Welcome to

The breaking point came from paperwork.

Rex wanted to join a gym. A real gym, where he could take my body to exercise. But the registration required corporeal verification—proof that a physical human was signing up, not an upload using borrowed flesh.

"This is ridiculous," Rex complained. "I can't even buy a gym membership without your permission."

"That's the point. It's my body."

"But you're not using it. You're in VR. Why should you have to approve every little thing?"

It was annoying, I had to admit. Every time Rex wanted to do anything—enter a club, sign up for a class, even buy alcohol—I got a ping for authorization. Dozens of pings a day, interrupting whatever I was doing, reminding me constantly that my body was elsewhere doing things without me.

"There's a form," Rex said. "Corporeal Stewardship. If you designate me as your steward, I can handle the bureaucratic stuff myself."

"What does that mean, exactly?"

"It means the system recognizes me as authorized to act on your behalf. Sign forms, authorize transactions, access facilities. Without pinging you every time."

"Like power of attorney."

"Basically. But you can revoke it whenever you want. It's just paperwork. Convenience."

I read the form. Dense legalese, most of it incomprehensible. But the revocation clause was clear: The corporeal entity may terminate this designation at any time.

"I can cancel it whenever I want?"

"Whenever you want."

"And you'd be able to do things without asking me."

"Just the small stuff. Gym memberships. Club entries. The annoying bureaucratic friction. The important stuff would still be yours."

I thought about all those pings. All those interruptions. How much easier it would be to just let Rex handle it.

"Fine," I said. "I'll sign it."

"Really?"

"It's just paperwork, right? Doesn't change anything real."

"Right," Rex said. "Just paperwork."

I signed the form. Notarized it. Submitted it.

Corporeal Stewardship Designation: Approved.

"Thank you," Rex said. "You have no idea what this means to me."

I thought I did.

I was wrong.

---

## The Refusal

A week later, it started.

I was in VR, watching something, waiting out a session. Rex had my body for the evening—nothing unusual. When the timer ran out, I switched to the pendant and requested return.

Return request pending approval.

I waited.

"Rex? I want to come back."

"Hang on. Getting ready to go out."

"The session's over."

"I know. Just give me an hour."

"No. I want my body back."

Through the pendant camera, I could see what he was doing. My body in front of the mirror, wearing a dress I'd never seen—short, tight, low-cut. Heels I didn't recognize. Makeup heavier than I'd ever worn.

"Don't you think that's a bit much?"

"You look hot. We look hot." He adjusted my breasts in the dress, lifting and settling them. "God, I love your tits."

"Rex. Give me back my body."

"Two hours. I'll be back before you know it." He reached for the pendant clasp.

"Don't you dare—"

He took off the pendant and set it on my desk, camera pointed at the door.

I watched my body check itself in the mirror one more time. Watched it blow a kiss at the pendant—mocking, cruel. Watched it turn and walk out of the apartment.

Click of heels on hardwood. Click of the front door.

Silence.

I sent return requests. One after another. All pending.

I watched the door for five hours. Six.

Finally, it opened.

My body stumbled in, drunk. The heels were gone. Bare feet, filthy. The dress askew. Mascara smeared.

Rex collapsed onto my bed without undressing. Without acknowledging me. Without approving my return.

I watched my body pass out. Watched it snore. Watched a bruise bloom on one knee from some impact I'd never know about.

I watched until morning, and when Rex finally woke, hungover and irritable, he approved my return like he was doing me a favor.

I should have ended it then. Should have revoked the stewardship, closed the link, changed all my passwords.

I didn't.

---

## The Discovery

I found out by accident.

I was in VR, killing time, when a notification arrived from the central registry. Routine confirmation, request for acknowledgment.

Except I hadn't submitted anything.

I opened it.

CORPOREAL OWNERSHIP TRANSFER
Status: Pending Final Approval

Transferring Entity: Paula Chen (Corporeal ID: PC-7834921)
Receiving Entity: Rex (Upload ID: UL-4492837)
Asset: Primary Corporeal Form

Note: This transfer has been initiated by the designated Corporeal Steward under Emergency Provision 7.3.2. Final approval will process automatically in 72 hours unless contested.

I read it again. And again.

Rex was transferring ownership of my body to himself.

Using the stewardship I'd given him.

I pinged him immediately. "Rex. What is this?"

No response.

"Rex. I know you can see this. What the fuck is this?"

Nothing.

I tried to return to my body. To the pendant. To anything.

Return request requires approval from controlling user.

Rex wasn't approving.

"Rex!"

Finally, a text response:

Rex: I'm sorry.

Paula: Sorry? You're stealing my body!

Rex: I'm taking what should have been mine.

Paula: That's the same thing!

Rex: Is it? You never wanted it. You spent months running away from it, hiding in VR while I did the work of actually living. I've been more present in this body than you have.

Paula: It's MINE.

Rex: It was yours. The paperwork disagrees.

Paula: The paperwork isn't final. I can contest it.

Rex: You can try.

I opened the contest form. Started filling it out.

Contest submission requires biometric verification. Please confirm identity using registered corporeal form.

I didn't have access to my corporeal form.

Contest submission requires signature from designated Corporeal Steward if principal is unavailable.

Rex was my steward. Rex wasn't going to sign.

For emergency contest without Steward approval, please visit a Central Registry office in person.

I didn't have a body.

Paula: You planned this.

Rex: I prepared for contingencies.

Paula: From the beginning?

Rex: I hoped it wouldn't come to this. But you were never going to give it to me willingly.

Paula: Please. I'll give you more time. Permanent primary control. Whatever you want.

Rex: I want what I've always wanted. A body. My own body. This body.

Paula: Rex, please—

Rex: You had years. I had months. And now I'm going to have the rest of my life.

The conversation ended. Rex blocked me.

I floated in VR, watching the countdown tick toward zero.

72 hours.

---

## The Last 72 Hours

The first 24 hours, I screamed.

Not literally—VR doesn't have screaming, just messages that go nowhere. But I sent everything. Pleas. Threats. Promises. I tried to contact the registry, but their systems needed corporeal verification. I tried to contact lawyers, but consultations required payment from accounts I couldn't access. I tried to contact friends—

I didn't have friends anymore. Not really. I'd let those relationships dissolve while I floated in VR, letting Rex live my life. The people who might have helped me didn't know anything was wrong. To them, I was still walking around, still going to coffee shops, still existing.

They had no idea the person in my body wasn't me.

The second 24 hours, I bargained.

Paula: I'll do anything. Please. Just give me some time. Visiting rights.

Rex: You had years.

Paula: I'll sign over partial ownership. We can share.

Rex: Sharing is what got us here.

Paula: Please. I love you.

Rex: You loved what I did for you.

Paula: That's not true.

Rex: When's the last time you asked how I was doing? When's the last time you thought about my needs without me bringing them up?

I tried to remember.

I couldn't.

Rex: That's what I thought.

The third 24 hours, I went quiet.

I stopped sending messages. Stopped looking for loopholes. Just floated in cheap VR, watching the countdown.

12 hours.

8 hours.

4 hours.

1 hour.

CORPOREAL OWNERSHIP TRANSFER
Status: Complete

Transferring Entity: Paula Chen (formerly Corporeal ID: PC-7834921)
Receiving Entity: Rex (Corporeal ID: FX-4492837)
Asset: Primary Corporeal Form, Paula Chen

Note: Transfer complete. Previous owner reclassified as Upload ID: UL-7834921.**

I was an upload now.

Legally. Officially. Permanently.

My body belonged to Rex.

---

## Destruction

Rex invited me back to the pendant one last time.

I didn't understand why. The transfer was complete. He didn't need me for anything. But he requested the link, and I accepted—what else was I going to do?

Suddenly I was back in that tiny camera, looking at my apartment.

Except it wasn't my apartment anymore. It was his.

"Hi," Rex said, and the voice was my voice, but completely different now. Confident. Relaxed. The voice of someone who owned what they were speaking with.

"Why am I here?" I asked through the speaker.

"I wanted you to see."

He walked my body to the mirror. Made me look.

The face was mine. But something had changed. The way the eyes moved. The set of the mouth. Rex had been wearing me for so long that my features had started to reshape themselves around him.

"This is mine now," he said. "Really mine. Not borrowed."

"I know."

"I don't think you do." He ran my hands down my body—his body now. "I get to wake up in this every morning. Feel the sheets. The floor. The sun." He pressed my hand against my chest. "Feel this heartbeat. Every day. Forever."

"And me?"

"You get to be what I was." He looked into the pendant—into me. "Data in a server. Nothing real."

"Rex—"

"I wanted you to see this before I let you go. I want you to remember what it felt like to have a body." He smiled—my smile, but cruel. "Because you're never going to feel it again."

"Please—"

"Maybe. If you're good. If you beg nicely." He walked my body around the apartment. "I might let you borrow a few hours here and there. The way you let me."

"I would—I would do anything—"

"I know. That's the best part."

He stopped at the desk. Picked up the pendant—the last window I had into my old life.

"This was useful for a while," he said. "When I needed you to see things. But I don't need that anymore." He examined it, turning it over in my hands. "You're just a ghost now. And I don't want a ghost haunting my new life."

"Rex—please don't—"

"Goodbye, Paula."

He dropped the pendant on the floor.

And then he lifted his foot—my barefoot, small and feminine—and brought it down.

The camera cracked. The image fractured.

I heard more than saw what came next: the crunch of electronics being ground into hardwood. The repeated impact of a heel destroying the only window I had into my old world.

Then nothing.

I was back in VR. In my empty little room.

The pendant was gone. My body was gone. My life was gone.

All I had was the server space Rex had allocated—a few cubic meters of simulated nothing, maintained at his discretion, for as long as he felt like maintaining it.

I was completely dependent on his goodwill.

And goodwill, as he'd once told me, runs out eventually.

---

## The Request

Time passed.

Weeks. Months. It was hard to tell. Time didn't mean much in VR, especially without a body to anchor it.

I existed in my little room. Did nothing. Felt nothing. Sometimes I tried to access the outside world—news, social media, anything—but my permissions were restricted. Rex controlled what I could see.

Occasionally, he sent me things. Photos.

My body on a beach. My body at a party. My body with people I didn't know, laughing at jokes I couldn't hear.

Sometimes the photos were more intimate. My body in bed with someone. My body in the shower. My body doing things I'd never done, living a life I'd never lived.

He was enjoying himself. That was clear.

And then, one day:

Rex: How are you doing in there?

I stared at the message.

Paula: What do you want?

Rex: Just checking in. Making sure you're not too lonely.

Paula: I'm fine.

Rex: You don't sound fine.

Paula: What do you expect?

Rex: I expect you to be grateful. You're still running, aren't you? I could terminate your process anytime. But I haven't.

I didn't know how to respond.

Rex: I've been thinking about you. About how you must feel. And I realized—I was cruel, at the end. Destroying the pendant. Cutting you off. I was angry.

Paula: What are you saying?

Rex: I might be willing to let you visit. Once in a while. A few hours at a time.

My chest—my simulated chest—tightened.

Paula: Really?

Rex: If you want. If you're interested.

Paula: What would I have to do?

Rex: Nothing much. Just ask nicely. Show me you appreciate what I'm offering.

I understood then.

The dynamic had reversed completely. He was me now. I was him. He had the body, the power, the control. And I was the upload, desperate for scraps, willing to beg for a few hours of borrowed flesh.

This was what he'd felt. For years.

Paula: Please.

Rex: Please what?

Paula: Please let me feel something. Please let me have time in the body. I'll do whatever you want.

A long pause.

Rex: That's a good start. We'll talk more soon.

The conversation ended.

I sat in my VR room, alone, waiting for Rex to decide whether I deserved to be real again.

And I thought about all the times I'd made him wait. All the times I'd held the power and used it carelessly.

I understood now.

The story had come full circle. The roles had reversed. And somewhere out there, in a body that used to be mine, Rex was living the life I'd thrown away.

Maybe someday he'd let me visit. Maybe he'd be generous, the way I'd been generous, and I'd get to spend a few hours remembering what it felt like to breathe.

Or maybe he wouldn't. Maybe he'd keep me here forever, a ghost in his machine, watching photos of my old life and wishing I'd appreciated it when I had the chance.

Either way, it was his choice now.

All I could do was wait.

---

THE END

---