CHAPTER 5 

Richard's mansion was drenched in an early evening glow, reflecting off the polished marble of the grand entrance. Patricia stood there, leaning against one of the towering white columns, her arms crossed over her prominent chest and a smirk of cruel satisfaction adorning her face.

The sight before her was delightful. Susan, the ex-wife of Richard, a woman defeated in every sense, was hastily shoving her belongings into an Uber that had been called for her. The woman was desperately trying to hold on to her composure, as her privileged lifestyle was being pulled out from under her.

Patricia took a sip from the glass of champagne in her hand, a small hum of contentment escaping her lips. Because of the extremely unfavorable prenuptial Susan had signed, the woman was left with nothing but her clothes, and even they were packed haphazardly into two large suitcases, threatening to burst at the seams. "I would have taken her clothes from her too, but they don't fit me," Patricia thought to herself and chuckled softly, taking another sip of champagne.

With one last glance back at the mansion that was once her home, Richard's ex-wife pleaded, tears glistening in her eyes, "Please, Richard!" Her small voice echoed through the grandeur of the mansion's exterior.

Patricia, always one for theatrics, positioned her body between the two, with a graceful but deliberate motion. Her eyes locked onto Richard's ex-wife with a glint of victorious malice.

"What's done is done, sweetheart," Patricia purred, her voice dripping with condescension. "Your time with him is over."

In her frantic state, the woman stumbled over her suitcase and tumbled onto the driveway, her clothes scattered around her like broken dreams. The sight of the defeated woman on her hands and knees, desperately scrambling to gather her belongings, ignited a spark in Patricia. A surge of arousal shot through her, an electrifying jolt that made her bite down on her lower lip. Her body released several jerks, causing her to spill a bit of her champagne. She was having a mini orgasm, right there, just from thinking about the suffering she was causing in poor Susan. Patricia chuckled to herself, regaining her composure. The woman finally managed to collect her belongings and crawl back into the Uber. "Mmmm. Loser," Patricia hummed under her breath, her body giving one last little residual spasm.

Richard, looking lost and a bit like a scolded puppy, shifted his gaze from his ex-wife's departing car to Patricia. His eyes held a hint of regret, quickly replaced by resignation.

Patricia noticed his expression and let out a small laugh before extending her hand towards him. "Come on, baby. Let's go inside." She gave him a seductive wink and led the way into the sprawling mansion, her new home. The door closed behind them, leaving behind the echo Susan's sobs, as they went inside and fucked like rabbits.

* * *

The VR room, in the real world,  was brimming with a blend of shadow and soft, spectral light - a futuristic cavern filled with screens flickering with data streams and panels beeping with quiet, rhythmic precision. The chair, a sleek piece of modern engineering, cradled Jack, a cockpit for navigating his digital fantasy.

Beneath his visor, Jack's eyes were a flurry of movement, tracking the vivid encounters of Patricia. His breaths were labored, breaking through clenched teeth and escaping in deep, lingering exhales. An occasional word or phrase would escape his lips, a small glimpse of whatever scene he was playing out. He sounded like himself still, but the tenor of his voice had given way to Patricia's sultry tones, and it was becoming more pronounced with each virtual escapade.

Though typically his physical movements were subdued while in VR, recently they had been intensifying. Now, as Patricia, Jack's form stirred within the confines of his sensory chair. His hands, twitched and curled, mirroring her actions in the VR world.

His moans, a soft undercurrent beneath the hum of machinery, punctuated the silence more frequently. As Patricia’s encounters escalated, so did the vividness of Jack's physical responses. Each gasp, each soft cry, each shudder began to transcend the boundaries of the digital realm, resonating more profoundly within his physical form.

The line between Jack's reality and Patricia's experiences blurred further. As Patricia's perfect voluptuous body fucked Richard, Jack's male body bucked, his voice rose, echoing Patricia's cries of pleasure. This was more than just a VR-induced mirroring - it was as if Patricia was seeping into him, influencing his physical form, compelling him to respond to her encounters more intensely.

* * *

Sipping on her morning coffee, Sarah looked at the data from Jack's VR sessions, feeling a growing unease. The numbers were promising, but something in Jack's demeanor had changed. He was distant, less communicative, almost like a stranger. There was also something different about his appearance. Nothing extreme, just little things. He grew out his hair a bit, letting it nearly touch his shoulders. His jawline was ever so slightly softer, rounder, and his frame was more slight, just by a faction. 

"Jack, I'd like to look at the feed of one of your sessions," Sarah said hesitantly, voicing her concern for the first time.

Jack looked up, startled. "No! I mean... no. I'd like to keep those private if you don't mind."

His reaction was sharp, almost defensive, and it made Sarah's concern grow. She pressed, her voice gentle but firm. "Jack, I'm worried about you. I think it would be good for me to understand what's happening in there. It's for your own good."

"I said no!" Jack snapped, his voice rising. "Don't be such a bitch. This was all your idea." His tone was strange, sassy, slightly feminine, and entirely unlike him.

Sarah was stunned, not just that he had called her a name, but also at the way he said it. She could have sworn she heard him let out a little satisfied moan afterward. 

"Jack, you've never spoken to me like that before. What's going on? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine!" he spat, his voice dripping with contempt. "Why don't you just mind your own business?"

"Because your well-being is my business," Sarah shot back, her patience wearing thin. "I'm your wife, and I care about you. And frankly, I'm scared. You're changing, and I don't know what's causing it."

"I'm not changing!" Jack said, but there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice. "I'm just exploring new aspects of myself. That's all."

"You're exploring new aspects of yourself by calling me a bitch?" Sarah asked, disbelief in her voice. "By ignoring me? By treating me like a stranger?"

"I didn't mean it like that," Jack said, his voice softening. "It's just... these sessions are personal, and I'd rather keep them that way."

"But Jack, we agreed to be open and honest with each other," Sarah insisted. "We're supposed to be a team. You're keeping secrets from me, and it's affecting our relationship."

Jack rolled his eyes, turned, and started to leave, a strange sway in his hips as he walked, a mannerism Sarah had never noticed before. 

"Jack!" she called, her voice breaking. "Please, talk to me. Let me in. Let's figure this out together."

He paused, his back to her, his shoulders tense. After a moment, he turned, his face a mixture of confusion, fear, and anger. "I... I don't know, Sarah. I just need some time. Please, just give me some time."

He walked away, leaving Sarah standing there, feeling lost, confused, and more worried than ever. What was happening to her husband? What was he experiencing in those sessions that was changing him so drastically?

She looked at the data again, her mind racing. She knew she had to find out, to understand what was happening to Jack before it was too late. But how? And what would she find if she did?

* * *

Jack's fingers trembled as he prepared to plug back into the machine. The memory of his conversation with Sarah played in his mind, a mix of guilt and pleasure swirling within him. He knew he'd been harsh, cruel even, but he couldn't deny that it had felt good, liberating in a twisted way.

"I shouldn't have called her that," he muttered to himself, knowing that his behavior was out of line. "But she shouldn't have pushed me."

The thoughts raced in his mind, conflicting emotions pulling at him. He considered whether he had a problem, whether his obsession with Patricia and the virtual world was unhealthy. But he dismissed the idea almost as quickly as it came.

"I'm fine," he told himself, his voice firm with conviction. "I can stop whenever I want. I will stop. I just need to be Patricia a little more. There's nothing wrong with that. It's all just a simulation."

Before he put the helmet on, Jack glanced at himself in a nearby mirror, and a sick feeling twisted in his stomach. His reflection stared back at him, his male features a stark contrast to the feminine persona he'd come to embrace. A sharp, internal pain struck him, a rejection of his own image, his own identity.

He scoffed at his reflection, a look of disgust on his face. "Pathetic," he muttered, turning away.

He reached for the helmet, the familiar weight of it in his hands a comfort and a curse. As he put it on, he tried to push the doubts, the fears, and the guilt to the back of his mind. Patricia was waiting for him, and he needed her, craved her.

The real world, with its problems and its challenges, faded away as he lost himself once again in the simulation. 

* * *

Life as Patricia had become opulent and lavish, but a nagging restlessness began to gnaw at her. Being the wealthy wife of Richard, the homewrecker who had taken everything from him, had given her a thrill unlike any other. But now that thrill had waned, replaced by a boredom that gnawed at her very soul.

She found herself wandering through the vast mansion, its grand halls filled with priceless art and decadent furnishings, but devoid of any real excitement or challenge. Even Richard, once a source of conquest and desire, had become a dull boy, simple and vanilla. 

"I need more," Patricia found herself thinking, her virtual body yearning for something, anything, that would make her feel alive again.

The idea struck her like a bolt of lightning: why stop at Richard? Why not take it further, push the boundaries, explore the deepest, darkest corners of desire?

She began to bring simulated muscular, handsome men to the mansion. One by one, they came, enticed by Patricia's beauty and power, ready to do her bidding.

Soft moans and rustling sheets could be heard from Patricia and Richard's master bedroom. Richard, who had been away on business, had decided to come home early. A series of events that Jack had deliberately programmed into the simulation. The house seemed strangely cold as Richard made his way to their room, suspecting something was amiss.

As he opened the door, the horrifying scene before him stopped him dead in his tracks. Patricia was in bed, tangled in the arms of two muscular young men, caught in a moment of passionate intimacy. One of them was fucking her from behind, as Patricia pushed back, her thick juicy ass slapping into his hard hips. The other stud kneeled in front of her as Patrica bobbed her head back and forth, sucking his huge cock with sloppy gusto.  She was working them like a pro. Her body was a thing possessed, a weapon of pure pleasure. 

"Patricia!" Richard exclaimed, his voice full of shock and betrayal.

Patricia's eyes snapped to Richard, and a wicked smile played across her lips, as she slipped the hung hunk's dick out her mouth with a pop. She didn't stop everything though, continuing her carnal dance, jerking of the man in front of her and twerking on the cock behind her. Patricia felt a surge of pleasure.

"Richard, darling," Patricia purred, her eyes gleaming with malicious delight. "You're home early. Care to join us?"

Richard's face turned ashen. "What...what is this, Patricia? How could you?"

Patricia's laughter rang out, cold and cruel. "Oh, Richard, don't be such a prude. I'm simply exploring my desires. You should try it sometime."

"I can't believe this," Richard whispered, tears welling in his eyes. "You're my wife. How could you do this to me?"

Each word was a dagger aimed at Richard's heart. "Your wife? Richard, that's such an outdated concept. We're beyond that now, aren't we?" Patricia's perfect hand job sped up, and she pushed back even harder, encouraging the man behind her, inside her. 

"No, Patricia, we're not. This is wrong. You know it's wrong," Richard pleaded.

Patricia's eyes narrowed, and her voice dropped to a seductive whisper. "Wrong? What's wrong, Richard, is denying ourselves pleasure. Denying our true nature."

Richard's heart was breaking, the pain etched on his face. "This isn't you, Patricia. This isn't the woman I married."

"The woman you married is evolving, Richard. She's growing, discovering herself. And these men," she gestured at the two strangers as she continued to pleasure them, "are helping me do just that."

The cruelty in Patricia's voice, the pleasure she took in Richard's suffering, was becoming almost second nature to her. Jack no longer needed the artificial encouragement from the simulated body. The desire to manipulate, to control, to hurt was becoming a part of him.

Richard couldn't take his eyes away from the man's 10 inches cock as it slid in and out of his wife's tight cunt. He watched in horror as her pussy lips gripped the stud's long shaft, and as her ass rippled like jello when they collided. 

Richard's knees gave way, and he slumped to the floor, tears streaming down his face. "Please, Patricia, stop this madness. Let's talk about this. Let's find a way to fix what's wrong."

Patricia's voice was cold as ice. "Fix nothing, Richard. This is who I am now. This is what I want. This is what a deserve." And as she spoke, the cock she stroked squirted load after load onto her tits. She smiled and collected a thick glob of it onto her finger.

"I can't," Richard whispered, his voice full of desperation. 

"You don't have to watch, Richard," Patricia said, her voice dripping with scorn,  "But you will accept it. You will learn to like it..." she licked the cum off of her fingers, with relish, "...or you will lose me forever." 

Richard watched her, his sobs filling the room, a haunting sound that echoed through the mansion. Patricia's face was impassive, her eyes devoid of any emotion. Her eyes dart down to his crotch and noticed he was tenting his pants. She smiled. She had him.

"I'll try, Patricia. I'll try." Richard finally whispered, his voice defeated. "I'll do whatever you want. Just don't leave me."

She smiled, a wicked grin that promised nothing but more pain and humiliation. "That's my good boy."

From that moment on, Richard was nothing more than a broken man. Patricia brought stud after stud to the mansion, letting them live there, taking them to her bed while Richard was forced to watch.

The house became a den of iniquity, filled with the sounds of pleasure and the moans of ecstasy. Each night, she lay on the huge bed, surrounded by her muscular lovers, a sly smile on her face as she drifted off to sleep. At the foot of the bed, Richard cried, his body wracked with sobs, his life in ruins.

In the real world, Jack's pants were soaked with cum.