I thought about getting up and trying out one of the other machines.
My pussy still kinda ached, and I really did want to see what I could shove in it. But also, I actually felt tired. For the first time in literal years.
I felt something resembling true exhaustion, and not just the aesthetic affect of being winded.
So I flexed the muscles in my throat and twitched my tongue about as I said my safety word twice without actually making a sound.
Back on my familiar, yet still invisibly glitched out, couch, I realized that I may have made something of a mistake.
You see, somewhere between when I was heavily modifying my penis and installing an entirely new vagina, I’d found a setting that allowed me to customize the sensitivity of certain parts of my anatomy.
Upon making this discovery, I had, of course, set the sensitivity on my genitalia to maximum.
Because why settle for anything less?
It’s just that, in retrospect, I may have underestimated the effects of doing that.
I’d kinda just assumed I’d cum a little quicker.
Which was hardly a problem, considering that I'd found the slider that altered my refractory period and cut off another ten seconds from it.
And while part of me was tempted to set my refractory period to zero and render me capable of theoretically perpetual bliss, I’d refrained because I really did enjoy teasing myself in between orgasms. That space where you couldn’t actually cum again, but were sensitive and engorged enough to still feel things, was one of my favorite places to be.
Especially because I’d found out, one time after tying myself to a sybian, that that state could continue almost indefinitely if the stimulation never stopped.
Still, to counterbalance the fact that I was probably going to be something of a quick shot now, I’d also extended the length of my orgasm to about a full minute.
Because more orgasm was obviously better orgasm, right?
Well…
Yeah, actually. It still was.
That was fucking amazing.
But also I’d ended up cumming harder than I ever had before, and had done so for long enough that I’d practically had a seizure.
Only to follow that up with my usual masochistic tendencies, and then subsequently be met with disaster.
I’d bitten off more than I could chew, in other words.
How long had I ended up spasming there uselessly, my face shoved into the floor?
I checked the clock, and saw that 45 minutes in real time had somehow passed.
That couldn’t be right.
That would mean that I had spent the subjective equivalent of three full hours, in there.
For that to be true, I would have had to have actually passed out at some point, and I knew that I couldn’t do that.
Not only that, I would’ve had to have kept a full erection for over two hours, and simulation or no, I just didn’t see that happening.
So I checked the logs for my internal temperature, thinking that maybe my clock speed might have lowered itself because of some unexpected cooling error.
And yeah, sure enough, about 3 minutes of real time after I started fucking myself, my core temperature had apparently started rising rapidly, and as a result, some sort of fail safe that I hadn’t known about had kicked on and my clock speed had slowed way down.
But it was fine, now, and I wasn’t sure what had changed.
Other than the fact that I wasn’t having my brain melted by the best nut I’d ever busted, and that couldn’t be it.
Could it?
I got cameras on my internals and double checked that all my cooling fans were working just fine.
I double checked the records on my clock speed. I eliminated any other variables that I could think of.
And then I sat there, slowly recovering from that surreal feeling of actually being tired for once.
Had I literally managed to cook my electronic brains from cumming too hard?
Because if so that was kinda hot-
-I mean concerning. That was actually kinda concerning.
Melting my processors was basically the equivalent of giving myself brain damage, no?
I couldn’t afford brain damage. I was stupid enough as is.
I checked my kitbashed diagnostics tool, and looked at the readout of data I barely understood, trying to see if anything was different.
To my surprise, there was.
Some new process was running.
Huh.
Hey, wait a second, if I’d cooked myself to the point of permanent damage, why was I starting to feel better as time went on?
Was I just getting used to being down a few simulated brain cells already?
That didn’t seem right.
I looked at the new process on my readout. It pinged a couple times a cycle, appending a new signature, or maybe a new value every time it did.
Was that a progress bar?
I couldn’t quite tell.
You have to understand, when it came to what I was extracting from my diagnostics port, I wasn’t getting a plain read out of code.
I was getting a bunch of voltage variances on about sixteen different wires that I’d managed to pattern match enough that I could sort of talk back to it. I’d assigned variables and strings to certain patterns of signals, but I had no real idea if any of it was correct.
But this sure looked like a progress bar was ticking upwards.
And I was feeling better as whatever it was continued.
Was I repairing myself somehow?
Could my circuitry heal?
Or was it just that some sort of filter was being laid over a faulty process to make it feel that way to me?
I had no fucking idea.
But the idea that I might have to blueball myself for safety reasons ticked me right the fuck off.
So I hoped I was healing.
But that wasn’t something I could prove either way. Not for now.
I didn’t want to mess with my hardware until whatever the thing was finished. No reason to compound variables.
But I also didn’t want to just sit there and do nothing, so I treated myself to playing dress up for a bit.
I’d chosen one outfit for myself already, the one that I’d spawned into the lewd gymnasium with, but I wanted at least a few more.
I was still in the process of rediscovering myself, after all.
I tried on a finely tailored business suit first.
Now that I was giving myself permission to try out being a little more masculine, it just seemed appropriate.
And I liked it ok. I’d never really worn a suit when I was pretending to be a dude, so I didn’t have any negative associations with it.
But it didn’t make my heart flutter either, even after changing the color and style a whole bunch.
It just wasn’t me.
I kinda liked the suit pants, though.
So I kept those and then started swapping out the white dress shirt alongside it's accompanying jacket and tie for other options.
A loose shirt with a cardigan over the top, was next. I liked that a little more. It didn’t hide my tits as much as the suit jacket, but still felt formal enough that I could get away with wearing it in an office.
Which I didn’t imagine I’d be doing much of, in the future, but if I wanted to make a good, polite first impression on somebody new, there were worse choices than business casual.
I saved the outfit as a preset, and went back to experimenting.
I kinda liked the casual vibe, so I wanted to see if I could branch that out into something more comfy.
I swapped the black suitpants out for some loose beige slacks, then flared the cuff at the bottom out a little. Not going for full on bell bottoms, but still bringing in a bit of that retro style
I traded in the stuffy dress shoes for some brown leather sandals, the braided straps alternating between darkwood and lighter pine colored notes.
For a belt, I replaced the black and silver leather affair with an off-white colored fabric band that was secured with two bronze D rings, and I let the excess length of the belt hang down over one leg.
Then I kind of struggled with finding the right top.
Normally I’d go with a wine red underlayer and something light over the top, but the wine red on my purple skin felt off to me, especially given all my bright blue highlights.
I needed to tackle this from a different angle.
I set the color of my shirt to a boring gray as a placeholder, and then flicked through a couple of different styles, some masculine, some feminine.
To my own mild surprise, I settled on a deeply cut v-neck short sleeve, one where the cut went all the way down between my breasts to reveal a bit of my navel, with those lovely abs peaking through.
I didn’t even have a bra on, because I technically didn’t need it. Back support was for fleshies.
The sheer amount of cleavage was far more eye-catching than I was used to, but I was starting to realize that a lot of what I used to wear was chosen more to blend in, than to make myself actually happy.
I wore whatever I thought could get me closest to being invisible.
Because I wasn’t a girl any more than I was a boy, but being girl hurt less so I just kinda had hoped that modestly long skirts and dresses would be enough.
Damnit.
Well, if I was gonna look like a slut, I might as well own it.
I threw a necklace of stained wooden beads over my neck, one that draped down to a bronze pendant that hung right between my tits.
The pendant, of course, was a variant on the classic anarchic A, the letters edges stabbing outwards from the circle that surrounded it.
There. If my tits were gonna be out, I might as well really advertise it.
To balance the two unmistakable feminine objects on display, I cut my hair even shorter, bringing it to a short crop on the sides and just a bit longer on the top.
Then I put a plain, late eighties style digital smart watch on my left wrist, the display on the inside edge, where it rested against my thigh.
The gray on my shirt was still throwing me off, though. I felt like I needed to match my skin with something dark and muddied, but brown didn’t feel right, even if it would have worked.
But since I was working with a kind of natural fibers and wood grain vibe anyway , maybe something like a tan canvas color would work?
I tried that, and found it was too yellow for my taste, so I decided to try something I'd never go with in real life. Stark white. Ordinarily I'd be so afraid of staining it that it would cause me to have near panic attack, but this was VR, so that wouldn't be a problem.
It looked great. Eye catching, but not gaudy, despite the unusual hue of my skin tone.
The fit was the right blend of summery and mature, in my eyes. Definitely still very feminine, but it showed off enough of me that I think it would be clear to most that I wasn’t just a woman.
I looked, at most, like a lesbian with a casually commanding air of authority.
I’m not sure it was perfectly representative of who I was, but it definitely looked good enough to serve as a regular wear.
And by that point, the anonymous process that was running on me had finally finished.
Examining how I felt, I found…
That I just felt normal.
Still a little giddy from trying on a bunch of pretty looking clothes, but other than that, just normal.
Not woozy. Not tired. Not diminished in any way.
My core temp was holding steady. My clock speed was nominal.
My diagnostics readout had gone back to what looked like its standard holding pattern.
Nothing seemed wrong.
If I’d damaged myself, I wasn't feeling it.
So either I was self repairing to a certain extent, or, that sense of fatigue had been a warning. Something to get me to stop, before I actually did melt something important.
That was also possible.
I’d have to gather more data later. There were plenty of other toys to test at that gym.
For now though, I did actually need to get some work done.