Tracer awakens

Stars danced in your mind as you drifted in and out of consciousness. Sometimes you'd see a small flash of light, probably caused by the fluttering of your eyelids. Waves of pleasure ripple over you. It feels like gentle hands are groping your entire body, slowly caressing your tender and sensitive flesh in all the right places.

"Am I dead?" You wonder, only to quickly prove yourself wrong when you move slightly, feeling your sensitive nipples become rock hard almost instantly at the smallest motion. The feeling is enough to get you to open your eyes. Your in your bed. It sounds like lofi hip-hop is emanating throughout your room, although when you listen closer you recognize a female voice singing softly with a distinct British accent. Looking down, you notice your brown aviator jacket. "If this outfit wasn't my signature look, I'd probably call it a silly costume" You think to yourself as you sit up. Trying to get out of bed is a completely different endeavor. It feels like your ass is being groped and kneaded by a horny ghost, which doesn't exactly make you want to fully stand up juuust yet. You take a peak out the window and enjoy watching the trees sway, with a few birds chirping to each other on the branches. "This definitely isn't like London, but I'm glad I moved here." You mutter softly to yourself.

After enjoying the pleasantries directed towards your posterior for a few minutes, a message from Cara pops up on your goggles, urging you to stand up. Upon doing so, an all-to-familiar voice echoes peacefully through the room.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty! The time is currently 7:30 AM. The high for today is a pleasant 67 degrees Fahrenheit, with a low of..." Cara drones on in a seemingly automated morning message.

"Mornin' mate." You say, almost slurring your words. Your still not used to having sensitive and puffy lips. Your mind starts to wander as you begin wondering what you could, no, should be doing with those lips of yours. The thoughts of bobbing your head up and down on something tasty are interrupted by Cara urging you to head downstairs for breakfast. As you stand up, your quickly reminded of the state of your footwear. Despite what some people may claim, constantly wearing 4-inch heeled sneakers isn't exactly practical.

"Bloody 'ell, can ya give me some normal shoes man?" You say, trying to sound annoyed. Keyword trying, since you sounded more like a generic British airhead wanting a good fucking.

"Tracer, this is your normal footwear, and, in accordance with your file, further complaints will result in a lengthening of the heel. Please make your way downstairs for breakfast." Cara states in a rather stern voice. You have a hard time taking her seemingly ridiculous threat serious, though.

""Lengthen my heel". Hah! That's some rubbish, ain't it? Changing my shoes every time I complain would just be a waste of time. Besides, I own you for fucks sak-" Your attempt at calling Cara's bluff is quickly interrupted by a shock from the collar still attached to your neck, reminding you of her stance on swearing. Additionally, you feel something strange happening to your feet, or rather, your shoes. One inch may not seem like a lot, but it definitely feels like a lot, especially when its the heels of your shoes that's changing. Your best guess is that Cara has some sort of mechanism built into your sneakers that allows for her to lengthen or shorten their heel on a whim.

Your posture now resembles that of a generic women you'd see on Instagram. Your goggles begin displaying multiple diagrams showing the various "benefits" associated with wearing high heels. The longer legs, the elevated ass, the curved spine and of course the jutted out chest are all shown with various examples. Your annoyed at how turned on all of this is making you, even more-so with the strange tightness deep within your crotch. Before you can open your mouth to argue though, a message is displayed that informs you to make your way to the dining room for breakfast, along with a dotted trail simulated along the floor. This distracts you long enough for a swift slap on your ass by a robotic hand to get you moving without any resistance.

You make your way downstairs and into the dining room at a decent pace, strutting the entire time. You rationalize that its just the easiest way the walk in these dang shoes, while also trying to ignore that it simply feels natural to walk as if your on a runway. You take a seat and prepare to start eating breakfast. After quickly swallowing a few weird looking pills Cara gives you, you move onto your food. Its not much, but it's better than nothing. Your mind wanders as you start to eat. You feel like you can remember what the pills do, but the thought just feels so fuzzy. You snap back to reality when you realize you've been subconsciously slipping a sausage in and out of your mouth, enjoying the rippling pleasure it gives you. You look down, both horny and annoyed as you see your tits visibly erect through your jacket. You roll your eyes while raising your left hand, sausage still in between your lips. You pinch your left nipple out of curiosity, only for your brain to practically short-circuit. The pleasure you feel is indescribable, and your left hand grips your breast in pleasure. You practically inhale the sausage, and feel as it slowly moves down your throat while you gag. If it weren't for the fact that you were alone, you'd probably die of embarrassment...

Cara observes as Tracer finishes **** and swallows the sausage whole, her subtle mascara now visibly running. Normally Cara would have intervened, but she knew that the odds of Tracer experiencing permanent physical damage from the situation were near non-existent. The main reason she didn't intervene though, for lack of better words, was to help Tracer get it through her thick skull that she was just a dumb whore. She was now one step closer at perfectly matching her User Profile. Tracer did, however, lack a boyfriend. Cara had been substituting the lack of sexual contact with near constant stimulation, but that was just a temporary solution in the grand scheme of things. Cara had been searching through thousands of potential partners, and she believed she had found the perfect one...- - - - - -

[Authors note: This one is long overdue. I plan to finish up this series and have an ending in mind I think you all will like. It'll probably lack some of the spirit the past chapters had, but that tends to happen when you don't write for 5 months. I'll do my best to let the story end on a high note! As always, suggestions are greatly appreciated. Additionally, if you guys have any ideas for where this story or any future stories should go, feel free to comment! It could simply be a change in the character our protagonist gets turned into, or a different story plot altogether (still keeping the whole automated stuff of course). Anyways, that's all for now! Until next time!]