Tanner tried to speak, but with a prick he felt exhaustion overwhelm him. One of the guards caught him in his arms and helped him fall to the floor, but Tanner remembered nothing, until consciousness returned to him, and he found himself lying on the ground, close to an hour later.

“Excellent,” the doctor said, “you’ve got the hang of it.”

Tanner tried to stand up, tried to speak, but his sleepiness was still wearing off.

“You lied to me,” Marcus said, “Why did you lie to me?”

Tanner tried to force out an excuse, but found his tongue was tied up somehow.

“You’ll find that it’s impossible to lie to any superior from now on, Mr. Wilkins,” the doctor said, “Try being honest–it’ll come naturally to you soon enough.”

“Tell me why you lied,” Marcus repeated, and words spilled out of Tanner’s mouth, almost unbidden.

“I didn’t want to look like an idiot, for ending up lower than a meathead like you.”

“Meathead?” Marcus said, glowering at him.

“Please–let’s move on. We’re already a bit behind,” the doctor said, and motioned to the main room, where there were two large chairs against the wall. “Both of you, please have a seat, and I’ll load up a simulated work session.”

The chairs were quite comfortable, Tanner found, until the bands appeared, securing his arms and legs to the frame, and a helmet descended–covering his head and blocking out all light and sound. He felt a prick from his band, a wave of euphoria, and then…he was somewhere else. A wide field of dirt stretching in every direction, two shovels, and Marcus standing beside him.

“This is a basic simulation,” the doctor’s voice came as some disembodied spirit in the empty air, “While the facility does utilize hard labor for most subjects, you both will be taking part in our virtual beta program. Each day, you both will enter a simulation and be given a series of tasks or quotas to complete. Your credit allowance for the day will be determined by how well you succeeded in the simulation. Marcus, as the Two, you will receive the entire allowance and be able to decide how to spend the funds. You can retain complete control of the funds, or divide it as you please. Also note, that you retain complete authority over your one within the simulation as normal. Now, to end the simulation, as a team you will need to dig five holes in the ground, three feet in each dimension. Guidelines will appear on the ground to guide your progress.”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Tanner said.

“Come on, let’s get to work, I guess,” Marcus said, handing Tanner a shovel.

Together, they each started digging a hole. Despite the simulation being virtual, it felt completely real–Tanner could even feel his sweat, and smell Marcus’s musk on the still air. Marcus finished first and sat for a moment–Tanner went to join him, but Marcus shook his head. “No, you keep digging–you’ll get a break when we’re done.”

Tanner couldn’t disobey the command, and so he kept digging, and digging, and digging. Marcus would help, but more and more he would relax a bit, shouting suggestions and orders to Tanner, obviously enjoying his position of authority for a change. Eventually, they did finish–the simulation ended and the helmets removed themselves from their heads, the straps allowing them to stand. Tanner found that his muscles actually ached like he really had been in that field all day, and he stood on shaking legs in front of the doctor.

“Well done. You are both required to complete one simulation a day, but you may volunteer for more if you so desire. Please keep in mind that your actions in the virtual reality will impact your physical forms–we monitor your behavior and provide hormones based upon that. Hence, why you both feel the effects of physical exertion, despite having not moved at all. Marcus, you will find your first allowance in your account–spend it wisely. I will check in over the next few days to make sure everything is going smoothly.” The doctor and the guards left, leaving them alone again.

“Get on the bed, you fucking asshole–we’ll see who’s the fucking meathead before too long,” Marcus said, and the sneer told Tanner than his situation may have gone from bad to worse in ways he would have never imagined. Indeed, Tanner had been utterly oblivious to the extent that many members of the gang had resented him, but Marcus in particular had always felt he deserved a bigger piece of the pie, that Tanner disrespected him on a regular basis, that this was exactly what he deserved.

The days settled into a routine rather quickly. The tasks they were given through the VR system were all oriented towards physical labor–digging holes, hauling heavy rocks, cutting lumber, clearing brush–all without much meaning or any context at all. Early on, Marcus helped somewhat, but he always forced Tanner to work longer and harder than he ever did. Back in their apartment, he toyed with the idea of forcing Tanner to quit smoking to save credits, but decided to give him a meager supply of the cheapest variety–never quite enough to scratch the itch Tanner had grown accustomed to satisfying. Marcus would determine their hormone packages, their meals, their entertainment.

It was clear after a month, to Tanner, that they were both changing again. He was taller and packing on even more muscle than before, while Marcus had begun to soften slightly, putting on a slight gut. Soon, Marcus was doing almost no work at all in their simulations, forcing his “workhorse” and “meathead” to do everything, threatening him with punishment if he missed the quota meant for them both. Tanner tried to object, early on, but each time he resisted Marcus would devise some humiliating new punishment or desire for him to try and satisfy, and he learned to bear the burden as best he could, but kept the hatred nurturing in his heart all the same. One day, the table would turn, he told himself. All he had to do was wait, put up with it for now, but once the wardens saw how Marcus was treating him, they’d show him–then Tanner would be the one back on top.

Still, he hated himself more. This massive body which should be able to pound Marcus into the dust, and he couldn’t lift a finger to oppose him. All he could do was beg for his cock, beg for cigars, doing anything to try and please his master in order to get a bit more allowance for himself. He felt inhuman, and seeing Marcus expand in size, growing flabbier each day as he ate massive meals for himself, leaving Tanner subsisting on protein mash, it was somehow worse than the solitary had been, being trapped with this fucker day in and day out. He counted the days down to their two hearings–knowing that even if things didn’t get better, they would hopefully be different.

Jackson had given him some details of what to expect, and to sum it up in two words, it was relative anarchy. Guards were always on patrol, but they only intervened in extreme cases, generally only when someone’s life was at stake. Other than that, provisional candidates were free to do whatever they liked, and to associate with whomever they wanted in the block. That said, there were certain incentives in place. While each provisional candidate was provided with a guaranteed level of hormones and food–anything else, including tobacco or alcohol products, would have to be purchased. Credits could be obtained by completing jobs and chores, or traded from other candidates if they could be persuaded to do so. What that meant, in the end, was that the young men in there would often do anything to get the credits they needed to thrive. Jackson told him, with that same odd smirk, that the most important thing he could have there, was power and strength. “They want to see if you have what it takes to be a man,” he said, “because that’s what they want to see. It takes real strength of character though, if you want to be classified a level five candidate like me–and I don’t think you have it.”

Tanner took offense at that–and from the smirk on Jackson’s face, he wondered if that was exactly why he’d said it to him. Still, nothing Jackson described would have really prepared him for that first day in the provisional block–P Block, as the guards called it. Now, he really was in a prison. The guards led him through the block on his first day, and the young men in there all gave him the same look as he passed–some odd combination of suspicion and desire that made him incredibly uncomfortable. Thankfully, candidates were given their own personal cells–small, but private with doors that could lock, though any guard could open them if they needed to. He was also given his introductory allowance of credits, and the screen on his band turned on for the first time, allowing him to look through the virtual store.

In addition to any number of personal items, he could purchase a variety of tobacco products (he immediately ordered a few cigars–which to his annoyance cost him half the allowance right there) as well as magazines (all of them erotic and all of them covered with faggots) extra food rations he could collect at mess, and even beer. But it was the hormones and supplements that interested him. He couldn’t purchase drugs individually–instead, the store offered packages which promised certain benefits. He discovered that pretty much all of them guaranteed some level of body hair growth, and he turned the band off, disgusted with himself and his body, and laid down on the bed for a few minutes, before deciding he should go get something to eat–only to be jumped by a gang of boys who’d been waiting for the newbie to emerge from his room. They beat him to the floor in a moment, and told him they wouldn’t drag him back to their place for a gangbang if he dropped his entire allowance in their accounts. He didn’t have his full allowance, of course, but the young men settled for the rest of his credits and blowjobs in the hallway instead. Thankfully, he thought as he struggled up, he’d thought to buy cigars ahead of time–and then kicked himself for being thankful for something as dumb as that.

Things got worse before they got better for Tanner. Jobs were first come first serve each day, and he’d never been that motivated to do anything other than swim, and certainly not to do anything as boring and dull as work in the kitchen or do laundry. Still, once that initial supply of cigars ran out and he tried to quit cold turkey, he realized just how dependent Jackson had made him to tobacco–and he found himself in the horrifying position of trading sexual favors with his fellow candidates for enough credits to support his habit, but his sense of self-importance wouldn’t allow him to sink to that level for too long. After about a month, he fell into the orbit of the small gang who’d assaulted him the first day he’d arrived, and remained there.

He told himself he wouldn’t hang with them for long, that he’d get the credits some other way once he was able to survive on his own. He just…needed to smoke, and a few of the guys in the gang would fuck him in exchange for enough credits to keep his addiction fueled. However, it wasn’t too long before he discovered the gang wasn’t exactly being run by the brightest young men in the world–if anything, he seemed to be a bit of an anomaly in the facility. Most of the men here were diverted from prison sentences to fuel this experimental brand of reform, and so most didn’t even have a high school diploma. He was smarter than them, and he could use them. He figured out who the alpha was and hooked himself to him, flattering him, fucking him, anything he could do, and when he had him, well, suddenly he wasn’t aching for credits like he had been, and things got easier. He could smoke when he wanted to. He could afford more expensive hormone schedules, allowing him to bulk up substantially and hold his own in the hallways of the block. Before too long, he was joining the gang on raids, and under his direction, the group was pulling in more credits than they’d ever had before.

The longer he stayed there, the better picture he got of the small, strange, twisted society that was fostered in the block. The majority of candidates did their best to abide the rules–they did tasks and jobs, they got paid, they tried to survive. Then, there were the gangs like Tanner had found himself tangled within. They would work on occasion, but the bulk of their credits they got from their fellow candidates however they could–and Tanner expanded their racket considerably. Half the gang would provide protection of workers while the other half would then attack the protected group, simply to demonstrate the importance of the first group so they could raise their rates. Tanner rarely felt bad about this–after all, this was the world, right? If the facility wanted to prevent this, all they’d have to do is allow the guards to step in and stop them. In his mind, there was little distinction between what Jackson had done to him for the last month, and what he was doing down here–in fact, he imagined that Jackson must have done something similar to end up where he was–after all, what could be more important than entrepreneurial spirit? The men in the gang who’d been there longer were one by one pulled away by guards to go to their assignment hearings, and Tanner recruited men he’d identified with promise to help him cement his power in the block.