Virtual Lust
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The machine chided him like a child. It irked him. What didn't though, when he was home after a twelve hour shift, juggling college and a full-time job? Hell, he was missing out on sleep and chores to do around the place if he didn't start on them immediately. Meh. It could wait until another day. It took a moment to put the information into the virtual keyboard. Awkward, but not nearly as much as real life. The UI soothed him, in an odd way. Neon green wireframes turned into much more realistic things. He paced around.
There was always the sense of disorientation as things loaded. It didn't take long, his investments in said machine made that much plain. The gravel underneath his paws felt like home. Unlike home though, there wasn't any broken glass or beer bottles. The rest continued to load, but the important bits were fading in. The matchmaking bar, the social club hangout, the equipment shoppe. The mercenary bar. It felt like he'd done this a thousand times over, and then some. Maybe he had. His paws carried him to matchmaking before he'd even thought of what to do. Time moved strangely here. It may have been midnight in the real world, but here... it was a bright and sunny day. Well, until he got into the bar, that is.
Clouds of smoke, and a thick haze practically roiled in the place. Little eddies carried the smoke, be it from cigar, cigarette, e-cig, or vape pen, across the rooms. The dragon didn't even need to look at the signs to know where he was going. He absentmindedly tapped a few buttons on the virtual UI. Now, all he had to do was wait. There was plenty of room at the bar, as there always was. The bartender was different, though.
"New around here?" It stung a little bit, and he wanted to bite back.
"Hardly. You must be new if you don't recognize me." He kept it measured. There was a real person there, after all.
"Maybe. What'll you be havin' while you wait?" His eyes were orange. Hardly blending into the bar, they stood out.
"It's all virtual. Hit me with some oolong tea, regardless." A smirk twisted his muzzle as his eyes drank in the detail.
"Tea? In a bar? Hell, I'll have to consult the manual for that."
The bartender looked every bit the part. Tight, form-fitting vest and undershirt, with the sleeves rolled up so he didn't make a mess of them. Red and black looked good on the hound. The last guy had been a lizard, wearing the same exact outfit. Yet, his scale pattern made the clothes practically blend into his hide. The dragon rumbled as he pondered the two. The lizard made for stylish work, but there was something practical about the hound. Especially about how he swished his tail, and rump to the heavy, loud music. It faded in, too, as soon as the machine had the space to store it. A swish of his own tail, and his playlist was playing instead. At just the right volume, too...
"Learn something new every day. Might have to try this elsewhere some time."
"It's a bit expensive." The still-steaming mug comforted his forepaws as he held it. He could almost feel the worry and stress of work fading away.
Ding
The sound seemingly echoed in his head. The server had at least found some free space for a simulation. Now he just had to choose what he wanted to do. A hastily-made favorite filled in the settings automatically. The ping was great, too. A few tweaks, and he was back to savoring the somewhat over-steeped tea. He would have to leave a note for the bartender on how to prepare it properly. Damn if simulations weren't good now. He had to keep reminding himself that none of it was real. Another ding, and a few checkmarks.
His partner wanted to do something a little bit different. It was still within his interests, so he accepted quickly. The background streaming started, and the familiar disorientation continued. It was so much data. The loading would be gone by the time he was done, but by the time he was done, it'd be time to step back into reality. His frown startled the bartender, prompting an apology before he could even explain himself. He talked over the mutt.
"No, no, no. It's not you, a little bit of the tea, yes, but I'll leave a note for that later. You're doing good."
"Sorry to hear about your troubles elsewhere, then. Hope it gets better. 'making working well tonight?"
It was an innocent question. Or at least it seemed so.
"Let's just say my que popped before I expected it to, and I have somewhat rigorous standards for quality. Waiting for the loading's got me feeling odd."
"Considered updating a few things? I could send you a digital list of things you could tweak."
"Quite aware of the settings, and I paid a pretty set of scales for the machine in meatspace too. Regardless, send it, and I'll look later."
"I will. Your tea, and my settings, eh?" He toyed with cleaning a mug.
"Pretty much." His mind cleared as he sipped at the tea.
Others hadn't even loaded in yet. Or perhaps they didn't want to join this sim. It was the same thing, really, everywhere. The only thing that changed was the setting, until you matchmade with your partner. Or partners, in other cases. He didn't feel like being a showoff today, and felt quite lazy to boot. So, he had opted for one, and only one. It wouldn't take as long either. There was something to be said for the spectacle for a thousand-player match though. Regardless of how unstable it could be. That much was etched into his brain after one unfortunate hard crash. Damn if that hadn't been a blast, in more ways than one.
"Your que's popped. Enjoy your match!"
The dragon hardly had time to say his goodbye before the virtual world yanked him elsewhere. He did get one more sip of his tea, though. The taste was still on his lips, and throat by the time the system set him down. The pre-load worked mostly correctly. He smirked again as the system informed him that the other player was still loading. He paced around, noting the scenery. The other had similar interests, at least, or was willing to entertain them. That and the quick matching made him suspicious. He'd chosen to mask his partners tag, as a matter of habit, and prolong any messaging until afterwards. It had paid off quite often with the amount of virtual rage he'd received after a game or two.
The other finally finished loading as he noted the gloomy city landscape. Bombed-out buildings, ruined skyscrapers, ivy growing up the sides of both, ignoring the ruin. It gave him a bit of enjoyment, seeing new life growing on the ruins. The dirt was dry, concrete powder mixing with it to make an almost ashen appearance. A few options gave him pause. Squadmates? He was constantly impressed with how far the other seemed willing to bend to his preferences. It was amusing, and reassuring at the same time. His stress seemed to be in the back of his mind now, rather than the forefront. Including all the... He caught himself, and growled.
"Alpha two-niner, what is your status, over?" The headset in his ear canal chirped. He couldn't tell the species on the other end, it sounded so generic.
"Preparing still. ETA until engagement?"
"As soon as you're ready, over."
"Aff, star lead. Choosing last few things."
Mechs wouldn't do for today. But the habit stuck with him regardless. Boots on the ground was what he'd prefer today. The voice in his ear kept asking him his status until he muted the thing. It could have only been a minute, tops before he'd prepared everything. Of course, that may have been mostly him painting his armour a fresh new pattern. His squaddies were ready, a AI team he'd made quite some time ago. Of course, they'd died quite a few times, and were also his pet programming project, but it felt real anyway. One of them finished stripping his gun down to the frame, and then reassembling it as he obsessed over his armour.
"Damn, are you done yet? Others are waiting for us."
"Yeah, or are you gonna leave them hangin'?"
"CapSquad takes as long as it pleases. Especially today."
"Aight Roman, but we both know that neon green and purple offers no tactical advantage whatsoever."
Roman smirked at his own meme. He knew they'd wait, and so would whomever else. They'd sure as hell nag him about it until he was ready, though. The dragon wanted to take a while longer, but the staring finally got to him.
"No tactical advantage whatsoever..." His sniper mumbled.
"Of course not. Roman's not like that at all! He prefers getting in the thick of it anyway!" Another of his troopers.
"Y'know, if it were real-"
Okay, that one felt a little bit too real for comfort. He couldn't help but interrupt.
"Then I wouldn't be doing this because I'm a couch potato. Let's go."
That shut them up. It was just a five man squad, plus him. The rest knew his commands by heart, and they were already doing them before he'd even bothered to recheck them. It was scary how well the virtual reality knew his thoughts. The squad scattered to the four winds, putting themselves above and below him. His armour clanked as he pushed himself up a ruined building, and peered out. His non-anthro body fought with him the whole while, but he made it work. Laying on his belly, the armour scraped against the glass as he crawled. Searching for any signs, it felt odd. Usually, there would be noise by now, and lots of it. Run and gun stuff.
"Come on, don't be one of those guys..." He mumbled to himself.
"Lead, movement in G3." It was his sapper, the guy that made the explosions he so loved to soar over.
"Confirmed. FT 3, stay where you are. FT2 move to support."
His pre-assigned fireteams moved quickly. His radar flickered a moment. Damn. The radar only flickered with cloakers. Sneaky bastards, the whole lot of them, but still fair. He pulled down his visor with his tail. There was movement, yes, but whatever it was, it wasn't showing well on thermals. The glass gave them away, and his tail caught them off guard, wrapping around their ankles and twisting. Gunfire tore up the ceiling, and a few stray bullets ricocheted off of his armour. Augmented claws made quick work of the chameleon. Blood splattered on his armour, and he sneezed. That was one down, but now they knew where he was.
"Lead, engagement in F5. One down, four to go, presumably."
"Five, lead." His squad corrected him.
"Right."
He knew better than to stay. The location where the enemy teammate had died would be getting hit with all kinds of scans. And ordnance soon enough. If they had that. A smooth sense of incoming danger got him out of the way just in time as a high-explosive mortar exploded almost exactly where he had been. It had been well-tuned by many such wargames like this. Predictable, easy, and easy to counter. His mic was open before his squadmate even asked.
"Confirmed command, destroying equipment and operator." His sniper was in a good spot, as was usual.
A dozen or so bullets rang out, and birds scattered. They should have scattered when they heard the first explosion. He wrote it off as a slight bug. He was waiting at another pre-planned spot, swiveling his flank plasma cannon to scan for any other enemy troops. It took a moment to deploy, but he scattered mines to his back field as well. It took too long before he realized his sniper hadn't confirmed destruction.
"Sniper?" The indicator was dead, but another chimed in.
"Can confirm mortar and mortar op are gone. So is Snipes though. Heard what sounded like footsteps and suppressed gunfire as I passed by his location. Warned him, but apparently..." His sapper sounded half serious, and half sarcastic every time he spoke. Roman loved it.
"So that would be five and three, then."
"Confirmed lead. Wait, getting-" The radio cut off with static. It was a few of his generic troopers.
They'd do well enough without his commands, but he wanted to consider EMP-proofing their equipment. Nah, that would have messed with his gear budget. The indicators would- Fuck. Well, that made it even at least. His sapper confirmed it again.
"Damn lad, losin' 'em left an' right. If I didn't know better, felt like they were playing to your- wait, movement in K7. A snipes. Gonna give him a levelin'."
"Confirmed."
He felt, rather than saw the presence. It was just in time to jump to the side, and scrabble for a hold on the steep slope of the building. The laser blade hummed, invisible, yet deadly. He guessed, and got it right, the invisibility field disappearing, as well as the enemy hounds entire upper torso. The plasma felt hot, and stuck to him. He bit his lip to fight back the pain. It wasn't as bad as it'd be if it were real, but damn if it didn't still sting through his scales. He hissed into his mic.
"Roman here, another one down, another cloaky. Tank, pair with sapper and move carefully. Lots of cloakies."
"Three to two lad. Doing better now." Sapper was absent his usual biting sarcasm.
"Didn't hear the explosions yet? You workin' Sapper?"
"As fast as I can!" His own comms were interrupted with a burst of static. That meant-
This time his armour caught it, and hard too. The bullets almost tore into his hide, and the next definitely would. His armour would be useless after those blobs of plasma. Hardly worth calling them bullets. Luckily, it wasn't a cloakie this time. Merely a tank. It'd distract him though. He bounded from cover piece to cover, as much as there was to cover a full-blown dragon. The other was a light mech of some sort. Roman didn't note any jump jets, so it was a simple matter. It seemed rather large, dense, and imposing, but he knew as well as anyone else what its weakness was. He had fielded purely mechs before, after all. Plasma from his cannon locked the knee joints where he could. The plasma minigun on the mech unit had to cool, and he was only too keen on exploiting that.
It was even simpler from there to put some nanoexplosive on the leg, and a firm push-off of a jump was more than enough to get it to fall on that side. It was incapacitated, and the dragon wouldn't be waiting around for backup. His wings unfurled just in time to note that Sapper's indicator had gone black. Two to... technically one and a half? Gunfire told him that definitely wasn't true. The last of his armour hit the ground only just before he had. He'd been shot once, in meatspace. This compared to it easily, for better or worse. Another indicator went black. Shit, that meant... Ah fuck. His cannon swiveled just in time to finish off the generic trooper. The heat hurt as badly as the bullet holes. His math sucked, and it costed him.
"Hrrrh..." He growled, and hissed. There was no way he'd be quiet now.
A blood trail followed behind him. Purely for gameplay purposes, but he couldn't help but feel a little bit queasy. Whether that was from the imagery, or the imagined loss of his own blood, he couldn't be sure. His squad was gone, and he had one, and technically a half of them to go. He wasn't doing too well, and neither was his virtual body either. He forced himself into a sprint. Regardless of intent, his body wasn't having it for long. He panted as he dipped into an alleyway. Thermals showed nothing, so he breathed for a moment.
His reflexes weren't fast enough for the electronet, or for the critter crashing into him.
All those kilograms of thick naga flesh and scales crashed onto him. Roman could only assume it was only just barely half-planned. The other was quick to shuck off their stealth vest, and toss the net gun aside. Welp. He'd lost, fair and square. He looked fit, sleek, and deadly enough to win. And... kinda hot silhouetted against the gloomy backdrop. The dragon just knew he was male, too.
"Game over, Roman. I win."
"Fucker. I assumed you wouldn't use mechs."
"I didn't. That's a heavy trooper cased in-"
"An exoskeletal suit that looks like a mech. I know."
The snake did his best impression of a pout. But soon was hovering over Roman like a predator looking at fresh prey. He nodded his head to the side, and a familiar walking sound echoed across the streets.
"Repair kit too?"
"Full replacement perk, actually. Why did you think I'm so light on gear?"
"Well. It worked."
"Yeah, and you'll be working too. Or was your advertisement wrong?"
Roman blushed a little bit. It was a bit unorthodox, but there was no reason he couldn't... The winner, he corrected himself. There wasn't any reason the winner couldn't have a bit of sexual fun with the loser. He had fully intended on winning, but it'd be lying if he didn't find it a bit arousing to be dominated by a smaller creature. It'd get rid of the rest of his stress anyway, so it was one hell of a win-win situation for the both of them. He'd have to play his part though. The snake was already stroking himself, too.
"It was."
"Well, that's just too bad. Because we're going to do it anyway."
"You wouldn't." Roman glared, a hard feat for someone behind electrically-charged fish netting.
"I would! And so would a few others. Or is the big dragon afraid of a small dom like me?"
"Of course I'm not!"
The net parted only just enough. The naga moved quickly, grabbing his horns, and shoving his entire length into his muzzle. It shut him up quickly. He tried to spit the length back out, but it was a half-hearted affair. The snake's hemipenes rubbed against his scales, and inside his muzzle, leaking their sweet, sweet essence. Roman's eyes looked upward, glaring at the naga. Daring him to try the dragon.
"Oh, you're begging now? And here I thought you were this big, dominant, top-only dragon that only ever won!" The naga's voice boomed across the setting.
It felt too good. Too fulfilling, and too damn pleasurable to keep the charade up. His jaws opened wider, and he was only too accepting of the second thick, rigid length of snake cock. His own length poked through the net, pain long since having been turned off in the sim. He swallowed eagerly, only too happy to oblige his partner. He groaned, a deep rumble in his throat sounding sinfully submissive in his ears.
"That's it... let it go on..." The naga's words devolved into a pleasured hiss.
For a simulation, it felt all too real. Here, free of life's worries, he could indulge himself in whatever sin, vice, or addictive habit he wanted. Stress was an afterthought at this point, the naga removing the net with a quick command or two. His body felt the cold back of the building as the naga facefucked him, winding his body around the dragon's upper torso and neck. His paws roamed, enjoying the sinuous winding the naga did, and the pure, muscled physique underneath that scaled hide. The snake didn't keep his hands to himself either, stroking the dragon's head, and only too eager to stretch out his remaining length to tease the dragons hard cock. Roman whined, eager for more. His eyes only just caught a glance of his knotted, ridged length leaking pre enough to make a leaky faucet look watertight.
"Yesssss..." The naga enjoyed the submissive dragon's muzzle, but he had other things to sample and savor too. Roman felt the naga squeeze tight around his throat. Not enough to make him choke, but plenty enough to make him swallow and suckle as much as he could.
It was quick, thick jets of seed rocketing into his gullet that only made the scene even hotter to the dragon. Used by his better, his superior, the winner of the match. It tickled a special part of him, a part he could indulge nearly any time he was home. He swallowed as much as he could, yet he couldn't quite catch it all. It spilled down his muzzle, his chin, and onto his chest. His wings felt awkward, and there was no doubt this position would be painful in meatspace. But it worked so, so well when it was a treat in virtual reality. He whined as the naga withdrew from his muzzle, painting his muzzle white with seed as it tapered off.
"I know what I neeeeed... Let's not keep me waiting." It was a carefully-crafted lie.
"Please..." The dragon begged for it.
"I'll not be easy."
"Do it. Do it anyway!" The dragon roared.
It seemed like an instant that the snake had moved himself into position. It was hard to keep track of where he was when his entire body wound around the dragon. His tailtip trailed across his muzzle, reminding him who was in charge. It pushed into his seed-stained mouth just as the naga pressed one of his malenesses into the dragons tailhole. He resisted the urge to bite down as the tailtip violated his muzzle, pushing until it felt like it was poking his tonsils. A quick thought of worry was shoved away by the last vestiges of his conscious mind. Choking wasn't a thing. His tailhole felt tight as the naga speared him, the look on his face betraying his pleasure. Roman panted, all too eager to satisfy his temporary better.
They hissed their mutual pleasure, the dragon stroking himself slowly with his forepaw. The only one the naga had left free. He let his eyes droop shut, letting the snake use him as he wished. He surrendered all of his control, and he moaned like a dragon in rut getting railed for his first time. It gave him a pang of anxiety, but he reminded himself that it was safe. Safe in his partners arms. And they'd be pseudonymous until after the match. And since it hadn't ended yet... he indulged. The second rod popped in, pre leaking out of the sneaky snake quickly enough to lube him without any pain. His knot slowly formed, and another set of hands joined his forepaw. Squeezing, pulling, and tugging at his length enough to tease him. Massaging where his knot would inevitably form.
"I'm going to claim you... make you mine... my bitch." The tail tip was removed from his muzzle, and a thick trail of saliva followed it.
"DO IT!" It was almost a roar. The dragon savored it so much, the feeling of being dominated so completely and utterly. Roman lost every hint of embarrassment, or prudishness. He'd indulge his fetish here, and now. And consequences be damned!
The feeling of being stretched by not one, but two thick lengths was almost too much. His lungs burned for air, and the dragon felt helpless, and yet, empowered. The naga panted, focused on his own pleasure to the point of forgetting about Roman. His paw roamed, and the other wanted to join it. The naga didn't allow it, his forepaw trapped between his winding coils. His paw was slick with pre, and he was only ever getting closer. Closer, closer to that inevitable peak he'd known all too well for years.
"Mine..." It wasn't a hiss, but it was a complete claim of ownership that'd go unchallenged.
Just like the seed pouring into his bowels, jet after jet of cum staining his insides white. The taste lingering on his tongue turned him on even more, legs pulling the naga as deep as his rods would go. It felt like minutes weren't enough to describe the time that felt like it had passed. Hours, days, hell, even weeks didn't do it justice. A single moment in time, of pure, pleasured bliss took the dragon by surprise as the snake enjoyed himself. Dragon essence stained his chest, paw, neck, muzzle, and even splattered against the building behind them. It oozed down, dripping onto the dragon, as the naga watched. He enjoyed his own sample from his hands, and admired his handiwork of the purely relaxed dragon. The both of them waited, not quite wanting to end it just yet.
The naga logged out first, leaving Roman to view the after action report with seed in his belly, on his muzzle, and oozing out of his ass. He massaged his jaw, watching exactly what had gone down. His horniness lingered. Maybe he could lose a match on purpose a few times tonight... He decided against it. He had things to do. He logged out, and back into reality.
The ceiling light felt blinding at first, creeping in through the full-dive goggles that were sealed around his eyes. As they adjusted, there was one thing that was still plain. He had a damn tent in his work clothes. And a growing stain on the front. Yet, satisfaction from virtual space did not translate to reality. He put it all aside, eager to see what else laid in store for the night. His door opened easily, even for his aching muscles. He paced into the kitchen, but before he could finish his snack run, someone else grabbed his attention like a rodeo clown riding a bull.
"Care for round two, Roman dear?"
"Salenss. Of course it was you."
"Who else uses two cloakies and exos?"
"A few. You'd be surprised. I think I'll take your offer, but you'll be damned if you think I'll be bottom this time." A blush came underneath his scales as he recalled what happened scarce minutes ago.
"We'll just have to see then, won't we? I know exactly what you like to do online..." The dragon was practically hypnotized as he followed the naga back into his bedroom. Oh well. What was a 'loss' or two between friends with benefits?
His sandwich remained only half-finished for the rest of that night.
-Fin!