"Make me yours."He needed no more than that. Nearly falling forward he held in a push-upposition over me, his nose an inch from my own, and looked dow... betweenus."I'll be gentle," he whispered."I trust you," I whispered back, closing my eyes.As he started to slide his sex into mine, I could see my old face behindmy darkness. The old me, the old Clay, looked back at me a moment, thennodded and phased out of view. I smiled to him, and I felt my lips pullthe same way to David. As he filled me I. Gasp. gasp. gasp. Calm down, dammit. I rub my legs over my ovipostor, getting used to my size and proportions. Concepts and information boil up at me out of my brain: I' a five-foot-tall, twelve-foot-wide freaking spider. The game. Consensual reality. Damn! I'm on a sleeper ship. Zeegee. I don't feel any gravity. Things start to come together.We collectively call ourselves the untriggered. We live and die as pupae until we arrive. The consensual reality we call "The Game" keeps us sane as we. More

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