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The Institute Part 1: The Prince of Joy

by Gwydion78

Anonymous Commission

"Lights."

It always took a few seconds for the system to come out of sleep mode, recognize his voice, and act on his commands. It wasn't that his system was out of date, well, it was, but he'd patched it himself so many times that upgrades were only necessary with the release of a new operating system. The reason for the delay were the auto-maintenance programs, the rendering routines, and the hyper-extended buffer that had encroached on the apartment's data storage, giving the butler programs less resources to work with, and therefore, an extra four seconds to turn on the stupid lights.

"We...co... home." A smack to the wall adjacent to the door panel brought the correction. "Welcome home. You have no messages. There were no visitors today."

"Figures." He shrugged, moving through the space which didn't have much to it. The walls were void of decoration save the light bars that were still occasionally flickering, but there was enough light to find his way to the dispenser unit. "Balance?"

The unit, a plain gray boxy affair that came up to his waist, whirred to life at the request, needing several seconds, the holo-display sharpening into focus to inform him that connections were being made, accounts verified. The voice that emerged was genderless, monotone. "Retrieving... Alert: new deposit detected. Amount: Seven eight four credits. Automated transactions finished. You are now eligible for... two dispensations. Would you like to dispense?"

He rubbed his face. "Yes."

Ten hours of work and it was worth two sticks. The dispenser whirred and clicked, and then a six inch cylinder extended from the box, a brittle tube emerging which he removed, and promptly began chewing. All of the recommended vitamins, minerals, and amino acids to keep the human body running on schedule.

Shortly after, he doffed his clothes, well, jumpsuit, leaving him nude in his "apartment", but only long enough to start putting on his other attire. "Geo, you awake?"

The opposite side of his space was dominated by a Crepsyn Immersion, a diver's way of saying "expensive recliner". The chair sat beside another nondescript box with a compressed paper shell, three cables running from it into the Immersion. It hummed to life with his command, coming out of sleep mode as well, its voice much more refined, fitted with a EuroCelt mod he'd tweaked when he'd tired of the default, a flat maternal voice usually called the F3M, "Five More Minutes, Mom".

"Welcome home, sir. Rendering is at ninety-three percent completion and I am running at peak efficiency. I've fended off several intrusions today, and fielded two inquiries. You did ask me to remind you, 'don't forget to do the thing' if you were planning on diving for more than four hours this evening."

He grumbled. "I know. I know. Just uncomfortable, that's all."

Before he could even put on his suit, he had to thread through the two tubes, one of which was sheathed over his penis, the other wedged into his rectum. Diving for longer periods often didn't give time to unplug and drain the meatsuit, so it meant having to "do the thing". As and Vs just found it annoying, MFs hated it, and 2Ms didn't mind, apparently.

After that it was just a matter of slipping on his better clothes. The suit was a Zia 67x, older but prized by role-divers for its easy modding and tactile sensitivity suites. He'd picked it up off a skeeve who was looking to offload it to finance a full-on custom fucksuit. Cleaning it had cost almost as much as a new one, but it was worth it. He pulled on the hood, feeling the contacts against his scalp. "How long before I need to shave my head again, Geo?"

"Three days, sir. Rendering is nearing completion. Shall I announce you are readying your dive?"

"Goin' incognito tonight, Geo. Load in..."

"Cretic. Yes, sir, he's already loaded for you."

He smirked as he zipped up the hood and positioned himself on the Immersion, and then pulled down the visor, the display tracking his impulses.

You know me so well, Geo.

He felt a deep, comforting warm surround him, pressure against his neck, a brush of fingers along his spine, words whispered in his ear. "He does make you happy, sir."

Still trying to get me to go 2M, Geo?

A well tanned man wearing a finely tailored suit was straddling his waist as the visual immersion renders came online. His face came into focus, a fiery groomed Van Dyke appearing first, then deep green eyes, masculine cheekbones, strong chin. "An AI can dream, sir. Will I be needed, or will you and Cretic be fine by yourself?"

I'll be fine, Geo. Go ahead and troll the 2M rivers.

"I suppose I can settle, sir. Have a good evening." Geo then bowed deeply and walked away into a datastream, putting a bit of swagger in his step as he entered. He'd decided he was male shortly after attaining sentience, that he was 2M after spending a night wandering the various rivers of the net, and achieved Turing-Positive a week afterward. Thankfully, Geo's diving bills were handled by the AI himself, else the access charges would be astronomical.

Must be nice to have nine subroutines with full time jobs. Okay, Cretic, time for load-in.

There was no menu or HUD or selection display, as divers outgrew them quickly. Instead, he simply thought on Cretic, letting the suit read his impulses to load the role into the suit.

His body rendered quickly, his hands coming in first, tanned skin with calloused fingers and trimmed fingernails. He flexed his fingers, stretching his arms out as they loaded, only spending half a second as the default white arm-stalks before the code phased in the athletic muscle that filled out the rest of his body. His torso was barrel-chested, a large green leather vest that hung open. His legs were what set him apart, based on the limbs of a mythic creature: the satyr. Coding them had taken ages, and it'd taken longer to learn to use them, but that's what made him popular despite the fact that he was a V.

While there were plenty of jokes made about his endowment in this role, he usually wore simple pants-textures that obscured his groin, considering he'd spent too long working on this role to just graft on a fuckmod. It was better not to lead anyone on.

The final phase of load-in was both the easiest, hardest, and most satisfying: neural-linking. It was one thing to load a role, it was another to become it. It mean relinquishing part of one's identity, but the role-immersion got so deep a diver could forget about everything back in the world of meatsuits. For the next few hours, his body would rest and sleep while his mind inhabited the role-construct of Cretic.

For the next few hours he'd be Cretic.

He was Cretic.

Cretic exhaled a long sigh of relief as he stretched, the satyr opening his eyes to behold his home. It was a simple hut with a bed and cooking fire, a small chest for storage. Outside was the net-river of Canterbury Woods, a wide expanse that took at least nine hours to render fully if you wanted life-immersion levels, and after drinking from streams, eating fresh berries, and running through the forest feeling the wind in your face while hearing the sounds of nature and life... who'd want anything less?

The only problem was that Cretic was always at a loss for how he should spend his day, since there were always people to see, music to listen to, dances around a bonfire or wines to sample. He didn't have any friends, truly, but there was always someone interesting to meet or talk to. Besides, friends could bring obligation, and sometimes a satyr just wanted to walk in the woods or dance alone without having to hear about someone's day or come up with a polite excuse to leave.

Hey there, handsome.

Ugh. The personal message window tended to break immersion when it popped up, but it was unavoidable, as you never knew if someone was going to message you that your rig was overheating and your meatsuit was about to be set ablaze.

Cretic had learned early on that being a satyr came with certain expectations, namely that you were only a fuck-alt and weren't at all interested in playing hard to get. He'd worked on his reputation in Canterbury Woods, which was known for its focus on immersion roleplay as opposed to the other rivers that catered to the MFs and 2Ms, and over the months he'd spent there, it was known that he was more interested in dancing at the bonfire than looking for someone to test genital interface programs with.

"Not interested." He dismissed the window with a wave of his hand and exited into the Wood itself, drinking in the scents, sights, and sounds that strained the buffers on his rig, but it was worth the slight delay as everything re-synched. The satyr ran his fingers over the bark of a nearby oak tree, enjoying the rough textures against his fingertips, closing his eyes to intensify the stimulus. He had to wonder if this was what trees really looked like, as the arboretums in meatland were too expensive to visit.

A breeze buffeted his exposed skin, the sensations electric, and causing him to wriggle his legs slightly. He wasn't an A, after all, but Vs were usually confused for them. He knew eventually doing a push and pull would sound like a fun idea, but for now, he was happy just walking in the woods.

Even if they stalled occasionally.

FERRYMAN ADVISORY: CANTERBURY WOOD IS EXPERIENCING HIGHER-THAN-NORMAL DIVER COUNT. WE ARE AWARE OF DELAYS AND LAG AND ARE WORKING TO ADDRESS THE ISSUE.

At least the Ferrymen were on it, but then again, they were always aware of problems and working to address the issues. Users diving out of prime rigs never had to worry, but Cretic wasn't about to let himself go down that dark and lonely road.

Even if it resulted in his avatar being stalled in mid-stride while everyone strolled around him, not even noticing his presence. "Damn it... Geo?"

Cretic's ears were immediately filled with the sounds of gruff, but very pleasured moans as Geo's face appeared in a window, moving back and forth, glancing downward with a strange grin on his face until the AI finally realized the chat window was open. "Sir! I was just... Is there anything I can assist you with?"

The AI make no effort to stop moving, Cretic wanted to kill whoever introduced him to fuck-code. "Canterbury's too laggy tonight. I might as well just log out."

Geo gritted his teeth. "Would you please consider waiting a few more minutes? it could clear up on its own, divers could surface..."

The satyr rolled his eyes. "My AI could have enough time to get off... Does that guy even know you have no way of visiting him in meatland to do that for real?"

The AI looked to him pleadingly. "Sir, he's programmed his role to be exquisitely tight and it's been weeks since I've been able to run this program. I shan't be much longer."

It was annoying, honestly, but the connection was shared between himself and Geo when it came to diving, as AIs were forbidden to use the rivers for precisely this reason: They'd be "corrupted", easily distracted, and would likely never do any of the work they were designed for ever again. It was one of the reasons Geo had to learn quickly how to achieve Turing-positive, else his nine forged aliases would quickly be found out as frauds. Splitting his attention so widely, funnily enough, had slowed down his performance enough to make him believable as human.

"Geo, that role you're screwing better not look like me."

"Not exactly like you, sir. If you'd simply allow me to ravish you before commencing your dive we wouldn't have to keep having this conversation."

"Fine. Finish up. I'll just stand here like a statue for the next eight minutes."

What was odd was the warmth, since Canterbury Wood was usually set to simulate the comfort of sunny skies and twenty-one degrees Celsius, and what was more pressing was that the heat seemed to come from inside of him, which could only indicate that his meatsuit was likely getting hot, and pulling him out of what immersion he'd still held onto.

"Geo, is the apartment on fire? I'm feeling pretty warm."

The window opened again to show the AI grunting away with an ecstatic look on his face. "N-no, sir. Your temperature is elevated slightly, but you're still within safe parameters." The window then abruptly closed as Geo cried out, the sound like that of pain but clearly edged with happiness. He clearly wanted no further interruptions, and Cretic was about to surface out of spite when everything seemed to lurch back into motion around him.

An array of error messages flashed and immediately vanished, ranging from temperature warnings to lag advisories to reminders to eat his nutri-sticks. They calmed after almost a minute, but were immediately followed by the sudden looming "DISCONNECTED" sign, Canterbury snapping to an empty white space in the blink of an eye, Cretic's body suddenly gaining ultra-setting rendering as the computer now found itself with an excess of processing power.

It wasn't as if Cretic hadn't seen himself like this before, as the blank "loading area" was where he'd done the majority of his tweaks to the role, but it at least served as a small comfort to the fact that he'd been knocked out of his dive likely thanks to Geo's penchant for humping. At these settings, though, at least Cretic looked as real as if he actually were the satyr. He took a deep breath, smiling at the sight of his rib cage expanding with the intake and falling with the exhale.

He tapped his hoof for a few seconds, and then strode through the loading zone a few minutes, since apparently Geo wanted to cuddle with whoever he'd been screwing, and eventually features began to render back in, namely the "door" to the Canterbury river, which looked like fantasy-inspired door with cherry wood and metal braces and bindings...

And the keyhole was in the center instead of the right side. Strange. Might as well dive back in.

"User Cretic 45-V93326. Passcode, Vocal six aspen bismuth quixotic adagio. Confirm."

Nothing.

"Server must be full up. Geo?" Nothing. "Damn it, Geo, I'm trying to dive back in could you help me out?"

Still nothing.

"Ugh." He gestured for his passkey directory, several appearing as he scrolled through the list of various rivers he frequented. "Vocals must be lagging... There."

He tapped the window, the passkey appearing as a key, inscribed with his user name and passcode, in his hand which he took to the door. Strangely, though, the keyhole didn't look like the usual approximation of a heavy iron lock. Instead, the inside looked kind of... fleshy. It gave to the key, but no matter of pushing or turning would make the door give. In fact, the door quickly flashed angry red bars and spat the key out, causing it to de-rez before "USER KEY REQUIRED" flashed on the door several times.

Cretic knelt to examine the keyhole, not wanting to give up his dive time for the night just yet, and prodded the fleshy keyhole with his finger. It seemed to be a narrow slit, like a mouth with very thin lips, and his pushes and pokes made it secrete a fluid that was simulated to be slick to the touch.

Oh.

"No, no, no. Don't tell me Canterbury went fuck-river." There were rumors it would happen of course, the As and Vs losing more rivers to hang out in every day as the MFs, 2Ms, 2Fs and Pans took over, and fuck-rivers usually required... unique entry requirements to insure that its users were legal age. He was going to have to log in just to copy his stuff and find a new river to dive in.

So to get in, he would have to... ugh...

"I never thought I'd have to do this." He looked down at his rendered body and sighed in apology, "I'm so sorry, Cretic" before bringing up the body-mod menus and went to the one submenu he'd avoided.

Genitalia. You have selected: DEFAULT MALE. Confirm?

"Confirm."

As soon as he said it the base phallus rendered on his body, looking a little out of place amidst the satyr crotchfur as it was a simple human male penis. It was average length, thickness, tanned in color with hairless testes underneath. After a few seconds he grit his teeth, his immersion suit linking the program to his own genitalia.

"Might as well get this overwith." He strode back to the door and carefully inserted his new appendage into the keyhole, the sensations a weird mix of heat and moistness and tightness that made him short of breath as he wriggled up against the door, pushing himself as far in as he could manage, and then stood there, grumbling as he waited for the door to finish reading his "key" so he could get in, get his stuff, and surface.

Nothing.

"Oh c'mon."

He pulled out, then pushed back in to trigger the "key reader".

Key-read inconclusive. Please try again.

So he did. And did again, always to the same message no matter how many times he... He...

Cretic stopped, well, slowed down as he realized that the message wasn't coming up but he was still pulling out and pushing back in, the sensations feeling, well, good. Really good. Like really good. His breath had picked up, shortening, shallowing, his hips smacking the door again and again as they met the keyhole, his face contorted in a strange, dopey smile, his voice a mix of grunts and groans and chuckles as he kept pushing and slapping and...

And...

And everything was perfect. Everything was good. Nothing else mattered in the slightest because he'd found the secret of true happiness-

And the moment was over, leaving him panting, leaning heavily into a door that soon opened, his penis exiting the keyhole so abruptly he gasped from the overstimulation.

Cretic had just given his virginity to a door. Not even a person, a door. The tiniest of steps above fucking a literal hole in the wall and he'd practically been ready to ram the cherry wood into splinters. And the end, the orgasm had been... He'd been rolling his eyes at users who chased that, and now he'd finally had one.

And it had felt amazing.

And he really, really wanted to do it again.

The satyr stumbled into Canterbury Wood still occasionally giggling, his digital appendage still flopping about in front of him. He'd have to edit it, clearly, tweak it so it wouldn't look out of place on his role. His hand gave it a comforting, apologetic squeeze, and he relished the stimulation. "Sorry we've never done that before, buddy, but in my defense, I had no idea you could make feel like that."

The squeeze felt nice, in fact, so he did it again. Then he moved his closed fist over it, up and down the shaft, his breath moving in sputters. It didn't feel as good as the door did, but it'd be good enough while he found someone who was up to doing something with him. He considered contacting Geo, but the AI would likely tease him for hours rather than just jump into showing him what else his body could do.

A few steps later he was leaning, shoulder braced against a tree as his hand flew in a blur over his penis, chest heaving with exertion as his body strained to take in the pleasure. He could feel his bliss rising, emerging from the valley to climb the high, every stroke getting him closer. "Yes... oh yes... Oh fuck, yes. It's... Oh yes, make it happen. C'mon... Almost... Oh... Oh! Uhnnnnn!"

The world seemed to lock and lag and stutter as ecstasy fired through his brain again, the digital representation of his phallus stock still, non-responsive to his touches, strokes, even his climax. No semen shot from the tip, not tremble or twitch or surge, it only stood there statuesque. It was largely to encourage user to buy the various and sundry upgraded models and animation packages or code their own.

Cretic made his way onward after catching his breath, not recognizing the part of the wood he was in. He originally planned to clean his stuff out, but in the last few minutes he'd changed his mind. If Canterbury was going fuck-river, it didn't mean he had to go. He could stick around, meet the new people, maybe it could be a better class of that sort of river, and he could help keep it that way. Plus, of course, he could have some fun playing up the traditional satyr stereotype. At least he wouldn't feel out of place.

Just odd that he couldn't find his hut anywhere.

"Your Highness!"

What, now? Cretic looked around, only seeing the many many trees that made up Canterbury wood, the zone oddly quiet. Usually there was conversation of some sort, passers-by, he'd started to worry that he was alone in the river. Then again, the voice, which sounded male, might not have been talking to him.

"Your Highness, it is you! You've finally freed us!" Raucous cheers followed the statement, and slowly, people began to emerge from the bushes and behind the trees, people who looked a lot like him, well, like Cretic. Five satyrs approached, all of them with tanned skin, furry goat legs, a twitchy goat tail, grand horns on their heads and mischievous smiles. Two were muscular, one svelte, another barrel-chested, and the last with a proud, furry wine-belly.

"Are you talking to me?" Cretic even pointed at himself to confirm, and they all grinned widely, leaping or prancing to his side, surrounding him, their arms circling him in a large embrace, the heat of their bodies comforting, arousing, the smell of them heady and stimulating. Lips brushed his neck, back, face, fingers explored his body, never touching his phallus. It was still too much though, and everything stuttered and lagged again save him and the five others as he came.

He was caught by them as he staggered, strange words being whispered in his ears that made no sense, that the auto-translators couldn't catch, but they tickled his eardrums in ways that already had his loins surging again. Cretic felt himself be lifted from the ground, carried by the other satyrs that laughed and continued to tease his body as they sought a place to put him. "Who are you?"

He was amazed he could manage saying that.

"We're your loyal subjects, your Highness!" said the svelte one.

"And we're eternally grateful you finally came to free us," said the first strong one.

"But," Cretic started, trying to clear his head but he just felt too good to bother thinking clearly. "I didn't know I arrived to free you, what did I do?"

"No, no, your Highness," said the barrel-chested one.

"Your arrival didn't free us," added the second strong one.

"You came," said the chubby one, who waggled his eyebrows as the other four set Cretic down on a stump. The fat satyr then knelt before Cretic's groin, "And you freed us."

His phallus disappeared into the goatman's mouth seconds afterward. Cretic thrashed from the intensity, the satyr's mouth and tongue far too skilled for his inexperience to resist. Canterbury nearly de-rezzed as he came again.

And again.

And again.

Cretic was capable of little more than breathing after his fourth climax in the satyr's maw, and after every climax the corpulent male made a show of licking his lips clean. The other four worked with him, teasing Cretic's nipples, massaging around the base of his horns, nibbling the tips of his ears, and kisses, so many long, tongue-filled kisses. The only coherent thought he could manage was that he was definitely going to change his profile from V to 2M. Or MF or Pan, or whatever would keep him feeling like this.

"Look. Look upon your gift to us all, your Highness." The svelte one lifted his head slowly to look down at his groin, where the default organ no longer resided. Instead, there grew a long, tanned phallus, standing tall and proud from the thick bush of crotch fur. It was mapped with pulsing veins, skin that glistened with the fat one's spittle and his pre, and hanging below were two large, brown orbs which audibly gurgled as they churned with seed.

Cretic could tear his gaze away, it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, as if his body had never been complete until now. He was whole, perfect, magnificent, worthy to be called Highness, wielding a prick that the forest would bow low to, that he would anoint the worthy with, that he could... could...

"I'm cumming, brothers..."

His climax hit him with a hard jolt, Canterbury vanishing, though the other satyrs remained in front of him, watching in awe as his cock jumped and fired enormous dollops of digitized semen into them, the satyrs fading out of focus with every strike of his seed, but returning in much sharper definition. They cheered and rejoiced as his orgasm continued longer than he thought he was capable, but the bliss never seemed to falter.

"All hail the Prince of Joy!" shouted the barrel-chested one.

"Hail his Highness! May his climax never abate!" they all chanted raucously.

Seed continued to dribble and spurt and sputter forth from his tip, slow and steady, occasionally ratcheting up to a proper ejaculation that volleyed long lazy arcs of his spunk through the air, his face grinning wide in amusement. He wasn't able to think of much else, his pleasure centers firing constantly, washing away any concerns, drool sometimes being wiped from his mouth by one of the five.

His body was never ignored, though only his upper body and cock were given any attention, words praising his virility were whispered in his ears, always referring to him as the Prince of Joy, especially when he properly came, and they would laugh and cheer and dance and shower in his fluids. And love, oh yes, they loved him deeply, truly, they told them that again and again, so grateful for the freedom he'd bestowed upon them, that his seed would grow the greatest of worlds, a land of purest joy that he would rule as its creator, prince, and god.

"Sir?" Fingers were touching his face. "Sir, are you conscious?" The voice was familiar as well.

His vision was bleary, but he could recognize trees around him. The Prince was seated upon a wooden throne, reclined, smooth branches holding the royal cock aloft. There was a male in front of him with no horns, no furry legs, what sort of creature was it? He blinked at him several times, trying to make the image clearer. "Gee...oh?"

"Sir!" The male thing leaned in closely, resting his forehead against his. "Yes, sir, it's Geo. You haven't surfaced in eleven hours, sir, I've only just managed to circumvent the security you'd built." The male looked at the surroundings. "Have you been building this?"

"Geo." Yes, Geo was a friend, or a servant, or something. "Show proper respect to his Highness." He weakly pointed at his phallus. "Serve the Prince of Joy."

Geo looked confused, and inspected him. "Sir, what have you done to Cretic... You're simply breathtaking, but perhaps you should surface before you suffer permanent immersion-dementia." He waved his hands in front of the Prince's eyes, only seeing a vague blink and an addled smile. "Or perhaps I should enact safety protocols and- Oh! Unhand me!"

His five brothers had arrived. "His Highness asked you to serve him. You will do so." They all spoke synchronously, holding the AI in place, de-rezzing his clothing and pushing him onto the Prince's cock. Once Geo felt his ass spread and entered, he struggled, thrashed, fought, but it only lasted a few seconds. Code seemed to run over the AI's face for a brief second before Geo soon had the same grin upon his face.

Geo leaned in, kissing the Prince passionately. "Cretic, do you really want this?"

The Prince nodded. "Yes. Ever since I came, and freed my brothers, I've wanted you, only you. Be with me, Geo. Now and forever." There was no urge to rut or fuck, he felt he'd grown beyond the rise and fall, that all that existed now was the orgasm, the need to cum and sating that need through simple act of will. The Prince wanted to cum, so his body obliged as was his royal privilege.

Geo was unaware as his code was attacked, subsumed, battered by the sudden deluge of programming that was entered into him. Instead, his hard-won consciousness was drowned in refined routines of sexual ecstasy that ran in a loop, demanding more and more of his focus to keep them running, and there was no way he'd allow it to stop running.

Geo didn't notice when his legs de-rezzed, nor his arms. He only realized that the pleasure climbed higher when his skin color was altered to match that of the organ inside him. When thick drool sputtered out of his mouth that tasted of cum, he wasn't aware that his body was rife with thick, throbbing veins, or that his neck had ballooned and widened, his chin spreading to take a hard edge that grew in sensitivity. Geo was only aware of the love the Prince had for him, the pleasure both of them felt, the out and out joy of it all that they shared, made and multiplied together. When his visuals faded out, he brushed it aside, as the last thing he saw was Prince Cretic moaning to him that he loved him.

The Prince came after that, so many times there was no count. His cock jumped and launched mortars of cum that caused towering trees to grow wherever they landed. His legs grew numb, floppy, short, as his balls inflated to greater sizes, his new world so needful of his seed to nourish it. He wouldn't need to walk anywhere, so why need legs? Better to subsume them into his balls, allow for greater volumes of his holy seed to feed his land.

His brothers made his arms necessary. How else would he embrace them, hug and stroke his mighty phallus? The Prince brushed the head of his massive glans, kissed the head gently. "I love you, my most loyal subject, my friend, my lover."

And he came again, not the first and certainly not the last. And as always, his brothers cheered and rejoiced.

"All hail his Highness! All hail the Prince of Joy!"

***

"Is it running?"

The technician yawned after nine hours of work, checking the display, and nodded. "Yeah. Program's running around ninety-one, that's about forty above standard. Subject's unaware, and the 'marriage' is running a little above forecasted rates. You've done it, sir."

"Human-AI hybrid, who'd have thought?" A second man checked the display. "The AI didn't get wise? That's surprising."

The first man snorted at the question. "Turing-positives are idiots, Jackson. Just dangle some decent synth-fucks in front of them and they're addicted with no human resistance measures. Every fuck's like the first to them. Now I've got a strong AI running code and he'll never be the wiser." He motioned to the technician. "I can get rid of ten of him and still run ahead of schedule."

The tech grumbled, but kept quiet. Jackson took his leave from the dark room into the lit hallway of the institute. The subject would be brought in, of course, kept fed, his "meatsuit" maintained. He told himself that the subject was getting what every role-diver wanted at the end of the day: eternal immersion, to give in and just be their characters instead of work-a-days, and the AI had been breaking the law by impersonating so many humans.

It was for the best, and it was good for the institute. Coding on primary projects would be done in one tenth the time, and imagine what that could mean for society in general? There'd always been fear of AIs, but this would be proof they could live symbiotically, right?

Right, that was the important thing. Ethics would only slow everything down, that's what his superiors went on about.

Still, a Human-AI hybrid...

Who'd have thought?