Raul couldn't believe it. The virtual reality felt so real. He blinked, expecting the familiar haze of digital artifacts or a loading screen to pop up, but everything was crisp, tangible, alive. He glanced down at his hands-slender, veined, with neatly manicured nails painted a soft rose. These weren't his hands. His heart raced as he lifted them to his chest, feeling the subtle lift and support of an underwire bra with wide straps hugging his torso. Below that, a girdle cinched him in, smoothing his hips and buttocks with an unyielding grip, while garters tugged gently at gray stockings that encased his legs and feet in a silky sheath. He could feel it all-the faint pressure, the whisper of fabric against skin, even the slight warmth building under the layers.

"What the hell?" he muttered, his voice coming out higher, softer, with a faint Midwestern lilt that wasn't his own. He was supposed to be testing a new VR sim, something about empathy training or role-playing everyday lives. But this... this was too immersive. He looked around the room: walls painted a warm coral with white trim, lace curtains filtering sunlight onto a vanity cluttered with perfumes and jewelry. It screamed feminine, lived-in, like a grandmother's boudoir from an old movie.