She nodded. “Yes, but to be honest, I’m not a gamer. I suck really, really, really bad.”
“I played in high school, but since the band took off, there really hasn’t been time to game.”
“Is this a crazy idea?” She gritted her teeth with worry. This would only work if Bent bought in to the idea.
“I guess, if I’m going to slay dragons, I might as well do it with you.”
“Ain’t no dragons.” Forest returned to them and gave each of them belts to wear. “Put these on.” He pointed to the packs on the belts. “The training program will show you how everything works. It’s a bit complex. I doubt you’ll make it out of the training arena in one session. No dragons, but Bent, you’re a wizard. You get to cast spells, and you’re going to have to learn how. Lots of finger action involved.”
Forest glanced at Piper and they exchanged a look. The dexterity Bent would have to achieve to successfully cast his spells in the VR world would challenge his weakened hand.
“Piper is an archer. She doesn’t have spells, but can protect her mage.”
“Protect me, huh?” Bent looked intrigued. “Okay, I’m game. I hope this isn’t really lame.”
“I’ve put a lot of work into this,” Forest said. “If it’s lame, you need to tell me. We’re going to Beta testing in six months. Consider yourselves Alpha testers of the next greatest gaming platform to sweep the gaming community off its feet.”
“Well, don’t I feel fucking special now.” A smirk tilted Bent’s lips and he flexed his fingers. The mechanisms of his specialized glove accommodated for his weakness. “Well pixie, I’m ready if you are.”
Adventure Games
Bent
It had been nearly a decade since Bent had played a game. The world created by Forest had depth, texture, and blew his mind with the details. He’d been expecting something rough, and probably should have known Forest wouldn’t do anything half-assed. The man had genius level skills, which were well displayed in the virtual world.
Bent and Piper began their adventure in an arena training camp. As an archer, Piper had to learn the specific controls for her bow, but spent more time designing her attire than learning what to do. The avatars Forest had created for them were nearly identical replicas of their real selves. Forest mentioned some sort of 3D scanning device, in the future, which would allow a true representation of a person in the VR world.
Bent opted out of going as himself. Instead, he chose to model his character as an ogre. If he was going to play a game, he was going all in. That meant warty skin and a toothy smile. It wasn’t that he had any interest in RPGs, but Piper’s excitement couldn’t be ignored. He didn’t want to spoil the experience. He wasn’t certain what the girl had up her sleeve, but he was willing to play along. If it made her happy, then he was good. She extended far more trust to him in the privacy of his rooms. He would give her a little something back.
“You know,” Piper said, “ogres are usually green.”
He’d set his skin tone to purple and had selected glowing red eyes. She’d kept her avatar and had settled on a skimpy leather skirt with a barely there scrap of fabric covering her breasts.
He flicked the loose fabric, peeking to see if he could get a glimpse of what lie beneath. Piper slapped his hand away, and the glove he wore vibrated with feedback.
“Get your mind out of the gutter,” she said.
“I was just seeing how real things were in here.”
“You’ll get all the peeks you need later on when the no clothing command goes back into effect.”
“Hey!” Forest’s shout infiltrated their world. “I can hear you, and I don’t want to know what you two do when you’re alone. Keep it clean, and Bent, stop trying to undress your archer.”
Piper giggled.
Things were nearly real in the VR world, but not exactly. Like last time, Forest had settled him and Piper into chairs for the VR session, but in the arena they were on foot, walking around. To get his character to move, he had to manipulate his glove. Thankfully, he did that using his good hand. The magic training program, however, brought a groan. Evidently, while movement and examination of his surroundings was handled by his left hand, all spell casting, at least for the beginning levels, could only be done with his right.
“You don’t like the color purple?”
“I have no problems with purple, except when I have to spend an hour beside a hulking purple beast.”
His avatar stood twice as tall as Piper’s tiny archer and was about four times as broad. Forest had spared nothing in the creation of his world, making the tiniest details pop. That included the veins popping on Bent’s impressive ogre physique. Bent flicked through his controls and changed out the purple skin tone to bright pink. He snorted when Piper squeaked.
“No. No. No! That’s even worse.”
“Purple or pink, pixie. You’re in charge.”
“If I’m in charge, I say green. Or what about brown? Brown would look good on you.”
He fiddled with the controls and stopped when he saw one of the options for his character. Not that he’d been paying too much attention, but he was fairly certain that hadn’t been there before. A quick selection and the pink skin of his overly muscled arms grew long brown hair. He wished he had a mirror, but didn’t need it once he saw the expression on Piper’s face. Yet another tweak from last time, the expression generator mirrored what was on their faces.
“Mr. Growly Bear in the flesh!” She wrapped her tiny archer arms around the bear-shaped man he’d become.
“I sense Forest’s hand in this,” he whispered.
Two tiny wings grew out of Piper’s back. He huffed a low chuckle.
“What are you laughing at?”
“Looks like Forest is having fun with us. You, my dear, have wings. I think that officially makes you a pixie.”
“Forest! Did you…”
Forest’s disembodied voice called out to them. “Hey, I can have a little fun. Now, if you too are done goofing off, why don’t you take it to the next level?”
“I think we’re doing just fine with that.” Bent laughed.
“I meant the next level of the game, Lover Boy.”
“Oh, I know exactly what you meant.”
Bent reached down to grip Piper’s hand. A natural action, it didn’t work in the VR world. His hand passed through hers. He vented a sigh.
“Guess you’ll follow me?”
“You think you’re ready?” She hefted her bow. “Remember, I’m in charge here. I think you’re my protective werebear.”
“Play it as you must, my pixie, but remember who’s in charge the rest of the day, and unlike in here, I can paddle your ass for real out there.”
“I’m still RIGHT here!” Forest’s growl had Piper bursting out with her lilting laughter.
Bent gave a grin, because he knew exactly how the rest of the day would play out. He gestured to the gates leading out of the arena, and into what was presumably the wilds.
“Lead on.”
Therapy
Bent
Three months later, Bent sat poolside and rubbed at his hand. He didn’t understand how it could hurt as much as it did, and was thankful for the feedback assistance Forest had designed into the glove he’d been using during Piper’s game. The emaciated and pale appendage had tanned under the California sun. No longer Gollum-white, his right hand still looked like it belonged to another person. The broad expanse of his palm: gone. The tone and definition in his fingers: gone. The space between his thumb and fingers: gone!
Piper said it would take time, but in three months he couldn’t see any difference. Frustrating didn’t even begin to hit upon the emotion churning in his gut. Whoever said failure wasn’t an option had never faced the wreckage staring him in the face. He twisted his hand and the scowl on his face deepened.
Although the VR therapy sessions might be a bust as far as recovery went, he enjoyed his time adventuring with Piper. Her character advanced
rapidly in levels, while his lagged behind. Trying to figure out the intricate magic casting system designed into the game was difficult with his disability. He’d mentioned it to Forest. If Forest wanted feedback on the game, Bent would provide what he could. It took some time, but a week or two later, things seemed easier. He attributed that to whatever fiddling Forest did in the background. He still lagged behind Piper in skill levels, but was narrowing that gap.
They journeyed in Forest’s world, accepting quests and slaying dragons. Forest said there weren’t any dragons in his game, but Piper whined enough that she’d finally worn Forest down. Now, Bent and Piper, both, had a baby dragon perched on their shoulders. A pet dragon brought with it a whole other host of commands to learn, stressing the limited capabilities of Bent’s right hand even more.
Again, Piper’s pink dragon behaved much better than Bent’s. He’d given his dragon purple skin, in honor of the ogre he’d left behind in favor of the werebear mage he’d become.
After three months of adventuring, he and Piper hadn’t progressed far. They’d finally completed the tenth level after their last session. It was Forest’s fault. The man believed people had to earn their rewards in his realm and made Bent and Piper work hard for each and every advancement.
He kept his promise to Piper and diligently put in the time and effort during therapy. Often times, they would stay beyond her hour. She never asked for additional time. Piper adhered closely to the constraints of their relationship. However, he often lost himself in Forest’s creation. It took him away from the demands of the real world, and there was one other important difference. In VR, Bent could forget about his disabled arm. It simply didn’t exist.
Fatigue did set in, however. Like now. He’d pushed their last session close to two hours. His damn hand had given up at the end, too tired and weak to cast his most rudimentary skills. At Piper’s insistence, he’d taken a break.
That break turned into an hour alone with her in his rooms where he’d indulged her in the more pleasurable side of erotic spankings. Eventually, he wanted to incorporate more into their relationship, but understood the importance of moving slowly. Three months might seem like a long time, but he wanted everything to be perfect, and for Piper to feel safe. What they were doing was for mutual fun. His pixie had issues in her past, and he feared activating another hidden trigger.
What little she’d shared of her past told him more than he wanted to know, and yet not nearly enough. Until he had a better grasp of what she’d endured, their exploration would remain fun and light-hearted. She stated a readiness for more, but as the Dom, Bent knew that would be a mistake.
What he did instead challenged her submission. Before he delved into rules and punishments, he needed to see how hard he could push before she pushed back. To that end, he’d taken them to the pool to relax for an afternoon of swimming and sun.
As he anticipated, she balked when he announced they were headed to the pool, especially when he explained his expectations. Piper’s smile turned upside-down and her pout had his dick hardening. That tiny distraction cost them thirty minutes as he forced her to her knees to relieve the ache.
He did eventually get them to the pool and Piper in the water. The day was simply too beautiful to remain indoors, even if it was with a naked Piper.
“Are you going to get in this death trap with me?” Piper’s high-pitched voice called out to him.
The far end of the pool hung out over the cliff face, and she had an unreasonable fear of the reinforced structure cracking in half and sending her plummeting to her death. That had been the primary reason he’d encouraged her into the water. He wanted her to beat back her fear. To take her where he wanted them to go, Piper would be faced with many things which brought anxiety and fear. He needed her to understand he would never intentionally put her in harm’s way. She had to trust him explicitly.
“I’m enjoying the view,” he replied.
Her fear couldn’t have been that strong, because it had only taken one look to get her to dip her toes in the water. Her ankles followed. Then her knees. Before long, she stood waist deep. What she refused to do was swim to the far side. That wasn’t something he would force on her. She’d already pleased him enough by just getting in the water.
The further they travelled, the more natural her submission became and it was growing each day. Not that Piper had lost any of her backbone. She still bossed him around like crazy during therapy, but the rest of the day she bowed to his wishes. Bent made certain his wishes included things she enjoyed. There was nothing sexier than a smile on her face, or a squeal of excitement from his pixie.
“You can enjoy the view from inside the pool. If I have to be in this thing, the least you can do is join me.”
He glanced at the screen of his phone, reading the group chat with the guys. Ash and Bash were writing again. They wanted a band meeting to reveal the new songs. Reading the string of texts brought nothing but irritation. While he wanted to share in the excitement of new music, he couldn’t hold back his anger. They talked like nothing was wrong. As if he was still a part of the band. At some point, they would need to come to the realization Angel Fire needed a new bassist.
If Ryker Lyons wasn’t able to stay on, filling in as he’d been for the past several months, now was the time to begin auditions. That was especially true if Ash and Bash had written a new album.
“Hang on, luv, I’m chatting with the guys. Give me a second and then I’ll hop in and we can swim to the edge.”
“To the edge? No way! There is no way you’ll get me to actually dangle myself over the edge of a cliff.”
“Piper, luv, it’s perfectly safe.”
“Perfectly safe my ass!”
“Nobody said your ass was safe.” He’d reddened her perky ass not less than an hour ago and wondered if it was still cherry red.
She splashed at him and turned, giving him her backside. He sent off a few texts, congratulating Ash and Bash, and expressing an excitement he didn’t feel. He couldn’t. Not with a crappy future staring him in the face.
Putting the phone down, he joined Piper in the pool. Despite his encouragement, and despite swimming to the edge himself, he couldn’t get her to dangle over the edge. What a shame too, a storm was blowing in, whipping up the surf. Powerful and raw, that fury tugged at him. It made him want to play his guitar. He hadn’t touched it in months.
Thinking about playing brought his spirits down. He ordered Piper out of the pool and they returned to his rooms. A quick shower and change into dry clothes brought them within thirty minutes of his next scheduled therapy session. He didn’t want to work on his wasted arm. He wanted to forget everything that had happened to him.
Normally, he would’ve spent the rest of the evening with Piper, but the need to be alone grew into a potent force. Astute as always, Piper sensed his unease.
“Do you want me to come back? Like after dinner?”
That wouldn’t give him any time alone. “I just need a little alone time, pixie.”
“What’s wrong?” She lifted on tiptoe to kiss him.
Drawing her close, he clung to her, and contemplated changing his mind, but a profound melancholy stirred within him.
“Nothing’s wrong, I just have a few things I need to do.”
“Okay,” she said, not pushing for details
Most women would’ve pried, or assumed there was something wrong. Not his Piper. She understood whatever bothered him had nothing to do with her. The woman’s self-confidence was one of the things he loved the most about her.
“I have some things I need to do back at my place,” she said. “Maybe, I’ll head to the beach at sunset. It’s low tide and I’m going to check out the tide pools.”
“Sounds wonderful,” he said. “Don’t push it. The moment the tide starts coming in, please come back.”
“I will.” Disappointment flickered in her eyes. Perhaps she’d hoped he would join her, but he needed time.
As soon as
the door closed behind Piper, Bent turned the lock. Then he headed to the main area of his living suite and stared long and hard at his guitar. It had been months since he’d picked it up. The last time, less than a month after his accident, he’d nearly smashed the thing to pieces. Luckily, Ryker had been with him and kept him from ruining the thousand dollar guitar.
Ryker wasn’t here now.
Golden light streamed through the windows as the sun dipped toward the horizon. He poured two fingers of whiskey and sat with his elbows propped on his knees. Time to consider options.
What did a washed-up rock star do?
He’d never had a real job. Angel Fire had taken off right after they’d all graduated from high school. Thankful for Forest’s mandatory investment practices, none of them had blown through their money. Forest insisted they learn about managing their money, claiming it was foolish to trust another with their fortune. He’d even gone as far as to suggest basic allowances. Not that Bent couldn’t use an accountant, or splurge when he wanted, but Forest said Bent needed to know enough to ensure he wasn’t being taken advantage of by others.
Money would never be a problem. Bent was set for life. It was everything else which troubled him. The aching loss of his gift wasn’t easy to accept. Not that he wasn’t the first musician to face adversity. Rick Allen, the drummer of the mega rock legend Def Leppard overcame the amputation of his arm. He continued to play with the band, and stayed with Def Leppard through its most commercially successful phase.
A drummer!
Rick Allen had reengineered his entire drum kit to accommodate his disability and relearned how to play. Playing bass was different. Unlike Rick, Bent couldn’t take advantage of his legs to bridge the gap. What he could do was stop feeling sorry for himself. He didn’t need the damn guitar.
He hated the sad-sack wuss he’d become.
It was time for a change.
But what?
He glanced at his room, at the guitars he hadn’t touched in months. An overwhelming rage came out of nowhere, setting his blood on fire. He marched over to his favorite bass guitar, took it from its stand, and smashed it against the wall. Anger swelled inside his chest, building with each breath. The ruined guitar hung in his hands, but it wasn’t nearly enough. He needed to destroy it all.
Hearts Collide Page 16