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Hacking the Travel BD

November 3rd: Travel Blog

Traveling was expensive, and with the debts and bills that everyone born into the corporate system had, Archie was the last worker looking to spend any of his hard-earned creds on a trip out of the city. Every destination outside the hologram-lit skies and the magic-drenched tunnels beneath the city would cost an arm, leg, and at least one vital organ to reach, and that meant staying there on someone else's dime and never coming back.

The alternative? Jacked travel blogs.

Archie leaned back on a rat-chewed sofa, the basement apartment cheap as fuck but not without its drawbacks. Creds being the maned wolf's main concern, he took what he could get.

"Alright," he muttered, rolling the silver chip between his fingers. Scarcely a centimeter wide and three long, it required a special adaptor to fit the slot in his neck, but the dealer promised that the BD would be worth it. "Let's see what the blog says."

Ignoring the fact that most of the hacked BDs ran the risk of at least partial body control, system corruption, or worse, Archie slammed the chip in. The slot at his neck blinked with a read-light, then rammed the data from his neck slot to his skull.

The slime-marked neon bricks of his room faded. The illusion was briefly ruined by a spinning loading circle, then replaced with a moisture on his skin that almost felt like the underbelly of the city or like walking over a vent bursting with steam.

The sickly side of the feeling faded, replaced by a burst of warmth that was so much more 'tropical.' Archie knew that it was just the programming stimulating the pleasure center of his brain with uploaded memories of people that had traveled to the tropics - or, at least, records of them before they went to shit - but that didn't matter. The maned wolf pushed those thoughts away and just enjoyed -

"Looking for your chance to get away?"

There it was. The commercial part had started.

"Why waste your limited time away from noble work in the squalor of the alleys when you could take a shuttle to the Tropic Resorts? Just a minor percentage of your paycheck for the next year, and you're off to the vacation of a lifetime."

The blogger - probably paid off by corporate shills to talk like this, or just one himself - kept talking, but Archie tuned him out. The blogs never lasted long, maybe a couple minutes at most, and he wanted to enjoy it to the fullest while he could.

The maned wolf leaned back. He knew it was just the couch behind him, but the hacked blog fed his brain the feeling of a soft pile of sand beneath him, thick and lush and warm under the sun in a way that the city never was. All around him, shimmering into existence, were hot males and females, none of them dressed in more than a swimsuit, and most of them dressed in far less. The lines of cybernetic augmentations were all but invisible, as if they were nearly-natural.

Well, except for the bulges in the swim trunks.

And the breasts on most of the females.

And the mix and match that some were pulling off that only the really desperate or really rich ever bothered with.

Either way, it was hot. And when he reached out, he felt them. Soft breasts, firm butts, rising shafts, slick sexes; they were all there, all real to his brain as the blog continued. He grinned, taking his time to grab them, to jerk off a few guys that didn't give a shit in the soft latex that they wore to the beach, and pushed his fingers up to tease the unknowing programs that had been made to populate the illusion.

It was almost like being there, except here, nobody could complain. The programs were just made to simulate the existence of people, normally impossible to touch, but the hacked BD made it so that he could touch them. They didn't respond, but he could touch them.

Archie moved fast, pantsing one hot squirrel so that her ass cheeks flexed every time she took a step, pussy barely visible between her thighs, before whipping his head around to an orca walking down the beach, giving him a little tug so his tip could pop past his waistband. The heat beat down on them and he could all but smell the various bodies around him, smell them in a way that was stripped of the real smells of other people, other bodies. The stink of the city was gone, replaced with artificial salt and sun and surf.

"So come down to one of our agencies today -"

It was almost over. The blather was coming to the numbers now, the company name. Archie leaped up, grabbing one of the programs at random. Male, female, something else? He didn't know and it didn't matter. All that mattered was that it had a hole. The maned wolf spread the shark's muscular ass cheeks and pushed in, feeling the ever-so-real illusion of a hot hole spreading before him.

Thrust.

Thrust.

Fade.

He dropped out of the BD just as the commercial ended, his cock aching as he slumped back down on the couch. The stink of his own room and the half-rotted coolant that ran through the ceiling pipes hit him hard, and he rolled onto his side, cupping his crotch.

"Fuck...fucking..."

Talk about a rush. So close, so fucking close to getting it. The BD had only lasted a few minutes, but it had been worth every fucking second.

A slow smile grew on his muzzle as he let the pain of the blue balls fade away. He still had the blog post to listen to again, to experience. Sure, it wasn't real, and sure, it was only a few minutes...

But those few minutes were a hell of a lot better than this reality. He booted it up again, ready to take it from the start rather than waiting 'til the end.