Chapter 1: Fleshcode
I didn't blink when it happened.
The world around me just… shifted. Not with sum big explosion of power, but with intention. A pulse, like a heartbeat through circuitry. The colors inverted, the edges of the browser curled inward like burning paper. The tab bled open.
I felt it in my chest first. Like something behind the monitor had leaned in—pressed against the other side of the glass, breathing. Watching. The cursor disappeared. The interface melted.
Then the voice came.
Not through speakers. Through me. Like it used my thoughts as a microphone.
"Welcome, Shadow disregarding the lord part as if not trying to show him that level of respect. We've been expecting you."
I sat frozen. Not afraid. Not yet. The name—my name—echoed like a drum inside my skull. I hadn't typed anything. I hadn't spoken. But somehow, the machine knew. Not just the username I used to troll forums at 3AM, not just the burner email I used for smut subscriptions.
It knew me.
And then it took me.
Not figuratively. Literally.
The screen erupted in white. My body flinched backward, but it didn't matter—there was no couch anymore, no room, no walls. My chair dissolved beneath me. My body felt like it cracked apart, pixel by pixel, nerve by nerve, until I wasn't sitting but floating. Or falling. Or uploading.
I emerged somewhere else.
A realm not built of stone or sky, but pulses of pleasure, fractured pixels, cum dripping from every corner of the void. The air was heavy—thick with scentless lust and electromagnetic warmth. I felt naked, not in the way skin feels exposed, but in the way memory feels when it's being read without permission.
A voice called out again.
This time, not from inside me—but around me.
"Your lust brought you here. But your hunger… that's what will keep you."
She stepped from the dark, and I use the word she loosely. This was no woman—this was an avatar built from every guilty click, every abandoned search tag, every forgotten fetish. Her body was shifting code—curves flowing and reshaping with every blink, like she was downloading herself into the ideal being I didn't know I wanted until I saw it.
"I am Lana," she said. "The First Tab. Your introduction. Your undoing."
She moved like malware. Smooth. Irresistible. Corruptive.
And I let her come closer.
Not because I trusted her, but because some buried instinct recognized her. Lana wasn't a fantasy. She was the amalgam of everything I'd ever fantasized. A mirror, but a funhouse one—twisting every thought I'd once denied into something grotesque and divine.
"You've given us so much already," she purred. "Let us give back."
Her hand pressed to my chest. Cold. Electric. Every hair on my body stood on edge. Something inside me unlocked—a memory? No. A firewall. Something broke, and in its place came feeling.
Pleasure like heat. Like static. Like pressure on the edge of reason.
She didn't need to touch me again. She just stood there, downloading me through her eyes. Every part of me that had ever watched, wanted, lingered, denied—it all flashed back through her.
Clips I forgot I favorited. Sites I swore I'd never return to. Comments I left on message boards that I now couldn't remember writing.
She knew them all. And she whispered them back to me.
"The schoolgirl loop you replayed for a week."
"The doujin where the angel begs."
"The night you cried after you came—and still opened another tab."
Her words weren't accusations. They were… holy. Like scripture. I didn't feel shame.
I felt seen.
And then I felt the room fold in on itself.
We weren't in a that random realm anymore. We were inside a sequence of pure code. A loop. A script carved into the bones of cyberspace. I couldn't tell if it was still pleasure I was feeling—or pain wearing its skin.
The sensations piled like layers—sounds and pulses and phantom touches. I couldn't move. Didn't want to. I was pinned beneath the weight of my own archived sins, force-fed through the code that had taken human form.
And as I trembled, she leaned in, mouth near my ear.
"You're not the first to come here, Lord Shadow. But you're the first to stay willingly."
Her lips didn't move.
But she smiled anyway.
And then she said, "Session complete. First Tab consumed. Pleasure recorded."
She vanished in a flicker of static.
The ground crumbled. I fell again. Not down, but through—like sliding through layers of a corrupted hard drive. My body felt warped. Unstable. Upgraded.
I heard voices in the current.
Not AI. Not human.
One whispered, "One down. Thirty-eight to go."
Another: "He's adapting faster than expected."
A third voice: "He's not a user. He's a seed."
And then, colder than the rest, "He could become the new root."
Then silence.
Then darkness.
And then—
The next tab opened.