Midnight Sphere [18+] [MxM]

[Guy releases his greatest invention, the MidnightSphere™, to trial members, but his company runs into a massive problem; the virtual reality-assisted sex is so good, they don't want to leave.]

His mouth opened, and a moan spilled out as the other man's firm hands gripped his waist so he wouldn't go away. Guy's cock pulsed when his lover pushed the silicone MidnightSphere™ purple fantasy dildo to the base into his ass.

The best part of a man was his pulse, his warmth, the connection. The difference ultimately between man and machine, whether that man came with certain extensions, didn't matter.

His lover drove all the way in from tip to base again and again, primally, to drive the toy that was an extension of himself as deep as it could go.

Guy concentrated on the heat between his thighs and around his waist.

It was a huge seven inch cock, and he nearly came all over his hand when the other man wrapped his digits, warm and tight, around his own throbbing, thick cock, his fingers stimulating the underside in draws slick from precum while he pressed into his prostate.

"Fuck," Guy moaned.

Their organization, which crafted top-of-the-line sex toys, focusing on cutting-edge technology for immersive experiences, was finally taking off.

Their main selling point, as if it weren't enough to revolutionize the world of sex on its own, was one toy, something which Guy thought of as more than just any masturbatory device.

The toy, when not in use, looked like an eight ball, so one could disguise it on their shelves to the naked eye as a fortune teller.

When in use, it was a dome that one stepped into. The compact sphere expanded wherever the top of it was pressed. It connected to a VR headset, which would display whatever images the user imagined.

It connected directly to the largest pleasure center, the brain.

That was where Guy came in, as he studied the brain.

They were playing around with color options, too: blue, pink, white, red, purple, rainbow. Guy grew fond of the one he had. It cost a pretty penny, and he'd gotten quite the bargain, as it was his brainchild regardless of what his ex said.

One could also purchase any of their company's toys, where it would sit in virtual space when not in use, making toy cleanup nonessential, but this was so much better than that silly yellow stroker that he bought on impulse after his dickhead of an ex broke his heart to go after a trustfund brat.

When interfaced with the dome, one could imagine going anywhere their heart desired, and it would simulate the action. This technology allowed single-player use.

They were also tinkering with the option to link up with real people virtually, which is what Guy happened to be doing right now.

The other man grunted a few times in his own headset, then stilled as he let out a loud groan, a willing test subject in their multiplayer trials, of which there were many very eager participants.

Guy panted as he gripped the headset, wiping the sweat from his brow. His virtual date was left alone miles away from him, and the massive purple dildo that was pistoning his ass moments before, slipped out of his tight, slick warmth, with an admittedly satisfying pop.

He pressed the button on the dome wall.

The walls retracted around him, and the black orb remained at his feet. He lifted the familiar eight ball and held it out like an oracle.

He'd tried the single-player option as well. When he ultimately finished, the digital men evaporated into ones and zeros within the system.

Both had their pros and cons.

Both were very close to the real thing, yes, yes.

Guy sighed, crossing the room to set the ball down on his desk.

"Years of studying this crap because no one will talk to me otherwise," he ruminated to his dark bedroom.

He supposed it still beat, well, beating it, alone.

Guy wanted to be remembered for doing a good thing.

It was good that, once released to the general public, it would cut down on the negatives of the human condition, such as STIs and unwanted pregnancies.

Guy walked over and flopped down on his bed, about ten feet from the spot on the wooden floor where the sphere had been stationed.

His breathing steadied as a trail of sweat cooled on his still-tingling skin. He traced a finger down his arm, hairs bowing and bouncing back, longing.

It had been one year since their breakup. It had been one year since he'd felt the touch of another person. All the hype building up to their work kept him busy, distracted despite being in close proximity to both the man who broke his heart for the rich kid whose parents were loaded.

Well, at least they got funding at all.

This was revolutionary technology, truly.

But it would never replace the company.

He was starving even though he'd been filled.

The thought that he regretted ever pursuing this project, that it was all a mistake he couldn't undo and was too late to turn back on now, so close after investing all of this time, crept back in from its dreadful corner.

It was getting harder to ignore the closer to their launch date.

After this last letter for approval, they would be ready. He reassured himself. It would make these last eleven years worth every last drop of his sacrifice and effort, because it had to.

Guy put a wrist over his eyes and groaned. His phone vibrated on the nightstand. He lifted himself with a great effort off his bed. His long shifts, along with the rigorous railing, left his limbs feeling like lead.

Ashley Fine, whom his ex left him for.

"Speak," he answered.

"Hi Gavin, we have a bit of an issue with some of our trial members. We're going to need you at HQ as soon as possible."

Guy bristled.

"Now, preferably?" he said.

"Yes."

"What's the matter?"

"It's... you kind of have to see it for yourself."

Guy tsked.

Ashley was such a meek, simple-minded fool. Guy knew this from the moment his name was mispelled as Gus on their board at a presentation, and he caught the blond huffing fumes from the marker.

He gathered the headset and crossed the room back to the eight ball on his desk.

HQ was accessed through the MidnightSphere™, though he dressed himself in the event that he needed to be in reality. He did this since that one time he answered his door in his underwear, when his neighbor pounded furiously on his door, accusing him of being the one to run over his cat.

Guy had not exited his apartment in several months, but apparently, the person behind the wheel on camera looked like him.

He hated Ashley almost as much as everyone with outside cats.

Well, he wouldn't have to deal with any of that for much longer. One more hurdle, working out what he was self-assured was one last small kink, and their product was set to take the globe in ecstasy like only these first few had felt before.

Guy appeared in HQ.

Ashley held a paper cup of coffee.

"Where's the fire, Ash?"

"Gavin, we've been attempting to contact a few trial members who are having an issue with our project."

Guy's nose wrinkled.

"What's wrong with 'our' project?"

Ashley shrugged.

"I don't know. We lost contact with them."

There were a total of one thousand people in the trials.

"How many?" he asked.

"Last we counted six hundred."

The ground spun beneath him.

Six hundred people out of a thousand having a negative experience, to say the very least, was bad.

The PR nightmare flashed before his eyes.

"And you're just sitting here?!"

Prickling heat rushed up his collar.

Guy took the cup Ashley lifted to his mouth and threw it.

Sugar cream spilled out in a blond splatter as it cracked against the wall.

"Hey! I paid seven dollars for that!" Ashley whined.

This was what Mark left him for. He had a three inch dick. He couldn't communicate what was so pertinently wrong. He kept calling him by his last name.

He teased him for having a noun for a first name and a first name for a last name, and he was the most annoying person that Guy had ever met, and he wished he would spontaneously combust where he was sitting.

Ashley stood, flailing his wrists as Guy grabbed him by the collar.

Everything about this rail-thin twink was infuriating to Guy; his fiery blond red hair and thick lips that bobbed in uncertainty, his seagreen wide eyes with nothing behind, all reminded Guy, if he weren't so pissed off, hilariously, of a goldfish.

"I'll be your wakeup call, since you've paid seven dollars for a simulacrum of something that actually could," Guy said lowly.

There was a moment of silence for a wild stretch.

"A sim-what?"

Guy reddened from his neck to his ears as he shook him vigorously.

"I wish I could do that to your fucking head!"

Ashley held up his hands in the tight space between them, as Guy's cuff slid back with a readied fist.

"Don't shoot the messenger, man!"

"You bobble-headed cunt!"

"Gentlemen."

"Oh great," Guy muttered, without turning.

Mark.

He lowered Ashley back to where his heels touched the floor before he realized he'd suspended him. Guy put his hands in the pockets of his dress pants.

"Which one of you wants to connect to thirty-one?"

"I'll do it," Ashley said.

"She's been stuck for nine hours," Mark said.

"How is she stuck!?" Guy shrieked irately.

"The issue is all in their heads," Mark said.

"Oh, I'll bet," Guy interjected.

He huffed, crossing his arms, but kept quiet as Mark gave him a pointed look.

"There are some trial members who have become stuck, Guy, because the simulations are so realistic, they've forgotten they're in their chambers," Mark said.

Mark had a talent for sounding certain when he said anything, and he was usually right.

"So, it's like they're in a dream?" Ashley posited.

Guy rolled his eyes.

"You would think, Ash."

It sounded impossible. It sounded unbelievably stupid and convoluted.

"That's the gist," Mark said.

He slid along the desk, looking between the other men. His dark eyes settled on Guy.

"You want to take nine?"

Number nine was the man he'd been with before he got here. Guess he didn't know he should have been fucking sense into him.

He muttered to himself about how unbelievably stupid one had to be to become trapped, unaware in a simulation.

"Sure," he said finally.

"He's been trapped in there for six hours," Mark said.

Guy tsked.

"I used to game every night longer than that. I never thought I couldn't log off."

It was harder to log off than he'd ever admit, sure. Once, he read a study about a rat that had an electrode connected to its pleasure center, which would dispense dopamine through the press of a button.

It walked through a shocking pad to press this button, choosing it every time above all else that was good for it, neglecting its feed and water spout all the while right there next to it in the cage.

The rat put itself through massive pain to get that hit, over and over again.

Guy found the strength to quit the habit, if nothing else but from the sheer embarrassment of emulating a rat.

His sleek black hair prickled where he adjusted the band he'd hastily strapped tight around his head.

He had an erotic game of his own to perfect, after all, one that was going to make him and his then-boyfriend a whole lot of money.

How could these people get literally trapped inside his game?

"It's much more immersive than traditional gaming," Mark reiterated, as though reading his mind.

Guy got a chill up his spine.

"What about you?" he said.

"I will remain as admin, in case I need to pull either of you out," Mark said.

He smoothed his own dark brown hair back, as it fell just around his eyes. The action used to make Guy swoon, and he might have felt a tinge of something, even now.

Ashley nodded as though in agreement.

"VR, take me to number thirty-one in the trials."

In a few moments, Ashley became pixilated before he blinked out of the room.

"VR, take me to number nine in the trials," Guy commanded.

"Don't get lost in there yourself," Mark warned.

Guy laughed dryly.

"I can handle my own game."

"Ours."

Guy allowed a wave of irritation to roll over him, as the room began to pixilate.

It was his idea in the beginning. Sure, Mark was smart about the actual mechanics of building the MidnightSphere™, and Ashley had the money and connections to make it happen.

"You were, it was mine first," he said.

Fuck.

Guy had to escape the embarrassment of what he almost said. He hoped Mark wouldn't notice, would disregard it being real as the room, as their forms that were slipping away like a mirage.

Soon he wouldn't have to see Mark, and that damned Ashley, anymore at all. He could forget the pain and move on to his new life, one of endless luxury.

Who doesn't want that?

Just one final tweaking of his magnum opus. Getting these idiots to remember where they were.

"Want any toys while you're in there?" Mark's voice came through in broken static through his headset, an insinuation.

His cheeks blistered in an inferno. Of course, it was only ethical that their activities would be monitored at all times, for user safety.

"Shut up!" Guy snapped.

No one deserved humiliation like number nine did right now, regardless of whether it was his kink.