Part 1 of the Dataverse Chronicles
You uplink into a pervert club, one of the many sin joints littered across the cybercity. Around you dance netheads, sex downloaders, gulch manglers, and all other types of indecent sickos. Freed from the constraints of reality, they meet here to engage in their darkest desires. It's a seedy dive, but a good spot to meet criminal employers.
> Order a drink and wait for a mysterious employer to approach you.
The pervert club's waitress glides up and greets you with a cheerfully synthetic smile. "What drink would you like me to shit for you?" she asks.
> Piña colada.
> Excuse me, did you say you were going to shit a drink for me?
"Yes, we're all rude perverts here, so shit is a thing we like. It's the fecal sensation we can't get enough of. Everything on the menu gets squeezed out of my simulated ass. Do you still want a drink?"
> Sure, I guess.
> Ew, no thanks.
The waitress climbs up onto the bar, squats down, and, with a moan of gross pleasure, craps out a piña colada. You take a sip. It's not bad.