HerVerse Ch. 01

I'm so late! My stomach churns and my heart is beating out of my chest as the bus crawls along. I'm about to miss the opportunity of a lifetime because my fucking alarm didn't go off this morning. My phone died in the night because it's old and shit and only properly charges about half the time. Checking the time in the kitchen informed me I had exactly forty-seven minutes to make it to my appointment.

My name is Erin Morgan, and my life sucks. My parents died when I was young, and there was nobody else to take me in, so I got to experience the wonders of aging out of the foster care system. My only real friend, Terry, also a foster kid, basically ghosted me a year ago when she met her new girlfriend--so maybe not so much a real friend. I'm a twenty-four-year-old college dropout who works long hours, for not enough pay, as a personal assistant.

I barely make it onto this bus, squeezing through the doors as they close, and now I'm wedged against a pole with someone's backpack in my face.

My boss, Ms. Sullivan, can only be described as hot and mean. I thought that was going to be awesome. Being bossed around by a domineering woman in a skirt suit is up there on my list of fantasies. I spent that first week in heaven. After that, not so much. I went looking for a heart of gold under that icy shell and found a raging bitch. She may have ruined a certain genre of lesfic for me, and for that, I will never forgive her. Her only redeeming quality is that she pays me just enough to put up with her shit.

Then there's Brenda, my roommate. From the day I answered her ad, we never really clicked, but she needed a roommate and I needed a place to live. She spent the first three months acting like she owned the apartment, even though we're both on the lease. After I finally blew up at her, she stormed out and disappeared for a few days. Since then, I've done my best to ignore her.

She has friends over all the time. I would have thought that might make me jealous, but her friends suck as much as she does. The walls are thin and they are loud enough that I hear them talk about me constantly. Probably to an unhealthy degree.

Especially her friend Todd, who's a little too obsessed with me for a different reason than the rest of them. Specifically my hair, my ass, and my "pocket-sized" stature. Like, read the room, my guy. He tried to push into my room drunk once. A punch to the face and a kick to the balls ended that pretty quickly.

The bus slows to a crawl as three lanes of traffic are forced to merge into one. Fucking construction.

I found out later that I broke his nose. Apparently he had wanted to call the cops on me, but even drunk, Brenda was able to piece together what had happened and talk him out of it. Part of me wishes she hadn't.

She asked me the next day how I knew how to throw a punch like that. All I said was, "Foster care." I left out the part where the father of my last foster family, Mr. Fuller, runs an MMA gym. He's a hard man, but one of the few people from those days that I actually respect.

Outside of reading and video games, my real escape is his gym, and I have a reputation in the ring. I'm not saying that someone with my statuesque height of five feet flat and my mighty heft of a hundred and fifteen pounds, on a good day, could be out on the streets dropping bad guys like a comic book hero, but I'm feisty. More than one cocky asshole has underestimated me while sparring, to their humiliating peril.

When the bus finally reaches my stop, I shove my way through the crowd at the door, collecting glares, and burst onto the sidewalk.

So there it is. My sad little life. Or at least it was. Hopefully. As I race to the Lethe Dynamics building, I curse myself for slipping on my sandals instead of "wasting time" putting on shoes I'd have to tie. I pull my phone out of my small purse on instinct to check the time, and again I'm met with its dead black screen. I barely resist the urge to chuck it down the street. After running three blocks, sandals slapping loudly on the cement sidewalk and my hair and sundress flapping in the breeze, I finally reach my destination.

I'm pretty sure I draw weird looks from other people on the street, but I don't give a shit; I'm never going to see them again. I barely slow down before bursting into the reception area. The receptionist looks startled and reaches toward a phone, looking ready to call security.

"Hey! I'm Erin Morgan. I'm sorry, I'm running a bit late for my appointment."

That causes the receptionist to pause. She takes me in with a quick once-over and sees I'm not at all intimidating. She moves her hand from the phone to her computer and begins typing.

"Cutting it close, Ms. Morgan," she says in a professional, if cold, voice. "Please follow me."

I breathe out the biggest sigh of my life. I made it. I'm actually doing this. She walks me to a bay of elevators and swipes a card over a reader embedded into the wall. One of the elevators opens and she waves me in.

"Dr. Watson will meet you. Good luck. I hope your new life is everything you dreamed it would be." A little warmth creeps into her voice, even though the sentiment sounds rehearsed. It's just another day for her, I guess.

Wait. Dr. Watson! Dr. Watson is going to be the one to send me off. I certainly don't mind seeing her again before I start my new life.

The doors close, and I study my reflection in the shiny metal, then sigh. I look unhinged, if I'm being honest. There are circles under my green eyes and my freckles are in full bloom since I haven't worn makeup recently. I barely had time for a two-minute panic shower before having to run for the bus. My still-damp, curly red hair is all over the place, though that is not necessarily uncommon. Taming my thick mane has been a lifelong struggle, and I've grown to appreciate the wildness.

My chest is flushed, sweat streaming between my breasts, and I am still breathing heavily from the run from the bus stop. Not the best impression to be leaving the hot doctor with, but there's not much I can do about it now.

The door opens as I'm staring at my chest, and I soon find myself staring at a different chest framed by a familiar lab coat. I catch myself quickly and drag my eyes up to find Dr. Watson looking at me with a cocked eyebrow that says she caught me. Oops! I offer a sheepish smile and she answers with a small smirk before turning and walking down the hallway, the rhythmic tap of her heels echoing off the walls.

She's just as beautiful as I remember.

"I have to say, Ms. Morgan, I was a little disappointed when I thought you were going to be a no-show. I had specifically requested this shift."

That catches me off guard. "You requested this shift? What, for me?" I jog to catch up to her until we're walking side by side.

I try to take her in subtly, since I've already been caught once. Her thick chestnut-brown hair is pulled back into a ponytail. Her complexion is light, though nowhere near as pale as mine, and unlike me, she has clear, freckle-free skin. Her eyebrows are thick and well maintained, and I've just been reminded she knows how to use them. Her features are sharp, with high cheekbones and a defined jaw that give her a stern resting expression. Under her lab coat she wears a blouse and pencil skirt. There isn't much on display, but the slight hint of cleavage and well-defined calves are distracting anyway.

She turns her head and smiles, and it reaches all the way to her deep blue eyes, softening all that sharpness. "What can I say? You made an impression during your evaluation."

God, those eyes. Her look makes me feel laid bare, and I suppose with her, in a way, I already am. She knows most everything about me already. The evaluation was very thorough. Not physically, though I did have to get medically examined, but the questions explored every aspect of my life. I spent a portion of the evaluation red-faced and flustered because, after some initial hesitation, I had decided not to hold back on my answers. I didn't see the point. And now the incredibly hot Dr. Watson is looking at me like... that. My clit pulses and my panties begin to dampen. Fucking hell, Erin, get a hold of yourself.

I stutter out a "Th-thanks. You did as well." I look straight ahead, the blush creeping up my neck.

Dr. Watson laughs at my reaction, the sound throaty and alluring. We continue walking until we reach an open door, and she gestures for me to enter and follows me in, closing the door.

Everything in the small room is white and feels sterile. It's simply appointed. To my right, floor cabinets span the length of the wall, and a few labeled bins, each with a serial number, sit on the countertop. To my left is a small desk holding a monitor, keyboard, and mouse, with a simple office chair pushed under it. The wall ahead holds a large closed metal door with a small keypad set into the wall to the right of it. A privacy screen on wheels is pushed up against the wall to the left of the door, with what looks like a robe slung over the top. A strange, electronic smell clings to my nose, drowning out Dr. Watson's subtle, fruity perfume.

She gestures to my purse. "Is that all you brought with you?"

I'm embarrassed, but outside of a few small sentimental items, hair scrunchies, and my phone (which will probably be useless wherever I'm going), I have nothing I care about enough to bring with me.

"Yeah, this is it. Kind of sad that everything I care about can fit in this thing."

My roommate, graciously for once, said she would sort out the rest of my belongings. I'm sure she was just looking forward to getting rid of me and raiding my shit.

Dr. Watson's smile is sweet, lacking any of the pity I was expecting.

"It's totally fine. You wouldn't imagine the amount of crap some people try to bring with them. I always thought a fresh start was better. You can give that to me and I'll make sure it gets sent to your personal storage in your new reality."

As I hand her my purse, I'm grateful. She wraps the strap neatly around it and sets it in one of the bins on the counter next to her. She turns back to me, looking me up and down. A faint look of mischief crosses her face, like she's trying to suppress a smirk.

"And now the rest."

I'm confused for a moment, looking down at myself. I don't have pockets or anything. Wait... I look back at Dr. Watson, incredulous.

"Strip."

That's all she says. That one word. Her voice is full of authority, those eyes still boring into me. Fuck. That blush from earlier returns in full force. If my panties weren't damp from the hallway, they certainly are now. I glance at the privacy screen by the metal door, then back at her. She lifts her chin, offering a silent challenge. She's serious! Butterflies swirl in my stomach, and my center throbs. A small part of me wants to tell her to fuck off. The rest of me wants to actually live the fantasy I've touched myself to a hundred times since my evaluation.

I kick off my sandals, pick them up, and hand them to her. She places them in the bin and continues to stare at me. I swallow hard before gathering the skirt of my sundress. I look to Dr. Watson's face again to make sure I'm not misreading things. She says nothing as her eyes trail down to my exposed thighs. I gather my courage, pull the dress over my head, and hand it to her. She folds it neatly before adding it to my sandals and purse.

When she finishes, she meets my eyes, then lets her gaze trail down to my bare breasts. I never wear a bra if I can help it. My breasts are little more than a handful, and I don't mind the attention I draw from other women depending on which top or dress I'm wearing. The current attention I'm getting is certainly welcome. Dammit, I really am an exhibitionist, aren't I? Going through that particular area of questioning during the evaluation had been... enlightening.

She looks back up at my face, no longer suppressing her smirk. Without breaking eye contact, I take a steadying breath before looping my thumbs through the band of my panties and pushing them down until they drop to the floor.

I bend down, pick them up, and hand them to Dr. Watson. She examines them, and there is no hiding the dampness of the crotch. I know I must be as red as a tomato. I've never been so annoyed at having such pale skin. As I cover my breasts and nethers as best I can, she folds them like she did my dress, but instead of putting them in the bin, she puts them in her lab coat pocket.

"I'll be holding onto these," she says with a glint in her eyes. I stare at her as my brain short-circuits.

Her face adopts a professional facade. "Now, I know we sent you the information packet and I assume you at least looked it over. We'll do a quick review of everything and then I can answer any questions you might have."

That kicks my brain back into gear. "Wait, shouldn't that have been first?"

"I prefer it this way, actually," she says, her eyes roaming over me. "In fact, arms at your sides, please."

Is this woman serious? What is even happening right now? And why am I so fucking turned on?! Surprising myself, and her, judging by the brief widening of her eyes, I move my arms to my sides, exposing myself fully to her. I'm about ready to burst.

Her eyes crinkle slightly, telling me she's pleased, but she keeps up the professional act. Clearing her throat, she launches into her clearly prepared review.

"Good. Now, eight months ago you applied to enter the lottery to be placed into a new reality, not of your choosing, but one selected by one of our Systems in accordance with your profile. After a psychological evaluation and medical check, you were deemed a valid candidate and were entered into the lottery pool. Your number came up two weeks ago. The System that will be responsible for selecting your reality is part of the HerVerse line."

I fight not to roll my eyes at HerVerse. From the way Dr. Watson says it, I can tell she also finds the name ridiculous. I would have loved to be a fly on the wall during that board meeting. I laughed for days after opening the information packet and reading the terrible fucking slogan: "This Reality Asks You to Fit In. HerVerse Asks You to Bloom."

She continues, "As you should already know from the information we sent, the HerVerse line excludes male-identifying individuals. Trans people and ENBYs may also qualify to enter these realities should their profiles match the required criteria."

I narrow my eyes at her. "I already know all this."

She sniffs. "I would be remiss if I didn't ensure you had all the information required before committing to such a large life change."

"You're purposely drawing this out," I deadpan.

She tries her best to look offended. "Why on earth would I do that? This is my job and I take it very seriously." She lets her eyes drift down to my breasts.

"Mmhmm." I cross my arms under said breasts.

She huffs. "Well, if you're going to be like that, I suppose we can move on. Do you have questions before we proceed?"

"Yes. Why exactly am I naked?" I ask, while for some unknown reason I still resist the urge to cover myself.

"Synthetic material can cause issues with the reality barrier. It's not dangerous per se, but the side effects can be... unpleasant. It's best to just avoid the complications."

"I know that too. It was in the packet. Why am I standing naked here in front of you instead of over there, behind the screen, putting that robe on?"

"That's a good question. Why are you?" She asks it as if she already knows the answer, which I suppose she does.

Refusing to give her the satisfaction, I change tack. "Is this the process you follow with your other clients?"

"No, I'd say we're fairly off book at this point. Maybe that will teach you to show up to your appointments late."

I scoff. "So this is a punishment? Some sort of hazing before sending me on my way?"

"Would you prefer a spanking?" she asks with a lurid grin.

Maybe... "No, that won't be necessary." I feel my face heat up again.

"To actually answer your question, no, this isn't a punishment." She takes a step forward, closing the distance between us until we're almost, but not quite, touching. "I wanted to give you a send-off you'd remember." She hesitates for a moment before continuing. "I'm not going to lie. I've thought about you every day since your evaluation. I saw the effect certain questions were having on you, the effect that I was having on you. I was affected too. I find you so... alluring. Your proclivities pair so perfectly with my own."

I'm taken aback. Her smoldering eyes hold mine. I can see the wanton desire in them. When I was touching myself thinking about her, was she doing the same? The thought of that is... so fucking hot.

She continues, "I've kept track of every lottery draw since, to see when your number would be called. I made sure I would be the one to take you in and that you would be the last appointment in this batch of candidates so I could take my time with you." Her eyes are blazing with desire now. I probably should be freaked the fuck out. She's intense as hell. But I'm not. I am warm all over. I want this woman to take me. If only Ms. Sullivan had taken a page from this woman.

She leans in and whispers into my ear, "Say 'no' at any time and this all stops. You can be on your way, no hard feelings. Do you want this?" She leans back and catches my eyes, waiting. I can't speak, so I just nod.

"I need to hear you say it, Ms. Morgan."

I clear my throat and manage a meek "Yes."

Keeping her eyes locked on mine, she moves her hands slowly to my breasts, giving me ample time to react. I let it happen and soon she is massaging them. She pinches my right nipple, and as I let out a little squeak, her mouth covers mine.

A thought occurs to me, and, gathering all my willpower, I push her back. "Before this goes any further, I should say I've been tested recently." I had another physical a week ago, and I got the "all clear."

She grins. "Presumptuous of you. Here I thought we were just fooling around."

I'm half mortified and half aggrieved. "I... you... Ohh god." I bury my face in my hands. She lets out an amused snort and pulls my hands from my face.

"You're adorable when you're flustered." I glare at her, which makes her laugh. "I had a check-up recently as well, all clear, and I haven't had sex since. My mind was... preoccupied with someone." She presses a peck to my lips. "Shall we continue?"

My annoyance crumbles and I sigh. "I'd say no, but I'd just be punishing myself."

Her look turns fond, and she moves back in for a kiss, which I return. Things heat back up quickly as she spins us around, moving me to where she had been standing. She reaches past me and pushes my bin out of the way, then presses forward until my lower back hits the edge of the counter. I feel her hands slide down my body to the backs of my thighs. She kisses me again as she lifts me onto it, parting my thighs and stepping between them to get closer. I let out a surprised gasp into her mouth and feel her lips grin against mine.

She pulls back from our kiss, but before I can complain she's kissing the side of my neck, just below the ear. I let out a little whimper. Ohh god, that feels so good. After teasing that spot for a while, she slowly moves from my neck, trailing small kisses and licks over my clavicle to the tops of my breasts. She begins to feast on one of my hardened pink nipples while playing with the other one with her fingers. She swirls her tongue around it before taking it in her teeth and giving it a gentle tug, pulling another gasp from me. She pinches the other one and I moan.

"These are sensitive, aren't they?" she asks, desire dripping in her voice as she moves her other hand to the nipple she just bit, pinching both at the same time.

"Y-yes, ohh fuck!" I respond breathlessly. My eloquence knows no bounds.

She continues to bite and pinch and lick and squeeze for several minutes, seeming to enjoy pulling different noises and movements from me. I'm overwhelmed when her journey south continues. Kneeling, she kisses her way down my stomach, past my belly button, and pauses at my manicured patch of curly red hair. She brushes over it with a finger, making me shiver.

"I love the color of your hair. The contrast against your gorgeous pale skin is stunning."

The unexpected compliment fills me with warmth. I've taken a lot of shit for my red hair over the years, but I've also been pursued for it, mostly by men. Fucking Todd. It's a weird dichotomy that I've had to make peace with, and I don't always take well to jokes--or compliments, for that matter. Coming from Dr. Watson, though, it feels nice, like it's just one of many things she likes about me. I hum contentedly in response.

Without warning, she grips my pubic hair and tugs, making me yelp, before continuing on her way. She seems to like to give a little pain with her pleasure, and I can't say that I hate it. That spanking comment from earlier creeps back into my mind.

She keeps a firm hold, pulling upward to better expose my clit, drawing a gasp from me. Before I know it, she has her mouth on me, alternating between sucking and doing delicious things with her tongue. She uses her free hand to grab my ass and pull me closer to the edge of the counter, then slides that hand down my thigh and hooks my leg over her shoulder for better access.

I quickly lose control. I don't know that I've ever been this aroused in my life, so many factors I didn't even know about myself contributing to this moment. She begins to fully devour me, and I can't hold back; within a minute an orgasm crashes over me, arching my back and squeezing my eyes shut. I know I'm making wild noises now--I've never been able to keep quiet--but I don't care. I'm ready to come down, but she keeps going.

"Dr. Watson, fuck! I can't take any more!"

I open my eyes and look down to find that now-familiar mischief in the doctor's eyes as she looks up at me. I move my hand to her head to push her away, but end up grabbing her hair and holding on for dear life. This is almost too much, but it feels incredible. It's not much longer before a second orgasm explodes through me. I see stars for a second as my body tenses and shudders. It feels like forever before I come back to myself, feeling sweet, gentle kisses and licks through my folds and on my inner thighs. Every so often she kisses my clit and I twitch.

I'm dead. She killed me. Death by orgasm, carve it on my tombstone. I lean back, my head and shoulders against the wall. I put my forearm over my eyes and let the hand that was grabbing Dr. Watson's hair flop to my side as I catch my breath.

Dr. Watson presses one more kiss to each of my thighs before lifting my leg from her shoulder and standing. I move my forearm to look at her. She rakes her eyes over my spent form. "God, you're gorgeous. And absolutely delicious." She licks her lips before continuing. "The women in the new reality are going to want to eat you up. Luckily for me, I got to you first." She shoots me a wink.

Her hair is a mess from being grabbed, a few strands pulled loose from her ponytail to frame her face. The disheveled look she now sports is unfairly sexy.

I grin back. "I can't say I'm complaining, but I was not expecting things to kick off like this." She smiles back, and we share a moment. "Your turn?" I ask hopefully.

Her smile warms, but she shakes her head. "Sorry, but time is getting short. I'll need to start prepping for the next group soon. We should get you on your way."

I can't help feeling disappointed. "Too bad this is a one-and-done thing. I wish we had met before all this."

She hesitates, then offers a noncommittal "Yeah, that would have been nice." Weird. Maybe she's not as into me as she said. Maybe she does this all the time. I mentally shake it off. Whatever, it doesn't matter. I pull myself off the wall, sitting up. She backs up to give me space as I hop down from the counter. I stumble on wobbly legs, and Dr. Watson catches me immediately, setting me right.

"So, what's next?" I ask, trying not to overanalyze what just happened.

"Now you'll enter the decontamination chamber. You'll be sprayed with a harmless enzymatic fluid that will break down any problematic substances that may still cling to that beautiful body of yours." I narrow my eyes at her, and she raises her hands in surrender. "You'd be surprised how many people show up in full makeup or gelled hair, despite the information we sent explaining the horrible rash or hair loss they'd be dealing with if we let them through without removing it."

Yeah... the list of potential side effects was not pretty. I haven't worn makeup, painted my nails, or even used deodorant (rough after a trip to the gym) for a week.

She goes on. "After that, the portal will open. At any time before stepping through, you say the word and I shut everything down and open the chamber. Once through, that's it. The System has you and you are on to your new life in a new world."

"You really like to draw out these explanations, Doc. Is my company really so pleasant?" I flash her an innocent smile.

Her face turns stern. "Oh, I'm Doc now? I go down on you one time and the nicknames come out?"

"What can I say? Some of your mystique has diminished since I've cum on your face. Twice." Dammit, I'm going to miss this woman.

She lets out a dramatic sigh. "I guess I should have gone with the spanking instead."

We share a meaningful look.

Her next sigh seems genuine. "Okay, we really do need to get you moving along."

A brief melancholy hangs in the air before I nod. I walk past Dr. Watson and head to the metal door of the decontamination chamber, the click of her heels following me. I decide to sway my hips as I walk, pulling a small chuckle from her. The door is plain and windowless, like something out of a sci-fi movie.

Dr. Watson punches a code into the keypad next to it, and the door opens automatically with a hiss. I enter the small room ahead and the door closes behind me with a sucking sound, sealing me in. I see a hook on the wall to my right where I would hang my robe, if I were wearing one. I step into the middle of the chamber, and with no warning, I am sprayed in all directions with a cold but pleasant-smelling liquid. Goosebumps rise all over my body and my nipples harden as I let out a high-pitched yelp.

"I'll admit, that is usually my favorite part," Watson says with a chuckle, her voice slightly tinny coming from a nearby speaker.

I laugh. "You do have a twisted streak in you, don't you, Doctor Watson?" I say, emphasizing her title.

Warm air starts to swirl around the chamber, quickly drying me off, and I hear laughing over the torrent.

"You have no idea," she says. Why do I picture her nightstand drawers full of ropes, cuffs, and gags?

The door in front of me slides open, receding into the wall and revealing a large metallic ring set into the far wall with strange circuitry embedded around it. With a whoosh, a circle of complete darkness fills the ring. The pressure change is enough to make my ears pop, and I wince and rub my right ear.

"Sorry! I did actually mean to warn you about that."

I just shake my head. She obviously heard my distress. I wonder if she can see me as well. I look around but don't spot any cameras. I shrug to no one.

I slowly approach, looking into the inky darkness. It's not so much an absence of light as the surrounding light being pulled into an endless void. It starts to throw me off balance, so I look away.

I don't know what I'm feeling in this moment. Terror at the abyss in front of me. Excitement for what my future holds. A pang of regret at leaving Dr. Watson behind, though I barely know her and I'm not sure I would ever have been more than a bit of fun for her. I sigh and approach the threshold.

"So I just step through?" I know I just step through. What else would I need to do? I'm stalling.

"Yep. I know it looks intimidating, but it's perfectly safe." She's back in professional mode, which I appreciate. She goes on, "As I said, this is the moment of no return, Ms. Morgan. Once you step through, there is no coming back. If you are unsure of anything, I can let you out right now."

I stare into the inky darkness as if I'll find answers there. Is giving up my old life worth something this crazy? Honestly, yeah. Considering the only good things I can think of in the past five, probably ten years are Mr. Fuller's gym and Dr. Watson--and she seems fine sending me on my way--I need to get out of here.

"It was nice briefly knowing you, Dr. Watson. There are plenty of things in this reality I hope to forget, but you certainly are not one of them."

I take a deep breath. Okay, I'm doing this. No more stalling. I push one hand forward and feel a slight resistance, just enough that I have to push to pass through. I steel myself and continue forward. When I'm about halfway through, the push switches to a sharp pull, and I'm sucked into the void.

---

I find myself floating in an endless abyss of darkness. Strangely, my body is illuminated, though no light source is present. Unsurprisingly, I'm still naked.

There is a sudden blinking in the corner of my eye, and I see the word Initializing. What follows is a series of messages that scroll by so quickly I shouldn't be able to read them, but I can.

Initializing.

...

...

...

...

HerVerse initialization complete.

Welcome!

Scanning client.

Scan complete.

Client confirmed.

Unpacking profile.

Evaluating client for eligible realities.

3,052 eligible realities found.

Cross-referencing eligible realities with evaluation results.

Mundane realities eliminated.

1,251 realities remaining.

Low sexual kink tolerance realities eliminated.

245 realities remaining.

Non-enforced consent realities eliminated.

37 realities remaining.

Non-fantasy themed realities eliminated.

5 realities remaining.

Non-adventure themed realities eliminated.

1 reality remaining.

Reality 13795 selected.

Non-enforced consent? What the fuck? I joined the lottery for the cheap, let-the-System-pick option because it only cost $1,000, aka most of my savings. People with actual money can choose a reality, as long as they are eligible for it. The fact that consent is a parameter is creepy. I understand that my old reality was a non-enforced consent reality, but nobody chose to be there. At least I know I'm not going to one of those... Still, putting all my faith in a soulless corporation to give me a new life may have been shortsighted.

My mind goes to the really rich people who are able to custom-tailor their own realities with Lethe Dynamics, and I shudder to think what parameters some of those realities are built around. A few even leave their realities open for the general public to join. I'm sure some of the people who join end up in some sort of hell reality, under the thumb of the same megalomaniacs who ruined our original reality.

The messages continue, pulling my focus back.

Name: Erin Rose Morgan

Age: 24

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Lesbian

Relationship status: Single

Relevant experience: Mixed Martial Arts Training, Hard Knock Life, Obedience Training

Primary kinks: Exhibitionism, Submission

Well, that's just fucked up. Hard Knock Life? Who the fuck am I, Little Orphan Annie? Reductive much? And obedience training? The only thing I can think of there is my job as a PA and, okay, yeah... dammit. Even now, and I hate myself for it, if Ms. Sullivan had demanded I get on my knees and crawl to her, I probably would have... I really needed that job. Was I getting dommed that whole time without the fun parts? Lame. In light of that realization, and the fact that Dr. Watson got me naked with one word, I begrudgingly accept the kinks.

Formulating class.

Class: Unclad Brawler.

Sub-class: Submissive.

Traits: Cursed, Enhanced Bond, Passive Boost, Physical Stat Boost.

Class Abilities:

Body of Stone (Passive): Skin toughens, bones harden, your body becomes your weapon and your armor, ready for battle. This power can be toggled on and off at will.

Pureness of Body (Passive): Your body naturally cleans itself over time, and toxins, poisons, and diseases are purged. Body hair is automatically maintained as the client sees fit. This power can be toggled on and off at will.

Barefoot Traveler (Passive): Your feet are resistant to difficult or harmful terrain.

Resistance to the Elements (Passive): Your body acclimates to all but extreme weather and temperature conditions. This power can be toggled on and off at will.

Path of the Unburdened (Passive): Base combat skills increase in quality. Need for food and drink greatly diminished. Receive curse: Unburdened.

Curses:

Unclad: Items or Equipment triggering the Clothed status also apply Mundane, Burdened, and Clumsy. Effect duration: Permanent while Clothed is applied; debuffs remain for 12 hours after removal if Clothed was triggered voluntarily.

Unburdened: Inventory: null.

Base Attributes (Unboosted):

Strength: 16

Dexterity: 15

Constitution: 14

Wisdom: 13

Intelligence: 9

Charisma: 12

Initial Skills:

Unarmed Combat

--->Upgraded to Martial Prowess

Unarmed Defense

--->Upgraded to Naked Defense

Magic Resistance

--->Upgraded to Heightened Magic Resistance

Natural Regeneration

--->Upgraded to Rapid Regeneration

Uh... hold on a moment. My mind spins as I take in the class I'm being assigned. A few things immediately jump out at me. The first is that I'm cursed!? Cursed to be naked and destitute in a fantasy world full of women. Why does that turn me on... What is wrong with me?

If I ignore that part, even if it is a huge fucking part, the rest of this class seems busted. I have nothing to compare it to, but there are a lot of compounding enhancements here. Let me get this straight. My stats are boosted. My skills are upgraded, and presumably scale off those boosted stats. And all my abilities are passives, which my passive boost improves even more. It's compounding on compounding.

Am I a small, nude, clawless Wolverine? Well, smaller. Wolverine is a short king, Hugh Jackman notwithstanding. But seriously, this class sounds awesome. I just have to be naked all the time, no big deal...

Goddammit...

I'm choosing to ignore the subclass for now. That's probably where Enhanced Bond comes from. Whatever happens, I'm not just going to throw myself at the feet of whatever hot, domineering woman decides to show me attention. This is my new life, and I will make the best of it.

Finalizing class.

Verifying client compatibility.

...

...

Compatibility 100%.

Assigning class.

Class assignment complete.

Loading equipment selection.

Equipment selection canceled.

Initializing reality integration for Erin Rose Morgan.

...

...

Integration complete.

Thank you for choosing HerVerse.

Prepare to bloom.