When I was a young man of 28 – recently married, with two
young children–the last thing I expected was to become
the head of a major company. But that was just what
happened when my father the owner and president of
Joycor Industries died suddenly on the golf course. Per
his will, I became the new president, and I was
It was not until two years later that I had a good grasp
of the family business. I already knew we made most of
our money from virtual reality hardware, but I was
surprised to learn that we also had a lucrative sideline
Our success was largely due to our head of research–Dr.
Erwin Derwanger, a brilliant chemist in his mid-fifties–
but I soon had reason to worry about the doctor and his
laboratory. It was well known that Dr. Derwanger had an
unhealthy admiration for Nazi Germany, but I didn’t
realize how disturbed he really was until I learned (from
one of his frightened young lab assistants) that the
doctor was using cloned human embryos for his drug
research. Aside from being sick, it was also a violation
of federal law, and I had no choice but to fire him and
his senior staff.
“You’re making a dreadful mistake, Dana,” Dr. Derwanger
said; “I need your laboratory.”
“Erwin, you’re lucky I don’t tell the police what you’ve
been doing; it’s unconscionable!”
“Your father didn’t think so; he knew the rewards would
be worth the risk.”
“Drugs you can’t even imagine: a universal vaccine
against cancer, ulcers, heart disease…”
I thought about that a long moment before replying.
“Yes. Now get out.”
The doctor gave me a surly look, but finally left with a
sneer. Although the shakeup in R&D affected our stock
value the next quarter, I felt I had narrowly averted
complete disaster. In Derwanger’s place, I appointed
another chemist who had helped me expose the doctor’s
research–a matronly woman of 50 named Magda Johannsen.
At first, I was concerned that she might have been too
close to Derwanger to trust, but she seemed to have a
genuine dislike for him. She revealed that he was
actually the grandson of a concentration camp doctor–and
I was startled to see confirmation of that fact in his
confidential personnel file; the report of a private
detective (hired by my father) indicated that Derwanger
belonged to several racist and ultra-conservative
organizations, and that he was secretly obsessed with
creating a perfect white Aryan through genetic
engineering. Evidently, that was the ultimate goal of his
work with the cloned embryos.
“Amazing,” I said to Magda in my office, after reviewing
“who’d have thought it, here in the 21st century?”
“It’s probably just as well he’s gone,” Magda offered,
laying a briefcase before me.
“I’m glad you asked,” Magda said, opening the briefcase
and taking out a black garment vaguely resembling a scuba
diving suit. There was a virtual reality helmet in the
briefcase as well, but the helmet was the only part I
“This is our new virtual reality prototype.”
“I thought our V.R. units were helmets and data gloves.”
“This is different,” she explained. “Instead of merely
watching a scene, and interacting with it through a pair
of data gloves, this suit allows you to feel the virtual
reality with your whole body.”
“Wow, neat. Can I try it?”
“What’s the matter? Isn’t it safe?”
“Oh, it’s safe,” Magda said; “it’s just you might not
like the demonstration program. It’s a simulation that
lets a man feel what it’s like to have sex as a woman.”
I wasn’t really shocked–sex sims were perfectly legal,
and one of our biggest sellers. But to actually feel sex
from a woman’s perspective…nobody had ever tried that.
“The main concern I have,” Magda said, putting the suit
back in the briefcase, “is that some men have a fear of
being penetrated. We know there’s a market for this kind
of thing, but it’s one thing to fantasize; it’s quite
another to actually feel it.”
Magda then looked as if she was going to leave with the
briefcase, but I reached out to stop her.
“Well,” I said, “why don’t you just let me hold on to the
prototype for tonight? Just to look it over.”
Magda gave me a curious look, then smiled and shrugged.
“Well, all right. But just to look it over.”
“Yes, of course.”
* * *
It was uncanny what Magda said about men fearing
penetration; although I never shared the fact publicly,
there were times with Maddie–my wife–when I did
fantasize about being a woman. She liked to play along;
sometimes she’d get between my legs and ride me like a
man–pretending to fuck me while my penis was actually
buried deep inside her pussy–and in fact, that was the
way we did it the night we conceived our first baby. I
went off like a cannon inside her, splashing her womb
with sperm, then rolled her over to return the
favor…fucking her like a man.
So it was fair to say I was interested in Magda’s
prototype. It sat on my desk the rest of the day, while I
imagined what it would feel like to run the program.
Finally–when the office closed for the day–I called my
wife to tell her I was working late. Then I opened the
briefcase, stripped off my clothes, and pulled on the
V.R. suit. It was very comfortable–much like a second
skin–and I finally settled onto a couch in my office
before pulling on the helmet, actually tingling with
As with a normal V.R. system, the program menu screen was
projected on a head-up display inside the helmet. The
commands were actuated by thought–I simply looked at the
command START PROGRAM, thought the command, and the
program began. Immediately, I found myself standing in a
white room, with a virtual-Magda standing before me in a
white lab coat.
“Greetings, user,” the virtual-Magda said. “Are you
sitting down in a safe place?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Very good. This program is a sexual simulation in which
a man experiences non-consensual sex and penetration as a
woman. Do you wish to proceed?”
“Uh…is there a safety feature?”
“Yes. The suit will monitor your vital signs, and
deactivate the program if your vital signs are
I bit my lip, considering if I really wanted to do this.
“Does it have to be non-consensual?” I asked.
“There is only one program in this simulation,” virtual-
“Oh, fine,” I said. “I’ll do it.”
“Very well. Please close your eyes and relax. At sync,
the sim will begin.”
“Sync” was the point in a sim where the program
synchronized with the user’s brainwaves. That point was
indicated by a flash of light I saw a few seconds later,
behind my closed eyelids.
When I opened my eyes, I was no longer in the white room,
but rather in a nicely furnished cabin on some kind of
ship. The ship was rolling on the sea–I could feel that-
-and I suspected this must be the master’s cabin on a
sailing ship after I noticed a bank of windows close by
the water. I myself was sitting on a bunk of some kind,
and I was a little disappointed when I looked down; I
liked like an ordinary male sailor, wearing a loose white
shirt, trousers and buckled shoes. When I lifted my
shirt, however, I saw that bands of cotton were tied down
tight across my chest, and–when I felt for my penis–it
Evidently, I was a woman impersonating a man.
“Ironic,” I muttered.
But then, suddenly, I caught sight of myself in a mirror,
and I was actually startled by my own beauty. My hair was
still short and blonde–as it was in reality–but the
face looking back at me was soft and feminine, with
beautiful blue eyes and full, pouty lips.
“You’re not bad looking,” I said to myself. “I wonder if
I’m the captain.”
“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you, bitch?”
Startled again, I spun around on the bunk and suddenly
found myself confronted by a huge and frightening man,
standing on the steps leading down from the forward
hatch. He was terrifying to behold–a scruffy-looking
giant with a tricorn cap, unbuttoned officer’s cloak, and
greasy stains on his white shirt–and immediately I
remembered that this was a non-consensual scenario. My
God, I thought–feeling my heart beating fast in my
chest–I’m going to be raped by a pirate!
“Uh–sir,” I said, “do I know you?”
The man slammed the door, and marched down forcefully to
where I sat on the bunk. Angrily, he grabbed me by the
collar of my shirt and pulled me close to him.
“Oh, you think you’re funny, don’t you,” he said,
blasting me with his rank and noxious breath; “‘that
captain isn’t half the man I am’–isn’t that what you
“Don’t play stupid with me,” he said, throwing me back
onto the bunk; “I heard you myself! I’ve kept your little
secret from the crew–that you’re actually a woman–and
this is how you repay me! Well, I’ve had enough of this
nonsense, bitch–this time, a blowjob won’t be good
The big man then turned to bolt the door, and I shrank
backward instinctively. Turning back toward the bunk, he
then stomped toward me with anger and lust combined in
his eyes, and I realized there was no escape.
I knew resistance was pointless, but I still fought back
when he reached down to pull at my shirt; his powerful
hands simply tore my shirt off, then he sawed through the
fabric binding my breasts with a wicked-looking knife.
The knife cowed me a little–I felt its blade cutting my
skin–but both of us were equally startled when my
breasts sprang free; they were plump and round, and it
was obvious the pirate liked them.
“Oh, Captain Tom likes those,” he muttered, and I gasped-
– clutching at his coat–when he bent down to suck on my
nipples. His scruffy beard scratched my skin–which was
annoying–but I got a real shock when he switched from
sucking to biting. Like a vicious Rocky, he took my right
nipple in his teeth, and shook it fiercely even as he
leered up at me.
“All right, I’ll stop,” he said, lifting his head, “if
you’ll calm your silly ass down.”
I nodded pitifully, tears rolling down my cheeks.
“That’s a good bitch,” he said, finally reaching down for
my trousers and ripping them loose–along with shoes–
with effortless strength. Now naked before him, I saw him
leering down at my pussy–but then I realized I had never
even seen my own pussy myself.
“Oh, that’s a nice little quim,” Tom muttered, lowering a
hand to rub between my legs. I was startled, feeling his
rough fingers first batter my clitoris and labia, then
force their way inside me; thus, my first awareness of my
cunt was the painful sensation of the giant’s fingers
pressing at my hymen.
“Oh, that’s a tight one,” Tom said, looking me in the
“you’re a virgin, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know…”
Tom didn’t seem to know what to make of that, but it
didn’t stop him from carrying on. While I looked away–
trying to avoid his gaze–he reached down to lower his
own trousers, then moved into position between my thighs.
I didn’t want to look, but I finally took a peek when I
felt something hard and wet nudge itself between my
labia. Captain Tom, I saw, was huge–his dangling cock a
solid monster eight inches long, uncircumcised and
drooling pre-cum–and I gasped when his swollen cock-head
finally pushed inside my vagina.
“Oh, fuck–!” I gasped, feeling the penis stretch my
“You really are a virgin,” the pirate said,
simultaneously cupping one of my breasts, and nudging his
penis forward against my maidenhead; “a little extra
treat, I guess…”
“Please,” I said, “it hurts…!”
A moment later, pushing forward with all his strength, he
drove his cock-head through my vestibule, and my untried
vagina screamed with the pain of his sudden, stabbing
penetration. I had no idea it could hurt so much to be
forced like this–barely wet, my channel resisted his
entry–but he forced himself into me with sheer physical
strength, splitting open my cunt muscles and finally
coming to a rest with his balls on my ass. Deep inside
myself, I could feel his thickness, and I was sure that
his weapon was stabbing right into my womb; for a moment,
it was all I could do to look at his face in agony, then
I cried and screamed.
“Oh, fuck–! Fuck, it hurts–!”
Tom didn’t seem the least bit impressed with my
suffering, however; he simply starting thrusting,
grinding his penis into my wounded hole.
“Oh, you’re tight,” Tom grunted, “like a little girl…”
“Oh, please–!” I whined; “you’re hurting me…!”
“Oh, you know you like it,” he said, dismissively. “All
you bitches like it.”
There was no use trying to reason with him; even as tears
rolled down my cheeks, I felt my hips ache with a dull,
throbbing pain; I was nothing to him but a cunt now–a
cunt to hump and fuck and rape.
It seemed to go on forever, but it was probably just a
few minutes. Seeming to feed off my pain, he started
fucking me faster and harder, but the tightness of my
virgin hole was clearly too pleasant to take for long;
soon he was close to cumming, and let me know it.
“Oh, I’m gonna cum…” he said. “You want it? You want my
cum in your cunt?”
I could only grunt and gasp in reply.
“Of course you do,” he said, thrusting even faster, and
“maybe you’ll have my kid, you little bitch. You want
You want my bastard in your stomach…?”
I just cried.
And a moment later, he came. Pressing in deep, he punched
his cock into my womb, trembling and shuddering as he
shot his sperm directly into my belly. I was too sore to
enjoy it, but I could feel his penis pulsing in the grip
of my cunt, basting my womb with surging streams of
semen; soon, he had filled me to overflowing, and the
excess cum overran my hole to pour down the crack of my
ass. Always before in my life, I had been the one to
penetrate my partner, and spill my seed in her body; now
I was the one being penetrated and filled with sperm, and
I felt a terrible sense of shame and embarrassment as I
lay there being plowed and filled with gushing gouts of
When he finally pulled out, and got off the bunk, all I
could do was lie there, vaguely aware of the juices
pouring out of my hole.
“You really bled there,” Tom said, pulling up his
“Maybe I’ll keep that sheet as a souvenir.”
I could only take his word for the mess between my
thighs; at the moment, it was all I could do to roll over
and curl up with my arms wrapped around my knees. Now
that Tom was done, I noted that the sim’s safety feature
hadn’t kicked in, and I was actually somewhat pleased by
that; a sim that worked this well would be a big seller.
It certainly didn’t make up for the pain in my hips, but
as I closed my eyes, I knew–if nothing else–that the
sim would soon be over.
* * *
Ordinarily, a sim had a limited duration–usually an hour
at most–since V.R. units simply didn’t have the memory
to store a complete world. But sometimes a world took on
a life of its own; if a user became too immersed in a
virtual world, his brainwaves would synchronize
completely with the V.R. system and the sim would
continue indefinitely, feeding off images from his
subconscious. We called that a “vivid fantasy”, and it
wasn’t common–it happened less than one time in a
million–but it was a serious drawback to virtual
reality, since the user could slip into a coma and even
Thus–when I woke up and found I was still a woman–I was
I was no longer on the pirate ship, but rather in a
modern, windowless bedroom. I was seated in a comfortable
chair, but I felt a bit groggy, as if I’d been drugged.
Turning my head, I noticed a full-length wall mirror in
the corner, and I could see that I still had the same
body as I had on the pirate ship.
My overall look, however, was very different; I was now
wearing gold hoop earrings (nicely complimenting my short
hair), a short black dress that was cut low to reveal my
cleavage, and a pair of sexy black high-heeled sandals.
Despite the unusual surroundings, the costume did arouse
me–looking down, I had to admit that I had pretty nice
legs, and I liked the way the delicate sandal straps
wrapped around the backs of my ankles, and the way my
toes were tightly bound in their simple vamps.
But where the hell was I?
For a long moment, I just sat there numb–trying to guess
what might happen next–but then, suddenly, someone
grabbed my arm and hauled me upright. It was Dr.
“All right, bitch,” he said, “I’ve had enough of your
stalling. I paid for an hour and I’m getting an hour!”
Dr. Derwanger appeared surprised, and I suddenly realized
there was something very peculiar about his clothing;
although I was no historian, I was certain he was wearing
a black SS uniform, complete with death’s head insignia
and a holstered Luger.
“How do you know my name?” he asked.
“Don’t you know me?”
“No,” he replied; “what I know is that you’re a very
uncooperative bitch, and I’m going to fuck you now.”
Whereupon, he swung me around by my arm, and flung me
onto the bed. I landed on my back, thoroughly confused
and more than a little afraid.
“Now roll over,” Derwanger said.
“Look,” I said, “I don’t know who you think you are, but
you can’t just order me around.”
The doctor responded by pulling out his pistol.
“Well,” Derwanger said, “I could always just shoot you
and fuck your corpse, if you’d prefer that.”
From his tone, I could tell he was serious. I rolled
A moment later, the doctor was on top of me, pulling my
arms behind my back. Then–with the evident skill of a
practiced sadist–he bound my hands with a pair of
handcuffs, and rolled me back over.
“What are you going to do…?” I asked, nervously.
“I’m going to fuck you,” he repeated, re-holstering his
pistol and pulling off his boots. He then shed his
trousers and advanced on the bed, still wearing his
uniform jacket and holster, and shaking his cock in his
fist to get it hard. It wasn’t unnaturally large–just a
little bigger than my own six-incher–but the doctor’s
penis was still something I had never expected to see. I
noted the penis was circumcised–unlike the pirate’s–and
I also noticed the penis was studded with a network of
bulging veins. Although I knew this had to be a sim, that
didn’t make the sight of that cock any less frightening;
awkwardly, I tried to back away from him, digging my
spike heels into the bedspread.
“I see you’re not wearing any panties,” Derwanger said,
grabbing my ankles and spreading them apart; “good.”
“Now, wait just a minute,” I said, twisting in his grip;
“I’m a prostitute, right? Maybe you should use a
“What, afraid you’ll catch something?”
“No,” I said, “but you might. I mean I’m full of
diseases-herpes, syphilis, you name it…”
“All the same,” Derwanger said, sliding down between my
thighs, “I think I’d rather take you raw.”
Derwanger just smiled; with my hands behind my back and
his body between my legs, I was helpless to resist him.
With cool detachment, then, he rubbed my pussy until it
was wet, then eased his drooling cock-head into the mouth
of my vagina. Although it was horrifying and weird, I
must admit the scenario was also actually exciting; to
have this hateful man nudging his penis into my body–
exerting the super-male dominance of the swastika armband
still on his uniform–was simultaneously arousing and
humiliating. I could only assume that Magda had
programmed this sim as some kind of inside joke–revenge,
perhaps, on her former supervisor.
But suddenly Derwanger stopped, meeting resistance
neither he nor I expected; my hymen–broken earlier by
the pirate–was now back in place.
“You’re a virgin,” Derwanger leered; “unusual, for a
“Yeah…listen, we don’t have to do this…”
“But I insist,” he said, pushing forward once again. This
time I tried to resist more actively–clenching my cunt
muscles and trying to stab at his calves with my heels–
but he had no patience for that; abruptly, he pulled out
his pistol and rested the barrel on my temple.