V(engeance)-Day

After three days of dilated time passed in my HubSpace, two more sessions of Daily Dungeon Marathon runs, a few innovative collaborations, some new crafting sessions, and some very steamy threesomes with my two lovely and very kinky lovers, we finished our preparations as much as we could within the limited time-frame we had to work within, yet managed to get it all done and then some.

I ran a few more dungeons specifically to run for some more random blueprint packs and materials, with Theresa and Evelyn mostly only going in to assist me in getting as much materials as we could for what we needed. I got some new blueprints as well as plenty of copies of what I already had, enough to upgrade the white common blueprints up to the green uncommon tier. With Theresa's help in testing the weapons I crafted and Evelyn's invaluable help in integrating the new tech and fully tested modifications into my own body, we're as ready as we'll ever be to carry out our plan to bring down this criminal empire that has managed to evade justice until now.

After getting dressed into our respective new duds, arming ourselves as we needed and preferred, and getting any unfinished projects wrapped up for now, we then left and headed to carry out our respective parts of this plan. Evelyn headed to her and Evelyn's old apartment to set up her portable net-runner rig we made with her designing the software and me the hardware. That place was to act as our initial base and would later serve as our meeting place once we finish our respective roles to play. Theresa left to secure a safe-house to serve as our fallback point should something happen to result in us needing to abandon their apartment. In the event they are somehow forced to abandon it, Evelyn can enter the HubSpace and Theresa or myself can enter to bring her back out with us, something we tested as part of an emergency escape plan to see if we could exploit that.

As for me? My role was both the easiest and the hardest. Easy in the sense that I would be able to get in with the various tech and modifications that Evelyn helped me design and integrate into my body. Hard in the sense that the moment we truly begin, then I'll basically be announcing to Isaac and his four lackeys that I was alive and personally attacking them for once. The one thing that we need to be very careful about is if they try to reveal my existence to the public, since as far as the world and cops and all legal officials here in Neo-Detroit are concerned, I'm a ghost and a dead man for the last six and a half years. That's part of what Evelyn's job is going to be, ensuring that the word does not get out that I'm alive.

Right now, that's the only reason we can even pull this right now. The moment that element of surprise disappears, we lose our biggest advantage. As I leave, early in the morning, I really hoof it straight to where that exclusive resort is supposed to be and carefully infiltrate it without alerting anyone or setting off any alarms. Then proceed to set our trap for Isabella and her sister-bitches. I won't even need to do much. They've already laid most of the groundwork for the trap themselves. I just need to take advantage of it for myself. Now, where is the overall manager's office...ah, there we are.

Brazenly walking right into it through the door, I then begin the first step to carrying out my revenge plan. Operation V-Day is officially a 'go'...

8 hours later, Outskirts of Neo-Detroit Exclusive Resort, Relaxing Spa, and Secret Brothel Third-person P.O.V. Shift

As the morning of 'V-Day' finally arrived, a very expensive limo drove out to this isolated and reclusive spa and resort a five-hour drive from the outskirts of Neo-Detroit. This special resort is excessively exclusive, only allowing the richest and most influential of the social elite to book appointments, and only one appointment per week is ever accepted. This is due to their secret function of acting as a very discrete and secret brothel for those seeking to have some carnal fun without their spouses or significant others finding out about their infidelity.

The employees, men and women both who are not only highly trained and skilled in their respective roles in their official public profession, but extremely discrete and confidential at also in fulfilling their client's special 'hidden' services, which they receive an extra fee for as 'tip for their outstanding services'. In truth, it's payment for an illegal prostitution service hidden behind the guise of a very private and strictly exclusive spa and salon treatment.

The limo slowed to a complete stop as it halted and parked right before the front door to the secret hidden brothel. The chauffeur walked out of the driver's seat, around the front of the limo, to the door of his passengers, and then opened it for the five ritzy, glamorous, and seductive women, all around 26 to 28 years of age. First were two black identical twins who physically are perfect mirrors of one another. Followed by a local minor celebrity actress. Then came a Russian-Irish mixed woman. The final woman was the one who owned said limo, arranged for these outings, and also the one who pays and is the registered client for this week's sessions.

They are Aisha, Eina, Eliza, Anastasia, and Isabella, in that order.

The five utter bitches who ruined so many lives, successfully committed and aided their respective husbands in getting away with their own crimes, have gained wealth and influence within the top ten percent of the world, and yet, despite having everything a sisterhood of rising crime lord's spouses could possibly want or need, their one and only complain with their choice of spouses is precisely the reason for them coming to this openly hidden yet professionally discrete brothel.

Their sex lives with their husbands are utter shit.

Due to the method they abused illegal biochemicals and growth hormones that cheated the mandatory drug tests for the sports teams without getting caught, their genitals had slowly shrunk down as their respective libidos all dwindled as they got older. Now, they suffer from impotency, and due to complications born from just how small their pleasure tools have shrunk, they can't get any implants to fix it without suffering a potentially fatal case of blood loss. So now they've lost their potency, their drives for carnal pleasure, their ability to please their women, and thus so are they now forced to commit infidelity by having arranged affairs in private with male prostitutes just to satisfy their pent-up frustrations while faking at still receiving orgasms of pleasure from their micro-sized husband's dicks.

In short, the reason for their monthly trips to this establishment is to hire a strapping and virile stud among these professional male sex workers to fulfill their feminine needs and give them the pleasure their impotent micro-dick husbands have failed to give them in the utmost epic manner possible for the past few years. So frustrated they are, in fact, that they discretely learned of this particular service a year after they graduated, and have been making week-long trips every month just to keep themselves from absolutely killing their husbands in their unsatisfying performance in the bedroom.

Each of them have undergone physical enhancement surgeries, procedures, and treatments. State of the art Bioware enhancements, a few discrete top shelf Cyberware augmentations, and some very expensive gene-mod treatments to keep themselves looking young and beautiful. All the best of the best that money can buy. All of them had large, buxom chests, wide, child-bearing hips, asses that are just plain perfectly grab-able. And it was mostly Bioware enhancements, so they could potentially pass it off easily as all natural.

Walking through the front doors of the exclusive resort brothel, the five ladies all are pridefully walking with a very tantalizing sway in their steps, as each of them are fully aware of why they are here and what they are planning to do. After checking in, they get their usual requests for food and drink for their lunch fare. Then as they walk, thin opaque bathrobes over their bodies, to the female masseuses for a deep-tissue oil massage, the five ladies lay on the massage tables, moaning gladly as the aphrodisiac massage oils help loosen their bodies in preparations for their planned week-long orgy.

Once the five masseuses complete the session and leave their clients completely primed and ready for their respective paid for male escorts, they walk out the door and leave them to their personal fun. However, instead of five separate well-hung and vigorous young men like they had paid and expected, a solitary large male of seven-foot-even height walks into the room. This man wasn't wearing the uniform of the employees, nor was he wearing a typical male prostitute's attire. He was wearing what looked to be modified formal wear. A three-piece suit with a dress shirt, with a vest over it, and specially tailored pants whose front seemed stitched specifically for easy access to the crotch to open wide open to fully expose the groin.

His face showed two Cyberware scars from clear extensive implants, including two unusual indents around the outside of his eyes along the upper and lower corners of the orbital bones. His cheeks showed two rectangular diodes running down from his eyes like tears before sharply angling like hooks towards the outside of his jaw on both sides with a clear unblemished seeming chin between the metal-lined marks. His hair was groomed into a thickly swept-back pony-tail style with a couple bangs lining the sides of his face. As for his eyes, they were glowing a bright electric blue with clearly cybernetic light from within.

But these five women only looked shocked at his appearance, because he looked far too much like a certain dead man who should not be there. Convincing themselves he was simply a look-alike, that fragile belief completely shattered the moment he opened his mouth to speak up and address them.

"Six years. Six Months. Six days. On the dot." The five of them simply freeze as the implications of that statement make it clear he wasn't some look-alike as looks of paling horror begins to spring onto their faces. "Novak Neumann lives again." He then looks at all of them dead in the eyes as he speaks his final words of address to these five horny, unfaithful, gold-digging bitches. "Hello again Hawthorne, or is it Dickins now?"

""Neumann!?"" The gasps from the four ladies of Aisha, Eina, Anastasia, and Eliza are completely going pale as sheets at the realization of a dead man standing before them.

Isabella shoots up from her table along with the rest of the four near naked and hopelessly horny women, preparing to shout, to scream, anything to get the employee's attention to call security, only for a pair of black reflective shades to pop out of those indentations outside his eyes as Novak pulls a cylindrical device out of his right sleeve, sliding right into his grip, opens up at the end, revealing a strange looking light, and then flashes, causing all five ladies to freeze in place as their faces slacken.

Novak then closes up said device, now revealed to be a Neuralyzer. slips it back into the concealed holster in his sleeve, as he then speaks up, implanting a suggestion into their minds to carry out the first stage of his plan for revenge.

"You will not call for security. You five are going to file for divorce with your respective husbands, due to your frustrations in suppressing your carnal desires. You decide to fulfill your innermost desires with a real man, happily devoting yourself to that person, joyfully, for the rest of your lives."

As the suggestion takes root, the five ladies have their faces change from paling horror to aroused inferno in seconds. Isabella herself then directs a smoldering look at Novak, eyeing his new, cybernetic-enhanced physique from what she can gather under his clothes, alongside the other four ladies.

"You were supposed to be dead." Isabella states heatedly, as Novak simply smirks as he responds to her question.

"I got better."

That simple three-word statement surprised and got all five of these ladies to look at each other, sharing a look, and then nodded. All five of them stood up from the massage tables, then reached up to their respective robes, removing them to pool around their feet on the floor as the stepped out and revealed the very skimpy sling bikinis and g-string thongs, all made of leather and spandex. A choker was tied around each of their necks, with a simple ring for a leash to be tied onto as all of them proceeded to sashay in front of Novak, who sat down on the large throne-like chair that had been placed there earlier in the day.

All five of them proceeded to kneel before him on the floor, bowing their heads, as they took the leashes tied to the throne, clicked it onto their chokers, and begin to pose seductively in all manner of enticingly erotic and seductive ways as their eyes darkened in carnal hunger as the five of them then spoke in unison, as if they'd been practicing this for years just to perform this exact act.

""Please use your exclusive harem of pleasure-slaves until your majestic cock is completely flaccid and our bodies ruined for all other men. We are yours and yours alone from this moment forth, our new Master.""

...well now, even Novak was surprised by this. When he infiltrated this place earlier this morning to Neuralyze the employees so none of them would realize he wasn't supposed to be here and treat him as the actual client for this session, he was pretty shocked to learn these five always hired the same general description of male prostitutes. All were slightly above average height. All were dark-haired. All had bright blue eyes. All had scrawny builds. And they all were hung slightly more on the bigger side with double the dick size than the average. That is a very familiar general description. After all, it described me perfectly back in college almost seven years ago.

Then when he found out these five also had a set of bondage swimsuits they would reserve to wear during their 'sessions' here, Novak assumed they were performing some BDSM-styled affairs and were submissive masochists. It would seem he had somehow left a slightly better impression in their memory of him than he had believed he did. Then again, thinking back, he did recall how someone had somehow in someway managed to secretly take a picture of him in the nude in the locker room showers, and it showed he was far more hung than the guys who were constantly trying to get into the ladies' pants. Novak suddenly gives these five ladies a very intense look as he realizes the true extent of their little fantasy and he decides he's not going to say 'no' to turning these more than happily willing sister-bitches into his personal breeding-harem.

Using his technopathy, Novak then commands a group of camera drones to hover around from multiple angels as he has them record everything he plans to do to these five bitch-slaves. Taking a very domineering tone of voice, he speaks up as he rests his arms on both sides of the throne, spreading his legs out and leaving the seam to his pants within their reach as he sits back and gives them his thoughts. The five of them heavily blush in clear arousal as their loins begin to create puddles of their natural lubricant, seeing the camera drones, but not stopping him from recording this, as a strong sense of thrilled arousal shoots through all five of them. Their shared fantasy is about to become a reality, in far more ways than they ever hoped or expected it to become.

"Then allow us to make it official, for posterity's sake." At their collective nods of acceptance, Novak continues.

"Do you agree to divorce your impotent, micro-dick husbands for their failures to properly satisfy you, their wives, carnally in the bedroom?"

""We do.""

"Do you consent to willing sharing the same mega-hung stud, to fill your holes, to pleasure his every need, to lather his balls and milk his monster cock to drain his cum?"

""We do.""

""Do you willingly choose to become the exclusive harem of breeding slaves, to take every load, to receive my breeding, to warm my cock with your holes, and to become broodmares to serve my every carnal order every day, for the rest of your sluttily whorish lives?""

""Yesh!~We do.~""

They began drooling at the implications of what Novak was demanding of them, and so he handed them the official legal papers for filing divorce, along with the pens to sign their names. "Then sign here." They quickly signed their names as the five of them then hungrily eyed his crotch, as a massive bulge began to start forming in his pants.

"Then I hereby pronounce you five my Sisterhood of the Bitch-Slave Harem."

They all practically blushed heavily as the puddles beneath them grew even larger as they suffered mini-orgasms just from what they know they were doing, their own submissive masochism driving them even higher into depraved carnal debauchery. Novak then gives them the permission they oh so desperately wanted to give the biggest damn breeding orgy he'd receive yet.