Rikimaru
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PGAD - Chapter 17
🕑 Added 2022-06-17 16:16:11 +0000 UTC17.
Chris awoke and let out a weak groan. His whole body was sore all over. It was no wonder. He had compulsively fucked Sara Davis countless times over the past three days. He’d fucked her perfect, incredibly tight, fit body every which way possible. He’d fucked her in every hole, in every position. He fucked those massive, amazing tits of hers. He’d spurted all over them and her beautiful face, on her flat stomach and her round, shapely ass. His balls ached. His cock felt raw and chafed.
When they hadn’t been enthusiastically rutting, she had cleaned the apartment to sparkling several times over, cooked meals, done the laundry, given Chris massages, all of which had inevitably led to more rigorous fuck sessions.
He couldn’t possibly have helped it though. She was just unbelievable. She was everything. Her perfect, banging body. Her insatiable sexual appetite. Her empty bimbo brain. Her eager supplication to perform whatever he asked. She was like a fantasy cyborg fucktoy from the future, programmed to his every whim.
There was simply no way Chris could possibly resist that, no matter what the reservations and risks were, the ones he’d thought of so many times before. It was just too much to ask, to somehow turn away his greatest, deepest desires. Though now that his balls were completely drained, sanity was starting to return and assert itself.
What the hell had he gotten himself into? What was he supposed to do now? He couldn’t keep her like this forever… could he?
Maybe he could, though. It was a tantalizing thought. Sara Davis was rich. Chris had no idea how rich, but he assumed it was very. Maybe enough even that neither of them ever had to go back to Gen-U-Tech. Perhaps never work again at all. Maybe they could just simply… disappear. Move away, start over somewhere new, where no one knew anything about either of them. They could leave the country even.
And then he’d be free. Totally free. Free of his pointless, demeaning job. Free of Thomas holding shit over his head. Free of the whole system that held him down, grinding everyday just to pay the bills. And free of the society that had rejected him, too. He’d have Sara. Sara, the hot, horny bimbo slut, eager to cater to his every whim. He couldn’t see how he’d ever tire of the big titty, blonde sexbomb look, but if he did, he could change it. He could change her. Make her into whatever he wanted that particular day, and if his whims changed, he’d alter her again to suit that too, as easy as changing a pair of socks.
His aching cock began to rise just at the thought of it. Permanently owning his own personal hot, supple fucktoy, to re-make and re-use over and over again…
Chris leaned across sleepily, pulling the covers off of Sara Davis’ sleeping form, lying beside him on the stiff, lumpy mattress… and then he recoiled, practically leaping out of bed.
Lying under the covers, stark naked was Sara Davis. Not Sara Davis, transformed, altered sex kitten. It was regular Sara Davis, mid-forties, but older-looking than that, her mouth hanging open, drooling, lank brown hair obscuring her chubby, unremarkable face, the girth of her eighty pounds of extra weight causing the cheap, stiff mattress springs to sink in nonetheless. She was lying in the fetal position, absurdly small breasts still sagging somehow, resting atop of several pale rolls of fat. Her legs were curled, her thick massive thighs providing some support for her bulging belly.
Chris was horrified. It was like a flashback to every other drunken night of weakness, waking up next to some disgusting heifer he’d had to settle for the night before just to get laid at all. But this… this wasn’t possible. That wasn’t what happened. He’d gone to sleep next to a perfect supermodel combined with the perfect pornstar.
How could this be happening..?!
Being careful not to awaken the slumbering regular Sara Davis, he silently bolted to the living room and picked up the tablet, pulling up the interface. Though it should have been expected at this point, his eyes still went wide with shock.
All of the settings had been restored back to default.
All of them.
How..?
The hairs stood up on the back of Chris’ neck when a creaking sound emitted from the mattress in the bedroom, easily audible in the cramped apartment. There were sounds of Sara Davis beginning to stir.
Oh shit.
I can fix this. I can fix this…
Chris’ panicked gaze alternated between the tablet and the bedroom doorway, as he frantically loaded up the saved profile from yesterday and hit Apply.
Immediately a window popped up in front of the interface, and Chris felt his heart drop into his stomach as he read the words: ‘Settings cannot be applied. Nanite power reserves are currently depleted.’
Fucked, Chris thought miserably. I am totally, completely fucked.
He needed to get to fuck out of here, like now. Forget his job, forget his apartment, forget his possessions. He just needed to run, far, far away.
But even flight was no longer an option – the mattress suddenly creaked again, much more loudly this time, the sound of someone heavily getting to her feet, and then:
“What the fuck?!”
The floor shook as Sara Davis stormed out of the bedroom, Chris’ oversized, comfy bathrobe now stretched to the seams as it barely provided cover for her substantially larger build. He needed only to set eyes on her for a single instant to know that she had complete recollection and awareness of everything that had transpired.
“You.” There was fury etched on her face and venom in her voice as she locked eyes with Chris. He thought he might faint.
The floor trembled again as she strode over and yanked the tablet out of his hand.
It was Thomas. Unbidden, the thought popped into Chris’ head. Somehow, he had done this.
But then the thought was gone just as quickly, driven out by a loud cracking sound, accompanied by a bright flash of light and immense pain as Sara Davis swung the tablet with all of her might, smashing it on Chris’s head.
He fell to the ground, dazed, stars swimming before his eyes as Ms. Davis lumbered out of the apartment, slamming the door behind her. Chris held a hand up to his head as he felt the warm blood trickling down his face.
***
Sara panted slightly as she reached the top of the staircase, leaning heavily on the railing. Christ, she was out of shape. She felt turned inside out, reversed from what she’d been; now clear-headed but slow-moving, burdened by gravity and her own girth.
She had of course reverted herself many times over the past few months during the working week, but always while shaving off some poundage each time; having her full weight restored back all at once was extremely taxing. It was hard to believe she’d ever been this way, carrying it on a daily basis.
Even so, Sara paced back and forth furiously after entering her bedroom, the ground vibrating beneath her.
She was back to normal, finally, inexplicably. The first thing she did was pull up the tablet and confirm what she felt – even her libido was restored back to nearly zero. She was herself again. In control, clear-headed, rational. And she was beyond enraged.
That pathetic little twerp had used her. Used her like his own personal sex slave. The debased, despicable things he had made her do… she remembered it, remembered it all.
The cleaning. The serving. The fucking.
She remembered liking it, wanting to do it all...
Now looking back, she felt so disgusted she could throw up.
And angry. Oh so angry.
She took a long and thorough, scalding-hot shower, which did little to quell her temper. Looking in the mirror while drying herself off only fed her rage. It wasn’t even like being back to her regular, unattractive self. Somehow, Sara felt that she looked worse than before – heavier, older, wrinklier, dumpier – only she knew that that wasn’t true. The tablet didn’t lie. She was exactly in the state she’d been before any of this had happened. It was only that she had a new perspective now...
And then looking for something to put on afterwards... All of the clothes hanging up before her were a series of scant, skimpy, scandalous outfits that she would never wear. Knowing that she couldn’t possibly fit into them either did little to improve her mood. She finally found a set of loose joggers buried in the back corner of the closet.
Now fully dressed, fully enraged, Sara vacillated on what to do. Whether to call the board or her lawyer or the cops or a hitman. Whatever it was, she was going to go full force. That little lab prick was going down. Whoever he was working for was going down. Sara had a pretty good idea who it was, but even if she wasn’t completely certain, one thing she could absolutely be sure of was that it was an executive. At any rate, she’d find out. She’d poke Chris with hot branding irons until he told her.
Part of Sara’s fury was reserved for herself, however, though she hadn’t yet fully acknowledged that. She’d been messed with, yes, but the vast majority of tampering had been what she’d done to herself. If she hadn’t, Chris never would have had the opportunity to do what he did. In some ways, it was really her own fault.
She wasn’t ready to confront that truth yet, though. Her main focus was on the notion that if someone hadn’t ramped up her libido, she wouldn’t have been compelled to start altering herself the way that she did. She told herself that she didn’t have a choice, or if she did, then they weren’t choices made with a clear mind. Each of her actions had just been one domino toppling after another, and someone else had tipped the first one.
That tenuous rationale was what Sara firmly latched onto and honed in on, unwavering as she returned to the office, blaming her unprecedented extended absence on extreme illness. Over the next few days, she secluded herself in her office, cursorily going through the motions of her daily tasks while her attention laid primarily on the next board meeting at the end of the week. She began to formulate the beginnings of a plan, a plan to publicly air what had been done to her and who was responsible for it.
She would have Chris to corroborate everything and provide the technical details behind it. He would name the responsible executive in front of the whole of the company leadership. And then, exposed and disgraced, both of them would be unceremoniously ejected from the company. Following that, she would bend Gen-U-Tech’s research apparatus toward finding a way to purge the nanites from her and the other unknowing employees’ bodies. Sara couldn’t recall anyone specifically except for that janitor that she’d bumped into when she’d walked into the lab and been injected. She would summon him to the meeting as a corroborating witness too.
And then finally she would go through both the criminal and civil legal systems to thoroughly crush anyone else complicit in the entire affair.
She turned things over in her head, working out the finer details. Three days. The board meeting was in three days.
Sara planned and plotted, counting down the days.
