Chapter 1 - The New World

In the far future, life has changed quite a lot. It’s still recognizable—There are still jobs to do, vacations to take, laws to lay down. And there are still those who would refute those laws—criminals, those who the government looks down on and, more often than not, strings up for their crimes.
 
In many ways, things were simpler. And in other ways, far more complicated. With the globalization bubble of the 2400’s, all nations were abolished and united under a single conglomerate world government. It’s not as corrupt as it sounds. When the government was formed, typically life stayed the same for the average citizen. There is no One World Leader, only a single enormous council formed by representatives of every region around the globe, a vast Caucus or Senate. Laws were easier to pass, but were vetted more heavily. Everyone was connected to the internet. The barriers between countries and peoples began to dissolve. Over the course of hundreds of years, all cultures slowly mixed together into a semi-uniform one. It was accepted as the new way of the world. People became complacent.
 
For Christine Denali, the lower-class life was all she’d ever known. She was born poor. Her mother died when she was 15. Her father had left when she was just 8. In the Undercity, Christine would have starved to death if not for one saving ray of light: The Undernet. A vast array of interconnected computers that lurked just below the Extranet, the more traditional, much more legal network. Together they formed the internet at large. The vast majority of the population were only connected to the extranet. Only those with criminal connections could access the undernet and all its (very illegal) opportunities. 
 
But traditional desktop PCs and pocket-sized tablets had been replaced with the next generation of computation. The internet was even less of a physical thing than it was in the 2000’s. At birth, anyone born into privilege and class was surgically implanted with a small Smart AI Chip, essentially a brain-mounted ID card and computer. The chip was bio-organic, and would continue to grow with the owner. It was often found that people who lived for very long periods of time (A century or more) would leave so much of an impression on their SAI chip that they continued to live, in a way, even after physical death. These chips were considered to be true General Artificial Intelligence. The debate still rages over whether these self-aware GAIs should be considered human beings with human rights. As a silicone chip, the only thing they need to keep living is a low-level electric charge, on the scale of a simple potato battery, which brings a new meaning to the idea of someone being a vegetable. Scattered all around the globe are vast databases with zettabytes of memory storing hundreds of thousands of GAI intelligences. Thanks to the internet, they've become immortal. Any human or GAI can take a physical form on the new internet, and can customize it to their exact liking. 
 
Christine Denali was about the last person on earth who would ever rub shoulders with the immortals, but she'd spent a lot of time in their heads.
 
When they discovered the flaw, it was far too late to go back. An ingenious hacker who called himself the Neuromancer (in honor of a 21st century sci-fi book) managed the first Total Control hack into an SAIC and literally controlled someone’s actions remotely. In essence, it was like being a co-pilot in your own body, unable to take action or fight back against the hacker. After all, they had a direct uplink to your brain. Neuromancer refused to call himself a criminal, even as he hacked into the brains of presidents, secret service operatives, and CEOs and forced them to tell all of their dirty little secrets to the population. The resulting political and economic backlash was responsible for the Great Market Crash of 2892, and brain-jacking was made illegal under the highest laws in the country, a capital offense with only one verdict: Execution under treason. Usually, by hanging or decapitation: Very dehumanizing ways to die. Sometimes brain-jackers had to be executed while they were still inside their target, if it was judged that they were likely to endanger the host's life anyways. A brain-jacker was "trapped" in the body of their host until the uplink was forcibly removed by the chip after, typically, one hour. If their host died for any reason, they were dead too. Sometimes even the host was expendable if it meant killing a notorious criminal.
 
Neuromancer was never caught, but his presence was still felt to everyone. It’d been hundreds of years since the first Market Crash, often expressed as “The Great Bluescreen” or “Nightfall” after the confusion and criminality that came after. It was the second Dark Ages. Nowadays, all of these terms are used interchangeably to refer to any world-scale devastation event. There is no more war—That is, no more open warfare involving trained militants and combat scenarios. There are still plenty of video games depicting ancient wars, and a popular series titled “Call To Duty: Contemporary Warfare.” 
 
And with the SAI chips implanted in over 99% of the population, it was easier than ever for the government to keep track of people and stamp out crime. SAI chips would automatically log any infractions with the local police department under a protocol called Smiling Sister. 
 
In fact, the only hardened criminals who still existed were forced to use bogus “cracked” versions of their SAI chips. People who were born poor and were never given the chance to move up. People having illegitimate children who were not delivered in hospitals, who didn’t receive their official SAI chips. People like Christine Denali.
 
And so the underclass has developed an incredible form of information warfare. Stealing from the rich and giving to the poor. Righting wrongs done by the government, and punishing those who escape justice. Or sometimes people just fighting to keep their head above water and put food on the table. People like Christine Denali.
 
* * *
 
Christine woke up with a yawn and a scratch. She turned to the side and pulled the covers over her body, snuggling deeper into the warmth. As with most hackers, she was a night owl. It was 2 PM when she finally crawled out of bed like a slug and slipped into some fake-fur moccasins. She walked naked to the bathroom and shoved her toothbrush past her lips, sleepily pawing away the foul taste in her mouth. She’d brush again later, with toothpaste, once she’d had breakfast. She wandered to the kitchen and started to boil water for her Simu-Coffee. They say the real stuff tasted better, but she’d more than gotten used to this stuff. She grabbed a dirty mug and quickly washed it out with some water and a spongy dishcloth, before pushing the lip of the mug shakily under the spigot. Splrrrrrt! She grumbled softly, waiting the six seconds it took to fill the cup before drawing it to her lips and taking a deep swig. The bitter liquid filled her mouth, soaked her tongue, cascaded down her throat in a glorious black stream. “Bliss,” she moaned, scratching her hip idly as she waited for her mouth to cool down again. In short order, she glugged down the whole thing.
 
Refreshed, Christine wiped her nose on her arm. The air quality in the undercity was fucking terrible. People generally didn’t live past 30 unless they got themselves the kind of job that they could do from their homes, or at least somewhere with an air purifier. Christine was too poor to afford either. The apartment had three rooms and was about 400 square feet. But that didn’t bother her one bit. She coughed bitterly, like someone with smoker’s lung, and drooled some black phlegm into her palm. “Gross.” She put it under the tap and washed it off.
 
Then the day started, without so much as a shower or a piss. She didn't like water, it tasted funny. Not like the simulated water you could get on the internet. Instead she typically fed herself intravenously, allowing her to stay jacked in for days at a time. There was a track mark in her arm, scarred and bumpy, that would probably never heal. It was hideous, and a good indicator that Christine was deep in business with the wrong kind of people. Long-sleeved shirts made up her wardrobe, for those rare times she stepped outside her shack.
 
Christine sat down in the small plastic chair that was her desk, and closed her eyes, concentrating, attuning her brain waves to the cracked SAIC. There was a sharp sting in her prefrontal lobe that coincided with the attempted uplink, like the banshee screech of dial-up internet. A simple user interface popped up. The data feed was being pumped directly into her optic nerve, so it wouldn't matter if she had her eyes open or closed. The brain is nothing but a machine that reads inputs, processes them, and outputs human consciousness; it can be tricked as easily as any other machine. Christine opened her eyes, but instead of seeing her dingy underground shack, she saw the undernet. Her vision exploded into a trillion colors as information flooded her brain, and her weak human meat tried desperately to sort that information in an efficient way. Her muscles tightened, her toes curled and fingers jerked as small electrical impulses mapped out the contours of her body and generated a virtual avatar for her to inhabit. Typically they were based on your real-life physiology, but of course everyone had their own preferences and could change themselves accordingly.
 
Her avatar was a slim, latino-looking woman with almond-shaped eyes and sleek brown hair. A nose piercing and a snakelike tattoo on her upper arm. The word WINTERMUTE – R floated above her head in glowing blue script. Her internet name, in honor of the Neuromancer who had virtually created her way of life, was borrowed from the same book as he’d taken his. Unlike the legal portions of the internet, the undernet had no identification other than what you chose to display. She wasn’t Christine Denali here, just Wintermute, which she liked a lot better anyway. The R stood for her profession as a hacker, a sort-of code letter to discreetly sell your services when in public. 
 
She was standing in her virtual house, a far cry from the apartment she was physically in. It was a two-floor townhouse with blue tile roof and a big green yard. Data storage on the internet was virtually infinite (no pun intended), so buying up "land" was pretty cheap compared to the 2000's. You just had to pony up for enough RAM to support whatever you wanted built. RAM was still reasonably expensive, but Christine had more than enough ill-gotten wealth to cover it. Well, she didn’t consider it ill-gotten. It was more like “Liberated” from people with more money than they knew what to do with anyway. People who could afford to have a real mansion despite the absurd cost of owning land these days. People who could afford real animals, have real families, make real love.
 
Real love, what was that anyway?
 
Christine sighed in pleasure and spun around in a circle, clapping her hands against her thighs and smiling at the bright, digitized sunlight streaming in through the windows. It was a fine new day. Yesterday there had been rain. She could set the weather to anything she liked of course, but she was one of those who liked to see what the Random Number Generator had rolled up today. A few months ago there had been hail, and she stepped out onto the street only to receive a few cuts and plenty of bruises before she finally found an umbrella in her inventory. In this part of the undernet it was usually sunny, despite the name. Christine had more than enough living in the dark in real life.
 
"<How are you today, Wintermute?>" said the Simple-AI installed in her home. The voice was smooth and mothering, designed specifically to calm the nerves.
 
"I'm fine," she said dully. It was typical not to give up too much of yourself, even your feelings, to ensure you couldn't be tracked back to real life. 
 
"<Are you hungry?>"
 
"Computer, shut off," she said slowly and clearly, and was relieved by the beep of the accepted command.  "Not in the mood."
 
She said she was fine, but that wasn't a good description. She was happy, if unsatisfied. Everyone goes through a state in their life as a teenager that they grow thick skin, and tell themselves they're happy with their lives. Most of them are lying. As it turns out, the brain is surprisingly good at lying to itself, and will usually accept the first thing it's told about any subject as gospel truth. Christine was old enough to feel the fatigue of perpetually living with thick skin. She'd tried the whole cybersex thing, you could find cheap sex on any street corner. But she'd never really connected with anyone on an emotional level. Her mother and father were both distant and they were gone now anyway. Christine was 24 last month. She’d gone pretty much her entire life without emotional guidance.
 
So the first thing she did was pop on the television. She was a total news junkie. With the undernet and the real world to report on, there was always something interesting happening. She crashed into her suede couch and smiled as the windows darkened, shutting out the outside light and transforming into a huge TV screen. A lot of people controlled their electronics with their thoughts, but Christine had set everything up to only respond verbally so that nothing would be reading her mind in case she thought the wrong thing at the wrong time. Being undercover was hard! Take it slow were the words she lived by, and that motto had saved her life a dozen times in her career. Catching traps that others wouldn't. Outsmarting seemingly-impenetrable Logic Firewalls by simply continuing to question them long after any ordinary person would have thrown up their hands in frustration.
 
The massive screen lit up bright white, and the last few seconds of a commercial finished playing. It was the one about women sitting around the table talking about their kids, and one of the women was embarrassed because her kid had failed a science exam or something. The commercial was trying to sell you memory-enhancement surgery, an upgrade for the SAIC. Christine always wondered why they bothered to advertize such expensive commodities when most people couldn't afford them, but then, they did the same thing with fifty-thousand-credit cars.
 
"Live feed of the television," Christine said, and the world melted away from the middle into a milky white, like glue spilled onto a painting. The programming was now being pumped right into her optic nerve. It wasn't 2-dimensional anymore, the television programming came alive around her, although she couldn't really move. They were using these new 360-degree cameras to record things so that people could move their heads around and feel like they were really there. They could pump the visual feed, but it was still a stationary camera for the most part. Christina was there in the station, the only person, the guest of honor being spoken to personally by whoever was talking. Very immersive. Blisteringly-high resolution.
 
There was another commercial. Not surgery this time, but pills. Vigara had come out with a new edition of erection pill designed to work in seconds. A man and a women were dancing around in a field covered with roses, then they fell down, and the field had become water, and they sank into the blue deeps together in a tight embrace. Then the Vigara logo flashed up on the screen. It was as impenetrable as any of their advertizements were. There wasn't any nudity on regular television, although you could install mods to make everyone in a show naked if you wanted to. The Doctor Carpenter show was a lot more interesting when his John Dandy was showing. Christine sighed, and dismissed the television, figuring it was just commercials anyway. Time for a shower.
 
In an eyeblink, she found herself on the Grecian coast. Well, a simulated version of course. The water crashed realistically up against the rocks, sprinkling her with wetness. She stripped herself bare. There was nobody around, it was all self-contained, all in her head. She was dressed in a skimpy bathing suit which she took a few moments to peel herself out of. There was something satisfying about getting naked. The Latino girl's bronzed skin embraced the sun as it glistened off the wet rocks and sent a warm heat onto her face. She smiled and closed her eyes, tilting her head up.
 
The rocks had an ultra-realistic texture that felt good on her bare feet. You couldn't see the pixels unless you got really, really close and tried to find them. She reached out and bent her fingers, like grabbing onto an imaginary doorknob, then twisted it to the side. Then, although it had been a sunny day without a cloud in the sky, it began to rain heavily. The water was steaming-hot and relaxed her skin, and she let out a moan of pleasure as it encompassed her body. It was a shower, of sorts! She held out her hand and a dollop of shampoo trailed out of the sky, splattering down into her palm. She always used a ton. She started to hum to herself as she scrunched her fingers through her hair, soaking it through with suds, then pulling it straight, and repeating the process twice. Showers were magical. She covered every inch of her body with soap, shampoo, or conditioner, even peeling back her foreskin and cleaning underneath. Meanwhile, the rocks on the beach below vibrated slightly, giving her feet a very pleasant pedi-massage. She reached up to her chest, and cupped her full, firm breasts. She'd given herself D-cups, nothing too crazy-huge. No back problems to worry about here, but she liked to appear natural. A lot of people went for the tarted-up bimbo look which turned her off immensely. In everything she did, Christine tried her best to be perfectly average so that she would never attract any attention. Last week, INTERPOL had busted a high-level ring of brain-jackers who had disguised themselves as street people living underneath a bridge. They were brought down by their own commitment to going unnoticed, and in doing so made themselves conspicuous. 
 
Her nipples were bright pink, and standing up nice and hard under the torrential rainfall. As she massaged some soap between her legs, gently fingering her asshole, her cock stood up and water started to pour off of the tip. The feeling of soapy, smooth balls in her fingers kept her attention, and she jiggled them for a good long while before finishing her shower. Gradually, exploration became outright fondling. She'd crafted her avatar to be incredibly sexy. Everything sold better with tits on it, even hacking services. A gentle moan came from her lips as she wrapped her fingers around her cock and began to jerk, coaxing some subtle life into it. Slowly it stood upwards, adding some angle to the dangle, and she pushed her finger against the space between her cock and balls, huffing at the stimulation. A nice hard cock in no time. She was definitely going to have to get laid later. She let her penis fall from her fingers, softening as it did, landing on her balls with a deflated flop. She reached out and turned the shower off, before shifting her perceptions back to the undernet.
 
She was still sitting on the couch, and her skin was glistening-clean. She had to smile at the result. Once again she closed her eyes, and this time tuned into the news: The news, at least, were usually commercial-free. "Typical," she groaned. They were still talking about the brain-jacker bust last week. Taking control of someone else's body was seen as a fundamental violation of human rights, a worse crime than taking someone's life. Christine shivered as she thought about it, and the cock in her light skirt shivered along with her, still a little revved-up.
 
"Breaking: The trial has concluded," said the gorgeous newscaster. Christine raised her eyebrow. That was quick. Interesting.
 
"Deliberation was swift and decisive." She settled the papers in front of her with a satisfied clack, and her breasts shook in her red top. Sex had lost a lot of its taboo nature in society over the last thousand years, and most newscasters were female, most of them with supple bodies and juicy tits that were an extra incentive to get people to sit and watch.
 
Idly, she wondered if the newscaster lady had a penis. Christine had chosen to take on an androgynous form a long time ago. She always felt it suited her better. Not exactly that she was transgender, although there was perhaps a bit of gender dysphoria—She never felt quite at home in her own body, preferring her avatar. She was quite average at 6 inches, although of course many people went much much larger than that for kink's sake. She found herself biting her lip at the thought of the newslady swinging a foot-long dong and ramming her backdoor with it. Her asshole even clenched a little bit. 
 
"The verdict: Execution, for all parties. The event is scheduled later for today…"
 
Christine was taken aback. So soon? She wet her lips, thinking about the last time there was a jacker-bust. These 5 were the biggest bust they'd had in a long time, and the government was taking every opportunity it could to fluff itself up. Later today! She couldn't hide her excitement. There was just something amazing about watching people in the same business as her who had failed. And of course, it served as a great reminder of what she was risking every time she did it. Total rush!
 
It wasn't for a few hours yet. She pulled her digi-phone out of her inventory to pass the time, tapping away at Happy Bird 494. They made a new version every year and you had to pay full price for it, but she'd heard people say that they actually changed a few lines of code from the 493 edition so she went for it. After a few dozen rounds, she got bored, and abused an exploit to give herself the maximum score possible, at the integer overflow of a few billion. The game immediately crashed trying to display her inhuman accomplishment on the high-score tables, and she ran her hands through her hair, sighing in boredom. She should've just gotten to work. Now it seemed like she wasn't going to get anything done.
 
Then she perked up. Oh yeah, getting laid!
 
As easily as Christine had teleported herself into her living room, over to Greece for a sinful shower, she teleported downtown into Athetos Street, a red-light district. The sky was dark, but the air was lit-up with gaudy red fluorescents. It also happened to be one of the highest-concentrations of shemales in the undernet, which is exactly why Christine loved it here. Athetos was as good as a porn-site in the 2000's. You could just pick a girl and go to town. Most of them were virtual, but they sure felt real.
 
She made her way forwards, swaying her hips. She was wearing a green skirt and blue shirt that showed off her shoulders and chest. Half the people she saw, she recognized. That was how connected she was here. A simulated dancer reached out and tickled Christine's jaw, but she just smiled and walked away. She wanted the real thing. 
 
There was a new establishment that had just opened last week. At first, it seemed like a fairly standard titty bar and strip-club. The trick was, the viewing area was divided in half. The back side got to stare at the dancer's ass, these were the domme girls who wanted to plough her. At the same time, the people in the front could see her cock flopping around, these were for subby girls who wanted to get dicked. The idea was that you would get yourself excited by watching the dancers, and then find someone in the other half and go into a back room. Christine had done it a bunch of times, and it was pretty great, on either side of the line. But today she was feeling a little vulnerable, maybe because of the jacker-bust, and was craving a little dick. Or a lot of dick.
 
The dancer was familiar to her. Sara, a woman with long purple hair and blue eyeshadow. She was decked-out in a purple fetish outfit too, something that kept her breasts tantalizingly hidden while exposing her crotch. Her balls and cock both swayed gently as she danced to the music, moving her hips right to left while tucking her hands behind her head and sighing in fake pleasure. There was a steel cockring built into her outfit that was constricting her dick and making it throb like crazy, turning it quite invitingly pink at the same time. Pink like a pussy. Christine settled down at an empty table and ordered a drink from the simple touch-menu built into the glass. Shortly after, a completely naked woman strutted up to her table and dropped a lime cosmo there, lingering briefly to caress the back of Christine's hand. She barely even noticed. The girl was probably simulated anyway, and it wouldn't hurt her feelings. She was concentrating on Sara, the gorgeous dancer with an east-european face and that juicy purple hair. She propped herself up on her elbow as she sipped her drink. 
 
Time passed, as she wanted it to. She watched Sara's dick bounce and bob, her erection trailing just a half-second behind the rest of her body. Sara was dripping, too. There was a vibrating dildo in her asshole that was stimulating her prostate like crazy. White cream oozed from her tip, droplets running down her bulging urethra or simply splattering to the floor. The dildo was kind of Sara's thing. What set her apart from the other girls. Christine smiled and her eyelids sank, feeling quite a bit drunk from the cosmo and its refills. The second time, the waitress-girl actually pressed up against Christine's side, letting her feel the heat of her cock on her thigh, and whispering into her ear. Christine had to shove her off just to pay attention to the dancing. Fucking commercial droids always trying to sell you something. 
 
Sara eventually became tired, and retreated offstage to a chorus of applause. Christine watched as a few of the girls blew their load in the last few seconds, edging just as long as they possibly could. Anyone who wanted to masturbate was required to wear a condom just to catch the spunk so it wouldn't get all over the carpet. That kind of thing would never have been accepted in ancient strip-joints, and Christine felt a buzz of satisfaction to be born when she was, freed from a lot of social stigma. Another girl came out to take Sara's place, but she wasn't Christine's type, so she paid for her drink and made to leave. Nobody had approached her, and she hadn't seen anyone on the other side of the theater she was interested in either.
 
She was almost out of the club when Sara caught up to her. "Hey, girlfriend!" the dancer said brightly, pushing herself against Christine's back. "I haven't seen you in here all week, are you going already?" she pouted.
 
"This is definitely changing my mind," she smiled, tilting her head to the side and letting Sara kiss her along the neck. She did so quite happily, licking the droplets of sweat off her skin before letting out a satisfied moan.
 
"Let's go backstage, I wanna fuck you so bad. I saw you watching, it made me so hot… I was dancing just for you."
 
The compliment made her blush. "I bet you say that to all the girls," she smiled, and wrapped her arm around Sara's waist, allowing her to lead her backstage again. Sara was no longer wearing her fetish suit, she had been getting changed into a slightly-less-revealing outfit when she saw Christine taking off. She'd only managed to put on a skirt and white lace stockings before rushing out to meet her.
 
It didn't take long before Christine found herself being pushed up against the wall, moaning in need as Sara pushed her cock between her thighs. Sara was immense and she'd been dreaming of this dick for fifteen minutes now, just staring at it and salivating. She wrapped a leg around Sara's waist as she pulled her in for a deep and loving kiss, without passion but with plenty of lust as Sara's two-inch-long tongue squirmed into Christine's mouth, making her hard instantly. She pressed her D-cups to Sara's B's, letting the woman feel the softness of her bosom. Such a thing was guaranteed to make any dickgirl crazy, and Sara was no exception. She pulled away from the kiss and shoved her face between her titties, shaking her head around in gleeful, childlike bliss at the feeling of her jiggling chest. She came up for air for a moment before diving back in, this time licking Christine's cleavage with her tongue and leaving a trail of saliva that felt almost as good as soapy balls. "Fuck me," she gasped, her asshole clenching with the need to breed, despite her physiology.
 
"Gladly," Sara breathed, pushing Christine down so that she was standing with her legs spread and her hands resting on the black couch. Doggystyle, an obviously animalistic position, something Christine didn't appreciate much but Sara had her say too. She pushed her heavy cockhead against the girl's tight backdoor and pried it apart with some force, making her grit her teeth and moan. The sensation was painful, pinching, but so worth it as her cock slipped into her colon and then went deeper. Her big dick slimmed slightly past the glans, and she was so hard that she was virtually locked inside her sphincter until she grew soft enough to pull out, and that meant cumming and cumming. That spade-shaped cockhead wasn't just for show. Christine ground her teeth together as she felt Sara rooting around in her asshole, stretching her anus out like it was a rubber band. It ground against her ribbed tunnel, making her squirm in pleasure, especially as Sara rubbed against her prostate. 
 
"God!" she swore, resting a hand on her hip, the other one still sinking into the couch. "Could you be any more rough?"
 
"I could try," joked Sara, tossing her purple hair and making it shimmer. "Sorry, will do." She managed to control herself, tilting her cock upwards, letting her precum spill down her shaft, lubricating it partially for the next bit. Then she pulled out until her mushroom locked in place, and continued thrusting a few times, slowly and gently, to soak her whole cock in her slimy juice. "There, any better?" she said enterprisingly, hoping to get back to it. "Your ass always feels amazing…"
 
"I'm glad," Christine hissed, her eyes clenched shut. In her mind she focused on the pain, gathered it up into a big ball, and then threw it into the trash. That simple exercise made her feel better, and she started to swirl her hips around, milking Sara's cock into her ass while her own dick dangled down between her thighs, mercilessly-hard and aching for attention. She couldn't resist wrapping her fingers around it and giving herself a few needy jerks, while panting out lustfully, "Your cock is amazing too. I feel like you're gonna make me gape…" She bit down hard on her lower lip thinking about that. Being fucked so roughly that her muscles just quit working and her asshole gaped open for everyone to see the fresh cum inside. Right then and there she decided to try it. She tried to relax her muscles, and although they automatically clenched and squeezed when a particularly-potent burst of sensation lanced through her body, she was doing her best to keep her anus loose.
 
"Whoa… that feels… weird…" Sara cooed, suddenly able to sink down to the hilt in Christine's asshole. It tightened up thanks to the rush of pleasure. "No, do that again! It felt… amazing…" she said in awe, her jaw dropping open as Christine loosened her muscles and allowed her to sloppily fuck her butthole. It wasn't so much the argument of tightness vs looseness, it was simply the fact that Sara could effortlessly slide in and out, greased-up by her own jizz, with only the flutter of grip on her firm, thick rod. As a result, her orgasm built very slowly, but was absolutely phenomenal when it happened.
 
"Ch! Cumming!" she moaned, her eyes squeezing tightly as she threw her head downwards, pressing her jaw into her neck. Rope after thick rope of cocksludge blasted into her love-tunnel, soaking every inch. Cum dripped from the ceiling, oozed down the walls, splattered into the pool of semen on the bottom. Her prostate was twitching wildly and her cock was firing off into her hand as she jerked herself to completion, with Sara balls-deep in her asshole and fucking her hard despite her orgasm.
 
"Oh gawwwwd," she squealed, grabbing fistfuls of the couch in front of her. "Yessss, fill me, fill me up with your cum… I want it all…" she moaned, gyrating her hips, milking that fat cock into her bowels. The hot feeling of nut-gravy slopping around inside her was absolutely heavenly, and made her feel like a real slut. 
 
"You can have every drop, bitch," Sara grinned, coming down off her high slowly, running her fingers through her silken hair. Her cock was still gushing, still twitching, still pouring its hot soup into Christine's body. Eventually it slowed, and then finally stopped, leaving both girls a panting, sweaty mess.
 
"That was lovely," Sara cooed, sitting on the chair. Christine sat on her lap, pressing her butt down right on her cock. "How was it for you?"
 
"Incredible as always, stud," Christine murmured, slipping from her seat onto her knees, taking Sara's cock into her mouth and cleaning it with her tongue. She didn't want to waste a drop! Her tongue curled around the glans, flicking against the sensitive parts underneath, rubbing against the tight little bit of skin that held her foreskin to her crown. 
 
"I love it when you call me that. It's so hot…" She trailed off. "I wish you'd come around here more often. I miss you when you're not around."
 
Christine pursed her lips. Somehow, having sex with this woman was easier than talking about her feelings with her. "Well, I'll try to see you again soon. It's just complicated, you know?"
 
"What's complicated?" Sara said honestly, leaning in and taking Christine's hand. "You… you liked it, right?"
 
"No no, it's not about that. I love the sex," she breathed, trying to meet her eyes, but looking away almost immediately. "It's just… I've never been too close with anybody before, you know?"
 
"You've never had a girlfriend?" Sara said sweetly, squeezing Christine's hand and giving her a welcoming smile with those gorgeous lips. "Would you like to go out to dinner with me sometime?"
 
Her breath caught hard, and her throat bobbed. "Uh… I'll call you!" she said quickly, gathering herself up and fleeing from Sara, her heart beating hard. She sighed feverishly, her frustration palpable. That was the last time she was going to be able to go back to that club.
 
* * *
 
As she left the club, a small nudge on the side of her consciousness alerted her that someone had sent her a message. It was almost like an audible "Ding" like "You've got mail" but it didn't use any of the five typical human senses, so that it wouldn't interfere with whatever someone was busy doing at the moment. That was critical for someone like Christine who needed to focus 100% of herself into a task like brain-jacking. She retreated to an alley and closed her eyes, accessing her i-mail.
 
The message was short and simple:
 
18.17. 
1.160.10.240
Check Email.
 
She smiled. It was the details for her next plugjob. 18.17 was the time, 6:17 PM. The other number was the I.C. address of the chip she was going to be hacking into. But… the third part was confusing. Check email? There usually wasn't any other information contained in the i-mail. It was almost like a dead-drop, that carried no identifying information at all. She didn't even know the identity of her handler at the Agency, although they'd been giving her jobs like this for years. A brainjacker could even plead innocence in court if the police found the i-mail, since there was no way to prove wrongdoing just from that. The Agency often sent out false emails containing unafilliated I.C. addresses to random people in order to strengthen the cases of real brainjackers. Loads of people had this kind of mail in their junk folder.
 
The implied instructions were simple. At exactly 6:17 PM, they would send a coordinated Deliberate Denial of Service (DDoS) attack against the target chip, weakening the security and allowing her to crack it. The DDoS would only last for about an hour before the chip automatically shut down, knocking the owner unconscious for a while until it rebooted.
 
Finally, something was going right. She really needed the money, and she stretched her arms above her head, easing her neck side-to-side and grinning. 
 
* * *
 
The hours passed quickly. There was nothing to plan. No help that worrying could bring. She would know everything she needed to do in the moment of the heist. She returned to the real world, showered, ate lunch. It felt like something was missing now that she had her bare pussy once again. She played with herself, watching some 3D porn, but it wasn't really the same without a dick. It always felt like she'd been born wrong. The internet was her refuge.
 
Beyond that, she just meditated, calmed her mind until her watch alerted her. 6:17 PM. It was starting. She laid back down in the uplink chair and keyed-in the information into the command terminal. She was essentially trying to log into the internet again, but sending false data saying that she was not Christine Denali, but whoever the owner of the 1.160.10.240 address was. With the conflicting data and the flood of information from the Agency's DDoS, she had a pretty good chance of getting in.
 
Wsc./'; 1.160.10.240 @whp.jp… ENTER.
 
Immediately the world jerked, and spun a thousand degrees in circles. It always made her want to vomit. When it stopped spinning, she was in a totally different place. A different country, in fact, although she wouldn't know anything until she got her bearings.
 
It looked like an art gallery. There were a dozen people standing around her, most of them dressed in black suits. Christine looked down at her body—The body she'd stolen for an hour. Her eyes widened. She was buxom, dressed in a flowing blue gown that spread outwards like a flower on the floor. Again, doing her best not to flick her head around and drink in every detail of the room, Christine started to walk around, to go beneath the radar.
 
"Where are you going, Princess?" a stony feminine voice called out. Christine only knew that she was the one being spoken to because it was so loud in her ear. She twitched and looked to the side, meeting the steely gaze of a tall, angular woman in a grey tuxedo-looking outfit. Even her hair was sharp, tied back into a severe knot behind her head. "Something the matter?"
 
"Ummn, no…" Christine said dully, suddenly fearing that something had gone amiss. She'd brain-jacked a princess? That was unusual, to say the least! Typically she'd be taking control of like, a night-time security guard in a museum, and using his body to steal some priceless gem. All of a sudden she felt like a fish out of water.
 
"Are you quite all right, darling?" came another woman's voice, coming up behind Christine and sliding an arm around her waist. The stranger kissed her hair, and she could hear the woman take a sniff of her hair. It was long, strawberry-blonde, and trailed down to her bust. She could actually feel the weight of her long hair tugging her head backwards.
 
"That's enough, Jupiter," the severe woman chided, stepping forward, fully prepared to slap her hands away from the princess.
 
"Sorry, m'lady," Jupiter nodded, putting a biting edge into it. 
 
"It's okay," Christine felt her own mouth say. Part of her was still so confused, but another part of her—The part of her that kept her alive during missions like this—was already working full-tilt, filling her mouth with the appropriate response. Stay friendly. Don't give them any reason to suspect you. Be kind and courteous and people will give up their information for you. "I appreciate it, thank you." She turned towards Jupiter, and her eyes lit up as she beheld a great beauty. A young woman with flame-orange hair that was tousled into loose spirals. It was obvious to see why she was called Jupiter, after the planet with the great red spot. The way she was staring at her… seemed like they must be connected somehow. Maybe, judging by the hug and kiss… girlfriends? Christine felt her cheeks blush, delighted to spend even an hour with the beauty standing before her. And yet she should really find out the name of the girl she was inhabiting! The most common way of getting caught on a plugjob was not being able to write one's own name, and other strange things like that. "I'm tired," she said airily, looking the severe lady right in her steely eyes. "I want to retire to my bedroom."
 
"If that is your wish," she said harshly, narrowing her eyes. Clearly she was some kind of bodyguard, probably had been trained to recognize exactly this sort of thing. Christine felt her gaze searing a hole in her dress as she glided out of the room on her flower dress.
 
But then she came across another problem. She didn't know where her bedroom was! She looked around in dismay. These jobs were usually much simpler! Steal the gem, put it in a location for a dead-drop, then return the security guard to the museum and he'd wake up without any memories of the incident. The government wouldn't even put him in jail, since he could claim brain-jacking. It was practically a victimless crime, except for the whole stealing part.
 
"You really do seem a bit off, you know," Jupiter murmured, stepping up behind Christine and once again wrapping her hand around her waist. But now that they were alone, her hand went a little lower, to the princess' rear end, dragging a single soft finger over just the top. "Are you okay?"
 
"I'm… I have a headache," she said, feeling a shiver go up her spine at Jupiter's touch. "I kind of want to be alone right now, you know?" Christine was hyperaware that Jupiter was speaking in a foreign accent. An accent she couldn't reproduce with any sincerity. The more she spoke, the closer she'd come to detection. Everything about this was totally wrong.
 
"Then let me take care of you," Jupiter said warmly, gliding her hand over the princess' rump once again. "Let's go to your bedroom… I'll make you feel good again."
 
"Oh stop," Christine said, forcing a blush and covering her mouth with her hand. But then she realized there must be a laptop or something in that room. A way she could discover everything she needed to know about her target: Social media The blush turned into a self-satisfied smile, and she took Jupiter's hand, letting the other girl lead the way.
 
* * *
 
But it was hardly a moment after she'd entered her bedroom that Jupiter invited herself in and locked the door behind them. She didn't get a chance to speak before she found herself pressed up against the wall, with Jupiter's knee right between her thighs. "You like that, slut?" the woman cooed, grinding their bodies together and moaning hotly.
 
"Not really," she thought, but didn't say what was on her mind. She could feel the girl's knee pressing against her cock and balls… They were tiny, fit for a princess; a dainty ball-bra holding up a pathetic pair of nuts and a cock that would struggle to reach 3 inches when hard. With so little dick to get hard, she found herself erect in seconds, already throbbing against Jupiter's knee. 
 
Christine could feel her asshole twitch as Jupiter pushed their bodies together, and felt a pang of dread. She only had an hour after all. Surely she could bring this girl to orgasm before then, do a little cuddling, and then get on the computer? It had to be easier than telling her she wasn't in the mood. Not when she was this deep. Christine let out a half-hearted moan and rested her hand against Jupiter's cheek, stroking it softly. "Take me, lover," she dared to say. Her face broke out into a naughty smile and she pulled her knee out from Christine's thighs, instead pressing their bodies together and locking lips with her, kissing her deeply. She slipped her tongue into Christine's mouth, who squealed in surprise, but managed to turn the squeal into an unconvincing gasp of feminine pleasure as she tried to play her part. Jupiter wrapped her arms around her waist, and she did the same to her; they tightened their grip until their cocks were mashing together almost as hard as their long, wet tongues. Her tiny princess-dick pulsed against the larger meat of her girlfriend, and her ass twitched again, eager and needy for cock.
 
"You're in a good mood today," Jupiter breathed into the kiss, and curled her fingers around Christine's butt, prying her cheeks apart and pressing against her butthole with her fingertip. Of course the dress was still in the way, but foreplay was all about prolonging the inevitable as long as possible. "Ah!" she gasped, feeling her prod her butt. It wasn't her own butt. Wasn't her body. Everything felt slightly different, slightly off. But she was still in a shemale body, so she was at home in that at least. She giggled and tried to toss her hair like a princess would, but just ended up getting a mess of strawberry-blonde curls in her eyes. "Ugh, can you say bimbo?" Christine bemoaned her fate, but all the same she pressed their cocks together and their nipples too. Her fat chest jiggled invitingly, and Jupiter licked her lips.
 
"I've been thinking about your tight ass all week," she said in a husky voice. "Couldn't wait to get back here. Your guards are such dickholes. We never get any quality time together…" she smiled, then planted her lips against Christine's neck and cooed. She let her tongue hang out, and licked her throat with long, smooth, firm strokes until her skin was glistening with spit. Christine could feel the tent in her dress thanks to her arousal. It was all happening so suddenly… and yet, she wanted her… She moaned as Jupiter slurped at her throat, feeling the hotness of her breath on her skin
 
"Strip for me, slutprincess," Jupiter whispered, pulling her mouth away from her skin with a single long strand of saliva, which broke. She stepped away and cocked her hips, jauntily resting the back of her hand on her waist and standing there with a satisfied grin. She could feel the blood pulsing through her cock as she stared at her girlfriend. Even if Grace was acting kind of weird, that incredible body of hers was more than enough to make up for a little awkwardness. 
 
Her lip wobbled. She didn't even know how to get out of this dress. With clumsy movements, she managed to pull the entire thing up over her head, and it landed in a soft silken pile on the floor, leaving her in nothing but a pair of phenomenally expensive-looking white lace garters that were tenting quite badly from her erection. She bit her lip again and wiggled in place, letting her chest shake in the hefty bra. Proud to be in such a sexy body, even if only for an hour.

"You nerd," Jupiter smiled, pulling Christine back in for a tongue-lashing kiss. Christine felt her heart beat faster, and soon she was kissing back, shivering as she felt Jupiter's strong hands slide through her hair. She tilted her head to the side and simply accepted her tongue, licking at it, curling her own around it as best she could. The slimy muscles humped away at each other for a little while before Jupiter broke the kiss with a wet smooch, then went back in for another round. The smooching was loud and delicious; she'd fired up her saliva glands from licking Christine's neck. Minutes passed and Christine felt drool dripping down her jaw. They were definitely girlfriends and lovers, this was by far the most passionate kiss she'd had… ever. Even more than Sara's kissing. Slowly, she could feel herself giving in. Resting her hands on Jupiter's chest. Squeezing her waist. She reached up and pushed her fingers into her mouth, wetting them with her tongue, before sliding her fingers past Jupiter's lips. The flame-haired woman's eyes lit up with lightning and she gleefully sucked the spit off her smooth skin, even adding a good tongue-bath herself, until Christine had to suck her own hand clean, still leaving it glistening.
 
"I can't wait anymore. I must have you," Jupiter breathed, pawing at Christine's bra. She wrapped her arms around her body and tried to find the locking mechanism, but was stymied for a moment. Christine felt a peculiar tightness right between her melons, and she looked down.
 
"It opens from the front…" she said seductively, and Jupiter pulled away. Christine giggled again and drew her hand up between her breasts, undoing the hooks that kept her modesty intact. The bra fell away and her tits jiggled heavily, exposing pink nipples and tiny areolae. Jupiter moaned and shoved her face into her cleavage, making a loud slobbering noise as she sucked and spit on the sinful flesh. Drool trickled down her toned stomach, and she found herself blushing from the attention. Thank god Jupiter couldn't see her face right now. She just kept licking and spitting, it seemed like Jupiter had a bit of a saliva fetish. She kept going until Christine's cleavage was positively sloppy, and then kept going until her round tits were almost completely coated in a thin layer of it. Finally she managed to pull her head out of her girlfriend's soaking tits, and pushed their mouths together for a filthy kiss. Christine closed her eyes and moaned as she felt Jupiter grab the back of her head and pull her down to kiss her harder. Her tongue tasted like sweat, the sweat from her cleavage. And of course her tongue was slimier than ever, almost making her gag on it. But Jupiter controlled herself, and pulled back to simply smooch, only engaging with tongues and making out properly after another few moments had passed.
 
Christine's mind was swirling. This was way too hot… She needed release, now, or she was going to go crazy. "Take me," she gasped, falling forwards onto her gorgeous bed and sticking her ass out for Jupiter to take. She even felt her tits pancake out slightly against the smooth sheets.
 
"My god, you're beautiful," she cooed, sinking to her knees and pressing her face between her cheeks. She gently licked and sucked at the princess' dangling cock and balls, but there wasn't much to get in her mouth and she lost interest before long. She stuck her fingers past her lips and soaked her hand in saliva, then stood up and spit on her cock, giving herself a quick tug and squeeze to lube herself up. "So utterly beautiful. Stay still, darling. And don't make a noise."
 
Christine clamped her teeth shut tight. The last thing she wanted was to get caught in the act by someone passing through the hallway and hearing things. But as that fat, bulbous cockhead nudged itself between her generous asscheeks, slowly prying them apart as it drilled inch-by-inch closer to her sphincter, she knew she was going to lose it. "I’m so goddamn horny," she swore, meekly rubbing her cockhead against the bedsheets. Sweat dripped down her forehead. "Please fuck me, give me your dick!" 
 
"As the queen demands," Jupiter cooed, finally pressing her slimy head up against her girlfriend's backdoor. She nudged at it slightly, teasing it, before grabbing ahold of Christine's hips and thrusting inside. "Oh, Grace… Oh god, you're so tight…" she whined. "Feels like my cock's trapped in a vice-grip…"
 
"Oh, so her name is Grace," Christine thought. It was going to be weird getting called that name instead of her own. Certainly a beautiful name, something befitting of royalty. "Go deeper, lover," she managed to eke out through clenched teeth. The faster she came, the more time she'd have to complete her mission. With shaky hands she managed to reach behind herself and sink her fingers into her fat cheeks, pulling her ass apart and giving Jupiter better access to her pucker. She was rewarded with a hedonistic moan as Jupiter pushed farther into her colon, spreading apart her innards and making her muscles quake. "Mmmmf… Feels… good…" she panted, biting down on her lip cutely. There was no way she'd deny it—this felt great. Every inch of that perfectly-veined cock sinking deep into her asshole, making her clench. The length of it sliding past her prostate, teasing it relentlessly. She melted, becoming putty in Jupiter's hands. It was like lightning being in the body of a natural born shemale. Like she really belonged here. Like Grace's body ought to have been hers. In that moment she felt her forehead burn hot with jealousy, and resolved to have as much fun as she could in this body until she ran out of time. Fuck the mission. This was her chance to be the woman she was meant to be. Slowly Christine turned herself around, Jupiter wincing as her cock was twisted by the corkscrew of her asshole. "Sorry, lover," she whispered breathily. "I wanted you to look at these while you take me."
 
She grabbed her breasts, squeezed them together, shook them around. Oh, it was so much fun having big tits! The soft, jiggly feeling of it made her laugh out loud before a particularly violent thrust made her asshole quiver, and her toes curled. She wrapped her legs around Jupiter, and stared up into her eyes with her fingertip resting on her parted lips. "Goddamn you're sexy," Jupiter panted, taking her up on the offering to play with her breasts. She wrapped her hands around both of them, her fingers sinking a bit into the soft and yielding flesh. Her nails dug into the skin, and Christine yelped in subdued pain, squirming under her searching fingers. 
 
"You ready to get fucked like an animal?" Jupiter said, panting hard as she finally slid her hands away from her tits. Christine nodded demurely and reached down, flopping her cock and balls upwards, away from her asshole.
 
"Fuck me. Watch my dick bounce, lover…" she breathed. But Jupiter nudged her balls back down, resting the twin orbs on top of her thick cock, leaving the princess' dick upwards to bounce. She gritted her teeth as she pushed in one last time, hilting herself in her asshole, and a shiver went down her spine. "God you're so big. You're incredible… fuck me hard."
 
"I thought I would never hear you beg for sex, princess…" Jupiter teased. She was way too turned-on to start slowly, now that every inch of her had been quenched in her asshole. Instead she grabbed Christine's leg and tilted it up, then pushed it roughly all the way up until her toes were touching the bed above her head. Christine cried out and whimpered in pain, feeling her spine curl upwards as her pelvis ached. "Just getting these legs out of the way. You don't mind, do you?" she said, with a bit of cruelty in her voice. She grabbed the other ankle, and before Christine could shout "Wait!" she pushed it up into the same position, with both her feet above her head. Her eyes crossed from the pain in her groin, but she didn't cry out, just mentally biting down on a block of wood. Maybe this wasn't going to be so fun after all.
 
She pushed herself deep into the princess' body, watching as her cock bulged out of the girl's stomach. She laughed in glee, and fucked her harder, aiming specifically for her prostate, hitting it like the center of a bulls-eye. "Oww! Fuck!" Christine gasped, throwing her head back and groping at thin air for something to hold onto. Suddenly her diamond-hard cock jerked upwards and she came on her own face. Her little dick shot just a half-dozen wimpy ropes onto her lips, her chin, in her hair. It was so painful that she didn't even notice her orgasm coming on. "Stop!" she cried, as a spike of fear shot through her heart. This had gone too far.
 
It was at that moment that Jupiter leaned forwards, licking her lips slowly and meaningfully. She took a length of wire from her pocket. Christine's eyes widened—A garrotte! She swallowed deeply, looking into Jupiter's eyes. Suddenly her gaze had turned cold, and her flame-pink hair was warning-red. "If you scream, I'll kill you before the guards even get here," she swore, stretching the garrotte across the princess' throat and pressing down nice and hard, enough to make her choke. Deftly she tied one end of the cord around Christine's right ankle, looped it once around her neck, and tied the remainder to her left ankle. Christine wiggled, completely powerless. The harder she pulled down on her legs, the harder she choked herself. 
 
"What's going on!" Christine gasped, her eyes rolling wildly with fear. Her whole body tensed up and she let out a pained grunt as Jupiter once again hilted her sword in her tight asshole. "What are you doing!?"
 
"What I've been paid to do, Wintermute," Jupiter said coldly, running her hands over the princess' wide hips. The words made her blood run cold. In an instant, the severity of the situation was laid out before her.
 
"How do you know who I am?" she said with absolute steel in her voice. Steel she wasn't able to back up whatsoever.
 
"Oh, we've known about you for a long time now," Jupiter said slowly, not making eye contact. "It's just that you're untouchable. You're completely perfect at covering your tracks, we never managed to get a single lead on who you might be in real life. So we took out a hit on Jupiter here," she touched her own chest. "And you, Wintermute, were sent in to take care of it. Nobody would suspect a princess, right? It's the perfect cover. Nobody at the Agency would find foul play." She licked her lips predatorily, leaving them glistening. "And then I just had to brainjack Jupiter to complete my mission. As soon as you started acting funny, I just had to get you into a room alone, just us." She was grinning like a wolf, her chest swelling with pride. "Ah, but nobody said I couldn't have my fun first. Do you know how fucking hot Princess Grace is? I've wanted to stuff that turkey for years, but of course I could never get close. Until now," she grinned, massaging her own wrists. "Nice thing about a job like this? No problems with fingerprints. I don't even have to wear gloves. That means I can really get up-close and personal with you," she licked her lips again, ravenously.
 
"So you're a hitman," Christine said with a hoarse voice. Her throat was killing her. If only she could jack out now! But it would only happen when her hour was up. With another pulse of fear, she realized that she had noticed Jupiter checking the wall-clock. So she could kill her before she disappeared.
 
"I do the same thing you do, only better," Jupiter said proudly, climbing atop the bed and pushing the princess forward a bit to make more room. "It's just too bad the princess has to die too. Collateral damage, though. And I'll probably have to kill Jupiter too, just to make sure everything's all tied up with a nice, neat bow. What a shame." She bit her lip and humped her cock into her ass, hard and rhythmically, making her small dick flop around her chest like a dying fish. "Damn, your ass is tighter than ever. I can't hold it," she hissed, pressing on Christine's legs even harder. Something in her pelvis made a popping sound and a fresh wave of pain surged through her body. She tried to call out, but the garrotte was digging into her skin by now. She could feel it slicing deeper, little-by-little, every time she moved her legs. 
 
"We're almost out of time," Jupiter said sadly, eyes flicking to the clock once again. "I could probably get away with another two minutes… but I don't know exactly when you took control…" She looked genuinely disappointed, eyes flicking back and forth, tongue playing over her dry lips. She still hadn't cum.
 
"I guess you'll have to choose…" Christine spat, her throat aching, as rivulets of red blood eked from the wicked slices of the garrotte. "Between getting the paycheck and getting off."
 
"I was serious when I asked you if you knew how smoking hot Grace is. It might actually be worth it," she said, chewing the side of her lip.
 
"Then finish up, lover," she said bitterly. Her consciousness was buzzing from the lack of oxygen… or was it the alarm from Grace's S.A.I. chip? It was too hard to tell… "Fuck me to death."
 
It was something about the way she said that which pushed Jupiter over the edge. She moaned out loud, a deep great "Unffff!" as she slammed into the princess' asshole, overcome by her human desires, her urge to merge. She fucked her brutally, until Christine could feel her anus bleeding, but she was almost laughing to herself. She was gonna live. Maybe. 
 
She came at last. Christine heard the gasp, and felt the throb of her fat cock. As Jupiter jackhammered her harder than ever, dumping her huge load into her asshole and flooding her body with her slick fucksludge, Christine couldn't help but have her eyes roll back into her head. The torturous sensations were nerve-wracking, and she gritted her teeth so hard that tendons in her neck stood out, the garrotte digging wickedly into them. She felt it slice through her jugular vein. And in that moment, she went limp. Her blood pressure suddenly dropped to zero. Brain death. The pain surged. She couldn't move a muscle. Her eyes were glassy, staring out at some random point on the wall.  She could feel the cum rolling through her guts. Normally it would seem so, so kinky, but all she could feel now was how vaguely disgusting it was. This huge load pumped right up her ass… Grace's ass… The princess would die too. What a waste. She had ran out of time.
 
And then she opened her eyes, and she was back in her ramshackle home, in the chair, covered in sweat. Blood was coming from her ears. She'd been this close to it. By the skin of her teeth alone. 
 
Back in Grace's bedroom, the princess' limp body hung there without the barest hint of motion. Jupiter smiled, and pulled her sloppy cock out of the woman's bleeding asshole, still twitching in the post-orgasmic bliss. She'd gotten her target, and gotten her rocks off too. Slowly she checked her watch. She knew the exact second that she'd be disconnected from Jupiter's chip. Twenty seconds to go.
 
Guards started to hammer on the door. Alarms went off all over the mansion as the SAI chip registered its owner's untimely demise. Jupiter took a cleansing breath, and stepped over to the balcony. Ten seconds left.
 
She lifted herself onto the rails of the balcony, her bare feet clenching the white-painted wood. Three seconds. The steel-eyed woman burst into the room, splintering the door with the force of her punch. She drank in the scene. The princess dead. Jupiter, the girlfriend she suspected, crouched at the ramparts. And then she jumped. The woman-who-was-Jupiter jerked back into her own body. Jupiter opened her eyes, as if dreaming. She was sailing through the air; she'd jumped from a fourth-storey balcony. It only took a few seconds before Jupiter hit the ground with a wet crunch, breaking her neck and dying on the spot.
 
Christine was panting, slavering at the mouth, clutching her naked chest. She'd come within seconds of death.
 
And it was the most exciting moment of her career. Of her life. She looked up to the ceiling with wide eyes and knew that she was in the right business.
 
 