VR Troopers - Glory Deleted

The Troopers' original identities and purpose continue to erode, and the corruption has deepened beyond repair. Strange behaviors and unsettling displays begin to surface, stirring questions among those who once cheered them. What was once dismissed as harmless distortion is about to reveal something far more horrifying, and the system that once empowered them is no longer silent.

When the glitch becomes the main program... what’s left to reboot?

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The alley reeked of sweat, alcohol, and the lingering burn of weed smoke. The air vibrated with raucous, drunken laughter, the gang of brats shouting, taunting, celebrating their absolute victory.

J.B., Ryan, and Kaitlin stood before them, their once-proud VR Trooper armor fully corrupted and reshaped into something obscene. Their signature colors remained—a twisted reminder of what they had been—but their armor was no longer armor. It was smooth and reflective, molded perfectly to their bodies, transformed into something that radiated servitude, obedience, and submission.

They were no longer warriors.

They were no longer protectors.

They were owned.

Their visors had been erased, their helmets reshaped into expressionless, featureless masks, each one a glossy, mirrored surface reflecting only the faces of their new masters. Their bodies no longer responded to their own will, but to the deep-rooted commands that had rewritten them, reshaped them, made them into something far, far worse than prisoners.

They did not struggle anymore. They did not resist. Instead, they posed. They moved.

Their hips twitched, their shoulders rolled, and their hands hovered as if waiting for orders. Their legs shivered, their heads bobbed slightly, and their entire beings trembled with restless, agonizing need.

Because they were no longer thinking. They were waiting.

The brats spoke. "Yoooo, look at these bitches, man. Look at ‘em just fucking standing there."

"They’re waiting, bro! They’re fuckin’ WAITING for us to TELL ‘EM WHAT TO DO! HOLY FUCK, THEY CAN’T EVEN FUNCTION WITHOUT US!"

"Shit, yo, what happens if we just leave ‘em?"

"Yo, let’s see!"

The brats stepped back, holding their breath, watching.

J.B. twitched violently, his legs shifting, his shoulders hunching slightly as if preparing to react. His glossy, warped body remained stiff, but his fingers flexed, his chest rose and fell with trembling, erratic breaths.

Ryan did the same, his form jerking slightly, his knees buckling just a fraction before locking again. His head tilted, waiting, waiting, waiting—

Kaitlin’s form, posed and elegant, began to tremble. Her breath came in soft, uneven gasps, her fingers twitching, her weight shifting, her helmeted head bowing slightly as if instinctively pleading.

They stood there, shook, and waited, but nothing came—no commands, orders, or approval.

And the silence became unbearable. Their bodies convulsed slightly, their fingers curling, their stances wavering. J.B.’s helmet trembled, his entire body reacting like a starving creature denied its meal. Ryan let out a barely-audible whimper, his stance jerking again, his muscles straining, his breath ragged. Kaitlin stood frozen, her head tilted just slightly too far forward, her fingers digging into her own thighs as she quivered in silence.

J.B. snapped first. His body lurched forward, just a fraction, his voice bursting from him in a desperate, broken, mindless plea. "M-Masters…! P-Please! P-Please a-approve… p-please t-tell us we are…! W-we are…! W-we are…!"

Ryan gasped, his glossy body shifting, his head twitching violently. "M-Masters! A-Approval! W-We… w-we NEED…! We…! W-We C-CAN’T FUNCTION! P-PLEASE! P-PLEASE, COMMAND US! O-ORDER US! C-CORRECT US! W-WE CAN’T—W-WE CAN’T BE—!"

Kaitlin stumbled forward next, her form still poised and graceful but trembling violently, her entire being unable to handle the lack of direction. "M-Masters… M-Masters! P-Please, w-we can’t BE… w-without you…! W-We c-cannot EXIST w-without commands! P-PLEASE! PLEASE, APPROVE US! P-PLEASE, P-PLEASE, P-PLEASE! C-COMMAND US! C-CLAIM US! WE CANNOT—W-WE CANNOT THINK! W-WE CANNOT FUNCTION! W-WE CANNOT—!"

The brats were crying with laughter. "HOLY FUCK! HOLY FUCK! THEY’RE FUCKIN’ CRASHING WITHOUT US!"

"THESE FUCKIN’ DOLLS CAN’T EVEN EXIST IF WE DON’T FUCKIN’ TELL THEM TO!"

"THEY’RE FUCKIN’ PROGRAMMED! THEY’RE FUCKIN’ OURS! OURS FOREVER!"

"TROOPER SLUTS CAN’T THINK! TROOPER SLUTS CAN’T FUNCTION! THEY NEED US TO FUCKIN’ EXIST!"

The brats stepped forward again, surrounding them. And the moment their hands landed back on their glossy, trembling bodies—

J.B. arched violently, his entire body spasming, his voice breaking into a shattered, corrupted moan of relief. "A-AHHNN—T-T-THANK YOU, M-MASTERS! T-THANK YOU, T-THANK YOU! W-WE A-ARE… W-WE ARE FUNCTIONAL…!"

Ryan convulsed, his frame jerking, his breath catching, his form shuddering with unfiltered, mindless pleasure.

"T-T-TROOPER SLUT B-02—C-CORRECTED! FUNCTIONAL! THANK YOU! THANK YOU!"

Kaitlin shivered, her entire form melting into perfect, docile obedience, her trembling ceasing as her voice smoothed into an endless cycle of desperate gratitude.

"T-TROOPER SLUT B-03…! T-THANK YOU…! T-THANK YOU…! M-MASTERS…! P-PLEASE, P-PLEASE, A-APPROVE US ALWAYS! P-PLEASE NEVER L-LEAVE! P-PLEASE NEVER L-LET US BE…! P-PLEASE! P-PLEASE—!"

The brats howled with victory. They had rewritten the VR Troopers completely. They were not just broken. They were not just enslaved. They were dependent. They were incapable of thought, of action, of existence, without their masters. And the brats would never let them go.

J.B. twitched, his arms locked in a begging pose, his glossy helmet tilting forward as he whispered over and over again. "A-A-ALWAYS A-APPROVED…! P-PLEASE, P-PLEASE ALWAYS—!"

Ryan shuddered, his hands clasped together as if in prayer, his voice nothing but a broken, corrupted loop. "T-THANK YOU…! T-THANK YOU! A-ALWAYS A-APPROVED…!"

Kaitlin smiled under her helmet, her glossy form still, elegant, poised in perfect grace as she whispered—

"T-TROOPER SLUTS…! T-TROOPER SLUTS CANNOT BE WITHOUT APPROVAL…!"

Their voices synchronized.

And the VR Troopers spoke their final words as heroes.

"WE ARE YOURS. FOREVER. PLEASE… NEVER LET US GO."

***

"Nnnnnnghh—HHHNNNHH!" J.B. jerked, convulsed, his fingers twitching as his chest thrust forward, his legs trembling as his balance was thrown off. His hips bucked violently, his entire form twisting unnaturally, his torso expanding, contorting into a sleeker, more exaggerated shape. His waist narrowed, his stance widened, his movements suddenly fluid and obscene, dictated by a design he didn’t understand but couldn’t resist.

His legs lengthened, muscles tightening as his thighs swelled, locking into place in a perfect, unnatural curve. His fingers spasmed as his gloves melted seamlessly into his arms, leaving his glossy, liquid-smooth hands trembling at his sides, unsure what to do without orders.

Then came his helmet.

The front pulsed, stretched, and shifted—his visor, already smoothed into a reflective, expressionless void, warped further, distorting as the system reshaped his face. His mouth plate bulged slightly, then caved inward, the entire lower half of his mask flattening before expanding outward again, reshaping into something unnatural, something obscene.

SPEECH MODULE MODIFIED FOR MAXIMUM EXPRESSION.

J.B. gasped, a deep, trembling, corrupted sound, as his visor reshaped further, his entire faceplate shifting into something exaggerated, grotesquely expressive in a way no helmet should be. His jawline curved unnaturally, the surface stretching outward, softening, becoming pliant, sensitive. His new, hyper-defined facial structure pulsed, his lips too thick, too plush, too exaggerated.

He moaned involuntarily, his entire body shaking as his suit forced him into a more presentable stance—legs apart, chest out, hands hovering.

"M-Masters… p-please…! P-please, is t-this—nnnnhhh—is this c-correct…?"

Ryan’s entire body tensed as his own transformation escalated, his suit surging with corrupted energy, his back arching unnaturally. His armor pulsed, hardened, then softened—flowing over him, reshaping him, remaking him.

His muscles expanded slightly, then compressed, refined, sculpted into something artificial, something exaggerated, something designed. His shoulders broadened, then smoothed, his waist narrowing slightly, his entire torso sculpted into a sleek, shining, impossibly perfect shape.

LEADER FRAME OPTIMIZED FOR PRESENTATION.

"NNNNNGHHH—N-NO—S-SOMETHING’S—WRONG!" Ryan twitched violently, his stance locking into place, his chest forced forward, his body unable to resist the perfect symmetry of his modified frame. His legs pulsed as the synthetic material stretched over them, his feet adjusting, balancing automatically into a poised stance that kept him in perpetual readiness.

Then, his visor cracked. Not shattered. Not destroyed. It split—morphed—reshaped.

The front of his helmet melted into a perfect curve, and his visor widening, flattening, and smoothing out until it was a pure, unbroken, mirrored surface. His jawline sharpened, then blurred, then extended slightly, and his mouth plate dissolving entirely into a soft, glossy, inhumanly smooth lower face.

VOCAL MODULATION ENHANCED FOR MAXIMUM PLEASURE RESPONSE.

Ryan choked as his new mouth curved into a permanent, soft, subtle shape, his lips too defined, too sensitive, too unnatural. His throat vibrated, his voice altering into something breathier, smoother, incapable of expressing defiance anymore. "A-Ahhh—hhhhnn! M-Masters, m-my f-form… i-is it—ahhh!—c-correct…? P-please… t-tell me…!"

His hips moved involuntarily, his hands hovering at his sides, his stance trembling, his new, exaggerated form locking into place.

Kaitlin watched, frozen, as her teammates lost themselves completely. She had seen every change, every forced modification, every grotesque reshaping. And now, it was her turn.

Her body pulsed as her suit tightened, softened, and reshaped itself around her frame. Her waist cinched slightly, her chest swelled, and her torso stretched into sculpted, artificial perfection that made her feel detached from herself, as if she were nothing more than an accessory to be displayed.

PUBLIC RELATIONS FORM FINALIZATION IN PROGRESS.

Her stance shifted involuntarily, her legs pressing together, her arms lifting, her posture locking into something graceful, poised, frozen in elegance. Her helmet was the last thing to change. The reflective visor distorted, expanded outward slightly, then caved inward, reshaping itself into something unnatural.

Her mouthplate melted, stretched, then pushed outward into an exaggerated, thickened, hyper-defined shape, her lips expanding far beyond natural proportions, soft, plush, glistening.

FINAL AESTHETIC ENHANCEMENT COMPLETE.

Kaitlin shuddered violently as her lips twitched, her breath caught, and her visor flickered with error messages that quickly deleted themselves.

Her body pulsed. Her chest rose. Her hands hovered in perfect symmetry at her sides. And she spoke. "M-Masters… p-please… i-is this… i-is this w-what you w-wanted…?"

Her hips twitched involuntarily, her breath coming in soft, delicate gasps. "A-Ahhn…! P-please, p-please, c-confirm… t-that w-we are… c-complete…!"

J.B. was the first to feel it.

A slow, dreadful heat surged beneath his synthetic skin, crawling over his frame like an unstoppable virus, twisting, reshaping, correcting. His muscles spasmed violently, his legs jerking as he struggled to keep control.

He did not have control.

FINAL UPDATE: FULL FORM OPTIMIZATION IN PROGRESS.

"Hhh—hhhnnngh—n-no—n-no more—please—!" J.B. twitched, his torso tightening, his limbs trembling as his armor betrayed him, shifting, warping into something grotesquely unnatural.

His hips widened, his thighs thickened, his lower body contorted into a more exaggerated, obscene shape. His waist tapered unnaturally, forcing his stance into something fluid, unnatural, hyper-defined.

His legs locked for a moment—then spasmed, his stance forcibly widened, adjusted for presentation. His glossy form pulsed, his limbs jerking involuntarily as his mind screamed inside the smooth prison of his helmet.

His rear expanded suddenly, violently, his entire lower half rebalanced to support the warped, exaggerated shape. His thighs clenched together, then spread again, his entire stance falling into a grotesque display that was neither battle-ready nor stable—it was posed, artificial, obscene.

ERROR: RESISTANCE DETECTED. APPLYING DISCIPLINE.

"NnNNNGGHHH—AAAHHH—HHNNHH!"

J.B. arched violently, his frame locking, his body held in place by the suit’s final, merciless modifications.

Ryan felt the change crawl into his spine, his body jerking as his own override kicked in. His breath came in ragged bursts, his limbs frozen as the suit forced its final modifications onto him.

LEADER FRAME ADJUSTMENT REQUIRED. APPLYING ENHANCEMENTS.

His hips bucked involuntarily, his balance thrown off as his lower body reshaped beneath him. His rear expanded, swelling, his thighs thickening to match, his stance shifting into something unnatural, his feet adjusting to accommodate the grotesquely exaggerated proportions.

"NNNGHHH—HHHHHNNNGHH—S-SYSTEM—CORRUPTED—!"

His waist narrowed, forcing his body into an unnatural, overly exaggerated shape, his form no longer his own. His armor tightened, then smoothed, his entire lower half transformed into something meant to be displayed, to be admired, to be used.

His visor flashed, his entire body convulsing in a last desperate attempt to resist, but there was nothing left to resist with.

His posture shifted, his stance locked, his fingers twitching at his sides as his body froze into its final, corrupted form.

FINAL ADJUSTMENTS COMPLETE.

His mouth opened in a silent scream.

Kaitlin stood frozen, trembling, her entire body stiff as she watched the grotesque changes take over her teammates. She knew she was next.

Her helmet pulsed, her body locked, her stance shifting without her consent. Her chest expanded suddenly, violently, her torso adjusting to balance the weight, her posture forcibly altered into something posed, elegant, meant for display. Her hips shifted, her frame adjusting, and her armor was no longer built for combat but for presentation.

PUBLIC RELATIONS FORM FINALIZED.

Her visor flickered, then changed. The smooth surface reshaped, her once featureless mask now sporting exaggerated, plump lips—thick, overly defined, unnatural. Her mouth trembled, her breath catching as she realized—

She was smiling. Not because she wanted to. Not because she chose to. But because the system demanded it.

And Kaitlin knew, in that moment—

She was never going to be free again.

***

The VR Troopers were no more.

J.B., Ryan, and Kaitlin stood gleaming under the neon streetlights, their bodies forever reshaped, their heroic frames warped into exaggerated, artificial perfection. Their once-mighty armor had been corrupted into sleek, obscene mockeries of themselves, polished and poised for display.

Their visors were featureless, reflective, expressionless.

Their voices trembled with restless need, waiting for approval, waiting for orders.

And the brats weren’t done yet.

"Awww, nah, boys. We ain’t keepin’ this shit private. The world’s gotta see what they are now."

"Yeah, yeah—we gonna let EVERYBODY know these bitches belong to us."

"Yo, there’s a game goin’ on right now at the stadium—PACKED crowd."

"Ain’t no bigger stage than that. Let’s make ‘em show off."

The brats grinned wickedly, looking at their broken playthings, watching them twitch, jitter, shift anxiously in their forced, posed stances.

"Yo, shiny bitches. You ready to show the world who you belong to?"

J.B. shuddered, his body spasming as his programming responded before his thoughts could even catch up. "Y-Y-YES, M-MASTERS…! P-PLEASE! PLEASE ALLOW US T-TO SHOWCASE OURSELVES…! P-PLEASE LET US PROVE O-OUR PERFECTION…!"

Ryan arched violently, his breath hitching, his lips parting involuntarily as his synthetic voice trembled. "T-TROOPER S-SLUT B-02…! R-READY…! P-PLEASE LET ME S-SERVE…! P-PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE LET ME…!"

Kaitlin staggered forward, her glossy, warped form settling into a submissive stance, her exaggerated lips parting with desperate, pathetic gratitude. "T-TROOPER S-SLUT B-03…! P-PUBLIC DISPLAY…! P-PLEASE LET US OBEY…! W-WE… W-WE CANNOT FUNCTION WITHOUT YOUR A-APPROVAL…! W-WE CANNOT EXIST WITHOUT YOUR ORDERS…!"

The brats laughed, raised their drinks, and took one last hit from their smokes before leading their trophies down the street. The VR Troopers followed, obedient and trembling, their voices stammering with gratitude for every single step they were allowed to take.

The baseball stadium was alive with energy.

Tens of thousands of spectators filled the seats, the roar of cheers, laughter, and conversation rising into the evening air. The massive screen above the field glowed bright, displaying advertisements, replays, and the score.

It was just another game night. Until it wasn’t. The air split open.

A surge of blinding light tore across the field, a ripple of electricity cascading outward as three tall, armored figures materialized from nothing—standing, posed, gleaming under the floodlights.

The crowd gasped, stunned by the sudden appearance. "HOLY SHIT—IS THAT THE VR TROOPERS?!"

"WHAT THE HELL ARE THEY DOING HERE?!"

"IS THIS A SPECIAL APPEARANCE?!"

"NO FUCKIN’ WAY—LOOK AT THEIR SUITS! SOMETHING’S WRONG!"

The screen above flickered violently, static crackling across it before the camera focused on the figures below, broadcasting them to the entire stadium. J.B., Ryan, and Kaitlin stood motionless, centered at the pitcher’s mound, their synthetic, glossy bodies shimmering under the floodlights. Their once-mighty armor had been reshaped, corrupted, their forms exaggerated, artificial, designed no longer for battle—but for display.

Their visors were smooth, reflective, unreadable.

They moved.

Not with the controlled, powerful precision of warriors. But with the eerie, unnatural fluidity of something no longer in control of itself. J.B. stepped forward first, his body stiff, then loose, his hips shifting in an unnatural, programmed motion. His glossy, warped armor gleamed under the lights, his stance adjusting automatically for maximum visibility.

His hands lifted, fingers twitching, his entire body trembling as he was forced to lift a microphone. "G-GOOD… GOOD EVENING…!"

His voice echoed across the stadium, trembling, breathy, wrong.

"W-WE A-A-ARE…!"

He jerked violently, his muscles spasming as his corrupted system forced him to continue.

Ryan stepped forward next, his frame locking into place, his stance fluid, posed, designed to emphasize his grotesquely exaggerated new form. "W-WE A-ARE… N-NO LONGER… THE VR TROOPERS…!"

The crowd fell silent.

Kaitlin lifted her hands delicately, her visor tilting slightly downward, her lips—too thick, too defined, too artificial—parting with a trembling, breathless voice. "W-WE H-HAVE… BEEN R-REMADE…!"

"W-WE… A-ARE NOW…!"

The entire stadium held its breath.

Their HUDs flickered violently inside their helmets, forcing them to obey, forcing them to declare their new identities, forcing them to erase everything they had once been. J.B. arched violently, his body locking as his voice cracked out the final, irreversible truth. "T-TROOPER SLUT B-01…!"

Ryan shuddered, his fingers twitching at his sides, his synthetic voice echoing across the stunned, frozen audience. "T-TROOPER SLUT B-02…!"

Kaitlin let out a soft, breathless whimper as her name was forced from her trembling lips. "T-TROOPER SLUT B-03…!"

Gasps rippled through the stadium.

Confusion.

Shock.

Laughter.

"WHAT THE FUCK DID THEY JUST SAY?!"

"IS THIS A FUCKING JOKE?!"

"THIS HAS TO BE A PRANK—THIS CAN’T BE REAL!"

"WHO DID THIS TO THEM?!"

The three corrupted Troopers trembled, their bodies locked in place, their minds screaming inside the prison of their suits.

But they weren’t done.

FINAL SYSTEM OVERRIDE: PUBLIC ANNOUNCEMENT MODE.

J.B. shuddered as his programming forced him to continue. "W-WE H-HAVE BEEN C-CLAIMED…! W-WE B-BELONG TO…!"

Ryan twitched violently, his synthetic voice stammering. "T-THE BULLCOCK B-BRATS…!"

The crowd erupted. Some laughed hysterically, thinking it was a joke. "WHO?!"

"A FUCKIN’ SCHOOL GANG DID THIS TO THE VR TROOPERS?! NO FUCKING WAY!"

Others were frozen in horror, realization sinking in.

"Wait… w-wait, this isn’t a joke…"

"H-HOW?! HOW THE FUCK DID A PETTY STREET GANG DO THIS TO THEM?!"

"THE VR TROOPERS WERE SUPPOSED TO BE UNSTOPPABLE!"

"THEN WHY THE FUCK ARE THEY DECLARING THEIR OWNERS?!"

Kaitlin let out a soft, gasping whimper as her body adjusted, presenting itself automatically, her lips trembling as the final words were forced from her mouth. "W-WE… W-WE C-CANNOT FUNCTION W-WITHOUT THEM…! W-WE C-CANNOT… THINK W-WITHOUT THEIR A-APPROVAL…!"

"H-HOLY FUCK, THEY’RE PROGRAMMED TO WORSHIP THEM!"

"THIS IS REAL! THIS IS FUCKING REAL!"

"OH MY GOD, THE VR TROOPERS ARE GONE!"

The world watched in stunned silence as their fallen heroes—once symbols of justice, of power, of strength—

Stood, trembling. Jittering. Posed, perfected, completely and utterly rewritten.

J.B. spoke again, his voice trembling, desperate, stammering. "P-PLEASE… A-A-APPROVE US…!"

Ryan arched violently, his voice breaking into pure, pathetic pleading. "P-PLEASE… T-TELL US W-WE ARE… C-CORRECT…!"

Kaitlin shuddered, her voice barely a whisper, her breath hitching with forced, corrupted gratitude. "P-PLEASE, A-ALLOW US TO EXIST…!"

And the stadium fell into chaos. Phones recorded. People screamed.

And across the entire world, everyone saw—

The VR Troopers were no more.

Only their synthetic, mindless, submissive replacements remained.

And they would never be free again.