The digital clock in the corner of my VR workspace glowed a soft, persistent of today date; Friday. For three whole days, I had lived in this virtual studio, a pristine, limitless space of my own design where lines of code hung in the air like constellations and the terrifying architecture of my nightmare unfolded at my whim. The process of sanitizing my own masterpiece was a unique form of torture.
I had systematically dismantled the engine of dread I'd built. Lisa's stalking behavior was now more predictable, her presence less suffocating. The audio, once a razor-sharp scalpel against the psyche, was now a butter knife. The Locker Breath scares now had a five-second delay, completely robbing it of its visceral, immediate terror. I'd play tested the final build an hour ago, running through the now-familiar halls. It was still atmospheric, still unsettling, but the raw, primal fear was gone. I'd navigated it with the clinical detachment of a plumber fixing a leak. It was scary as fuck by this world's standards, but by mine, it was a ghost of its former self.
"[The build is now within safe physiological parameters for public release, Sir,]". Sunday's voice echoed in the virtual space, a pronouncement that felt both like a victory and a funeral dirge.
"Hah… finally,". With a sigh, I pulled off the VR headset. The real world rushed back in—the familiar confines of my room, the faint smell of old electronics and clean sheets.
My body protested the movement; three days of near-constant immersion had left me stiff. But thanks to the miracle of VR, I'd been able to work lying down. My back was straight; my posture saved from a hunchback's fate.
"[Knock, Knock]". A soft knock at the door broke the silence. It was the same pattern I'd heard throughout the week.
"I'm Ok…". I hollered.
"Alright, bro, just checking in,". Bella said and walked away,
It always like this every day, today it was Bella turn to check on me. Sometimes it was Cathy with a tray of food, her eyes soft with worry. Other times it was Vera with a hearty meal, her tone brooking no argument. Bella had brought snacks, her gaze hopeful and shy. Nadia had brought tea, her presence a warm, calming force. And Emily, always with a quick, teasing remark, checking if I'd finally expired in here.
Their concern was a tangible thing, a net of familial care that had kept me from drifting too far into my own digital abyss of workaholic, I never found it bothersome. Each knock was a reminder that I was anchored, that people were waiting for me on the other side of this door. Finally emerging, I made a beeline for the bathroom. The shower was a baptism, washing away the virtual grime and mental fatigue. As the steam cleared from the mirror, I stopped to look.
The reflection was still a shock. The gaunt, sickly boy was gone. In his place was a young man coming into his power. My shoulders had broadened, giving me a V-shaped taper. My biceps and chest, while not huge, now had a definite shape and firmness beneath the skin, a promise of the strength to come. A satisfied grin spread across my face. I flexed, admiring the nascent muscles.
My gaze drifted lower. And my grin turned into a smirk of pure masculine pride. My junk, already a prodigious gift, seemed to have benefited from the overall physical upgrade. It hung thicker, heavier, looking even more like the biological marvel it was. It was a beast resting contentedly against my thigh, a permanent reminder of the new, potent life thrumming through my veins.
Wrapping a towel around my waist, I headed for the kitchen, ready to rejoin the world.
"Morning, you two," I announced, stepping into the warm, fragrant room.
Emily was at the table, scrolling through her phone. She looked up, a playful smirk on her lips. "It's noon, bro."
I crossed the room in two strides, my new height making the distance seem smaller. I ruffled her hair, then cupped her face, leaning down to plant a firm, affectionate kiss directly on her lips.
"Mwah..". She squeaked in surprise, then melted into it, a blush spreading across her cheeks as I pulled back, leaving her smiling and flustered.
At the sink, Grandma Nadia was washing dishes. The sight of her back was entrancing—the elegant line of her spine, the magnificent swell of her hips and ass stretching the fabric of her dress. I moved behind her, not hesitating. I wrapped my arms around her waist, pressing my bare chest against her back. My towel-clad hips nestled against her incredible rear. She gasped softly, then relaxed into my embrace.
"My Malysh," she murmured, leaning back against me. "You are finally out… Are you hungry?"
My hands splayed across her slightly soft, warm stomach, my thumbs daring to skate upwards, brushing the sensitive undersides of her heavy breasts. I dipped my head; my lips close to her ear. "Kinda," I whispered, my voice intimate.
"But I need coffee more, Nadia."
She shuddered at the feel of my breath on her neck, a delicious little tremor running through her. In response, she pressed back against me, a subtle, instinctual grind of her giant, pillowy ass against the growing bulge in my towel. The friction was electric.
"Want me to make you a cup?" she asked, her voice catching.
"Yes," I replied, my hand drifting lower, fingertips tracing the waistband of her skirt, hinting at the warmth below.
"Then, I will make you a delicious one," she promised, her voice husky.
"Get a room, you two," Emily huffed from the table, though her tone was more amused than annoyed.
"Your turn, Em," I said, releasing a breathless Nadia. I moved behind Emily's chair. Without preamble, I slipped my hands under her loose shirt. Her skin was warm and smooth. My palms found her breasts immediately, overflowing my hands, their weight and softness perfection. She was only wearing a thin white singlet, no bra, and her nipples were already hard pebbles against my palms.
"Ahn!" she moaned, arching her back into my touch, her phone forgotten. "Sael…"
I kneaded her flesh, loving the way she responded to me. "No milk yet?" I asked, my thumbs circling her taut nipples.
"The pills take time to work," she panted, her head lolling back against my stomach. "A few more days, perhaps... Hah~ I don't know…"
"It will be soon," Nadia said, her composure regained as she brought my coffee to the table. Her arrival signaled the end of our little game. The air in the kitchen was thick with unspoken promise and familial intimacy.
We sat for an impromptu tea time. Nadia shared that her embroidery business was slow, giving her more free time. Emily complained about the drought of good new games to stream. Her words were the perfect opening.
I looked at her, my expression turning serious. "Em, I need a favor."
"Shoot," she said, sipping her juice.
"I've been busy in my room for a reason... I've been creating a game."
Both she and Nadia stared, then exclaimed in unison. "That's why you were hibernating!"
I nodded, a proud laugh escaping me. "Yeah... Kinda need to graduate from being a jobless bum, you know…". I paused, as the 2 of them just smiled. "I created a horror game…. A good one.".
Emily's playful expression turned serious. "Bro, horror… that's a tough genre… The fans are cult-like… If it's not good, they'll bash it to pieces, They're ruthless…. Not, to mention, unlike other genre…Horror got a lot of certified professional experts… like REAL Experts…" Her concern was genuine; she was trying to protect me.
I met her gaze, my confidence absolute. "I know… that is why, I pick horror…I'm not worried at all, I have confidence... that my game would do well…".
She studied my face, saw the certainty there, and her expression softened into a supportive smile. "Okay... Then I'll play it on my stream tonight. No charges. I want to help you...".
The offer was genuine and incredibly valuable. My heart swelled for her willingness to support me, that is not an easy thing to do, Emily is a true streamer, playing and unknown game, without knowing it was good or not, is a massive gamble for any streamer.
The rest of the afternoon passed in a pleasant, low-key hum of anticipation. The casual intimacy in the kitchen had settled something in the house, a new normal that was warm and charged with possibility, which I had slowly act on for the last few days, everyone loved it, when I get intimate with them. If I missed doing that to any of them, they would rush to my room and asked for their shares. After our tea, I retreated back to my room, not to work, but to finalize the game package for Emily. The file, labeled Silent Hill: First Fear - Review Build, was a compact, elegant piece of code. I uploaded it to a secure cloud drive and sent her the link.
Dinner was a boisterous affair, The mood was light, the air filled with the clatter of cutlery and the warm, overlapping chatter of the women. They could all feel the shift in me, the focused energy that had replaced the sullen withdrawal. They didn't know the cause, but they celebrated the effect. Cathy kept sneaking proud glances my way, her foot occasionally brushing against mine under the table. Vera heaped extra food on my plate, declaring I needed "meat on my bones," seemingly pleased with the progress I'd already made. Nadia's smiles were knowing and warm, and Bella's glances were filled with a hopeful, simmering curiosity.
Emily was practically vibrating with excitement, though she was trying to play it cool for the family. Our eyes met across the table several times, a silent conversation passing between us. Tonight. My stream. Your game.
Once the dishes were cleared, we made our way to her room. Emily's space was a fascinating blend of girly and geek. Posters of popular VR idols and bands shared wall space with framed vintage game cases. Her setup was professional-grade: a sleek, white VR pod that looked like a sci-fi sarcophagus, a powerful desktop rig with custom lighting, and a wall-mounted array of monitors currently displaying her streaming dashboard and chat mod tools.
"Okay, let's get this party started," she said, her fingers flying across her keyboard with practiced ease.
"Game is downloaded and installed… Firewall checks are good... No pesky background processes to interfere." She was in her element, The room smelled like her—a sweet mix of perfume, shampoo, and the faint ozone scent of electronics.
"You sure you can handle a horror game?" I asked again, my tone light but my concern genuine. I'd created the monster, even in its neutered state. I knew its teeth, however filed down they were.
She glanced over her shoulder, a confident smirk on her face.
"Please. I've played them all. Asylum of the Damned, The Harvest Moon Massacre, The Suffering of Duke Winston… twice." She said the last one with particular pride, as if completing the world's "scariest" game was a major life achievement.
"I'm a veteran... I don't scare easy." Her expression was kind, but it held that faint, older-sisterly 'sure, buddy' vibe. She was humoring me, supporting her little brother's passion project, fully expecting a janky, amateurish mess she could politely praise to her audience.
Seeing that confident, supportive expression made something warm and fierce bloom in my chest. She was doing this for me, I know better than to ask any questions. She was willing to potentially sacrifice a stream's momentum to boost my dream. So, I better be grateful for it, that I don't have to pay for promotion.
"We agreed on the story, right?" I said, pulling my mind back to logistics. "The game is from an unknown indie dev. 'Meteor Studios.' No connection to me at all..."
"Right, right," she said, pulling her hair up into a messy bun.
"Mysterious new dev drops a game file in my DMs. It's a classic trope. Builds intrigue. Don't worry, I've got this…" She winked. "If it's… you know, a bit rough, I'll focus on the potential! The cool ideas! I'm good at that."
I just nodded, a smirk playing on my lips. 'Oh, you have no idea what you're about to experience.'.
She finalized her settings. "Okay, chat is live. Stream is going up in five… four…" She muted her mic. "You gonna watch from here?"
"Yeah," I said, gesturing to her monitors. "I'll keep an eye on the vitals…" I meant her vitals, not the game's.
She took a deep breath, her professional persona snapping into place. She climbed into the VR pod, lying back. The interior was plush and lined with sensors. "Just remember," I said as the lid began to close, my voice firm. "It's just a game. If it's too much, just quit. Kick the lid or whatever…. Trust me.".
She gave me a thumbs-up from inside the pod, her expression one of amused tolerance. "Sure thing, mom. I'll be fine…" The lid sealed with a soft hiss.
On the main monitor, her stream went live. The view was from her VR perspective. She was in her custom virtual streaming space—a trendy, neon-lit apartment with her channel's logo floating on the wall.
"Hello, hello, my lovely Emily-ators!" she chirped, her voice bright and engaging, perfectly amplified by the pod's internal speakers. She doesn't use any avatar, she just appeared as herself, with her usual streamer look and waved at the camera. The chat on the secondary monitor immediately exploded with greetings and heart emojis.
"Welcome to a special, impromptu stream! We're diving straight into something new tonight. Something… mysterious.". She played it perfectly, weaving a tale of an anonymous developer sending her a game file.
"The studio is called 'Meteor Studios.' Ever heard of them? No? Me neither! That's what makes this so exciting! It's a horror game called Silent Hill: First Fear. Now, you know I'm a horror connoisseur…. I've seen it all. So, when a new contender steps into the ring, I have to test its mettle!".
Chat was intrigued. Comments scrolled by.
Ooooh… a mystery game!
Hope it's not another Duke Winston clone…
U brave Em! My DMs are full of virus links lol
Horror? Let's gooo!... I'll hide behind my pillow!
"Alright, no more stalling!" Emily announced. "Let's boot up Silent Hill: First Fear and see what Meteor Studios has for us!".
She selected the game icon. The screen went black for a moment. Then, the first, eerie notes of the soundtrack began to bleed into the room. It was a low, dissonant drone that seemed to vibrate through the floor of her virtual space. The title appeared in broken, rusted letters against a foggy, gray backdrop.
~S I L E N T H I L L : F I R S T F E A R~
Even in its reduced form, the atmosphere was palpable. I saw Emily's avatar still for a moment. A slight, almost imperceptible shift in her posture.
"Okay," she said, her voice still bright but now touched with a note of genuine curiosity. "Interesting vibe already. Very… moody. Let's start."
She selected 'New Game.' The screen faded to black. And then, she was there. The first-person view showed a narrow, dimly lit hallway. The wallpaper was stained and peeling. A single, flickering fluorescent light buzzed overhead. The camera—Emily's view—panned slowly left and right.
"Whoa," she whispered, her professional commentary faltering for a second. "The… the texture work is insane. I can see the water damage on the walls…. This is… this is really high quality for an indie."
The sound of her character's footsteps echoed with a terrifying realism. A drop of water hit a puddle somewhere in the distance.
`~Drip.~ Drip.~`
Chat was already noticing.
This looks way better than I expected.
Sound design is creepy af already…
Em, your breathing got loud lol
Holly shit!!!!!
She wasn't just hearing the game; she was in it. The VR immersion was total. I watched her on the monitor, but I could also see her physical body in the pod through the transparent lid. Her hands were clenched slightly at her sides.
She walked forward, the hallway stretching impossibly before her. A door stood ajar at the end.
"Okay, just a hallway," she said, trying to sound dismissive but a tremor had crept into her voice. "Nothing to it. Let's see what's in this room—"
The radio on her hip—a static-filled antique I'd included—crackled to life with a burst of gut-wrenching white noise.
ZZZZKKKRRRTTT—
Emily jolted in her pod, a full-body flinch. "FUCK!!!" she yelped. "What the hell was that?!"
The static died down as quickly as it came. The chat went wild, from her reaction.
LMAO SHE JUMPED!
That radio scare got me too NGL..
This is already better than Duke Winston
"O-okay," she stammered, trying to laugh it off. "Cheap jump scare. Classic. Got me. Let's… let's keep going."
She pushed the door open. The room inside was dark. She took a step forward.
And then the door slammed shut behind her.
The sound was like a gunshot in the confined space. Total darkness. I saw her avatar freeze. In the pod, her breathing, picked up by her mic, became sharp and shallow.
"Uh… hello?" her voice was small now, all bravado gone. "Okay… a little dark. That's fine. I'm sure there's a light switch…"
She fumbled in the darkness. A flashlight clicked on, its beam cutting a shaky path through the oppressive black.
And that's when she saw it.
Written on the wall in front of her, scrawled in what looked like rust or blood, was a single phrase:
.LOOK BEHIND YOU.
The chat exploded into a frenzy of caps lock and exclamation points. Emily's avatar didn't move. Her physical body in the pod had gone completely still. I leaned forward on the bed, my elbows on my knees, a slow smile spreading across my face.