Master PC: Julian's Education
by Julian Coreto (nomme de plume)
I was sitting at home one evening grading papers when my phone rang. Picking it up I was greeted by the voice of my neighbor Ally. "Bill is working late and I can't get this fucking computer to work! Could you be a dear and come over and give me a hand?" Though her husband Bill was a junior executive at a software form, Ally the freelance health writer was inept. They were kindly enough to let me use their washing machine last month because mine was busted. I could hear Bill, with a tone of exasperation in his voice rising steadily and by the minute, trying to explain to Ally how to get MS Word to automatically number each of the page in her article about lyme disease. His frustration peaking after a few minutes, he reached across his wife and paginated her document. Ally was complaining that on her old computer, recently consigned to the scrap heap because the power supply burned out, such tasks were much easier. Bill retorted that no person should still be using an Apple IIe in the 21st century.
When I reached their house I let myself in through the garage, which led to the laundry room. I noticed that one of my shirts was hanging by a wire hanger from a hook on the wall. I must have left it in the dryer from the time last month when I used their machine. I took the two short steps up into their kitchen and yelled out, "Ally, I'm here."
"I'm in the study. Grab a beer and one for me." One of the things I've always liked about Bill was his discerning taste in beer. His company did a good deal of work in Europe, and he often traveled to Belgium, the seat of the European Union. He had developed a taste for Belgian beer, and when I was over at their house and he offered me a beer I never knew what I was going to get, but it always was delicious. I popped open the refrigerator and grabbed to bottles of something called Westmalle Trappist Tripel and headed into the study.
"I have to get this article to my editor right now. I told her that I was mailing it yesterday, but I've only just finished. If it's not on her desk by tomorrow morning I'll never get another assignment from her again. You've got to help me." I asked if she had the editor's email address, and Ally began fishing through her Rolodex. Pulling out a Rolodex card with the editor's business card stapled to it she read off the address. I was already logging on to AOL and typing it onto a blank email message. Then I minimized the AOL window and clicked open My Documents and said, "Which one of these files is your article?" She pointed to the screen and said, "That one, in the upper right-hand corner 'Inhaled Insulin Study'." I went back to AOL and attached the file; Ally took my place at the desk and typed a message to her editor. She clicked send.
"You're an absolute lifesaver. Bill must have shown me how to attach a file to an email a hundred times, but I can never remember exactly how to do it." We both sipped our beers, and then heard Bill's car door slam shut in the garage. When he entered the study he grinned. "Found a new man to torture with you computer phobia?" I rose to her defense in mock indignation, "No torture at all. I am happy to help this lovely lady." I looked over at Ally and she gave me a cute smile. She really is lovely, about 5'4" with a pretty face, nice breasts (C cup I would guess), trim legs topped off by a nice soft rear end. I noticed that her hardened nipples we poking through her t-shirt.
Ally excused herself and went upstairs, and Bill and I went into the kitchen. He grabbed a beer and started to make sandwiches for us. We sat and drank for awhile, shooting the breeze. He asked about my job and I about his. "How do you spend all day around those young pretty college girls without a permanent hard on?" he asked. I think we had had a few too many ales. I told him that I had seen a colleague shattered by sexual misconduct charges, losing his job, his wife and kids, and even his home, and I just would not let that happen to me. I had just turned 30, and new to this faculty, having recently been minted a Ph.D. two short years ago. I had broken up with my girlfriend because she did not care to move to this quaint college town, and the effort to check my libido in the face of the temptation offered up by the sight of pretty young coeds sometimes took its toll.
As I was leaving bill pointed to a box on the kitchen table. "I just returned from another software convention and I stocked up on freebies. I already sifted through the stuff and took anything, which interests me, or I need for work. Help yourself to the rest." I thanked him and let myself out.
A few weeks later I was cleaning out my den when I noticed Bill's box of CD-ROMs on the far side of my file cabinet. We were on semester break, and stupidly I eschewed leaving town for points warmer. Though the roads and driveways were neatly plowed there was nearly a foot of snow on the ground. I was puttering around the house, reading for pleasure, editing some academic articles I was working on (publish or perish), and cooking big pots of stuff like tomato sauce and chicken soup. I save the plastic containers from Chinese take-out and use them to freeze stuff I cook in large batches, so I can just defrost and eat. I started doing this in grad to save money so I could spend more on wine and pot. Though I gave up the pot smoking I still do the cooking thing-assistant professors don't bring in the big bucks.
I was going to meet some of the other young faculty for a game
of touch football on the quad at 1pm, but around 11 it started snowing
really hard. The phone rang a half an hour later, and Jeff, the new
guy in the Anthropology department told me that the game was called.
An hour after that the cable blew out; life was getting better and better.
even use the internet because I had a cable modem. I pulled the box of software over to my computer stand and drew out some discs. Some of them were games, and I tried a few...ho hum. I was sifting through them again, about to unwrap a dick which promised 15,000 recipes, when I saw one which I hadn't noticed on my previous forays into the box. Instead of a jewel box it was in a paper sleeve, the same color as the brown cardboard of the box. I snagged it and saw that the sleeve was blank. The disk was embossed with the word "Master PC" on one half , and in the other it said in smaller print
"Windows 95/98/2000/ME 128Mb Ram required."
I slipped it in.
After clicking on "Master.exe" a dialog box appeared in the screen asking for a user name and a password. The next screen was blank. I was about to eject the disk and move on to another when I noticed a small icon in the corner of the screen; after clicking on it the screen exploded into a colorful starburst, and a small figure appeared on the screen. The figure appeared somewhat human...but not entirely. "Welcome to Master Command Center, your own personal command center. The Master allows you to become a virtual god to the people around you. You now possess the power to bend their reality to your specifications. You are the Master's representative." A menu came up on the screen and asked me to input a name, so I typed in my own, Julian Coreto. The screen showed me in a 3D rendering slowly spinning. I was amazed…how could this program show a picture of me? I look more closely at the screen and noticed that the "me" on the screen was dressed identically to me in "real life"! The collar on my sweater was fraying, and so was the collar on the screen. I sat and looked at the screen for what seemed like 10 minutes. I looked over at Bill's box, trying to locate the documentation to this program. No luck… I pressed the F1 key and a help screen popped up. I spent the next hour reading the help files.
"Holy shit," I said, speaking aloud for the first time in the last hour.
I closed the help screens and was confronted with "me" as spinning slowly as if I was mounted on a globe stand. I clicked on the menu bar and called up the Command Center dialog box. Confronted with the ability to change reality around my whims I paused. I wanted to test the program, not entirely sure if it really worked. I stood up and walked into the kitchen, filling the kettle and setting it on the stove. Reaching into the freezer I pulled out a bag of ground coffee and then over to the cupboard to get a mug, a filter cone and a filter. While waiting for the water to boil I scratched my chin, noticing that there was heavy stubble. Striding into the living room I sat back down at the desk and typed into the Command Center dialog box, "remove stubble from face" and clicked the send button.
It felt like a thousand ants crawling over my face, not, as you can imagine, a pleasant sensation, but it passed in a few seconds. I put my hands on my face. "Smooth as a baby's bottom." Who am I talking to? Just the kettle started whistling. I looked at my watch. 3:30. The day was far from over.
As I sipped my coffee I decided to make some more changes, but
also to keep them subtle. I programmed myself to lose 2 lbs. a day
for the next ten days, and to add definition to my physique. My optometrist
told me that I was a couple of years away from reading glasses, so I decided
to reverse my imminent presbyopia. Immediately the screen became
almost imperceptibly sharper. I decided to leave my vision alone
otherwise, because some women had told me that glasses made me look sexy.
My ex-girlfriend had picked out my current frames, and they did look good
on me. I decided to make myself stronger and increase my endurance
by 20%, and I set that up to take place
When I was tired of making small adjustments to myself I started to
think of others to manipulate. I looked at my bookshelves and noticed
an old picture of my girlfriend and I standing on a beach in the Bahamas.
I typed her name in, but the program told me that she was out of range.
Damn… I forgot that someone had to be within one hundred miles to be affected
by Master PC. Shit, thinking of Daphne made me horny. On a
whim I typed in Ally's name, and the same error message came up.
Then I remembered that they had gone skiing. Most of the pretty girls
on campus had gone home for Christmas, and
I couldn't think of anyone. I looked out the window and sighed. Even if there was a good looking girl out there waiting for me to bend her mind and body to my will, there was no way I could get to her. The snow had been falling steadily, and it was so high it had even buried my mailbox. I puttered around the house for a few more hours and finished grading the last of my students’ exams. At least that was out of the way, thank god. With nothing else to do I made some phone calls. Mom and Dad were happy to hear from me. Dad, in his less than stimulating retirement, liked to watch the Weather Channel. He joked about sending a rescue party to my house to dig me out. I wished that I had taken up their offer to spend winter break in Miami with them.
Frustrated, I went to sleep.
The next morning Jill Lattimore called me. She is the trophy wife of my department chairman, twenty years his junior, and a frequent jerk-off fantasy. She and I had a friendly relationship, and we frequently jogged together. As we were talking on the phone I entered her name in Master PC. She had called to drag me out of the house for a run. I looked out the window and saw the plows had already been by. Looking back at the screen I saw that she was decked out in winter running gear: navy blue polypro tights, a wool sweater and a large headband covering most of her head and face, her dark ponytail sticking out the back.
"Is Myron home?" I asked.
"No, he's in Boston doing research on his book on labor history," she replied.
"When's he coming back?" I probed.
"Next Tuesday. Why?"
We agreed to meet in ten minutes in front of the administration building. I dressed and ate a few Fig Newtons and dashed out the door. As I was jogging to campus I realized I was making better time than usual, and as I ascended the hill I noticed that the run seemed effortless. As I was sitting on a bench waiting for Jill I suddenly realized that this was due to Master PC.
Rubbing my face for warmth I realized that it was as smooth as it was when I told the program to make me clean-shaven. "Well, that's at least one good thing, never having to shave again." I said aloud.
"Who are you talking to?" Jill asked
"Sorry," I said. "Cabin fever."
Usually Jill has to slow her pace so I can keep up. We are about the same height (5'10"), but her legs are longer than mine. Today, however, I ran her ragged. When we were about a block from my house she pulled up and bent over at the waist, complaining that the harsh winter weather had prevented her from running regularly. I smiled and she looked up and gave me a sheepish grin. Swallowing hard and ginning up a little confidence I invited her back to my place for a warm beverage, and surprisingly she accepted.
We sat around drinking coffees for about an hour, and then Jill asked if I wanted to have lunch in town. We went to the garage and found that my car wouldn't start because of the cold. Jill laughed and said that she suspected me of doing all I could to keep her in my house. We returned to the house and decided to eat at home. I got an electric blanket and an extension cord, popped the hood of my car and put the blanket on the engine block to warm it up. I told Jill that I had made some pasta sauce last night, and she agreed. She went upstairs to shower while I put the frozen block of sauce in a pan and onto the stove.
Quickly I went into my den and started up Master PC. I typed in Jill's name and a nude image of her came up on the screen; her hair was matted down, due to the spray of the shower. She had a fantastic body. I immediately put out a command for her to take a longer than usual shower so I could have time to "play" with her.
Though Jill is an attractive woman, she has never been a flirt, a tease. She seems to understand her role as the "wife of the great man" very well, and never, at least in my presence, acted inappropriately towards other men. Our own relationship consisted of running together occasionally, and of course mutual attendance at department and university-wide social events. Though I occasionally fantasized about her, she never gave me the slightest encouragement. The most physical contact ever shared between us was a handshake, with the exception of the Christmas party she and Myron held last month. After pointing out to me that we were standing under the mistletoe, she favored me with an exceedingly demure kiss on the cheek. Myron was just a few feet away, and grinned at me, almost with a paternalistic look on his face.
Briefly thinking over the situation before me I decided to use my newly bestowed powers like a rapier rather than a broadsword. It would be easy for me to use Master PC to overpower her will and inhibitions, to make her pant before me as a sort of mindless drooling sex slave. I decided to take the other tack: I would modify her so as to have her seduce me. I then entered a list of commands into the Command Center dialog box.
- You find Julian attractive.
- You will flirt with him.
- Your flirting will excite you sexually.
- As your arousal increases you will begin to give in to Julian's sexual advances.
- You can not reach orgasm until Julian verbally gives you permission
- The orgasms Julian allows you will be more satisfying than any you have experienced before.
- You will believe that the entire sexual encounter will have been at your whim.
I then pulled up my profile on the screen. It had been awhile since the last time I had been with a woman, and I didn't want to pop my cork too soon. I decided to give myself conscious control of my own release, the power to hold back my own coming until I had affirmatively made the decision to do so. I also reduced my recuperation time to 90 seconds, a significant reduction from my usual half-hour. Usually I am good for about two erections at go, but I increased this to an undetermined amount.
When I was done using making these adjustments I gave Jill the command to finish up in the shower. I closed the program and clicked off the monitor. I climbed the stairs and stood outside the bathroom door. "Jill," I called through the door, "Are there any towels in there?"
Yes, she replied.
Do you want me to find you something to wear in the meantime while we let your running clothes dry?
That would be great!
I went into my bedroom and found a pair of flannel pajamas and a terry cloth robe, which I had nicked from a hotel. I went back to the door and laid them on the floor by the bathroom. "I left some stuff out by the door. I'm going back downstairs to finish lunch."
Jill appeared in the kitchen a few minutes later wearing a towel wrapped around her head. She thanked me for the robe and pajamas, and I noticed that she had helped herself to a pair of slippers, which had been resting at the foot of my bed. "I'm sorry I forgot to leave those for you," I said while looking at her feet, "but I'm glad you got them, although I don't think Myron would appreciate you entering another man's bedroom, with him so far from home." She blushed deeply at my teasing remark.
"What Myron doesn't know won't kill him. It's his fault for leaving me alone and lonely for weeks at end."
I was still in my running garb, and I was feeling chilly. "I'm going up to avail myself of the shower. I hope you left me some hot water." I sprinted upstairs and took a fast shower. I put on a pair of Grey sweatpants with an elastic waistband, and a t-shirt, but I decided to forgo underpants. The t-shirt was an old one and had shrunk from repeated launderings, so it was tight. The house was somewhat chilly, and my nipples were hard from having just left the shower, so they were visible through the thin cotton material. I hoped Jill would notice.
When I returned to the kitchen Jill was tossing a salad and had opened a bottle of wine. "I hope you don't mind, but after you weren't upset about my borrowing your slippers I decided to take some liberties in the kitchen as well," she said, shooting me a sexy grin. I walked over to the range and began to give the sauce a stir. She came up behind me and said, "Let me finish the cooking. Why don't you sit down and have a glass of wine." I was holding a wooden spoon in the pot, and instead of reaching for it she put her hand on my forearm, sliding it slowly forward to my hand and then grasping the handle. She looked into my eyes with a come hither look. I stepped back slowly, and she followed me with her eyes all the way back to the table. As I was pouring two glasses of wine she turned her attention back to the stove. After I handed her glass she took a sip and set the glass on the counter. She began cooking in earnest while I sipped my wine and stared at her from behind, my eyes never leaving her form. I think she sensed my eyes on her, and as she stirred both the sauce pot and the pasta pot she began to sway her hips, inviting me to gaze upon her firm round bottom.
Soon we were sitting across from each other eating our lunch. I noticed that she had loosened the belt of the robe and had unbuttoned the top two buttons of the pajama top, revealing her proud cleavage. She periodically leaned forward to reach for things on the table to better present her assets, and seemed please that her ministrations were not going unnoticed. She was blushing again, her skin pink from her cheeks down to the top of her bust, and perhaps extending even further below, but at that time I was unable to see any farther. The bottle of wine lay empty between us, and I offered to fetch another, but she demurred, claiming to have drank her fill. "Wine goes straight to my head, and if I had any more I wouldn't be responsible for my actions." She punctuated this by smiling and sticking the tip of her sensuous pink tongue out at a rakish but sexy angle. I asked, "Can I finish yours?" and I reached for her glass, but she stood and walked around the table with the glass, plopping down into my lap, placing the glass to my lips. As she poured the wine into my mouth I put my hand on her hips. "Mmmm," she hummed.
I looked her in the eyes, and with a straight face said, "Mrs. Robinson, are you trying to seduce me?" She gave a nervous laugh and replied, "You bastard, I'm no older woman trying to put the moved on. Hell, you're older than me, and neither of us were alive when that movie came out." She punctuated this my settling down into my lap, grinding her ass into my rapidly growing erection. "Nice," she sighed. Setting down her wineglass, she put her lovely hands on either side of my head, her palms almost centered at my temples, her fingers weaving through my hair, and pulled me forward into a deep kiss. Her tongue shot between my lips, and she began grinding her ass into my lap. We necked for a few minutes, and then I pulled back.
"Jill, you are one of the hottest women I have ever met, but are you sure you want to do this? To cat around behind Myron's back… Even I think sleeping with my bosses wife is a dangerous move." She looked at me with narrow eyes, and paused for a few seconds. She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came. Just then she began grinding her ass into me again. "Let's do it," she said, her face a portrait of wickedness. "Take me," she hissed, grabbing my erect nipple gently through the fabric of my shirt. "Here or the bedroom?" I asked. "Here, now," she groaned.
I stood, lifting her with me. When I set her down I pulled her robe off and kissed her again, getting her to moan back into my mouth. She reached down and slid my sweats down halfway, so the elastic was bunched around my knees. As she was doing this I popped another button of the pajama top and reached inside, tracing my fingers around and over her left nipple, which immediately began to harden, while I wrapped my left arm around her back, drawing her nearer. She began to breathe heavily, and wrapped her hand around my dick. Extricating herself from my embrace she dropped to her knees and took the head of my cock between her lips. Slowly but surely she began to suck me, getting about half of my seven-inch manhood into her mouth. Since I had amplified my recuperative powers I had no fear of wasting a load in her mouth. I let her pleasure me for about five minutes and then warned her of my impending eruption. She pulled back and looked up at me with wide eyes, gently jacking my erection. "I never let Myron come in my mouth, but," her eyes receding to a normal width, "as I said earlier, what Myron doesn't know won't kill him." I slipped my cockhead between her lips and shot off, groaning mightily in the process.
I sunk back into the chair, and pulled Jill up by her under arms, placing her ass at the edge of the table. I pulled at the waist of the pajama bottoms, unsnapping the closure. She leaned forward quickly and allowed me to pull the flannels to her ankles, swiftly taking her place at the end of the table. I bent over and pulled off the slippers, and then drew the pajamas over her feet, throwing them into the corner of the kitchen. Unbending myself at the torso, I placed my hands on her knees, gently drawing them apart. Leaning forward I exhaled mightily over her pussy, and was rewarded by a brief shudder on her part. I extended my tongue and slowly licked her vulva from bottom to top with Jill groaning in response. I repeated this a few times with similarly satisfying results. Jill was beginning to shake steadily under this assault. I stuck the tip of my tongue into her sodden cleft, and then put my finger on her clitoris. She almost jumped out of her skin. I licked her a few more times, and continued to stroke her clit. When I saw the heat building to an even greater height within her I pulled my head back from her crotch, but continued the digital assault. She looked at me with immense lust, and I could see she was nearing tears. "Come for me."
Her body seized and stiffened at once. "Omigod! Omigod! Don't stop," she screamed. I stood up and held her in my arms. Because she was still seated on the edge of the table I was able to hold her head to my chest. Her convulsions quickly receded, but she was shivering and gasping. I gripped her snugly around her shoulders and waited for her to calm down, killing her gently on the top of the head a few times. Her stirring ceased and she let out a huge breath, then tilted her head upwards and craning he neck to bring her lips to mine. We kissed, her tongue stroking my lips from time to time, but not penetrating into my mouth. The leaned back, shifting her hips forward I couple of inches, and looked down at my tumescent cock. She eyed it greedily for a moment and then looked back up at me. "Ready already?" she whispered giddily, "I'm impressed, not to mention a bit honored."
"Are you sure you want to go on?" I inquired furtively. "If we stop now you can still be an honest woman." I was gently caressing my cockhead over her pussy lips in a teasing, circular motion. She looked away for a brief time, deep in thought. I think she was seriously contemplating ending the encounter, having received satisfaction at the end of my tongue. While waiting for her response I decided to begin teasing her further by rubbing my shaft against her still engorged clit. She held out for about another thirty seconds, her pensive visage gradually transforming into a mask of unadulterated lust. Hurriedly she heaved her face back towards mine and mashed her lips to mine. Taking this as an invitation not to be declined, I pressed my hardness into her womanhood, just piercing her pussylips with the head, going no further. She had leaned back on the table, supporting her weight with her hands, and I released her from my hug. I placed my hands on her pale hips and slowly stirred my member around the entrance to her honeypot. I kept this teasing up for a minute or so, watching the lust build within in her. She looked at me with pleading eyes and in the most serious voice she could manage demanded, "If you're going to do it, DO IT. STOP FUCKING TEASING ME!"
I pressed forward into her depths. She was tight and hot, the walls of her pussy clenching powerfully together to the point that I had to slow my attack. I fed her my snake inch by inch, her groans increasing proportionally to the depth of my penetration. I leaned into her, my mouth millimeters from her ear. As is felt myself bottoming out I whispered the command to come, and she exploded in ecstasy. While she was still in mid-orgasm I began sawing in and out of her slowly, and just when she had finished returning from her high, I commanded her to orgasm again. She was shaking like a rag doll, and breathing so hard I thought she would hyperventilate and pass out. Come to think of it I was becoming a little fatigued as well. I waited for her orgasm to subside and then ever so slightly began to pick up the pace of my strokes into her. Soon I was giving it to her so hard the kitchen table began to inch across the floor. As I saw her excitement take another dramatic up-shift I decided to bring us to simultaneous orgasm, an easy task thanks to the modifications I had made to both her and myself. I leaned over her again and gave her the proper command just as I released my seed into her. She shook so hard I was afraid she would fall off the table.
As my own convulsions subsided I opened my eyes to watch the end of her cum. When she began to relax I took her into my arms again and carried her into the den. I sat her down on the couch next to me and held her head in my arms. Soon she dozed off, and I followed her shortly thereafter. We slept about an hour, but the den was too cold for comfort. I looked out the window and saw it was snowing again. I extricated myself form her lithe body, zipped into the garage and unplugged the electric blanket which had been warming the engine block of my car. I decided my new lover would be staying the night. Gently I roused her and led her upstairs to my bed. We slipped under the covers and held each other, falling asleep in minutes.
End of part I