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“Are you getting ready to jerk off?” Brittney asks, her face turning into a scowl. The Wicked Wear user is visibly startled and the picture shakes on the screen.
On the left hand side, Brittney leans forward and the user starts having his ocular nerves stimulated in such a way that his brain feels that Brittney has placed her hands on his cock. He starts to relax and squirm on his seat on stage.
On the right hand side, Brittney pulls back, and puts on a sweater.
On the left hand side, the user and screen show Brittney begin to bring her head toward the user's crotch. “I love how big your cock is,” she purrs on camera. “So much bigger than your father's,” she says as she begins to lick it. The user is clearly hard and the Today USA camera crew zooms in the massive erection tenting the man’s trousers as he sits on stage.
On the right hand side, Brittney takes her phone and points it at the user and takes a picture. “I’m going to send this over to the National Database and register you as a fucking sex offender, you pervert!” she says on camera. “Don’t you know how bad pornography is for you?”
And that’s where on the right hand side of the screen, Brittney’s on-camera avatar starts altering. Her face morphs into that of a rat, with whiskers. Her skin starts to become scaly and green. Her eyes become slits. Roaches start coming out of her mouth.
In the audience people are visibly upset and shaking at what they’re seeing on one half of the giant 40-foot projection screen. People are visibly turning white.
On the other half, Brittney proceeds to start sucking and the user’s body spasms as he finds himself not caring about the crowd and starts stroking his cock through his pants on national television.
On the right hand side, Wicked Wear is starting to scare it's users as Brittney starts speaking with the voice of a demon, “Porn is bad,” she/he hisses. “I’m going to bite and eat your dick!”
Apparently this is even too much for the user who rips off his glasses and throws them on stage and stomps on them!
That picture—the user stomping on a Wicked Wear set of glasses is priceless. The split screen is frozen with a picture of a demon-rat-faced-snake-bodied Brittney looking out at the audience and the words ‘System Failure’ flashing on screen.
“Well!” the announcer adds, clearly stunned at what happened. “I think we know who the real winner in this matchup is. And which company to never, ever buy adult entertainment from again!”
A technician manages to unplug the 40-foot screen from both devices as they go dark. The Illicit Escape user is still rocking back and forth and spasming when they reach over to take the glasses off. At first, he’s upset but the announcer comes up to him.
“How would you rate it?” he asks.
The user is breathing heavily as the cameras zoom in. He’s at a loss for words. All I hear is him say, “So real…”
That’s when the cheers erupt from the audience at the ringing endorsement.
Brittney turns toward me.
“What’s going on?” she asks me, her eyes narrowing. “How did…what just…what’s going on?”
I love it.
“That,” I say to the screen and pause. “Is what happens when people try to fucking play Ethan Kane.”
Brittney
“That,” Ethan says, pointing to the screen and looking at me. “Is what happens when people try to fucking play Ethan Kane.”
Oh my God.
What is he talking about?
But Ethan doesn’t say anything else. He reaches over to the tablet on the coffee table and pushes some buttons and turns it toward me.
I get up, my knees on the couch supporting me.
I squint. It’s closed circuit television and it takes me a minute to realize…
Oh. My. God.
It’s Ethan’s office.
And that’s me. At his computer.
