was sitting in a bathroom stall. One by one, it was like his senses were syncing up. One moment, his buttcheeks were numb. Next, he could feel the cool plastic toilet seat against his sparsely hairy rump. He shivered as he realized he could feel the AC blowing on him from above and glanced up at a dimly lit vent.

This is it. I'm actually in the short story! Matthew thought, momentarily mystified. It didn't feel any different. There was this subtle feeling like something wasn't quite right, but it only really manifested when Matthew took the time to really focus on something that seemed out of place. It was almost like a dream. Excitement filled him in more ways than one, as he sat shuddering on the toilet's seat.

His hands traced his own body's warm, smooth and light-tan flesh. He couldn't believe how realistic the simulation was. He could feel the shape of the halo around his head but couldn't quite remove it. To do so during a simulation was extremely dangerous, anyway. His hands traced his neck, to the tightly-fitted collar that he felt constricting his throat ever-so-lightly.

It's the collar, from the story! God, this is so cool! Matthew thought elatedly as his fingers traced its smooth round shape. It was a titular part of the story he'd commissioned. Just thinking about how it resolved turned him on. The feedback in the simulation was incredible, his meager cock stirring to arousal and dribbling pre-cum eagerly in anticipation of the action he planned to get up to.

Matthew finally stood up onto his shaky legs and unlatched the stall door, brushing it open just as he heard another couple of men, just out of sight.

The bathroom was absurdly spacious. Several stalls lined up across from a large wash basin featuring an enormous mirror. The lighting was this sensual yellow, stark enough to see clearly and especially at the sinks, but not so bright as to illuminate everything, casting mysterious shadows across the bathroom's clinical white tile flooring and walls.

“Y-yeah, I'm ready! Do it, do it to me…" One man's voice echoed off the bathroom's walls.

“Mmnnff, fuck you're such a dumb slut… You really want to be a toilet? You'll be stuck here forever, you know that?" Another man's voice, gruffer and deeper, questioned the first.

Matthew nervously crept towards the voices, spying the open doorway that led down a black hall, faintly illuminated by the mix of purple and pink light pouring in from the noisy main floor of the crowded gay club. His bare feet felt cold against the tile as he listened in, hearing the two men breathing deeply, kissing and touching one another. He peeked past the corner and saw them.

One had a bright red collar. He had short dark brown hair shaped with gel. He wasn't super fit but he had nice abs and defined pecs. He was naked, back to the wall and on his knees. He was in the middle of servicing the other man.

The other stranger's collar bore a stark blue, the light glancing off the shiny walls around them as he gingerly squeezed the back of his submissive's head.

“Mmmnnfff, fuck… First you'll take my load, mnnff! Then you'll take anyone's load!" The gruff man groaned.

Matthew covered his mouth, his heart trembling in his chest. His dick was throbbing with excitement. He couldn't think of what to say, too caught up in watching to speak. His collar's dim white light reflected on the tiles near him, making his effort of hiding entirely pointless.

“Mnnm, A-ahh…" The one in the red collar moaned as he pulled his lips off the other one's shaft, barely hit by a stray ray of dull yellow light. For a brief second, the stranger's dark hazel eyes traced Matthew's shape, his head and arm bent around the corner.

“What? Spit it out, Sub." The gruff dom's shaved head caught the light as his head turned to spy Matthew. His face was adorned with a narrow ginger beard that reached his chest. He was as naked as the rest of them.

“Oh? Another tourist, or did you come to join this one, here?" The stranger asked, his white teeth shining in the dim light.

“I, a-ah… I'm a tourist, I'll just… watch, if that's okay?" Matthew asked nervously. I kind of want to join them, but I've only just got here. Matthew thought.

“Good. I like company. Besides, you'd make a hot porcelain throne too, I bet!" The gruff man said with a snicker, before returning his attention to the squirmy submissive.

“But, now it's your turn. Ready?" The blue collar wearing dominant asked his red collared submissive. The young and athletic man's voice cracked as he replied enthusiastically.

“Yes, please!"

Matthew's heart beat hard and fast as he watched the gruff man slowly bend down. It was oddly mundane, save for the fact that the three of them were naked in a public bathroom. The dominant's long fingers stroked the sub's darkly tanned shoulder, slipping to their throat and the collar. The dominant's thumb gingerly pressed the indented button on the collar.

A flash of blinding white light fully eclipsed the shape of the kneeling submissive. The dom laughed in a mix of shock as he covered his face with his hand, a spurt of cum shooting from the general area the sub was standing, splattering across the tiled floor between the feet of the dominant as he began to stroke his half-erect seven inch shaft.

Matthew couldn't help but gawk, blinking a few times and staring into the darkness where he saw the submissive. No more voice cracks or moans came from them. There was just this oddly familiar shape. Matthew clued in a second after the dominant began to stroke himself feverishly. The toilet sitting against the wall was the submissive; Or at least, what had become of them. He gasped, “H-hot…"

The dominant laughed at that remark, tilting his head to one side to tease the tourist behind him. “If ya want, I could turn you into a condom and flush you. Or I could turn you into another toilet. I'm sure this one'll want company, in time."

Matthew shuddered as his knees nearly buckled. He couldn't stop stroking but he managed to slow himself at the least.

“I-I, ah," He stammered, gulping hard as he let go of his cock. The dominant started to approach him, the light hitting the plain white porcelain of the new toilet. Cum was splattered across the seat and the dominant's cock was softening in his hand as he walked past Matthew and to the sinks, casually washing his own cum off his hands without saying a word to him.

“If I didn't know better, I'd say you're wearing the wrong color." The gruff dom said as he scrubbed his thickly nailed fingers. A tattoo of a dragon spiraled around his wrist and across his right forearm, the thick ginger hairs growing around the black shape sparkling in the light as he grabbed some paper towel and dried his hands.

Matthew was overcome with arousal, his back pressed to the cool tile as he teased himself. I should stop, I can just keep going here and find a dom to give me the fate I want. He couldn't really think clearly though, he was so horny his mind was running to all sorts of dark endings.

That was what drove him to hurry out of the bathroom. The confused dom called after him as he rushed out, “What's wrong? Don't like gingers?"

His chest was thumping with a mixture of excitement and worry. Matthew didn't want to miss it. He nearly collided with a solid black wall but managed to press his warm sweaty palms against it, pushing himself off and towards the dim pink and purple lighting that came from the end of the hall.

The smell of cum faded from his nostrils just a little, replaced by the pungent aroma of many men's cologne, deodorant and the like.

He emerged not far from a large bar counter. It stretched from a few feet from the entrance to the bathrooms and wrapped into a corner, a couple of leather-clad bartenders serving drinks to a host of naked men of various ethnicities, sizes and shapes. A couple stood out nearby. One was a bit taller than the other, caucasian with medium-length dirty-blonde hair and a short goatee and adorned with a blue collar. The one he had an arm wrapped around was wearing a yellow collar and had short buzzed blonde hair.

Matthew moved past the crowded bar and took his time to soak in the atmosphere. As excited as he was to explore the floor below, he wanted to absorb every bit of this fantasy place. His eyes scanned the many AI-generated men moving around, forgetting that they were technically all computer-generated non-player-characters.

The place was swarming with guys. Most of them had on white collars, but there was a healthy mix of blues, greens and even the odd orange or yellow collar milling about. The center of the club was set up with a small dancing area. There was a wide variety of seating options around the sides of the club's main floor, booths and tables and black leather couches. Nobody save for a handful of blue collar donning men wore any clothes. Matthew breathed a sigh of relief. As aroused as he was, the brief walk across the club's first floor had caused some of his downright hysterical excitement to simmer down.

I can't believe I'm actually here, though. This is nuts! Matthew thought, his eyes following an oddly familiar figure. He was a particularly husky blonde man, hirsute and with enormous hands.

The figure was wearing a pair of well-worn leather boots. And nothing else. Matthew shuddered, his mind trying to put a name to the stranger. He was walking with purpose, striding past Matthew on his way towards the stairwell that led to the floor below. Hanging above the spiral stairwell was a neon sign that read “The Playground" in hot pink cursive.

Maybe he'd be willing to transform me twice? Matthew wondered, a smirk on his pale lips as he hurried after the figure, following him down the stairs.

The bearded man had one hand on the railing, the other on a small glass of scotch. He took a sip and a step at the same time, then turned his head to spy the fresh meat tailing him.

Master Arne stopped and smirked, raising his glass to the semi-thin dirty-blonde following him. His grin stopped suddenly as he squinted at Matthew.

Uh-oh. Matthew thought, shuddering as he hurried past the husky dominant. The bearded fellow gave him a confused look but then shrugged and carried on down the steps.

At the end of the stairs, a large yellow rectangular bin jutted out of the ground. The word “RECYCLER" was printed across both of its sides and around the bin's open mouth. Just seeing it sent shivers up Matthew's spine. It was a titular part of the stories that evoked this bar's setting, including the story he'd commissioned.

The husky dominant named Master Arne was the very same that had transformed him in the story the simulation was based on. In fact, Matthew was beyond positive that the boots the dominant was wearing were him. Or at least, the story's version of him. He'd been coerced gently into letting Master Arne turn him into his boots for the night, under the condition that he'd be tossed into the recycler like a cheap pair of hand-me-downs after Master Arne was done for the night.

Matthew found himself getting odd looks from the man as he sat at a table with a couple of other men adorned with blue collars.

The playground itself was a vast open room. Each 'corner' had a semi-circular 'stage', with their own privacy curtains and a circular bed on each. The middle of the square room featured a large pillar of white light that featured dozens of glass shelves, most of which were empty. But those that were not were occupied with various objects, some with photographs attached or name plaques put on the shelf along with them. Matthew didn't remember that structure from the story, but it must've been generated by the AI in his Dreamwriter. Either way, the bright white light shining through the glass case created a stunning display. He gawked and hardly even noticed the countertop built in a circle around it.

Immediately around the pillar was a large circular desk area. A tall darkly tanned skinned man with medium-length chocolate hair worked the counter, wearing nothing but an open leather vest featuring his embroidered name, 'Charlie'. Matthew rested his pale arms on the countertop, blue eyes wide with curiosity as he gazed up at the displayed objects. He shuddered in arousal, eyes locked with a photo of a smiling white guy with medium length dirty-blonde hair, wearing a gray t-shirt. The photo was framed and sat next to an obviously broken fleshlight that had been split in half. The worn toy was a bright inorganic translucent purple material that let the light behind it shine through. Matthew's average-sized peen throbbed between his legs as his eyes traced the man behind the counter.

He was in the middle of helping a short lithe man with shaved genitals and a head of light brown hair. They talked over a bright blue dildo that the short man held but Matthew couldn't hear the discussion over the house music blaring from speakers hanging from the ceiling. The room's walls were the same black, like the hall upstairs. Dozens of circular tables scattered around the place along with dozens of men milling about. A black man with a head of well maintained dreads brushed past Matthew, his collar bright red. He approached another black man, clad in little more than a stained white jockstrap and a bright blue collar. As the two spoke and engaged each other, Matthew moved past them to see what else the playground held for him.

Unlike the floor above, almost nobody here was wearing a collar that wasn't blue or red. The only exception was the steady stream of white collared guests from the floor above, exploring just to see what the place was like. Most milled around anxiously before leaving, getting their fill of the extreme fetishism going on down here in the playground. The scarce few that remained found themselves enthralled by the interesting blue collared personalities that roamed the floor, or rarer still, turned their collar a deep blue and began beckoning submissives to their sides. It was an interesting thing to witness firsthand, as he sat at a table alone and watched the phenomenon occur in real-time.

Matthew quickly began to think of this erotic playground as a sort of hunting ground for extreme dominants. He couldn't help but gawk at the scenarios happening all around. At one table, a man with dark reddish-tan skin sat licking a purple dildo in an oddly realistic cock-shape like a popsicle, as a skinny caucasian guy with short blonde hair messily worshiped his feet while laying on the floor beneath him. His collar was a deep orange and his dedication to his master's soles only paused when he caught Matthew staring at him. The two exchanged an intense gaze for just a second, before Matthew sheepishly broke it. The stranger went back to licking his master's toes, unashamed.

Matthew couldn't remember what all of the collars meant, but seeing them in action made them self-explanatory for the most part. He'd nearly forgotten what color his own was, until someone laughed at him.

“Looky, another tourist. How long do you think it'll be, before he joins the rest of the lucky chaff?" Some skinny pale dom with a bluish-black earring asked a nearly identical man without an earring. The two of them wore green collars, arms wrapped around one another as the other answered his question with a kiss.

Matthew just hurriedly got up and moved on, trying not to think about the implications. He was rock-hard, but the amount of things happening made it impossible for him to go flaccid.

Matthew would've felt more self-conscious if it wasn't for the amount of men doing almost the same thing as him; Wandering from table to table, watching what's happening with curiosity, disgust, arousal or a mix of the three.

Matthew's head flicked instinctively in the direction of a sudden Fbbbbbppprrt!

He looked over to spy a muscular young guy, short buzzed-short brown hair. He looked a bit like a linebacker and was holding a flattened pink whoopee cushion between his hands, clasped together. He took the flattened rubbery toy and wrapped it around his shaft, obscured by the table he sat at. But Matthew could tell from the plain up and down motion of his fist, that he was using the toy like a fleshlight.

The thought of winding up like that only made Matthew more eager to explore and find a suitable dominant for himself. After all, it seemed like this place was crawling with all sorts. An unusual sight caught his attention, as the same dominant he'd seen at the counter with that strange dildo was now standing expectantly, with the dildo laying on the ground. There was a brief, familiar and disorienting flash of white.

Then, there was a slender and tall caucasian guy sitting on the floor, gasping and hazel eyes wide with surprise. The hairless man was panting, reaching for his yellow collar in awe before his gaze locked with the dominant's.

“Back to being your usual self, tonight. I wouldn't want to recycle you too quickly, now." The dom said as he helped the submissive to their feet. Matthew couldn't help but ruminate on what he'd seen. How many people came to Balls with the intent of turning back?

Clearly, not many. The floor was full of all kinds of men wearing red collars. Some of them formed something like cliques, chasing around specific dominants. One of these men caught Matt's attention as he passed by, idly teasing himself.

He was big. Not in terms of fat, but muscle. Whoever they were, they had this intense masculine aura around them that drew red collars like flies. He had a wide chin and a chest of thick dark hair. Some university frat's insignia was tattooed to his right bicep, but the thing that caught Matt's attention was the absurdly huge package barely contained by the dominant's leather shorts.

The men following him included a couple of average-looking guys, and surprisingly, a green-collared man dressed in a pair of revealing leather chaps. Matthew took a seat at an empty table, captivated by the suave dominant's behavior.

“Y-You're sure?" He heard the green-collar say. The built dominant nodded surely. “Y-yes, Master Jock."

Master Jock? Matthew scoffed. Who calls themselves that?

He watched with a grin on his pale pink lips and a boner smearing pre-cum across his bare knee as Master Jock whispered in the green collar's ear. They had this surprised blushing expression, eagerly nodding.

Master Jock gently caressed the green collar's chin, giving his face a long look. “You'll be a good condom, if you fit."

Matthew shuddered at the idea, watching as the green collared one pressed a button on their own collar, shifting the color from green to yellow, then to orange, then to red.

Without another word, Master Jock's large hand reached up and poked the indented button next to the one the wearer had pressed. A flash of white consumed the man, who left this world with nothing more than a deep moan before dropping to the floor. One of the subs picked up the huge condom package. It was a solid black, but as soon as the corner was torn, the condom itself was revealed. It was a deep purple color.

Master Jock pulled his shorts down.

“You, get to it. I don't care if he was your husband, he's my condom now." The dominant put it plainly and the submissive jumped to do as he was told, unrolling his partner across the master's enormous, veiny cock. The shaft ended in a jungle-like bush of curly brown. Matthew's eyes were fixed on Master Jock's erection. It was huge. No doubt, some guy… nah, probably a few guys, had wound up adding to its length. Matthew couldn't help but wonder what he'd be turned into if he decided to tail him like the submissive now suckling the dominant's cock.

He heard some gasps of surprise, breaking his focus on Master Jock. Matthew's head turned to the left, to spy a couple of dominants at a table chatting where the gasp had come from.

“Really? You'll let me do it?" He heard one of the men with blue collars ask the single one of them, a glass in hand and an orange collar on their neck.

“Yeah, man… I've had my fun. Turned my fair share of guys into all sorts of crap. Kept one as my keychain for a few months until I turned him back. Then he begged me to uh, recycle 'im, so I did. Now I can't stop thinking about it… Fuck, just… do it. Turn me into something and toss me in there, fuck I'm getting hard just thinking about it!" The one in the orange collar begged.

“You're sure it's not the drink?" One of them, a guy with long slicked-back black hair and a short goatee asked the orange-collared dom.

“Bro, it's not the fucking drink. Gonna turn me into something or not?" He asked, reaching a hand up to his collar to press the raised button again. Orange turned to red.

“Anyone?" He asked the friends at his table. They exchanged looks, but before they could say anything…

The collar's indented button was pressed by a passerby, beeping loudly before the dom shuddered and gasped in bliss, his last breath wasted in a mewl of pleasure as his chiseled body flashed white. The two men at the table nearly spilled their drinks as their friend shrank before their eyes in a blinding blink.

The toned black man that had been responsible smiled at the two baffled doms. He was wearing nothing but a green collar, his dark brown shining with sweat as he reached down to claim the unlabelled squeeze bottle the former dominant had turned into. Matthew's eyes went half-lidded as he cusped orgasm, stroking his shaft feverishly. A dull muted beep from within Matt's mind startled him as he watched the black man squeeze an adequate amount of lube into his left palm, slathering it across his lengthy, veiny pole.

Matt just watched in awe, stroking slowly as the green collared stranger approached the recycler, tossing the squeezed-empty tube into the bin. With a faint flash of white, the dom-turned-submissive was gone. The bin and the collars had never been explained in any of the stories Matthew had read, but he knew winding up in that bin was a point of no return. His mouth watered at the idea of joining that squished flat tube of lube in the recycler.

Then, Matthew's eyes caught the familiar husky blonde-haired dom. He approached the recycler and gave the floor one long glance, his eyes momentarily meeting Matt's, before it continued unabated. He kicked off the well-worn boots under the atmospheric blue lightning, his bare feet covered in little bits of black.

In the story Matthew had commissioned, that was his fate. Reduced to a pair of worn-out leather boots, sweltering around the heat of Master Arne's sweaty soles. He watched as the events from the story played out in simulated reality, before his very eyes.

The husky man pumped a meager load of cum onto the tops of the boots with a silent moan, then sighed and bent down. He picked them up then chucked them into the recycler. The moment the toes touched the sparkling white surface of the recycler's atomizing field, they passed through as little more than imperceivable bits of gray dust. The boots fell through the field through the gravity and momentum behind Master Arne's toss. In a split second, Matthew gasped as he nearly came, letting go of his throbbing cock and staring jaw slack as his fictional self disappeared forever.

Holy… fuck. Matt thought, slumping in his chair as he squeezed the sweaty base of his cock. Another muted beep and some distant voice warning him of low battery. He ignored it, irritated by the break in immersion and batting at an invisible headset like it would somehow shut it up. Matthew felt hysterical, shivering with arousal and sweaty beyond belief. His blue eyes traced the many men in colorful collars passing him by on the playground floor, then turned his head back to the scene with the chubby dom and the recycler.

He watched as Master Arne slowly made his way up the stairwell, leaving with a grin on his bearded face and naked save for the blue glowing collar around his neck. Matthew shuddered, wondering who he'd get to transform him, now.

Master Jock was already moving on, making his way to the recycler with a couple of partially filled condoms in one hand and an empty beer bottle in the other. He chucked all three into the recycler and paused for a moment, slowly gazing around the club, his prominent erection stuck to his thigh, the impression of the enormous rod plainly visible under the sleek leather shorts he wore.

Matthew gulped as he momentarily shared eye contact with the buff dom, worriedly breaking his line of sight. He peered over at the central pillar's shiny display of transformed men. Matt's gaze trailed to the lone man behind the counter. The employee busily cleaned a pair of leather chaps, while a couple of switches sat idly chatting nearby. One was built just like Matthew, but had a black-brown ponytail and thick eyebrows. The other had a bowl cut of strawberry blonde hair and icy blue eyes. The two nude men pointed in the direction of the recycler, drawing Matt's attention back towards the approaching dom.

“Hey. You're a tourist?" The buff Master Jock asked with a strange authoritative twinge. Matt was shaking when he nodded hurriedly, trying not to look at the man's glistening muscles and ruggedly manly bare chest.

“You want a one-way trip?" He asked Matt, narrowing his eyes. Master Jock had a strange charisma that oozes sex appeal in a way that Matthew could hardly weather and an apparent knack for sniffing out perverts of Matt's variety. That, or the Dreamwriter was particularly good at emulating the type of man Matthew wanted to be done dirty by.

“I-," Matthew's voice cracked and he gulped hard. His cock's twitching made his real feelings obvious. Fuck me, this is too much… He thought, a pit in his stomach growing. Was he really about to let this himbo toy with him? His turgid erection throbbed at the thought, confirming his deepest desire.

“Here, let me fix this for you." Master Jock whispered into Matt's ear as he bent down, gently pressing the raised button until Matthew's collar glowed a deep red. “That's better, right?" He asked Matthew, a grin on his face.

Matthew nodded again. He was shaking with excitement. He'd never felt wooed by a man before, but being this close to the man's impeccable anatomy… His muscled form and that massive package.

“Good, good. So, tell me about yourself. What did you come here for, anyway?" Master jock asked, taking a seat and putting an arm around Matthew's shoulders.

Matthew gulped hard. “I, I don't know, something… small and insignificant, I guess. I came to uh, to s-see…" He stammered as the irritating beep and low battery warning nagged in his mind. He pushed through the faint vibration he felt around his crown, his scalp getting oddly tingly as he exhaled and looked over Master Jock's body with hesitance. That thick matt of brown hair across his chest. The muscles underneath. The aroma of sweat and cum lingering on him. Those leather shorts. Matthew shuddered again as Master Jock chuckled.

“Yeah, you tourists always want the same… I dig it. So, do you want me to do it to you? Make you something… Small and pointless? I could make you into a pencil and flick you into the recycler, if that's what you want." Master Jock asked with a twinkle in his eyes. He maintained eye contact, like he was exploring Matthew's soul with his gaze.

Matthew's heart was beating through his chest. “I, y-yeah, um…" He was blushing, he'd never felt so excited and flustered at the same time before, suddenly feeling oddly embarrassed about admitting what he wanted so freely. The Master seemed to take a keen interest in that, leaning on the table a little as he peered into Matthew's eyes, a devilish smile on his tight lips.

“What, you like the idea of being disposable or somethin'? I'd ask for your name but, uh… Guess It won't be necessary." Master Jock said with a laugh, teasing Matt and trying to make light of his fantasy at the same time.

“Mmmf, L-less disposable, m-more, uh… Lewd." Matthew blushed as he admitted, his lips screwing up from the embarrassment of admitting it.

Master Jock nodded, an appreciative look on his face. “Okay, okay… So you like the idea of being a condom, too? Not that surprising. You'd be my what, my third tonight?" He laughed bombastically, like Matthew meant nothing to him.

Matt shivered in arousal and half-grinned.

“W-what about uh," Matthew gulped as he watched a pale asian guy with short hair saunter by, wearing nothing but a blue collar and a shiny chrome cock ring around his engorged erection.

Master Jock eyed the guy and gave him a nod, then winked at Matt as he turned the gears in his mind, trying to spit out something.

“What about a cock ring?" Matthew asked, gulping as his own cock jumped. He felt the warmth of the Master's hand over his thigh as he reached down to gently tease his erection. Matthew squirmed.

“I think I can swing that," Master Jock said with a grin, “Ready?" He asked Matthew as he pushed the vibrating feeling and that distant reminder of low battery out of his head again.

“Y-yeah, yes!" Matthew said excitedly. Master Jock's hand trailed across his crotch, squeezing Matthew's throbbing shaft as it drooled precum across his long tan fingers. He trailed his right hand across Matthew's groin, then his chest. He had a swimmer's build but was a bit chubbier in the belly. As Master Jock's hand trailed up across his midriff, pre-cum dribbled from his fingers onto Matt's chest, before his index finger gingerly pressed the indented button on Matt's collar.

Ohh fuck, here it comes-

It was just how Luciferschef described it. A tidal wave of pleasure, warmth that began dimly in his fingertips and toes spread inwards and built up intensity, shooting towards his groin. A bright light totally enshrined Matthew as his whole body condensed into only the most vitally pleasurable parts, spurting one final orgasmic spurt of fertile jizz onto the club's black tiled floor, not far from Master Jock's large size 13 feet.

Matthew's whole world shrank and condensed, feeling nothing but white-hot bliss and overstimulation as he, rather… it, dropped onto the seat with a soft thud.

It was just a large black shiny cock ring. Far larger than the usual ones. Master jock reached down and picked the new toy up off the seat, looking the thing over.

“Not too often I turn a tourist into something other than a condom…" He muttered to himself, mostly.

Matthew was still present, but his perception was entirely shifted. He could feel the exterior and interior sides of his solid ring body, but the phantom sensation of his old limbs and human anatomy lingered. It felt a bit like he was spread eagle, unable to even twitch. The afterglow of that orgasm was like honey, making any coherent thought dissolve in his mind.

The warmth of the jock's fingers touching the sensitive glossy ring brought with it a new world of sensation. Holding the ring made it obvious to both parties, just how small Matthew had become. He fit in the palm of Master Jock's hand, diminutive compared to the dinner plate of a hand the cock ring sat on. Matthew could feel the warmth, the weightlessness of being held. As the lingering sensation of being human started to fade, Matt quickly grew acclimatized to the limited sensations he experienced now as a cock ring.

I can't believe it, I'm really transformed! Matt thought. He swore he heard some distant warning and an odd vibrating sensation, but it was hard to place where it had come from. His mind turned back to the euphoria of being such a small, novelty object.

Master Jock was keen to try on the new accessory, pulling his black leather shorts down his thick muscular thighs and pulling out his sweaty, hairy sack and cock. His shaft was almost nine inches in length, veiny and with a pulled back shroud of sensitive foreskin. It drooled pre-cum as its owner messily held it aloft and gingerly slid his sensitive pink-purple cockhead through the ring.

The warmth and sliminess of the cock and its precum were the first parts of Master Jock's erection that Matt felt. An intense feeling of acceptance and excitement at his new position made his thoughts go blurry for a moment, as he slid further and further along, right down to the base of the master's enormous cock.

With the tourist secured around his throbbing cock, Master Jock slipped his shorts back over his shaft. His eyes trailed the crowd, but finding no one else to toy with he made his way towards the recycler.

Matthew got to savor all the best parts of being a passenger on Master Jock's massive rod. The thick heady musk was more intense than anything he'd ever caught a whiff of before, intoxicating him. It was so easy to be immersed in this role. Just a happy cock ring, keeping its owner's dick rock hard as they strolled across the club's floor.

It felt so right, to be so simple. Matthew's thinking grew simpler by the second, with every step Master Jock took towards the spiral stairwell and the recycler. Before long, it was a fog of satisfaction at being worn. Feeling that warm cock sliding in around it. It felt so good, Matt didn't care if this was the rest of his life.

The AI's approximation of the fictional Master reached his destination. With a sigh, he pulled his shorts down again and gently tugged the slimy cock ring off his half-erect peen. Another submissive watched, tugging on their yellow collar as their blue-collared dom snapped their fingers for their attention.

Matt felt those warm digits tease him off the length he so happily hugged. No thought beyond gratitude remained in the shiny black cockring as Master Jock gave it a sniff.

“Didn't know you long, but oh well. I'm hitting the hay." He said with a sigh, chucking the ring into the recycler. In a flash of mind-melting bliss, Matthew ceased to exist.

In his reality, the Dreamwriter fell through the empty air, landing on the seat and breaking before falling to the floor with a final thud.

An unsaved generated simulation featured a countdown until the device went into power saving mode and deleted any unsaved data.

Matthew, now trapped inside the device as little more than compressed data, had no interest in leaving the simulation. In the simulation, what was left of him was convinced that it had been fully atomized, reduced to mindless dust particles.

The device laid overturned and broken, beeping frantically to alert its owner of its critical power condition. Only a few minutes passed as the cheap plastic device flashed red a few times.

With an anticlimactic final flash of dimming red light, the Dreamwriter lost power. The simulation was scoured, deleted in entirety, characters and all, and nobody would be the wiser…