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The Institute: Beta Test by gwydion78

Anonymous Commission

"No. No. No. No." He sighed as he swiped his way through his role list. This unfortunately was how a good chunk of his dive time was spent in the evenings, especially after a hiatus of more than three days out of the rivers. He passed over the traditional humans an hour ago, avoided creatures he'd made for one-shot dives in the role-rivers, kink-roles for the murkier fuck-rivers. "No... Wait."

Currently up was one of his social-roles, when he was more looking to hang out with friends, originally intended for the fantasy rivers he'd been a regular of when he was younger, but the role managed to translate into other areas with simple reskinning. It was a Dwarf, originally clad in armor with a giant axe practically adhered to its hand, but enough modding had brought it into the modern age, fitting it with updated clothing, different hair, net-shades, and... "Haven't been you in a while, Skid. Load up Skidsen, Al."

Skidsen was unique in that the computer needed additional time to configure perspective angles, as the Dwarf was obvious shorter than his meat-self, with shorter arms and stubbier legs and a wider head. What didn't make him unique was his belly, as most of his roles were on the zaftig side, though not at extreme levels. Skidsen was his first role that he ever modded, as well as the role he went from V to 2M in.

"Testin', testin' vocals. Ah like mah guts big an' mah cocks hard." He laughed, and it was a big booming laugh that would rattle a tavern, so at least he knew the vocal protocols were running, since he didn't have the heart to drop the Faux-Celt accent that came originally with the role, which was a good thing, as it was practically impossible to find now. "List me as on an' lookin', Al. An' send me t' th' Tight One."

Less than a second later, the site was loading, everything pixilated at first, roles were vague gray blobs that moved in and out of the club. There was a line as anti-clipping was on, meaning fuck-friendly hours were already in effect.

"Skid!" A bouncer-role waved him over, the man wearing a muscle-role with the Tight One glowing on his chest. "Shit, haven't seen you in a couple weeks. Vack's been looking for you for a couple days, think he's got work if you're open. He's..." There was a pause, likely for a HUD check, and then a whisper window opened in front of the Dwarf.

Vack's logged into Room 33978000217.

He nodded readily, as work meant creds and creds meant more diving time. Skidsen gave the bouncer a friendly headbutt and made his way in over the complaints of those waiting in line, but screw 'em if he was here to pick up some work. The club itself was actually rather spare, as most patrons entered, found the room their friends were in, and went there. Otherwise, the Tight One was just a lobby filled with roles standing still, checking role-profiles and kink-lists and who had a little green light on their shoulder.

Shit, he'd forgotten to...

*You do CV?*

*Looking for a night slave. Free?*

*This ain't a bloat river, go downstream.*

*New cock protocols! 8% more immersive! Reply to learn more!*

He slapped the light on his shoulder to turn it off, remove the beacon that he was looking for play.

*Hey Skid, you free tonight? Feel like continuing?*

Skidsen grumbled as he made his way toward the room doors, punching in the number for Vack's private channel, hoping he could get in and have an excuse not to talk to the guy. It wasn't that it'd been a bad fuck, it was that the fuck had happened, it was over, he'd made no intimations that he wanted more, but role-divers could be clingy as hell when they found someone competent.

He changed his shoulder light to red for DND, as responding formally with a turn-down would just result in spending the next hour having to "chat" while the guy tried to run an end-around and do a fuck anyway. After that, he walked through the door after double checking the number, and it opened from nothingness into a plush suite-type VIP room, which would be impressive if every private channel didn't looks like this.

"Skid!"

The room was occupied by a slickly dressed elf-role, another fantasy-river refugee that had landed on his feet, albeit heavily modded. The ears were the same, as were the eyes, but the sibilant voice protocols had been scrubbed for a prime, no-nonsense executive, while the clothing was a perfect render of a hand-tailored Euro suit, the coding for which often ran about fifty creds. He was willowy, as elves were supposed to be, and moved with preternatural grace, vaulting over the table to sweep the Dwarf into his arms and kiss him passionately, which Skidsen returned.

Seconds later they were on the floor of the room, clothing rezzed away, one of Skidsen's stubby Dwarf legs held up as the elf pushed his immaculately rendered cock into his ass. The Dwarf sagged in relief as he was entered, the Elf sighing with delight as he started pumping slow, stroking his hairy belly.

"So, you mod that beard? Looks different." He leaned down to kiss the Dwarven nipples, giving them a flick with his tongue.

"Aye, worked on th' braids an' bumped the rez a mite or three. Did a wee bit o' work on mah arse too, it feel tight enough?" He punctuated with a squeeze on the organ that worked deep inside him.

"You always feel good, Skid. You still testing? I've got a mod I need someone to put through the wringer and..." The Elf grit his teeth. "Fuck, did you add a massaging protocol to your *ass*?"

The Elf gave the Dwarf, who was smiling beatifically, a nasty look as he hunched over him, his breath quickening. "Fuckin'... Dammit! Dammit, Skid!" He then laughed softly.

"Ah take it ya spunked, Vack?" He patted the side of the Elf's face with much bigger grin.

With a rather cross look, Vack pulled out, gasping on full exit, then rolled his eyes. "Just for that I'm not getting you off, you'll have to tug it yourself." He then helped the Dwarf to his feet, the pair re-rezzing their clothes to move over to the plush couch. They sat, and the Elf stretched, rolling his shoulders. "You still an RL V, Skid? You've been offline a few weeks."

"Been tryin' a few new roles, is all. Dinnae see th' point t' getting' poked out in meatspace when it feels jus' as fine here." Granted, it had been a few weeks since he'd gotten a fuck with anyone decent since new roles didn't get much interest, as you were considered a one-dive fuck or a pre-made, and good fucks usually wanted a more substantial commitment.

"Skid, you know I'd be happy to drop by your place so we could try it the right way. You and I have been screwing since Castle River opened the floodgates and went fuck-friendly, just *once* I'd like to do it RL." He reached over and stroked the Dwarf's face. "It feels better, Skid, trust me. When a guy cums inside you, you feel it, really feel it, not what computer tells your brain it's supposed to be feeling. It's hot and it's sweaty and ridiculous and it's *amazing*. Besides, I could bring over some real food since I know you're still on the dispenser."

Skidsen shook his head quickly. "No, it's not a good idea. I'm just... It's a step above a coffin hotel, I doubt there'd even be enough space for both of us."

"So you'll come over to my place. I've got not one room, but *two*." Vack puffed out his chest in faux pride. "And one of those rooms is just for my bed. C'mon, it'll be fun, we'll *finally* meet meatwise, I'll splurge a little and get a pizza, not a 'za, a real *pizza*..."

"Y'said you had some work for me?" There was a measure of pleading in his voice, and several seconds passed between them in silence.

Vack finally sighed, crestfallen, and nodded. "Yeah, the uh... the mod. Top end client asked for it. Very specific parameters, but it managed to work on the testing VIs in alpha, so it's moving into beta and I need someone to put it through the motions."

"So what is it?"

"I'm surprised, really, it's just a bloater script, honestly, but the limitations were a bitch to work around, but hey, hundred forty creds for-"

"Yer gettin' *A HUNNERT-FORTY* creds!?! Fer a bloat routine?" At that point Skid was rather thankful that his clothing was re-rezzed, seeing as his arousal would definitely be showing. "Bloat" was a term for expansion mods, scripts that would make your role wider, rounder, more rotund.

Obesity, which was wiped out with the rise of the dispensers and designer sustenance, still had a following in the rivers in some of the kinkier channels, many of which Skidsen frequented looking for the newest mods. Bloaters, like himself, got off on their roles being swollen out, and the most basic ones that simply featured instant expansion quickly grew boring. The better ones embraced immersive qualities, simulated mobility difficulties, the requirement of increased consumption, progressive role-alteration to match the rate of growth... The downside was the overwhelming strain on a system to maintain the dive, keep up any other immersive mods, and run the increasingly complex bloat scripts.

"Yeah, I was shocked, but I kept my cool and acted like that's my normal rate for discretion, but you keep client names off books no matter what you're getting paid, it's just good business, you know? Must've been a newb that's flush but just got into the kink. All they wanted was a specific patch protocol put in, which made it tough, but really only added a couple days onto the work, and for that kind of money I won't complain." He drummed his fingers on the table. "So, I could probably cut you in for some if you give me a good test and deep data. How's twenty-five sound?"

Skidsen couldn't respond. He sputtered so much his vocal protocols locked, his real voice coming through. "Twenty-five credits? Can my system even run this thing?"

"If you're only running the script and a role, yeah, you'll have to drop everything else anyway, because I want clean deep data, Skid. That means you'll have to drop all the fuck mods too." The Elf grinned. "So no jerking off while the script's running."

"The client's okay with beta testing, though? I don't want you to get in trouble because you shared this with me." He grumbled, bringing up his HUD, "Damned vocal protocols are glitched again. I gotta track that guy down and see if he can do an update or a patch or something."

"Castle River's been shut for five years, Skid, that's an eternity. Most of 'em went off to Canterbury but I hear that place is going fuck-friendly too now." He shrugged. "Could be worse, right? At least your voice is nice enough without it. So twenty-five sounds good?"

"That's a *year* of dive time, Vack, fuck yes I'll do it."

"Great, I'll send the mod to your VI. Just make sure you surface, eat something, get some sleep, and prep for an eight to twelve hour dive because it'll take a while to run through all the various and sundry routines it needs to test. Y'know, it'd run a lot faster if I were there to record the data myself, we could finish up early and..."

Skidsen shook his head. "No, no, but uh... Maybe after testing I'll um... vid-call you and..."

"Talk face to face? No roles?"

Skidsen nodded.

The Elf grinned wide. "Sounds great! So I'll finally get to see you in real time. Hey, no getting someone to do the call for you, okay?"

Skidsen laughed it off, inwardly cursing. "Okay, might as well get prepped, then. My guess is you're on a deadline. I need time to reset the vocal protocols anyway. I'll send a missive when I've got some deep data, okay?"

Vack responded with a kiss, a long, passionate one, and the Dwarf was torn between staying for another fuck and surfacing to prep for the test. In the end, his kink won out, and he broke the contact, and brought up surfacing protocols to come out smooth. Hard surfaces were generally okay, but the more complex or non-human the roles, the better it was to come out slow, let the brain readjust to the fact that you weren't a mass of tentacles, or, in his case, two feet shorter and a hundred pounds heavier.

When he pulled off the hood, he sighed as always, stripping down from his netsuit with a bit more disgust than usual. He was rail thin, gangly, a bit bug-eyed, stringy hair, patchy body hair, his build was just a touch above emaciated, like most of the dispenser-users.

He scratched his face, grumbling, "Gotta be a way around that vid call." Vack would probably check, knowing him, he'd take one look and that would be it.

He made his way to the tiny toilet, pulling it out of the wall, doing his business and then using the shower for the allotted seven minutes of water, using the time to get his brain in order, look over his naked body and accept that no, he wasn't Skidsen. After that it was sleeping on the mattress pad on the floor next to his immersion chair, though sleep took a bit longer to come that night than usual, both from anticipation as well as anxiety.

When he dreamed, he dreamed of Vack burying his face in his massive hairy gut, moaning as he came inside him again and again and again, telling him how handsome he was, how masculine, his hands constantly massaging his swollen belly and firm pecs, tracing circles in his pelt of chest hair and kissing his nipples, making teasing jokes about how he was getting too big for the mines and would just have to be rolled down to a brewery to chug ale as a taster for the rest of his days and-

He grinned as he slowly came awake, and then grunted in aggravation as he was just in time to feel his glands relieve themselves of their backlog of semen, the entire reason "mattress pads for divers" were so absorbent, though they never actually *said* that was the reason.

That wasn't the real problem, though. He'd dreamed he was Skidsen, not that he dove into him, or became him, but that he was him, and it never felt unnatural. "Red flag for P.I.D., check. Dammit."

It meant no Skidsen for another few weeks, and probably having to put some RL time into what he hated: looking in a mirror. It was the best, and cheapest way to fight the onset, and he could hardly find work if he was presenting himself as a Dwarven bloater to clients, and bloaters weren't the rich type who'd pay to bloat someone else.

So he got up, showered, looked over his body as he washed it down, feeling more disgusted with himself than usual as he muttered under the loud spray of the water, "This is your arm. This is your chest. This is your leg. These are your hands..." He went through every part half-heartedly, figuring that would be enough to avoid a look in the mirror.

Shortly after he punched his codes into the dispenser to await his nutri-sticks, still naked as he was just going to put on his netsuit anyway. After a minute the machine dropped two thick sticks into the bin, which he picked up and started chewing, sticking his tongue out shortly afterward as the taste always left something to be desired, nutri-sticks originally having been used as a construction material, he'd heard.

"Al? Unpack the file that Vack sent and prep it in tester mode, loading space only, start logs with deep data sweeps to cover the unpack and install. And..." Fuck it, he figured. "Load it into Skidsen, it'll be the last time I'm him for a while, might as well give him a good sendoff. Load Skidsen in barebones, no mods other than the beta."

He glanced down and had to smirk, seeing he was already erect in anticipation, but he couldn't tell if it was the dive into Skidsen or the beta test that was doing it. The nutri-sticks were finished soon after while he put on his netsuit, everything running much faster considering that he wasn't actually diving. "Okay, Al, diving in."

He pulled the hood over his head and for the briefest of moments regretted it. When the dive commenced there was no phase-in, no pixilation, everything was in ultra-definition, life-immersion levels, and as he looked down at himself, the detail on Skidsen's body was so high it looked like...

He ran his hands over his body, his fingers running trails through his chest hair, over the gentle swell of his belly, petted the expert braids in his beard, and he staggered, because a bare-bones Skidsen was also a nude one, as naked as he had been before he dived in and...

Had he dived in? This felt too... too *real* to not be a dive. "Al, bring up a reflective plane." He smiled, as his voice had the Fantasy-Celt tinge to it that rumbled through his chest, and when the mirror appeared, he felt relief as he gazed on his reflection. "What was I worried about?" He hefted his belly with both hamhock hands. "I'm Skidsen Stoutcask, and I'm one damned handsome Dwarf."

Too bad he couldn't give himself a tug or three, but work had to be done. "Bring up the mod, Al, let's see what it can do."

The controls appeared as a touch-panel hanging two-dimensionally in the air, and he turned his gaze this way and that to confirm its tracking, that it would move in synch with his vision. He poked various spots of the menu that weren't applied to anything with varying force, checking for bugs and backdoors, the VI recording the process and results. It was boring work, but it had to be done before the fun stuff could be tested.

The "fun stuff" was of course the bloating scripts, and so far there was only one. He chewed his lip eagerly, stroking his belly with one hand while he tapped the "BEGIN" button with the other, knowing it was going to be perfect, that he was likely going to spunk without even touching himself by the end of it, that this program was going to...

Update.

And update.

And patch.

And update again.

"Damn it, Vack, you could've mentioned this," he grumbled as several forms were autofilled, basic legal jargon that usually informed beta testers that it wasn't a finished program and he couldn't file suit if it didn't perform to expectations. Various warnings had to be clicked through as well to inform him that it was best run from a pure loading space, etc., precautions he'd already taken. He felt a bit warm in the belly while all it went on, which faded once he pushed out a hearty belch.

Skidsen was concerned at first, as belching was usually part of a routine, and feeling real warmth inside his body wasn't a feature of even life-immersion, but that feeling faded once he noticed his middle was a bit wider. "Ah, just the script starting, I see. Should take note of the body warmth, maybe it interacts with the suit to..."

His eyes rolled back as his tummy gurgled and pushed out another few inches, hanging further over his waist, causing him to spread his legs to even the load on his gait. He was thankful that Al was running deep data sweeps, mostly because vocal commentary was soon only going to be grunts, groans, and moans, as well as the occasional...

"URRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPP!" The Dwarf fell on his ass at that expulsion, his breathing ragged, his body shuddering from bliss. "Th-the script's linkin' bloat protocols to fuck-protocols, makin' fuck-mods unnecessary for bloaters." He continued, rubbing his belly that surged forth another three inches. "Pace is jerky but... Uhnnnnnnnnn... Gut growth's linked to... to..." He fell onto his back, exhausted, his brain convinced he'd just cum enough times to fill a reservoir even though nothing had even touched his groin. "Pleasure's intense, might need to be... uhnnnnn... ratcheted down for newbies. Aw fuck, ah might cum meself t' death."

Another belch and his tummy obscured the view of his lower body, and the warmth inside his stomach was strong, but not hot or painful. He had vague flashes of a satyr with a giant penis, a man with a heavily gravid belly lounging by a fireplace, but they were soon gone, his mind unable to comprehend everything. Was it glitching? How would...

A thundering belch escaped him, and shortly afterward everything went black, warning bleeps going rapidly in his ear. Something was covering his face, and he nearly tore at it to get it off, a muted gray ceiling above him, a big black box to his left with red lights flashing on it. He was in a black bodysuit, and for a moment he didn't know where he was.

"Warning. Warning. Safety protocols activated at..." An exact time was listed, but Skidsen ignored it, it was just a string of numbers.

His throat felt sore, his whole body felt unnaturally warm, and his grandiose gut had diminished to a mere paunch. He twitched as something seemed to spark in his belly, and when he burped there was an odd smell to it. Apparently the scripts had been too much for his suit to handle and the safety protocols yanked him out before the stimulation of his brain outright killed him.

"Ah'right, what th' fuck happened?" His voice sounded... weird, like a bad impression of himself. "Feel like ah'm missin' somethin' an'- AHHHHHHHHHHH!"

It was like a lightning bolt had struck him square in the belly. The pain was intense, like a drill going straight through his body, but thankfully it only lasted a matter of seconds, quickly transitioning into a searing heat that soon calmed into a muted warmth, leaving him gasping and heaving his chest to regain his breath. Once he recovered enough, he looked down at his stomach, still a slight paunch instead of the dome of hard-packed fat and muscle he knew was supposed to be there, but that wasn't all, his body seemed stretched and emaciated in comparison, his hands clad in black but clearly smaller than they were supposed to be.

He closed his eyes, trying to work through it, was this one of his roles? It seemed vaguely familiar, truthfully, but everything felt so *wrong*, especially his legs, which looked too long and far too gangly. When he touched his face, it was narrow, thin, and... "Where th' FUCK is mah beard!?!"

He bellowed in rage, the very symbol of his Dwarfhood shorn and gone and... He took another deep breath. "Nay, nay, calm down, Skidsen. It's jus' a role, an' you'll have yer beard back when ya surface." After a minute he did manage to settle himself, mostly while poking and prodding his clearly insufficient body. Was this the mod he was testing? He vaguely remembered that he was supposed to test it stripped down and barebones, and he couldn't think of anything more barebones than his current appearance or environment.

He double-checked the box next to him, the blinking red lights now off, and it occurred to him that was likely a stripped down version of Al, the VI that was helping him run the beta test. More things clicked the more he thought about them, though the memories were muddled between himself and this... role... he was diving into at the moment. He'd definitely have to cut back on this role in particular, otherwise he might start believing he wasn't Skidsen Stoutcask at all but... *this*. He shuddered at the idea, and tapped the box a few times. "Ah'right, Al, let's get it goin' again, less time ah'm lookin' like this th' better."

There was no response from the box, but Skidsen did feel a series of jolts in his belly, which soon reduced into a gentle ticking accompanied by an odd sensation of pressure, as if a hose were trained on his navel and fired a jet of water directly at it in pulses that were in synchronicity with the ticking noise. He looked down at his middle, and immediately grinned, as the mod appeared to be working, his belly definitely starting to push outward, albeit rather slowly. The view elicited a few aroused chuckles as he rubbed the gentle swell, his body starting to take the girth it was meant to have.

He grunted, moving his hips, his erection still trapped by the bodysuit, but the fabric groaned as his middle pushed out further, clearly not meant to contain a belly his size, which brought a wide grin to his face, as bursting out of clothes was a favored kink among bloaters. The only problem he had was how tired he was feeling, like he hadn't slept or eaten in days, which likely meant that the mod was taxing to resources. A shame, because it felt amazing, and the realism was astounding, though he'd tell Vack to dial back the pain in the beginning.

He still loved it though, and gave it the bloater seal of approval by moaning the word every bloater longed to repeat, "Mooooorrrrrrrrreeee..." There was no response from the mod or the VI other than the bloat continuing at its slow and steady pace, and he grunted it again and again even as the suit began to grow uncomfortably tight, at which point it was shouted rather than moaned. "More! More! MORE!"

He arched his back, feeling sparks jumping off the suit as the seams gave in, his gut losing feelings of compression, ripping and tearing sounds filling his ears as his belly came free into the air, far larger than he remembered his proud Dwarven belly. It was enough to push him over the edge, splattering his underbelly with splashes of semen, though in his throes of bliss from the clothes-busting he noticed something odd.

Part of the suit was still suck to his belly, covering his navel, and he strained to lean forward to brush it away, only to feel a definite shock of pain from the contact. He winced, seeing a cable attached on the far side... that was still hooked into the black box on the floor. Was his gut... hooked into the computer? How was that even...

He fell back from another jolt of pleasure, the pressure and ticking beginning again, his gut surging into realms reserved for fantasy bloaters, his lower body obscured from view, occasional flashes of images in his brain that quickly faded. The warmth had returned as well, primarily in his skin, which felt rubbery and elastic to his touch, and strangely enough, he could swear he saw an intermittent flash of light just under the skin.

But the pleasure, oh the constant bliss of his stomach surging forward, getting bigger, bigger, he even grunted the word as he observed his middle passing a circumference. "Bigger... Bigger! MORE! MORE!" His eyes rolled as he climaxed again, then again.

Then again.

He regained consciousness some time later, his legs spread apart, pinned under the sheer weight of his belly and feeling like he had to take the biggest piss ever taken even by a Dwarf. His gut was several feet wide, gentle lights pulsing within that should have concerned him, but he figured them as an elaborate effect of the mod. It took great effort, but he managed to lean forward and caress his belly, the skin feeling tight and pulled taut now, warm against his lips when he kissed it.

Skidsen stroked his proud, massive, titanic tummy, and whispered the word all bloaters long to say...

"More..."

***

"Astonishing, simply astonishing," Adams remarked while reviewing the data. "There are how many terabytes in there?"

"It's already over a petabyte, sir, and it'll max out probably around two." The technician had found it was easier to go with it. The morning guy didn't seem to mind observations, but then again, the morning guy always went through an entire box of tissues during his shift. "The mod successfully forged the data connection and the nanites took it from there. Thanks to the data from Subject Mesa, the nanites can now repurpose tissue into, well, data storage in this case."

"And the process only took a day. Astonishing..." He then glanced at the tech. "We have the subject's consent on file, yes? As well as his verbal confirmation just now?"

"Yes, Dr. Adams, but..."

"But?" He set his jaw, facing the technician fully.

The tech swallowed. "But even with that much storage, it'll be full in four weeks, and we need more than that."

Adams chuckled. "Do you really think he's the only bloater out in the rivers?"

The tech shook his head quickly, exhaling in relief. "I'll get to work on, uh, leaking that beta, sir."

"Fantastic. With adequate data storage, the Institute can finally get some *real* work done."