Master PC for Lovers

by Kaia Golightly

(My thanks to JR Parz for letting people play in his Master PC universe. This story may be slow paced for some tastes, and I beg your pardon. Send your complaints and comments to

1. Pillow Talk

He was wild and hard and I was hot and dripping wet, so I climbed up on top of him and wrapped myself around his cock. It was solid and warm and real and it belonged inside me. I covered his face with kisses. I loved him completely and I wanted him to feel that from the inside and know that it was true. He looked up at me and for a moment we stopped to take a breath and just smile at each other. His eyes were the most perfect shade of gray.

And then I started to move again, grinding my body against him. His cock was big knotted fist plunging deep into my soul. And when it moved! Perfect friction, the kind that starts fires.

"I love to fuck you," he said, straining as he squirmed around. With his wrists caught in my hands, and his cock wrapped up in my pussy, he really wasn't going anywhere. But he was going back and forth very nicely.

"You'd love to fuck anything that moves," I said, enjoying his movements as he pretended to try to escape me.

"Yeah, ok," He agreed, "but you most of all."

"I don't believe you," I said, leaning up against him so that I would whisper in his ear. "I'm in charge now, and I say, you must confess to me."

Then I turned my head so this my ear was next to his lips. He smelled like boy and man and lust and sweat all mixed together.

This of course, was the dangerous part of the game. He would confess some fantasy to me, always hoping that he didnt go too far and say something that offended me. Like his desire for a threesome. Or his fondness for thoughts of light BDSM play. Or just has fascination for tits. In each instance, I had acted properly apalled and made him suffer a bit in penance.

In the elaborate construction of our sex life, Ian was a wild adventurer and I was a bit prim and reserved, ever the good girl who has to be lured into temptation. It was just a fantasy, really, a consensus reality we had agreed to. Truth to tell, Ian was a bit timid about actually doing new sexual things. He had never been to an orgy or an SM dungeon party.

And I had never been very shy, not really.

I think that Ian had actually come to believe our construction, over time. Certianly we both had fun with it. Like the time I had let him "talk me into" having a quickie in the bathroom at his office, after hours. Or the time I had "reluctantly" tied him up and tortured him with feathers and clothespins. Or the blow jobs I had given him in odd corners at parties and family functions.

It worked for us.

And so he struggled more against my body, not really trying to get free, just trying to squirm enough so that his cock could move around in my pussy, grab a little friction and slicktion.

"C'mon baby" I said, loving the feel of him inside me. "Confess!"

It always took him some time to confess. After all, it had to be forced out of him, right? Because he didn't want to tell me his dirty little fantasies. Except that he did. Boys love loved to share.

And I like to know. Knowledge is power, after all.

"Ive been reading mind control porn," he said at last, sounding a little bit contrite. "Science-fictiony stuff. You know, people get hypnotized and dominated, and turned into robot sex slaves."

"Oh wonderful, " I said, with my best sneer, "last time you wanted another girl, now you want a robot girl! Oh baby, baby, where am I gonna find you a robot girl?"

I started to move my hips, and whispered in his ear. "Does 'mind control' mean the girl has to obey your every wish? Like, she's a pleasure slave, she lives only for you? And you give her orders, and she obeys? She has no choice? What would you tell her to do, Oh Master?"

And that, apparently, was enough, because right about then he started to thrust harder and harder up into me, and came inside of me at last. It was his second time that night, and a nice wrap up for an evening of good, old fashioned sex.

Then he kissed me in the that deliberate way he does after he comes. It was his way of saying he wasn't just rolling over and going to sleep. When he was done with those kisses, he would roll over and go to sleep. Perfectly satisfied, I curled up against him as he started to really relax. He was asleep in no time. I laid my head against him and just smelled him for a moment. There's nothing like a hot boy to nestle up against.

Especially if he is your boy.

Mind control porn? That was a new one. It seemed like an odd departure for Ian, actually. Sexual fantasies are always about unlikely things, of course, that's the whole point. But Ian's fantasies were usually possible as opposed to fantastical. Like the one about the cheerleader, I mean, how was Ian ever going to happen to meet a nymphomaniacal high school cheerleader? Seriously. I told him that if he ever came across her, he had my blessing. A lottery ticket gave better odds than that. But it could happen, couldnt it? It was possible.

Mind control and sex-robots were more than unlikely, though. They were totally impossible. At last, it seemed that Ian's geeky science fiction novels and role-playing games had invaded his sexual fantasies. Or perhaps he was just admitting to it at last? If so, then I needed to know a lot more.

As we fell alseep, I resolved to read up on the matter.

A girl likes to know what's up. After all, knowledge is power.

* * *

2. Me and my guy

Now, at the heart of this story, as is often the case with these kind of stories, there is a character flaw.

In this case, Mine.

You see, and here is my confession, I am a terrible snoop. It is sad but true, I am happy to uncover any and every secret in the lives of my loved ones, family, friends, and especially, my husband. I know much more than everyone thinks about, well, everything. It is just who I am.

Like, my friend Carolyn confessed to me that she was having an affair. She was very discrete in telling the strory, and I played dumb, but of course I already knew about it, and the man's name, and a few details beyond that. I knew that my sister was totally bored with her boyfriend, though she had told no one. I knew that dear Mrs. Collins in apartment 5 was taking an awful lot of pills for a rather minor ankle pain.

Now, snoops can be a terrible bore, but I am discrete about it. And let's face it, I don't drink, and I've never done drugs, and I stopped being a total slut when I met Ian. I work hard all day and soap operas bore me. And everybody needs passions.

And so my wonderful husband Ian had very few secrets from me, if any. I knew where he hid things, and what, and why. I didnt just know his favorite bands and his favorite ice cream, any wife would know that stuff, I knew his favorite comic book superheros. I knew his favorite pornstars. I knew that he saved all the letters from his first girlfriend.

Boys are not as simple as they look. You can spend your life learning the details and keeping up with them. And I intended to keep up with Ian.

I know about the times he and his buddies went to the local strip clubs. I knew about the redhead in Las Vegas.

I even know he had a little fling the year before with Suzy Waters. Now to be honest, I had totally forgive him. It happened when we were going thorugh a rough patch and Suzy is a total tramp. Boys will be boys, after all. Still, if he ever gets me mad enough, I might just throw it in his face.

And boys have fantasies. Usually, sexual ones. There's something about testosterone that keeps your eyes on the horizon, instead of the here and now. A boy can't seem to fuck a girl without thinking of the next girl. You can't just let them run wild, but you can't crush their dreams either. Like a gorgeous mustang and a plucky cowgirl, you have to work out some compromises.

So like a Victorian explorer mapping the Congo, I explored Ian's sexual fantasies. The threesome. The orgies. The lingerie and the handcuffs. The fetish magazines hidden in the closet. What can I say? I like to know what I'm doing. When I married Ian, I made a promise to myself that I would keep him sexually engaged and interested over the long term.

And I hand't heard any complaints yet.

Truth to tell, Ian was a doll. He had a lean, wirey body that anyone would want to cuddle up to. He was tall but not obnoxiously so, and he had a relaxed manner that could put a guard dog at ease. Back in college, his shaggy bangs and straggly postmodern van dyke made him look like a stoner, but over the last few years, instead of outgrowing them he had sort of grown into them. If you know what I mean.

Ian has lovely hazel eyes to die for. I kid you not. I fell in love with him at a party one night in college and it took me ages to get his attention. He had that "starving skater boy" look that no girl can resist. I fell for him on the spot. He was a geeky computer boy, a hip skateborder, and a mad dancer. He played reasonable garage-band base. He was gentle and tough in all the right places. He was a little crazy, and a hopeless skirt-chaser, but that was all part of the charm.

He always smelled like home to me. We fit, somehow. And I aimed to keep it that way. I know what the divorce rate is in this country. If you want to keep what you have, you have got to be willing to work for it.

* * *

3. In Search of

A few days later I had a work-at-home day, so I took the opportunity to check out the browser trail on Ian's computer. It wasn't hard to find my way to the mind control porn, and read all about it. It was all wild sex fantasies and magic wish fufillment. You know, geeky boy gets bitten by a spider and gains the proportional horniness and sex appeal of a spider, starts seducing the various lolita centerfolds who just happen to live next door. I suppose if youre going to bother to have a fantasy, you may as well dream the whole shooting match.

He'd been haunting a website with hundreds of Mind control stories that were a bit better than the average porn, but I have to admit, I found a lot of it sort of strange. I mean, if a sixteen year old boy was granted infinite power, wouldn't he become Superman or batman, and zoom around having adventures? That's what I would have expected.

But in the world of Mind control fiction, the lucky boy mostly uses the power to sexually dominate his sister and his mother. Well, I thought, no one's ever handed infinite power to a sixteen year old boy, so we'll never know for sure.

Following Ian's breadcrumbs, I found that he'd mostly been reading "Master PC" stories, a series of stories about a magic computer program that gives people total power over others. A few of them were pretty hot, actually, though they tended to be rather short and spare for my tastes. For me, porn is all about detail, context and character.

But what do I know? I wondered how I could work any of this into our sexlife. I doubted I would make a very good robot slave girl. I've never been a very good submissive, not for long. And you can't exactly buy robo-bimbos at Sears. If I could hypnotise girls into sex-slaves and command them to service Ian, I probably would have done it. I was pretty sure hypnotism didn't work that way though.

Besides, it struck me that if you could hypnotise people, or take over their minds, surely you would go to jail for doing it! I had fleeting images of "rogue hypnotist and Mind contol" wings of federal prisons. Guys in striped prison uniforms being forced to wear regulation mirrorshade sunglasses so they couldnt look a guard in the eye and take control...

Still, reading Ian's porn was fun. It was a way to peak into his sex- brain, and that was always a good thing. When you jerk off to your lover's porn, you know that you're in contact with their dreams, somehow. Like wearing his boxers around the apartment.

And yet, a nagging thought kept bugging me. Hadn't I heard of "Master PC" before? It seemed kind of familiar. But it really wasn't my kind of porn. I do own every edition of Tristan Taormino's "Best Lesbian Erotica" but I'm not sure that even counts as porn these days. I had a lovely collection of photos of the New York City SM scene, but Ian insisted that it was "artistic" rather than porn.

So mind control just hadn't come up much in my reading till then. Still, I had heard of Master PC before, i was sure of it.

I went to the bedroom and pulled a vibrating dildo out of the toychest. The ivory plastic was cool to my touch. It was just what I needed.

I spread out on the bed and squirmed out of Ian's boxers. In a few minutes, the vibrator and I were humming along together. I started by letting it drift across the soft skin of my inner thighs, where clothes and skin can rub when you walk. Then I circled slowly around my clit. I couldnt help but wonder, if Ian was offered magic wishes by some Master PC genie... what would he wish for?

Soon I was wet and ready, and I started to fuck myself with the vibrator, easy clean motions that felt good and somehow basic. This wasn't sex, it was just some fundamental component. Like sipping vodka and thinking of martinis. Sometimes, you have to have something inside you.

I could imagine Ian - as a teenage boy, of course, to fit the conventions of the genre - stumbling upon some magic power and making his three wishes. Of course, he'd wish to be irresistible to all women. Then he'd wish to be the world's greatest lover.

I stopped at two wishes - as far as I was concerned, Ian's wishes had already come true.

With the vibrator deep inside me, I put one eager finger on my clit, and worked myself to happy orgasm.

Ian was certainly jacking off to these mind control fantasies, after all. And now I was learning too.

The next day I was working at the office, so I went to consult with my friend Maggie. I worked in for a big marketing firm, where I mostly made webpages and other documents for internal use. It's the sort of terrible fate a girl resigns herself to if she's not nerdy enough to be a technical whiz, not bimbo enough to be promoted for other reasons.

Maggie, however, is a technical wiz. She's like the Dark Mistress of the internet, it obeys her. She handles network security and such for the company, and she knows all the dark secrets: spam, spyware, viruses, secret porn caches and forbidden media. Maggie knows where the data is hidden. She is totally my Willow (I get to be Buffy because I am taller).

"Hey Maggie," I said when I found her in her cublicle, "Have you ever heard of something called Master PC?"

She looked up at me oddly through her owlish glasses. Maggie's a small plump girl with a very friendly smile, but her eyes are always serious, somehow. She was really just a goth girl who was trying to grow up and hold a real job.

"Why do you ask? Were'd you hear about Master PC?" You could almost see the wheels turning in her head. I was startled by her intensity though. I hadn't really expected her to know anything about it.

"Ian mentioned reading about it somewhere," I said, "Why, what is it?"

"Master PC is an urban legend," she said. "It's a thing people whisper about, but you never really see. Like first season MST3k episodes."

Usually, I can follow what Maggie is saying, but this time, she was losing me. "Well," I said, "I just had the feeling I had heard it mentioned before, so I thought I'd ask you. You usually know these things, Maggie."

She shrugged. "I might have mentioned it. People put junk master PC files into data caches all over the net. I have to clean stuff like that out from time to time so we can get some work done. They act like our network is secure, but let me tell you, no network is secure anymore."

"Maggie, you're losing me. I thought Master PC it didnt exist?"

"It doesnt, not really. It's just a scam. But big files labelled 'Master PC' get passed around the internet. Junk data. garbage. Viruses. It's a game people play. At this very moment, some shmuck is downloading Master PC onto his system and dreaming of cheerleaders." She leaned forward and lowered her voice to a near whisper. "People are stupid," she said.

I nodded. "Gotcha, Im caught up. Thanks Maggie."

"I am are here to serve."

"Hey Maggs," I said , "When I get my copy of Master PC, what do you want to wish for?"

"I'll think about it," she said. "I'm still kinda busy spending my lottery winnings."

We made lunch plans and I left her to her work. Still, I really wanted to know what magic wishes she would make. I suppose if you plopped a magic 'Master PC' program in front of anyone you'd get all kinds of surprises.

That night I went home and started to search the net for Master PC, following a few clues that Maggie had coughed up for me over lunch.

I'm not sure I can explain why I did it. I don't really go in for magical thinking. I always figured, if you want something, you have to work for it, not wish for it. Sometimes, though, we do things because we have to, not because we really have a good reason why. My hunt for Master PC was like that. I did it on instinct.

But something drove me to keep at it. So when I had a few free minutes here and there, I would open my browser and track down another URL, another lead. They mostly led to missing websites and painfully gauche viagra spam. But I kept at it. I've never been one to give up easily.

It was a week later that I downloaded Master PC onto my computer, unpacked it, and installed it. And that's when everything got weird.

4. Digital

I really didn't take it seriously until I initialized my copy and it opened up a bunch of windows marked "Jean Reynolds." The first one showed a complicated diagram that looked like a topographical chart of the grand canyon. It was labelled "personality indices" and it meant nothing to me. Another window was supposed to be showing my "current mental state" but it was just a blur of changing icons.

The third window, however, showed a 3-D model of a woman's body, half wireframe, half solid. It was totally me.

The fourth window showed a little video image of me, a live picture of me sitting at my computer. I looked up, but the POV was clearly a foot or two below the ceiling. There was just empty air, though. There was certianly no camera there. I waved my hands through the empty space. How could that be?

The live video feed had easy controls. There was a sort of virtual joystick-thing that would zoom the POV around so that I could see myself from all different angles. It was like an invisible flying webcam. For a moment, I considered the idea that this was some sort of invisible flying webcam. That would still be pretty outlandish, but it seemed more likely than a real working copy of Master PC.

A little more exploring revealed windows with my personal history in detail, and everything you ever wanted to know about my body but would not dare to ask. The CIA could not have faked it so perfectly, even if they had invented invisible flying webcams.

But there was one way to be sure.

I looked for something easy. There were a ton of menus for different body systems, aspects, and parts. It was a control freak's wetdream. Some of it was terribly confusing and complex. One menu was labelled "hair color," and that seemed fairly accessible to me. It had a list of 40 or so different hair shades, and then an options menu for making up new ones on a color wheel. It listed my hair color as Light warm Brown-2 (86%) and light medium grey-3 (14%).

That seemed terribly matter-of-fact. Was my hair really 14% grey? I supposed it was possible. Whoever counts out follicles anyway?

So with a click I changed it to "strawberry blonde-1" and hit "save." It spun a little "wait for it" icon at me, and then a dialogue box popped up saying "Done." I was so startled laughed out loud. It was just a fake after all! I had to admit, I had fallen for the thing hook, line, and sinker. I felt kind of silly. Still, it was a relief to be back in the real world again.

Of course, I couldn't resist standing up so that I could look in the mirror across the room. And there I was - me and my shiny new strawberry blonde hair!

I was completely startled. I looked good as a blonde! I have to admit it, my first impulse was to reach down and change it to Light Golden blonde, just to see how that looked.

I pulled out my hair tie and shook my hair out. I usually wear it tied back and out of the way. I played with my hair and held it up to my eyes and I went over and peered closely into the mirror. I pulled a strand out and held it up to the light. It was very lovely blonde hair. The last time I had been blonde, my hair had been peroxide brittle, nothing like this.

I guess that was when the weight of what had happened hit me. I had a real copy of Master PC! It was really real! I had just gotten my hands on, well, on something magickal, something powerful!

So I did what any reasonable person would do.

I shut the program down. I shut the computer down. I went to take a long hot shower. I tried not to even think about it. If it was really Master PC, then one touch of those controls could twist flesh and minds. One mouse click could destroy your life forever.

Besides, things like Master PC didn't exist. Shouldn't exist. They're a violation of basic principles. Basic principles like the laws of thermodynamics. Basic principles like you have to work hard to get what you want.

I swore a frightened promise to myself to never ever touch the damn thing again.

Of course, I broke that promise an hour or so later.

I remember the first time I got my hands on a copy of photoshop. It was like opening up a magic paintbox, all the things I wanted to do were laid out before me. I played with the software all day, learning the interface, the nooks and crannies, the broad strokes and the details. Getting a feel for it. I never even glanced at the instruction books that everyone told me to read. It was a fun new space and I wanted to explore it and really learn it.

My afternoon with Master PC was like that. There were menus and control surfaces for every aspect of the human body and human mind. And what wasn't there you could customise yourself, apparently.

It was frightening to make changes to your own body, but it was also exhilarating. Skin and bone become sculptor's clay. It was scary fun to change my hair color, my hair length, my eye color, even my skin shade. I made myself taller and shorter and lighter and heavier. It was really quite amazing. At one point, I got scared that I would lose my original appearance completely, a very frightening thought. I would I explain it when Ian came home and I was a tall asian redhead with bright purple eyes?

But it turned out that Master PC had saved my "base state" and I could easily return to it at any time.

Some of the controls seemed pointlessly obscure. There was a menu for how white your teeth were, from one to ten. Mine were a mere six, apparently, despite very good dental hygiene. I moved the slider up to 10 and sure enough, my teeth were whiter than white.

I put them back to six. I promised myself I would brush and floss more.

It was strange to suddenly to see my body as, well, mutable. A blank screen. Our bodies change over the course of our lives, but it's usually a slow process. Gradual. Fast changes tend to be bad news, after all. Illness and injury change your body quickly, and not much else does. Even plastic surgery takes time, and money, and effort.

To suddenly see your body as something that could be edited, like a digital photograph, that was like stepping outside of your life. Like being the screenwriter of your life for a moment, instead of the actress.

Or perhaps, it was more like being in charge of costumes and special effects.

Once I had a grasp of the main "body" controls, I started to look at the "mind" controls. I didn't use myself as a guinea pig so much with these, changing my own mind seemed especially risky. What if I changed my mind to a state that didn't want to be changed back?

I scared myself learning about that risk. I found a dial that let me change my overall happiness index. When I turned it low, it was like the bottom falling out of my stomach, and the sky falling on my head. It was actually kind of hard to find the strength to turn it back up. I mean, sure, it might help a little, but why bother?

When I finally managed to turned it high, it was like getting high on love on Christmas morning. All I had to do was leave it there and just be happy forever. The world turned bright and it smelled like fresh bread and apples. It was like good quality heroin. I had always hated heroin.

I found the willpower to turn my happines back to my baseline setting -a cheery 64%, apparently. After that, I was a lot more cautious about adjusting my own mind. I mean, was there a dial for how brave you were about using Master PC? It was a confusing thought. Better safe than sorry, my Mom always said.

The whole thing reminded me of a programming class I had taken once in college. They taught us this weird old language called LISP and we learned to make self-referential programs that rewrote themselves as they ran. Somehow, touching the controls for my own mind reminded me of that.

The thing I had taken away from the class was that self-referential programs were powerful, but easy to screw up.

So I was cautious, but I didnt stop exploring. I opened windows and nested pop-up menus that led to more nested menus that led to more control panels. I learned my around. Within a few hours, it felt like Master PC was my mine to control.

The question was, what should I do with it?

5. Give them an inch...

By the time Ian got home from work, I had dinner ready and put my whole body back to normal.

Sure, it was tempting to use Master PC to lose a little weight, but surely everyone would have noticed if I suddenly lost twenty pounds, or made any other dramatic changes. I didn't want people asking those sorts of questions. Somehow, Master PC seemed like the sort of thing you aren't supposed to tell people about.

"Hi there! How was work today baby?" I asked Ian as he came in the door.

"You don't wanna know," he said, but he gave me a very nice kiss for my troubles.

Ian wasn't one to talk about such things a lot, he could be pretty taciturn, but I knew they'd been putting a lot of pressure on him at work. So I chatted and puttered and when he had relaxed a bit I served him a stir fry with veggies and noodles I had whipped up.

After cleaning the kitchen we plopped down in front of the TV. He was still being quiet, but he stretched out on the couch and we watched the latest version of Star Trek with popcorn and cherry coke.

The new Star Trek didnt hold my attention. They hadn't added much this time around but more breasts. I liked it better when Ian watched the old ones, they had great hairdos. I leaned up against my man and tried not to think about Master PC.

Or, to be specific, I tried not to think about the big question that Master PC posed for me. Specifically, where did it come from? What should I do with it?

The first question was the most important - but the least useful. I mean, just the idea that something as powerful as Master PC existed was, well, mind-blowing. It violated every scientific principle. The laws of thermodynamics were out the door. Master PC looked very modern and technological when you sat down to it, but it was pure magic. It was a genie coded as software.

Was it something that had escaped from some secret government project? It seemed unlikely that the government had such vast powers. If the President had Master PC i was sure we would all notice it.

Was Master PC a gift from Aliens? Something dropped by time travellers? A flaw in the fabric of the universe? Did god write the code himself?

I had no answers there.

But what difference did it make, really? Master PC itself was a lot bigger and more important than I was. Or anything I might do with it. I was just a girl with a copy of secret cheat codes to life. The big picture was out of my hands. I mean, who do you call to report something like Master PC?

So much for the first Question.

The second question was less profound, but much more to the point. What was I going to do with Master PC? Delete it and go on with my normal life? Tell Ian about it and watch him assemble his harem of sexslaves?

My man had fallen asleep to the sounds of phaser fire and the Enterprise in danger. Even asleep, he looked troubled. I knew I had to help him. That was the role I had signed up for.

And that answered question number two, didnt it?

I slipped off the couch and over to my computer, and laoded up Master PC.

So far, I had only looked at myself. Now I opened up a new file for Ian. Windows blossomed across the screen - diagrams and maps and windows of Ian's body and his mind.

I was just going to make some very tiny changes. Just tweaks, really.

Ian was a clever guy, a deep nerd and a good programmer. But his mind wandered easily, and boring corporate work did not excite him. It seemed like he needed to be a bit more productive. I knew that Master PC had control surfaces for attention span and focus.

Sure enough, Master PC listed Ian as having 30% Attention Deficit. I had no idea where the "30%" number came from, or how it was registered. There is no scale for ADD like that, not that I'd ever heard of. Master PC, it seemed, was it's own little universe, it had it's own standards and measurements.

I changed the settings. I took away the attention deficit that had been a part of Ian's life since he was little, and replaced with a deep ability to focus on tasks.

Master PC also said that he was very smart. It was right, he was. But Ian often complained that he felt slow-witted. Master PC had a control panel for basic intelligence. I made him smarter. Just a teensy little bit. It's what he'd want, if I asked him.

And then I found the real key to the whole thing - a set of inter-related dials that governed self-confidence. Ian's were surprisingly low. I notched them up to a much more realistic self-assessment. Ian was terrific, and he should know it.

That took care of his work problems, I suspected. What else?

There was, of course, a whole set of panels devoted to control of sexual functions, responses, capacities, and abilities. I was suspicious about making changes there, but once you start using Master PC, I discovered, it is hard to resist.

I didn't do anything weird, or dramatic. I just made everything a little bit better, a bit more sensitive, a bit more responsive. Subtle changes. Nothing wild. I supposed I was more or less turning his sex-clock back to college levels.

And then I Hit "save."

Ian was still sleeping on the couch when I leaned down to kiss him. He tasted like cherry coke and pure boyhood. He startled a bit, and then started to kiss back. He reached up and wrapped his arms around me and pulled me in, and I was his, like I was meant to be.

We made out on the couch like teenagers whose parents might come home soon. Was it my imaginiation, or was he a bit more excited than usual? A bit more urgent?

We wrestled each other out of our clothes and laughing, we ended up on the floor. On the TV, starships were still fighting. Suddenly, Ian seemed very insistent. He slid between my legs and he was all cock, all testosterone, all forward advance. Normally the King of foreplay, Ian pushed his way into me. It was OK, I was up for it, and more than ready.

There on the floor, amid the spilled popcorn, he fucked me like he loved me, or hated me, or whatever. It was wonderful. There wasn't time to talk dirty or even feel the love. Ian was just a fiery spear and I had no complaints at all.

He lasted forever. I wrapped him up in my legs and just lied back to enjoy the ride. To my amazement, I came first. I couldn't recall the last time I had come from pure fucking. Ian followed along right behind me, making wolf-howl noises. By the time he collapsed on me, a big sweaty mass of super-boyfriend, I was terribly impressed.

We cuddled for a moment, and then his kissed me, not tenderly, like I expected, but passionately.

"Let's go the bedroom," he said. Startled, I agreed. And there, on our bed, he did it all again.

I suppose when it comes to Master PC, I didn't know my own strength. Or maybe Ian didn't need a lot of magic to get going. Just a teensy bit, just a little push.

And when he fell asleep in my arms at last, I could not help but wonder, hey, what else can I do with that thing?

6. Good Times

"The meeting went great," Ian said, beaming, as he freed himself from his suit and tie. Ian normally dressed pretty casually at work, senior people never came down into the "coding bays" and things were pretty informal. But Ian had made some suggestions for getting the current project back on track, and he'd been invited up to the sunnier executive levels to explain himself.

It was nice to see him so excited when he came home from work. He was barely through the door when he started telling me about his advenutres.

"They really weren't prepared," He said, "I was surprised, you'd think they'd be more on the ball. They all seemed to be on doofus pills, or something. I had to explain everything twice. Still, they seemed happy enough when they caught on."

"Well, the conquering hero returns home. You deserve a beer."

He took the beer I handed him and set it down on the kitchen table unopened. "Don't I deserve a real reward?" he asked. He'd been undressing since he came into the kitchen, now he was nearly naked, and his current frame of mind was, well, pointedly obvious.

"Hey." I said, giggling, "It's your turn to cook!"

"I'll cook afterwards," he said, practically carrying me into the bedroom.

He skipped the foreplay again. He'd been doing that a lot lately. I had learned to be prepared.

It had been a wonderfull week. Newly focused and invigorated, Ian was having fun at work again. And our sex life had really livened up. I had almost totally avoided the temptation to use Master PC again. I had tweaked my sex drive up just a little bit, so that I could keep up with Ian. I didn't need so much foreplay and I was running hot for my boy all the time. Other than that, I had resisted temptation.

Well, I had used Master PC to spy on Ian a bit. After all, a girl likes to know what's going on. Mostly, Ian sat at in his cubicle all day coding, which wasn't that exciting. Sometimes though, I saw other things, like him flirting with pretty coworkers, or the sweet young thing who sold him his coffee every day. Ian had always been a wolf, but with his glands all tweaked up, he was even more out of control. It was only a matter of time before he did somethig stupid.

Now, I'm possessive of the love of my life, but I've always given Ian a little lattitude. A little spice is good for a boy.

I was contemplating my options when we went to bed that night. Snuggling up to Ian, I was surprised to discover that his cock was already getting hard again. He was insatiable! He looked sleepy but he pulled me into his arms. We lay there quietly for a bit, just kissing, feeling the comforting circle of each other's arms.

"I feel like things have really taken an upward turn," he said, lightly kissing my throat. "It's like everything's coming together for us."

"We've always had it pretty good, loverboy," I said giggling. "But we do seem to have hit a soft patch. We had it coming."

Without another word, I slid down and found his lovely cock, now all proud and eager again. Lovingly, I kissed it again and again, tasting it, making love to it. Worshipping it. Then I opened my mouth and started to give him a slow, luxurious blowjob.

It didnt take long for him to come, and he came gently, nearly drifting off to sleep as it happened, but with a dreamy smile. I swallowed my mouthfull happily.

It seemed to me that there was more semen than before, and it seemed to taste a little different too. It struck me that altering his sex drive had probably increased his testosterone levels. I wondered if Master PC accounted all the various second order changes that the hormones would make to his body? Did Master PC even work that way? When I increased Ian's sex drive, what happened exactly?

It seemed like I couldn't think about Master PC without going down a path that made my head swim. It was just too big think about, really. I resolved to stick to things that were within my reach. Like my boy.

I could, after all, make some of his dreams come true. It's what he would want, right? Sex and adventure. More transformations? A threesome? A harem of sex robots? Master PC could make all sorts of adventures easier.

Thinking about the possibilities was rather exciting. When I had tweaked my own sex drive I was mostly thinking that I wanted to be able to keep up with Ian, but the side effect of it was that I was as horny as he was, and I found my imagination getting more and more... well, explicit. Perhaps I should re-tweak? tIt was hard to be sure.

I snuggled up against my Ian, he was warm and cozy and he smelled like mortal sin, and he was all mine. One thing was sure, technology was making my life better, and I had no intention of turning back.

7. ...and they'll take a mile

Things were going better at work for me too. The tweaks to attention span, intelligence, and confidence had been so helpful for Ian that I tried them on myself. It was like taking some kind of strong but gentle caffiene. Within a few days, my bosses started complimenting me on my improved output. The attention span tweaking just seemed to make the workday a bit less dull, and all that extra sexual energy had to be used for something while I was stuck at work.

I had made a few other tweaks. Master PC had a control panel for "physiological age." I'd begun a slow process of ratcheting a few years off of Ian's wear and tear. I was dropping his weight a bit, and tightening up his muscles. He was slowly getting back the body that he had in College. His sexual capacities and sensitivites were now better than he had known at the peak of his adolescent passions. He and I were doing it like bunnies every night, and I knew full well he was masturbating in the restroom every day at work. He was horny all the time, and loving it.

Master PC had other uses too. I had loaded it onto my work computer, so I could open a little widow and keep track of Ian. It also turned out to be fun to be able to glance in on my co-workers and bosses.

And Master PC could be very revealing. Once you learned to read the complicated little icons and schematics that Master PC used to describe mental state and personality, you could learn all sorts of things.

Like, my friend Maggie was masturbating all the time. According to her icon display, she spent a lot of time thinking about sexual fantasies. Well, that was no surprise. She had known all about Master PC, hadn't she?

I learned more about my boss, Laura. She had an odd empty smile, a good heart, and tended to wear quaint angora sweaters. I got along wither her pretty well. She had always struck me as one of those people who really live for their job. According to her Master PC brain-map however, she hated her job and was feeling lost and meaningless. I had not suspected how miserable she was. It seemed she had made it her life's work to hide that sad truth from the world and just soldier along.

I also learned a lot about her boss, Mr. Wiggins. Wiggins was one of those drab, grey men that haunt middle management everywhere. He turned out to be a crossdresser. I was suprised to see that he wore fancy lingerie under his drab suits almost every day. The peek window turned out to have a handy "x-ray" mode for that. Suddenly, Mr Wiggins was a real person to me, someone interesting, someone I could be friends with. The more you know about people, the more there is to like.

And he had nice taste in lingerie.

People tend to seem simple and kind of dull because they hide all their complexities. Once you can see what's going on underneath, everyone is fascinating.

It also turned out that Rick, the new kid in the department, and Janet, our administrative assisstant, were having little trysts in the supply room. I claim to be a good snoop, but I hadn't suspected a thing, I must confess. Not only were they slipping in there for some quick fun, but they did it all the time. Apparently, Rick liked to get blowjobs from Janet just about every day, and Janet, for whatever reason, seemed eager to help him out with that. And really, they weren't being all that carefull about it. They were going to be discovered eventually. If you're going to sneak some guerrilla nookie, as Ian calls it, you have to be cautious. They were really lucky that no had caught them so far.

Of course, it was tempting to start changing them - I could do a lot with a gentle tweak, after all. But I had decided not to tweak anyone at work. Using Master PC mind control I certianly could have made Laura give me more days off, or I could just command Mr Wiggins to give me a raise. But it seemed like there had to be a line there somewhere. A line between using and really abusing Master PC. I wasn't quite sure yet where I thought that line should be, so I was being cautious. Surely using it to spice up my life, and Ian's, was different from using it to reprogram the people around me, or take advantage of them?

When I had first read the Master PC porn fiction, I had been struck at how silly it seemed to take something as powerful as Master PC just use it to play sex games. After all, with Master PC, I could cure anyone of cancer! My Aunt Myrren had died of cancer years before. With Master PC, I could have saved her. I really loved Aunt Myrren, I wish someone had saved her. So why not save everyone? Why not heal everyone? Why not make everyone happy?

Was everyone supposed to be happy? Was that really my job? Having Master PC at my command must come with some kind of responsibility, but was I really smart enough to fix everything?

I resolved to take it slowly.

8. Dressing Up

Janet stared at Rick's cock like she was in love with it. I guess she was. She was down on her knees worshipping it, after all. Now, Rick has a nice enough cock, but I just didn't see the attraction.

And yet, whenever Janet and Rick snuck off, I made sure I was watching. Once a snoop, always a snoop. And these two! They were taking way too many chances, and they were both taking real risks with their jobs and the relationships. The two of them were like a car wreck. No one can look away from a car wreck.

Of course, I was tempted to intervene. I could easily put some cold water on their relationship, or smarten them up. I suppose it was just too fascinating to watch it happen.

My cell phone rang. It was Ian, so I answered it, keeping half an eye on Rick and Janet. I'd given Laura and the rest of my office-mates the subtle and harmless command that they would never notice Master PC on my monitor, so I didn't have to fret about that.

"Hi Honey," Ian said. "I was just calling you up to remind you that it's Bachelor night tonight."

"Already?" I asked, sounding just lightly disappointed. "Didn't you have that last week?"

"No hon, it's been weeks. Don't worry. I won't be out too late, I promise."

"Of course you will be out too late. Don't try to play me, you dog. Just be honest and promise you will make it up to me." It was fun to tease Ian, he never seemed to be sure when I was serious or not. He was awfully smart about some things, but he had always had a tin ear for nuance. Programmers!

"Make it up to you?" he asked, a little tentative.

"When you come home, I don't care how late it is or how much you have had to drink," I said. "I will expect you to perform your marital duties the moment you get in."

"Oh," he said. "You really shouldn't wait up..."

"I won't," I said. "You wake me. Just be ready to perform," and I hung up on him. I didn't need to tune him in with Master PC, I could just see the look on his face. Priceless.

Bachelor night was a tradition with Ian and his friends since they mostly all settled down. They would go out every other friday night or so and do 'boy stuff,' which mostly meant beer, pool, cards, beer, and the occasional lap dance at the "Wandering I" club.

Girlfriends, wives, and other significant other's were expressly not allowed. They had a little trouble when Jeffrey turned out to be gay. His partner Dan was a boy, so he didn't fit under their "no girls" rule. They resolved this by declaring Dan an "honorary wife" and switching to a "no wives or girlfriends" rule. We live in a very modern world.

Of course, I had been waiting for bachelor night, this was the first one since I had found Master PC, and it fit my plans perfectly.

See, I had problem looming, and I like to be proactive.

Ian was likely to stray.

I mean, boys will boys and all that, but Ian was surging with hormones and energy. He had the sex-drive of a seventeen year old boy and the confidence of a grown man. He was a rangy and sexy tiger, and though our sex life was the best, monogamy is a tricky proposition at best.

Now, I've always been pretty flexible with my monogamy. I mean, Ian and I are forever, and I've never really liked sharing my stuff with other people. I've allowed him some fun on the side because, well, I just think that's being realistic. I don't really care what he did with that redhead in Vegas, or with that slut Suzy Waters. Or the occasional lap dance.

But Ian was at the top of his game, and the girls around him were certainly noticing. There were going to be temptations.

I mean, I couldn't really blame the girls. Who could resist Ian? And I could hardly blame Ian - I loved him for who he was, even the scoundrel part. Never trust anyone who says "I love so-and-so, except for..."

Love is for everything.

And I had Master PC, which made all sorts of magic possible. And I had a plan that I had been working on for several days.

The rest of the afternoon went quickly. Janet and Rick had once again avoided being caught, though at Laura was heading for the stockroom at a very bad moment, and I had to make up an excuse to interrupt her. I'm not sure why I helped them out, but I did. by the time Laura got into the stockroom, the fools had fled.

I cleared out of work on time on went straight home. I opened up my Master PC and checked in on Ian. He has already met up with his best buddy, Tyler, and the two of them were hanging out at their favorite record store. It was still early, after all.

I had been snooping enough to know their plans - they would eventually meet up with their friends at a bar, go to a party they had heard about, and finish the evening at Ryan's, which had been their favorite bar since forever.

That gave me plenty of time.

I finished up some leftovers and took a relaxing shower, and then I started to lay out my new outfit, which I had bought over the last few days - a little black dress, a belly shirt to slip over it, fishnets, glittery high-heeled sandals, various accessories. It was the perfect outfit for a slutty high school porn star, but it looked like nothing I would ever wear.

And none of it fit me anyway.

Then I stripped down to nothing, sat in front of Master PC, and turned on the magic.

I started by changing my physiological age to about seventeen. That was an amazing experience. When I hit "save" I felt this shudder slide through me, like a breeze from an open freezer door. I'm still in my twenties and I think of myself as young, but I had forgotten how much better it feels to be a teen-ager. Tiny aches and flaws throughout my body just evaporated, and it felt like my metabolism was revving up, running hotter. I could feel my skin soften. It was an incredible sensation, and it was tempting to find out what it felt like to be, say, fifteen. or twelve. But I was doin' stuff.

I couldn't resist glancing at myself in the mirror. Sure enough, I was seventeen again. Kewl.

Next, I made myself taller, more slender, and gave myself the muscle tone of a girl who had nothing to do but hang out at the spa all day. Feeling my muscles tighten up was incredible, the way you imagine a cat feels when it really stretches. I tried walking around, and discovered that gaining an inch or two and losing twenty pounds totally changes your center of gravity. It took me a moment to adjust.

Long blonde hair was easy, and I loved the feeling of it as it suddenly cascaded down over my bare shoulders. I'd been blonde many times in my life, but this hair was thicker, fuller, and curlier than anything I'd ever had. Feeling it grow was like a very fast, but very wonderful, scalp massage.

I know because Ian, God bless him, gives very nice scalp massages.

The face was hard. So many little details to get right! I didn't want to screw up and look like a clown, so I stuck to very basic things. I made my lips more full. I made my brows more arched. I made my cheekbones sharper. I adjusted the shape of my eyes a little. And I made them blue.

I made my nose smaller, and cuter. Trust me, that was a real miracle. Im an attractive girl, but in the "normal" range of attractive, as opposed to the "actress" range or the "supermodel" range. Generally, I make up for it by having a dazzling personality.

But being able to just shrink away your schnozz? Priceless.

I finished up with little details. I whisked away my body hair, which was an odd sensation. I made my pussy virginally tighter and stronger, which was an even odder sensation. I was suddenly an Olympic kegel champion. I made my eyebrows sparse and my eyelashes full. I made my skin clear, soft, and more sensitive. I made my voice higher and breathier.

And then it was time for the boobs.

OK, look, I don't get the boobs thing. I mean, I get that they are sensitive erogenous zones and beautiful - believe, me, I really get that. I have not always played for the Boy's team. I could write books about how nice breasts are.

But I don't really understand the whole size thing. I always thought that small breasts were as nice as big ones. I just don't see the special appeal that big breasts have for so many people. I suppose it might be a testosterone thing.

OK, True story: Testosterone. I had a friend in college who was a female to male transsexual. One day her name was Rita and then the next day she asked us to call her Max. She started to dress more and more like a boy, and act like one, and, well, at some point, we started to think of him as Max. At some point, Max started to get testosterone therapy as part of his transition.

It changed him, but slowly. It helped him bulk up on muscle, and it changed the way his mass was distributed. His chin and his body started to get hairy. And he would talk for hours about the way it changed him inside.

"Suddenly, I like to look," he said. "I mean, I was always into girls. But now, I can get hot just staring at them on the street. They can just walk by me at the mall and I can't think straight. I just stare at their tits. I promise you, I have not seen a girl's eyes since my second injection." He eventually married an exotic dancer (more about her later) and became a lawyer.

So you see, it may just be a hormone thing after all.

But sometimes, you don't need to understand things, you just need to act on them.

So I put my cursor over the dial and made my breasts grow. I dialed them up to perfect D cups - the dial, disturbingly, went up into imaginary breasts sizes that I had never heard of or imagined, but I stopped at D, thank you. Very big, but hopefully not ridiculous.

They felt odd, hanging their on my chest. They felt, well, heavy.

I checked them out in the mirror. I have to say, they made me look like a total sexpot. I know my well endowed friends have complained that men don't take you seriously when you have big breasts, and suddenly I could totally see it.

They really were too big. They made me feel terribly top and front heavy. I was going to have to learn to walk to compensate for that. They were also kind of itchy.

Still, I have to admit, I kind of like the way they looked. Every girl dreams of having bigger tits at some point in her life, and getting noticed by the boys in the ways that only bigger breasts can provide.

OK, I thought, I don't have all night, time to get dressed. I put on the new underwear and the little black dress, I slipped on the sandals and pulled the little t-shirt on. It all fit me now - I had planned out every detail, you see.

I fluffed my hair into a wild, curly mane. I did my makeup heavier than a good girl should, but I didn't get silly with it. Some cheap jewelry livened the whole thing up. I put on a new perfume so I would not smell like, well, me.

Then I looked in the mirror.

Sure enough, it wasn't me at all. It was some teenage troublemaker, a sloe-eyed girl who was much too sexy and likely to get into a lot of trouble fast. She had the killer body of a porn star, but she didn't have that hard chrome & enamel look I associate with porn stars. She was young and fresh and very real. She had supermodel aerobic limbs and luxury centerfold curves. She was out of your league.

I decided to call her Candide Apples.

Don't laugh, I was having fun.

I sat down with Master PC and got back to work. There were other changes I could make that might enhance the plan - deeper changes.

Perhaps this was a good time to indulge myself. Or was that just Master PC bravery talking? Hadn't I made myself more self-confident? I bit my lip, and tentatively made more changes.

I made my sex drive a lot stronger. I increased my sexual responsiveness. I improved my "overall orgasm" index (there were lots of sub-indexices for Orgasms, but I had not yet worked out the difference between O-sensitivity, O-multiplicity, O-profundity, O-scope, O-duration, O-access, and so on). I didn't go crazy, but I notched a lot of the Sexuality/Response dials up a few notches.

Then I shut down the computer and it was time to go.

9. A Girl in the World

I got out of the building without anyone noticing me. I felt almost naked, walking down Providence Ave in the middle of the city with nothing on. It felt different to be Candide Apples, with my big mass of curls and a bigger mass of tits. I mean, guys really stared at me. That's fun for a moment, but also a little intimidating. I had lived in the city since I first went to college, and I thought of myself as a girl who could take care of herself.

Cadinde Apples, however, was a different situation entirely. Suddenly, I was trouble just waiting to happen.

Still, it was amazingly easy to flag down a taxi.

The driver acted like he drove porn stars around all the time. Perhaps he did. He was one of those rugged, older arab men. You know the kind, they have hard wirey bodies and you know they're used to giving orders to women and taking what they want when it comes to sex. As he drove my to Ryan's, I tried to think about something other than what it would be like to fuck him.

He pulled up in front of Ryan's and I passed him his money. "Keep the change," I said, tipping him extravagantly. His rough fingers brushed mine as I paid him. I could almost feel his hands sliding across my naked body.

I managed to pull myself away from the elderly arab dreamboat and up through the door into Ryan's. Ian's favorite bar is a bit of a dive, one of those well settled old places where you could walk through the door anytime in the last forty years and only the clothes the patrons wore would change, nothing else.

It was a quiet night at Ryan's, but the crowd was especially hot. Nubile girls sat invitingly next to their beefcake boyfriends. Have you ever walked into a bar where everyone was totally hot?

Neither had I, come to think of it.

I walked up to the bar and took a seat. The bartender came right over, but he had an odd look on his face. I knew exactly what he was thinking, he had no poker face at all. His first thought had been "Wow, what a hottie!" but his second thought had been "Hey, is she old enough to drink?"

I had left my ID at home. Jean Reynold's driver's license wasn't going to do Candide Apples any good. But I had this all planned out, and I had an ace up my sleeve.

See, Master PC, at it's heart, is about control. Ways to control people. Changing their shape and appearance is just a small part of that. Now, the easy way to control someone with Master PC is to do it directly - you just open up a Master PC window for your subject, and you can reach right into their heads. You can adjust their thoughts, their memories, even their basic personality.

It is probably evil to do those things, of course.

But Master PC also has a "Second Order Mind Control Menu" that is filled with other forms of MC that you can employ, like sex-pheremones, dominating telepathy, and super-optical subliminals. There were, in fact, dozens of them listed.

I had chosen "The Combination Command Voice." It was, apparently, a three way combination of Mind-shifting ultrasonics, neutral scent domination triggers (which is something like pheremones, but different, I guess) and Directed Telepathic Bursts. It was, according to the read-me file, a good combination for quick, easy, and reliable results, recommended for the beginner.

Yes, I always read the read me files. Master PC documentation was really spotty, but you could learn a few things from it.

So when the bartender asked to see my ID, I just looked him in the eye, smiled, took a deep breath, and said YOU JUST SAW MY ID. IM TWENTY. He just blinked at me. WHAT ARE YOU HAVING MISS? I added.

He just sort of stared at me for a moment, and I thought perhaps he was about to laugh out loud at me. But then he smiled and asked "What are you having Miss?"

Relieved, I ordered a Smirnoff Ice (I know, but it seemed like the sort of thing Candide would drink, at least until someone else was paying.) I glanced around to make sure no one else had noticed my using The Voice. Had it been really loud? I wasn't sure about that. It sort of echoed in my head when I used it.

As the bartender brought my drinks, I couldn't help but notice his hands. He had big, strong hands. You could imagine him tearing off your clothes with those hands. You could imagine him grasping you shoulders by those hands as he thrust himself into your-

And it suddenly struck me that the cabdriver had not been sexy, Ryan's was not filled with hotties, and the bartender did not have especially sexy hands.

I had just turned my sex drive up too much.

So I sipped my drink and just sat there quietly, trying to pull myself together. If you took a deep breath and thought about math and cold water the guys and gals in the bar started to seem more ordinary.

OK, I thought, I can handle this. Having a super sex-drive was just a new experience, it was totally something I could work with. And it was kind of fun. Though I think I was going to leave a wet stain on the barstool.

And it's fun to scope people out when they are scoping you out. If you want people to stare at you, then you want to be a slutty teenybopper with blonde hair and ample breasts. Trust me.

A few guys hit on me. I made small talk and discouraged them politely. One guy, a beefy jock type, did not take no for an answer. He was so not my type, though I have to admit, I totally wanted to see what his cock looked like.

I finally had to get rid of him. I AM UGLY I told him, GO AWAY. He lost interest fast. Using the Command Voice, I noticed, was really work. Giving someone a command was like picking up a heavy box and putting it on the top shelf. It was an effort. Still, it really worked.

There was couple was who seemed interested in me that I rather liked the looks of. He was a broad shouldered, pasty-white Clark Kent type, she was an ebony waif with extravagant dreads. You couldn't help but wonder what had brought two such different people together. I was certain they were talking about me, they kept glancing over at me as they chatted. Were they thinking that I was the perfect third for their evening's plans?

It was a nice thought. Odd images filled my brain. All I could think about was sex. My pussy was hot and alive. My nipples were endlessly hard bullets straining against my dress. The feeling made me squirm. Everything smelled good. Was this what it was like to be a sixteen year old male?

But just about then, I was saved by the bell - the boys had arrived.

Bachelor Night.

10. Bachelor Night

Ian arrived with his friends- Tyler, Vincent, Mark, and Jeff. They were a handsome group, a bunch of good-natured, fun loving boys on the verge of turning thirty. They each had their own special charm, but Ian was clearly the cream of the crop.

Ian! He was a tall and lean, with a boyish grin and hair prettier than any girl's. I'll bet everyone in the bar heard my pussy gurgle and gush when I caught sight of him. He was just perfect.

Goodness, fiddling with my sex drive didn't change the way I felt about him. Not really. I just wanted him. The extra sex drive was just added salsa.

So I sat on my stool and watched the boys come in and claim a table. They had clearly been having lots of fun already. If they had stuck to the plan, they had gone to a bar or two, and then a wild party in Westville. They should all have been in good spirits and a bit tired. They would hang out at Ryan's for awhile, swap outrageous stories, and relax. Eventually, they would drift apart and start to head home.

Now, Bachelor night started on the subway and buslines, but it ended in taxi cabs, so there was no designated driver. Still, I knew that generally Tyler was their lightest drinker. At the end of an evening he generally had the most wits together, and it was his job to make sure that everyone got into a cab safely.

Tyler was pretty dependable. He was smart, quiet, and rather handsome. He and Ian had been best friends since they were in a band together, years before. I had always had the vague feeling that Tyler didn't like me, but he was always perfectly nice. Boys always think women are just in the way.

Anyway, the boys weren't such wild drinkers anymore. It looked to me like they all had their heads together, at least mostly. Ian was a bit flushed and he was talking louder than usual.

I hoped his performance skills weren't going to be too badly affected. Never been much of a drinker myself, I always hated to mess alcohol with sex. Sex is more fun if you have your wits and reflexes.

A waitress came to their table and they ordered a round and flirted with her. They were regulars and reasonably well behaved, so she seemed to be handling them fine.

She was a broad shouldered girl with spiky green hair, and she almost certianly played for the girl's team. Still, she gave the boys smiles, and they swooned over her.

I swooned some myself. She was more my kind of girl than theirs, I figured.

While they were waiting for their drinks, they noticed me.

Yes, boys, here I am. Every boy's wet-dream. Take a nice look.

I pretended to ignore them and ordered another drink. Now we were getting to the hard part. I had baited the hook, but I had to reel him in very slowly. Timing, as they say, is everything. So I sipped my drink and pretended to be lost in my own thoughts. They had taken a table a little too far away from me, so I couldn't really hear what they were saying, but I picked up a few words here and there and tired to follow along.

They talked all kinds of shit, some of it about the hot blonde at the bar. Goodness, I liked being the center of attention! Eventually it sounded like they were starting to wrap up for the evening. It was late, and time for them to get back to their homes and partners.

That's when I just happened to glance over, and catch Ian's eye. He looked back, and oh-so-subtly gave me a sly smile. The dog! I smiled back.

Then I turned my attention back to my drink. Let him stew over that. It didn't take long for them to pay off their check and start saying their good-byes. Once they were going out the door, I counted to twenty, gave the bartender a smile, and got up.

I walked out onto the sidewalk. It was cooler outside, and the air was fresh and wonderful. I could feel it waking me up some. Ryan's was on a quiet street, everything was closed except for a little all-night diner across the street. The diner's neon sign - a big palm tree - touched everything faintly with violet. I could see Tyler helping Mark and Vincent into a cab. I didn't see Jeff, he must have already gone.

Ian gave me a smile as I came out into the cool, fresh air. I smiled back. Would he be brave enough to go for it? Of course he would. He'd gained a lot of self confidence recently.

"Can I get you a cab?" he asked me. He was very suave.

"Ooh, maybe you and I could share one," I said. My heart was racing. Here I was, just a few feet from him, and he didn't recognize me. Years of marriage, and here he was looking me right in the eye. He had no clue, but he wanted me. Was it because of my big tits and my cute little nose? Or was there something about our bond that drew him to me despite my altered flesh?

Well, OK, it was probably the tits. But if my guy was gonna cheat on with some blonde bimbo, then that bimbo might as well be me.

So I gave him a dazzling smile, and I could see him making up his mind. He was totally going to cheat on me! This was going to be many kinds of fun.

Of course, I had it all planned. He could hardly take me back to his place, could he? I'd claim to have the same problem. I'd tell him I lived with my parents. That would add to the overall naughtiness of things. I'd suggest we stop at the Hamilton, a sleazy little hotel where you could rent rooms by the hour. "For a quickie," I would say.

Then I'd fuck him till he was exhausted. Ian always fell asleep after sex, after all, he'd be tired from a long day and a little too much drink. I would be safely home long before him. I would change back into plain old Jean, and he'd be a very late, very tired, very guilty little boy.

And then I'd make him perform his marital duties to me. Or try to, anyway.

Sure, I'm terrible. But let's face it - every other guy on the planet dreams of having the problems I was giving Ian. I couldn't wait. My pussy was clenching and unclenching like it was having some kind of attack. My nipples were so hard, I felt like they might burst. I nearly threw caution to the wind and fucked Ian right there on the sidewalk.

I thought I had experienced sexual desire in my life, but I had not. Not really. Not until that moment. And a moment later, I knew, it would be even stronger.

"What's your name?" Ian asked me. I made an effort to focus on what he was saying. We still had flirting to do, after all.

"Candide," I said.

"Well hello Candide. I'm Max."

I started to laugh out loud at him, and I had to cover up for it quickly. Max indeed! "That's a wonderful name!" I said, trying to make my laugh into a sunny smile. I hadn't given myself away - as far as Ian was concerned, he was about to score with a very hot blonde bimbo. If she was giggly, well, that was just part of the charm.

He was also looking pretty tipsy, suddenly. The night was catching up with him. We can honestly say he was not using his best judgment. I was confident I could rouse him to great activity, booze or no booze.

A cab pulled up.

Tyler came over from the sidewalk. I guess he had been holding back, giving Ian a chance to chat with the hot blonde. Ian gave him a smile. "I think the little lady and I will take this one," Ian said. You could almost here him winking at Tyler.

Tyler opened the door of the cab with a flourish. "In you go," he said. Ian climbed in without thinking, and before I could follow, Tyler said "You'll thank me for this," and slammed the door shut. "1100 Providence Ave!" Tyler yelled to the cabby. the cab pulled off with very confused, rather addled Ian looking back at us through the cab window.

Ian was going home.

11. Neck and neck

Tyler gave me a big smile. I was dumbfounded, just totally speechless. I couldn't find enough air for my lungs to make any sound at all.

"Sorry," Tyler said. "But Ian had too much to drink tonight. He has a wonderful wife at home. He really loves her. I just couldn't let him make a mistake like that. He'll understand someday." His smile turned rueful. "Not anytime soon though. You're totally beautiful. He's really gonna kill me for this tomorrow, you know."

"You idiot," I said, almost whispering with what little voice I could summon. I felt totally flummoxed. There was pussy juice plastering my fishnets to my thighs and this guy was just standing there with this stupid look on his face.

His very handsome face. Tyler was a tall, lean, muscular guy. Half japanese and half, well, Im not sure. He was half Eurotrash, I guess. He looked awfully good to me. Hadn't Ian mentioned that Tyler was single again? I wondered if I should kill him or just fuck him.

God, I thought, I needed to fuck somebody, and fast!

"Are you OK Miss?" Tyler asked. I looked up into his eyes, and sure enough, he wasn't flirting with me, he was actually concerned. I suppose I did look like a porn star who was suddenly falling apart. "Do you need a cab?" he asked.

I nodded, and he stepped over to the curb to flag me down a cab. It must have been closing time, the cabs seemed to be cruising Ryan's. And Tyler was quite the gentleman, wasn't he? Ian always said that Tyler was real ladie's man. Tyler never seemed to last more than a few months with any girl though. I wondered why.

I also wondered what his cock was like. I wondered how big it was. I wondered if I could lure him into the cab, take him to the hotel and fuck his brains out.

He opened the cab door for me, and I thought, this is it, all I need is to find a good come-on line, and he was mine. He was totally into me, that was obvious. What boy doesn't want a girl like Candide Apple? I could do the nasty with him until I was satisfied, and then go home to Ian and -

- and Ian was already halfway home!

"I am totally going to fuck you," I said, looking Tyler right in the eye as I slipped into the cab. "But not tonight." I pulled the door shut. Tyler gave me an odd look through the cab window. I wondered what he was thinking.

"Where to miss?" The cabby asked.

1100 PROVIDENCE AVE I said with my magic voice. AS FAST AS YOU POSSIBLY CAN.

The cab peeled out like we were going to spring bridal sale at Kesley's. Zoom! We raced down Cross street. The cabbie was a gristly old guy who looked like he had seen many better days. He was like Popeye the sailor turned obscenely fat. I desperately wanted to fuck him. My pussy thrummed like a girl-punk band's bass speakers.

Popeye drove like a maniac. We took a shortcut down the Cotter Street bike path, which is terribly illegal and reasonably dangerous. It saved us precious seconds though. Popeye really was doing his best.

Ian had a huge head start though.

We went straight down Palmer to get to Providence. Of course, Palmer is a one way street going the other way. Somehow, we survived that too. Then at last we came to a screeching halt in front of my building. There was no sign of Ian's cab. Had it already dropped him off?

I threw all my money at the cabbie and ran out. I ditched my high heeled plastic sandals and left them glittering on the sidewalk. I needed to really run. As I fumbled with my key at the front door I saw another cab coming down Providence. Ian's cab! I was ahead of him, but just barely.

I dove down the lobby for the elevators, almost sliding right past them - who knew fishnets were so slippery? Or was it leaking pussy juices that made me so slick? I was addled with lust and all that candy malt liquor I had been drinking at the bar. My hands shook as I pressed the button for the elevator. If anyone saw me, they surely thought I was in heroin withdrawal. That's certainly what it felt like.

I lurched into the elevator and it closed, I could hear Ian opening the front door. I might beat him to the apartment, but it was going to be awfully close.

Leaning back against the side of the elevator I pulled up my skirt and pulled down my nylons. I thrust my fingers into my pussy. I masturbated clumsily, desperately. It took about a thousand years for the elevator to go up all five floors. A thousand years without satisfaction or release..

And then the doors were open and I was racing down the hall. I fumbled for my apartment key. It seemed terribly small, and the lock seemed even smaller. It almost drifted away from me as I tried to jam the key into it.

I heard the other elevator arriving. Ian was going to be awfully shocked when he found Candide Apples trying to break into his apartment, and his wife Jean mysteriously missing. How was I going to explain all of this?

And then I was in. I remembered to lock the door behind me. I was tearing my clothes off as I ran for the study. I fell to the floor peeling the fishnets off, and ended up nearly crawling to my desk. I needed to get to my computer fast. Master PC would -

The computer was turned off.

Of course I it was. I had turned it off. I always turned my computer off. It drove Ian crazy, he left his computer on at all times. I had been raised to turn things off when I wasn't using them.

I hit the power switch and it started to power up. It would take a billion years for it to start up, and then another billion to load and run Master PC. I was not going to turn back into Jean in time.

I heard Ian unlocking the front door. Damn!

I ran to the bedroom. It was late. Jean would be fast asleep, right?

I jumped into bed and pulled the covers up over my head.

"Honey?" I could hear Ian calling from the hallway. "Are you still up?"

Now he was coming into the bedroom. He flipped on the light. I could see him as a shadowy form through the cream-colored sheets. The Angel of Getting Caught.

I pulled at the sheet, reeling it in so that I exposed my feet, and my legs, and finally, my poor weeping pussy. I kept the rest of me covered though. Was he too drunk too notice that my legs were too long and shapely, or that my pussy was suddenly blonde?

Candide's voice was different than Jean's, so I whispered. "Come on," I said, "do your duty!"

"I don't even get a kiss?" he asked, but I shook my sheet-covered head deliberately no.

And then I heard the zip of his fly, and the thunk of his belt buckle hitting the floor. The bed bent to his weight as he climbed on, and I could feel my delicious man sliding over me. The sheet, like some kind of silly condom, kept our faces from touching, kept us from looking in the eye.

And then his cock found my pussy, and started to push its way in. My pussy screamed then, I'm sure it did, and I bet they heard it all over the building. What can I tell you? Ian's perfect cock slid into me, and I could feel my release looming over me. It was wonderful.

Then he moved. He thrust into me, and this was not just release or satisfaction, this was the real thing. Ian started to fuck me. I had spent the whole evening suffering the effects of my "enhanced sexual drives" and now I learned, at last, about my "improved sexual responsiveness."

You know how your back has fewer nerve endings than your fingertips do? If you touch something with your back, you just have a vague impression of it. If you touch it with your fingertips, you can learn all about it. It's all about resolution, like the number of pixels in digital picture.

Well, when I ramped up all those Master PC "sexual responsiveness" dials, I must have made the inside of my pussy more sensitive than my fingertips. I could almost see Ian's cock as it was inside me, I could feel every bump and wrinkle and blood vessel. It was dizzying, overwhelming. The deep inner parts of my vagina - which actually aren't all that sensitive, usually, were suddenly as deft as the tip of my tongue.

I would have said said that I was an expert on Ian's penis already, but now? Now I was the Supreme Zen Master of Ian's cock.

Now, Ian was a normal, reasonably well endowed boy. But I had made myself tighter with a spin of a Master PC control. I was essentially a virgin, getting penetrated for the first time. I am fairly sure that it hurt some. But I've never minded a little pain.

God, it felt good!

I tried to kiss him but all got was a mouthful of bedsheet. I could only feel his skin against mine from the waist down. He didn't seem to care though.

The lamp was on a little table next to the bed, along with the alarm clock. As we fucked and thrashed on the bed, I managed to kick it with a flailing foot. The lamp flew and hit something, and the room was suddenly dark.

Good. I needed to get out from under the sheets. Trust me, when you're having a total rapture-fuck, you need a little fresh air to breathe.

I had just decided to risk pulling the sheet down off of my face when the orgasms started to hit. Apparently, when I ratcheted up my general "O-index" I had done more than just make myself multi-orgasmic. I had made my orgasms stronger. I had made my orgasms much easier to reach. I had made my "time between orgasms" much shorter. My orgasms were deeper. Wider. Louder. Brighter.

I didn't "come" - I went off. I exploded. I was every sinner in history and Ian was God's divine lightning, and he smote me, and smote me, and smote me.

Somehow, my enthusiasm seemed to stir Ian's passions. He reacted with more and more strength, more and more enthusiasm. It was a very wild ride. He had one hand clutching at my left breast through the sheet. His fingers felt wonderful as they play with my nipples - the cotton sheet was harsh against my super-sensitive skin. Surely he would notice that I had monster tits?

Well, maybe not. Boys can hardly tell fantasy from reality anyway.

At some point, Ian came, but he didn't stop fucking. His cock never really got soft, he just get thrusting until it was steel-hard again. Only know was I seeing what Ian's "enhancements" really added up to.

Thankfully, I was producing a lot more lubrication now.

Eventually, we exhausted each other, and Ian collapsed onto the bed next to me. We were a mass of sweat and limbs and linen. The sheet I had been hiding under was as sopping wet as any dish rag. I took a deep breath and a final chance.


And Ian was asleep.

I slid out of the bed and fell, hard, onto the floor. My legs, it seemed, were far too weak to support my weight. I just lay there on the cold, hard floor for a moment, listening to Ian snore, waiting for a bit more strength. I was weaker than a kitten. Somehow, I had expended every ounce of my strength in the amazing sex.

I had never really been terribly orgasmic. I mean, I've always loved sex, but some people are more orgasmic than others. I was never someone who could count on coming every time I had sex. Before master PC, two orgasms in a single night was a rare treat.

But I had just had dozens of orgasms, an endless stream of jaw-cracking sexual peaks. I could barely feel the world around me, I was numb. Normal sensations seemed so subdued, so subtle compared to the world of Ian and his cock.

But as I pulled myself along the floor, I noticed that something was too damp. I stopped and tried to explore a little. Sure enough, I was bleeding some. We had totally overdone it.

I managed to work my way into the study and pull myself up to where I could reach the keyboard. I pulled up my Master PC file. I saved something called the "Candide Apple Morph target file" and loaded the "Jean Reynolds Base Morph target file." It felt like a warm wind blowing right through every pore of my skin, for just a second.

A few more quick adjustments and I wasn't bleeding and exhausted anymore. Master PC can give you a magic caffeine blast with a quick sweep of the mouse.

I glanced in the mirror. Sure enough, I was me again. Medium length brown hair, cute little breasts, hips that had spread out a bit recently. I was "twenty-something" again, instead of a teen-ager. My body was riddled with tiny little aches and pains and failures. My vision was no longer 20/20.

I wasn't a glamorous porn queen anymore. Still, it was my body, it felt comfy, like coming home after going to the ball.

Now, I won't deny it. I was tempted to turn up my sexual responsiveness again, wipe away Ian's fatigue, and take another hit of pure sexual joy. But I didn't do that. I turned off the computer and picked up all the discarded clothing strewn around my front hallway. It was evidence, after all, and none of it would fit me anyway. Then I went to bed. I curled up with my wonderful husband and went to sleep.

Master PC or not, I'm just a perfectly normal woman in love.

12. My Lesbian Past

Saturday morning we slept in. At some point, I got myself out of bed and started the coffee. Then I slipped back under the sheets and cuddled up against Ian. He was totally wiped out from his evening adventures. It was noon by the time we had lunch.

I made pancakes and we ate enough for a whole family of hard working farm folk. We topped them with fruit and then smothered them in maple syrup. We ate them with toast and jam and salad. We washed them down with coffee and orange juice and cola.

Super sex means super appetites, I guess.

Then we collapsed on the couch together. I had fantasies about the kitchen being clean, but they did not magically come true. That seemed like an odd departure. Didn't my fantasies just magically come true these days? Or was that just for Ian's fantasies?

Did I even have any fantasies?

I mean, I had been a pretty wild kid once, but when I met Ian, I made a real choice to settle down and put my energy into making our relationship work. Good marriages don't just happen, you know. They're like skateboarding or surfing. You have to lean into them.

Adventures are almost the opposite of fantasies. I mean, you think about fantasies. You dream them. But adventures? You just do them. I guess I had never really been a fantasy person. I just did stuff. Dreamers get into a lot less trouble, I bet.

If you don't have fantasies, you should at least have ambition. Ambition gives you a future. What were my ambitions? Did I want kids? A rewarding career? Did I have an image of where I wanted to be ten years in the future? Not really, I guess.

I had stumbled upon the ultimate in wish fulfillment, Master PC. I could do anything with it. So far, I had mostly used it for amazing sex, just like in all the stories. Perhaps those sixteen year old boys had been right after all. I had been quick to make fun of them before, but using master PC to make sexual fantasies come true seemed to be one of its safer uses. I had not quite become one of those story characters yet. I did not want to make love to my sister, for instance. Of course, Ian probably did want to make love to my sister, so there you go.

I snuggled up against my man. We had nothing on but one pair of pajamas. I had the top half, he had the bottom half. If that doesn't make sense to you, then you probably haven't been married.

"So," I asked. "How did Bachelor Night go? Am I going to hear stories? Or was it the kind of night where you just say 'It was OK dear' and nothing else?"

"Oh, it was the usual silliness." Ian spoke softly, but my head was up against his chest, so his voice seemed deep, resonant, and comforting. "We went to this party but it turned out to be pretty lame. We saw Doyle. Do you remember Doyle? Anyway, we ended up at Ryan's. That was the fun part, actually, there was this total babe at Ryan's, just sitting by herself, like she got stood up or something."

"Total babe?" I asked, with what I hoped was a skeptical tone.

"She really was. I made a fool of myself hitting on her, too."

"Tiger," I said, trying to sound a little threatening. "You're not supposed to hit on girls. You know, cause of the whole marriage thing. You remember the marriage, right?"

"That's just what Tyler said," Ian went on, as if he was being perfectly reasonable. "He totally talked sense into me. Besides, I was out of her league. Never had a chance. If you'd seen her, you'd totally forgive me."

"She must have really turned you on," I said, teasing. "Does that mean she was just a teen-ager?"

"I am wounded," he said, in the voice of virtuous boy scout. "Why do you think so little of me? Besides, you didn't complain last night when I got home."

"Apparently love is better than strange girls in bars," I said softly, nuzzling him gently. He smelled gently of sweat, maple syrup, and summer.

"Apparently it is," he said, sounding happy.

Ian always made me happy. He had been rather honest about his encounter with Candide Apples, more so than I had been expecting. I mean, boys will boys and all that.

"Poor boy. You missed out on a good adventure though. Perhaps you'll meet your hot girlfriend again someday. You might get another chance at her."

"Well, If I do, I'll bring her back home."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Sure. Next time I get a chance at a girl like that, I'll share her with you."

"Oh right." I poked his tummy playfully with two stiff fingers. "You're consistent at least."

He shrugged, which was fun when we were cuddled up together. "I'm a very simple person. I like hot babes. I like to watch hot babes do it. I'm lucky enough to have a hot babe wife. And why should I keep all the girls to myself? You deserve happiness too, after all."

"Right. You are such a generous guy. It's amazing!"

"Exactly." He leaned back and closing his eyes. "Exactly."

"You probably wouldn't really like it anyway."

"Of course I would. Why wouldn't I like it?"

I sighed. "Because Lesbian sex is not about boys." He smiled and snorted at me. That's when I changed the subject. It was, after all, the thousandth time Ian had mentioned his two-girl fantasy.

What is is about guys and their lesbian fantasies?

I mean, I understand the "two girls" part. If you like to have sex with one girl, then two girls would be even better. I did my share of group sex when I was young, and I liked it fine. But the "lesbian fantasy" goes way beyond that.

Perhaps it's just that lesbian sex is something no guy can ever have. It looks pretty in a movie, maybe, but no guy can ever be a lesbian, he can never know what those two girls are feeling. And boys make female sexuality into something weird and magical, don't they? To a boy, two girls together is pure science fiction.

The whole topic always bugged me, however. I mean, our culture is so homophobic. Gay men and women are treated like criminals. And it's weird and evil that gay men are "icky" but gay women are cool. Well, gay women are cool if they are pretty enough, I guess.

Like, my first real girlfriend was Spike. She was a tough street dyke who seduced me back when I was in high school. She was a broad, muscular girl with a shaved head and a world full of spit and style. She had incredible energy and she totally swept me off of my feet.

She was amazing. She was wonderful. She was not pretty, however. She wasn't Marilyn Monroe, she was more John Wayne. If that doesn't sound good to you, then you aren't a dyke. She was beautiful to me, though.

When boys dream of girl-girl action, they dream of two lingerie models air-kissing each other in slow motion. I've seen the movies. They don't dream of Spike. Guys would curse Spike, throw things at her, try to beat her up. One on one, Spike would win. But boys, brave creatures that they are, always move in packs. So Spike got beat up a lot.

Spike didn't do gentle air-kissing. Spike kissed like a Tiger, all teeth and hunger. Spike fucked like a beast.

The whole "girl on girl" fascination really only applies to young girls, pretty girls, girls who obey and conform. Sure, there are pretty dykes, and glamorous femme lesbians, and skinny supermodel bi chicks. But my lesbian fantasies, when I have time for fantasies, also have genderqueer bois, tough dykes, and old fashioned stone butches. I guess something about turning dykes into a commodity, into a sideshow, has always bugged me. If you've lived in that world, it doesn't seem like something that exists for guys to drool over.

So when Ian would bring up wanting a hot threesome, I'd always sort of put him off. Ian knew I used to sleep with girls. He didn't know all the details, however. He didn't know I was poly, and he had no idea how kinky I was back then. He didn't know a lot of things. I'm sure what he knew sounded totally hot to him. It's always good to have an exotic and mysterious past.

But what would happen if I really went out and got us a girl to share? It's a fine fantasy, but in real life, it can get kind of complicated.

I know, I was the other girl a couple of times.

OK, here's a story.

One summer, during my college years, I met this girl. Her name was Halo and she was very hot. She was a curvy girl, I suppose you could call her rubenesque but she just called herself fat. She was smarter than a room full of PHDs and had enough energy to launch moon rockets. She was one of those people who seemed to live for sex and kink. You always saw her at dyke parties and get-togethers, and she spoke openly of having several lovers, and she did dominatrix work on the side.

I thought she was awesome. I was totally intimidated by her.

I actually met Halo at a leatherdyke party. I had come along with some friends, I was a total newbie. I really didn't know much and must have looked like a kid in a candy store. Halo took me under her wing. She was actually the first girl to flog me, and she was my first real mentor in the gentle and subtle arts of BDSM.

We had sex a lot. She was good at it too. Really good at it. She could do things with her tongue that would just make your clit melt. She was romantic as well, which is a killer combination. We made an outrageous pair. I found her courage liberating. We had many adventures together.

Halo had a boyfriend, Cory. Cory was a big, muscular boy. He was just out of high school but he looked like he was ready to star in his own line of Hercules movies. He worked as a bouncer at some very cool clubs, and he and Halo were pretty tight. I found Cory to be kind of scary at first. He was so big, he seemed so rough. After meeting a million boys who posed at being macho, Cory was the real deal. When you watch one of those tough guy movies, the actors are pretending to be Cory.

Cory turned out to have sweet and gentle sides too, and I became very fond of him. The three of us started to get along famously. And so of course we slept together. One night we were out dancing and Halo was taking turns making out with both of us, and it just sort of happened organically. At some point, Cory put his arm over my shoulder and I melted in against him. He was a big muscular wall of manliness, and for the first time in my life, that seemed really good to me.

We all went home together. It was awesome. Cory was as wild as Halo in bed. I was scared of his huge cock, but he knew how to take his time and use it well. To tell the truth, my experiences with boys up until then had been pretty disappointing. With Cory, I found a new appreciation for sex with men.

Halo taught me a lot about that. She taught me how to suck cock, and how to make a boy happy. Some girls just sort of make up those skills as they go along. Not Halo, she had chosen to really study and research and practice. She was an expert at sex. She taught me all sort of things.

For a month or two, the three of us were an item. I pretty much moved in with them, and I took over the housework and stuff. They both worked odd hours, and when one of them came home I had a meal ready, and I was ready too. Cory would come home from a job and have a meal and fuck me and go to bed. Then I'd watch court TV until Halo came home, and I'd feed her and she would play with me.

It was a lot of fun, and I remember that summer very fondly.

It didn't last, though. Over time, it became obvious that Cory was growing unhappy. He and I had a good friendship and great sex, but what Halo and I had was something else, something more romantic. Something more like love. Cory found that kind of intimidating. Sex is fun but love can really scare people.

Eventually, things got tense, and the household became kind of nasty. Feelings got hurt. Things got said. Doors got slammed. People went to bed alone. I realized that if I stuck around, Halo and Cory were going to be driven apart. I loved them too much for that. I sort of pulled back and got out of the way. I think they both appreciated it.

I ended up moving in with Vampirix, a mutual friend, and Halo and Cory stayed together. Last I had heard, they were a running a tattoo parlor up in Boston, and Halo was more or less the queen of the local sex scene.

But I never forgot the basic lesson. Adding an extra girl makes things complicated. I wanted to make Ian's fantasy come true, really I did. But I didn't want to ruin a good thing.

Surely Master PC made all things possible? Well, if you used it right. I would have to think about it.

Ian and I eventually got up off the couch. Ian cleaned up the kitchen, the doll, and we ended up puttering away the afternoon and then going out to dinner. Apparently, mind-blowing sex will make your man all cuddly and romantic for a day or even longer!

We went to Maisey's on Meadowfront Ave. Maisey's is one of those wonderful sidewalk cafes were you can really enjoy a nice summer evening. I surprised Ian by ordering a big meal. I was totally off my diet. Thanks to Master PC, I could weigh exactly want I wanted to weigh. I had avoided using it to lose weight, or do anything else radical. That just seemed smart. Still, there was no need to get silly about it. I certainly never had to gain another pound.

Yes, that means I got dessert. Master PC is not just the key to magical sex, it's the path to all the tiramisu you want.

Ian had the blueberry pie. While we were eating, a girl strode by and Ian made a great show of ogling her. She was sort of pretty, a corn-fed farm girl trying to pass herself off as a playboy bunny. She had hair and boobs and not much else. She was sort of a coach version of Candide Apples. She was chatting with a friend and she seemed very shrill and giggly. More Ian's kind of girl than mine, I supposed.

"Like what you see?" I asked, letting Ian know by my tone that he had overdone it a little. He just grinned. I shrugged it off. My tastes were just different than his, after all. What could you do about that?

And that's when I started to have ideas.

13. Just a little influence

Ian and I had very good sex that night. In fact, we had very good sex several times. When Ian had drifted off to sleep, I slipped out of bed and into the study. I launched Master PC.

Like everything with Master PC, this would be easy, but it would also be easy to screw it up. I took a deep breath and opened up the windows that covered my own personality and sexuality.

According to Master PC, I was a 62% female oriented bisexual, but that was the only part that was easy to read. The rest of it grew more and more complex. What did "20% andro_matt" mean? What did "23-33/100 sx:Repulse?" actually say about me?

The Master PC read-me files did not cover all of that. Sometimes you could work it out, sometimes you couldn't. Luckily, you didn't have to work down in the details. There was a higher level interface that was mostly icons and drop-down menus. As far as I could tell, it said that I was a fairly normal person, a woman of reasonable intelligence, a cheerful disposition and a can-do attitude. Sexually, it said that I was possessive, dominant, bisexual, and very kinky. It said that I was had powerfully sadistic tendencies. I didn't agree with that.

It also said that I was a total control freak. Well, fair enough.

I started to make changes.

I put my sex drive way up, higher than Ian's. I set it close to where it had been for my night out as Candide Apples. Now, that much sex drive was distracting, but I could always change it back later.

Since I had first fallen for Ian, I had been trying to keep up with him and his testosterone driven sex-drive. Even when I had started to improve our sex lives and responses with Master PC, I had carefully kept our relative values about the same. Now I would be the one with the stronger drives for once.

Next I broadened my "attraction matrix" to overlap totally with Ian's. From now on, I would understand Ian's sexual attractions and tastes better. I would share them. I made myself a lot more sexually responsive to "Visual stimuli." Master PC said Ian was "very" responsive to visual stimuli, and listed me as "mildly" responsive. Classic boys vs. girls stuff, really. Testosterone does that to you. I made myself "extremely" responsive. That would be a new experience. I would see girls the way a teenage boy sees them.

Now, according to Master PC, I was sexually flexible, but romantically monogamous. I made myself much more flexible sexually. I figured that would make me a total slut who really stood by her man.

That sounded good to me.

I made a few other changes too. I gave myself a few of the sex-response changes I had tried out as Candide Apples. I notched up my O-index and other sex-stimuli and response values. Not as high as I had them the night before, but pretty high. Once you've had magic Master PC sex, it's hard to go without.

I also gave myself the triple-element "Command Voice" that had been so useful the night before. I wasn't sure what I would do with it, but it was an awfully handy thing to have.

OK, that was part one of my plan. Part two was going to be harder. Where exactly was I going to get us this mythical girl for us to sleep with? I mean, I knew that I was reasonably attractive and personable. I could score myself a nice date anytime I wanted. But we wanted something more than that, right? We wanted someone that Ian would consider really hot. Someone who would want to sleep with a boring old married couple. Someone who would behave herself. We weren't looking to pay her back in either love or money, either. Generally, in my experience, girls have sex for love or money.

Well, those had always been my motivations. Of course some girls are motivated by fun or power. Still, love and money rule.

I very much wanted to leave love and money out of this for now, if I could.

The best way to find such people, of course, it to just meet them. I didn't really move in the right circles for that. Not anymore. I was not connected with the local sexual subcultures. Since I had met Ian, I had stopped going to wild parties, dungeons, and orgies. You have to know all the right people to get invited to such things. I was years out of touch.

Now, OK, I know what you're thinking. With Master PC at my command, I could have all the girls we wanted. I could use Master PC to make any cute girl swoon for us. Or I could make someone else into a cute girl and then make her swoon for us.

Except, of course, that it would be Wrong. "Evil" type wrong. Seriously.

Humans aren't toys, and you can't treat them like toys. Sure, I had used a little mind control here and there. That had been very convenient for me, but it hadn't really affected people's lives. I had been using Master PC to improve things for Ian and I, but that was my job, wasn't it? That's what a wife does.

On top of all the moral arguments, there were practical considerations too. In all the Master PC stories I had read, horny boys used their magical power to seduce all the women around them. In fact, they seemed to start with the female who was literally closest and work outward, regardless, as if following some deep, hard-wired imperative.

But imagine the real consequences of doing that! If I started turning my neighbors into mindless sex slaves for Ian's pleasure, it would certainly all end badly. It sounded like the sort of thing that would lead to a big FBI shootout. As Ian would say, it's all fun and games until Mulder and Scully show up.

Additionally, there were surely other copies of Master PC out there, right? I mean, I couldn't have the only copy. And since I had never heard of a whole town being turned into giant breasted bimbo cheerleaders, it stood to reason that there was some limiting factor. Was there some kind of Master PC Police out there? I could imagine a secret subculture of Master PC users working to keep the secret safe. I had belonged to my share of shadowy sexual subcultures, after all. Surely the other Master PCers would take action to stop one person from ruining it for everyone?

Master PC Police? That was something to think about.

It struck me that "mind control" was a phrase that covered a lot of ground. I could use Master PC to directly control anyone, and that was a scary kind of power to have. There were lesser levels of power, however.

For instance, you could use Master PC to make subtle tweaks to someone's personality. What if I made a girl just slightly more attracted to me and then I hit on her? She still might say no. I mean, people do things to influence each other all day. Most of human interaction is based on trying to get each other to cooperate. What was cheating and what was fair play?

If I turned myself back into Candide Apples, all young and sexy, it would certainly be easier to seduce someone. That sounded like a lot of fun. Maybe I would do that. It wouldn't really help my problem though. If Candide seduced a girl, that didn't explain how Candide was going to get her to sleep with Jean and Ian.

Following this line of thought, I opened the "Second order Mind Control" panel, where I had found the Command Voice and a host of other "lesser" Mind Control powers Master PC could bestow. They all seemed to have different uses. The Command Voice let you give short, simple, and direct commands to another person verbally, and those commands would generally be obeyed. For a moment, anyway. You could tell someone "give me that" or "go to sleep" but it had to be something simple and quick.

There were other "second order" powers, however. There was something called "Zombie pheremones" that could be used to turn anyone who got close to you into a sort of mindless automaton. They would obey any commands like a robot. When the effect wore off, they would remember nothing. That seemed kind of creepy to me. More than creepy, it was the perfect rape technique. Who would even want such a power?

Well, it struck me that several women had been assaulted in my neighborhood recently. Zombie pheremones would really come in handy if I ever got into a tight spot. It was something to think about.

I kept looking. I browsed through "Subliminal emotography" and "Telepathic Sexual Implicity." A lot of it made no sense to me at all.

Then I found "Charisma augmentation," which seemed to be very similar to the Command Voice. Augmented charisma used a combination of "neutral scent" pheremones, subliminal ultra-sound vocal-signal conditioning and low-band infra-telepathic broadcasting to make you "more appealing, more authoritative, more admirable, and more sexually desirable." The effect, according to the help notes, was real but not overwhelming. It just made you noticeably more influential. More likable. More hot.

That seemed about right to me. Useful, but not totally evil. I mean, I used eyeliner and lipstick and good etiquette to make myself more likable every day. Why not add augmented charisma to the list? It wasn't really mind control, it was just a little influence.

I gave myself Augmented charisma, weighted mostly for command and sexuality. I didn't need Master PC to make friends. I also made some improvements to my Command Voice. Now that I had actually used it, it was easier to figure out what the various parameter dials meant. I was becoming a Master PC expert.

Now, up until that point, I had avoided making any real changes in my appearance. After all, if I turned myself into a centerfold, how would I explain it to everyone?

Being Candide Apples for a night had been a lot of fun, like taking a vacation from being me. A vacation is one thing, but I didn't want to move away. I still wanted to be Jean. It's never good to forget who you are.

However, If was going to seduce a babe for Ian, I needed to look good. That was all part of charisma, right? I decided it was reasonable to make mild changes. After all, I had been making Ian a bit younger, a bit leaner, a bit more muscular over the last two weeks. I was doing it gradually. People were impressed with him, but not suspicious. "Gradual" was the key.

I made myself five years younger. Just five years! I balanced out my skin tones. I dialed my nose microscopically smaller. I made my eyebrows neater and cleaner. I essentially did all the cool things I had done to become the lovely Candide Apples, but I did them at 5% instead of 100%. Just tweaks.

Well, I went further with my eyes and hair. I made my dull brown eyes a bright green. I made my lank brown hair a little longer, a little thicker, a little curlier. I changed my hair to a gorgeous bright red, Strawberry-2/copper-1/Auburn-2 on your master PC hair chart.

It was OK, I would just tell everyone I had gotten contact lenses and had my hair done. Claiming a makeover would help cover up any other changes too. People would just enjoy the new look. My old girlfriend Vampirix used to do stage magic, and she always said that people were willing to believe anything if you just helped them along.

I dialed away about ten pounds of unwanted weight. I decided to wait a week or two before getting rid of any more. I tightened up my muscle tone, but just a little. Oh, and I made myself slightly more attentive and fastidious about my clothing, makeup, and appearance. Would you believe Master PC had dials for all of that? Ian deserved a girl who always looked her best. Master PC was the ultimate tool for following through on your New Years resolutions.

And that just left my breasts to think about. I saved them for last because I was feeling conflicted. Ian had really appreciated Candide's big breasts. They had been a lot of fun for me too. It was certainly tempting. How much could I get away with, though? I could hardly claim to have gotten breast implants over the weekend!

I hemmed and hawed. I finally gave myself very lovely c-cup sized breasts and decided I would just bluff my way through. They felt wonderful, big and proud and beautiful. Candide's huge breasts had felt a little, well, a little silly. A little over the top. These seemed more realistic somehow. I loved them.

I glanced up at the clock. It was late, and I just spent hours furiously editing myself. I wondered if Ian was going to like the changes? I went into the bathroom to look at myself in the big mirror over the sink.

It was still me, really. I was just younger and in better shape, with gorgeous hair and lovely breasts. Lots of other, subtle little changes combined to make me look more, well, more polished. It was a more glamorous version of me. I wasn't supermodel material, but I would get noticed more.

I mean, I was still me. That's what mattered.

I sort of reminded myself of my big sister Diana. She had always been more glamorous then me. Diana was a real girly-girl, the kind who can apply eyeliner perfectly while riding the crosstown bus. She had always been the pretty bird, and I had been the plain jane.

Well, I didn't look quite so plain anymore, but no one was going to call Scully and Mulder, though.

I felt good too. When you make yourself younger and leaner and more muscular and more sexually sensitive... it makes everything tingle. Life is more than just good sex. It's the taste of ice cream, the warmth of the sun, or just the feel of a cool wood floor under your toes as you pace around your apartment thinking.

I went into the living room and sat on the couch, a little overwhelmed. So much was changing! In less than two weeks, Master PC had transformed my whole life. My next step was clear. Ian wanted a girl for a threesome, and I was going to deliver.

But what kind of girl? I glanced at the pile of magazines under the coffee table. Generally, in our apartment, that means a men's magazine or two. I dug out a dog-eared copy of Playboy. I flipped through it. These were the sort of girls that Ian wanted.

I had never been a big fan of girly magazines. I am a good feminist after all. Still, I appreciated Playboy for it's old fashioned, glamorous approach to the world. It was glossy and pretty, not sharp and vulgar like so much internet porn. The girls were certainly hot. They were clean, long limbed vixens who looked like they didn't have a care in the world, but spent all their time working out and getting pretty for you. They were like luxury class girlfriends, designed to look good on your arm and feel good underneath you. I wondered who could actually afford such girls.

One girl caught my eye, a lovely little thing with a killer body. She had amazing round breasts and a lean, impossibly flat waist that funneled your gaze down to her waiting pussy. I could almost imagine her playing all coy, and then opening up like a flower. Would I be gentle with her? Would I be rough with her? She'd be happy either way, I figured. Ian would like her. I'd make him sit back and watch us girls make out. He could watch her suck my breasts. I could almost feel her sucking on me. I would cradle her head in my arms as she sucked and then I would look up at Ian, catch his eye, and smile.

I couldn't stop myself. My clit turned hard and hot and I reached down to soothe it, looking at each picture in turn. As I turned the pages, I worked my clit faster and faster.

I picked my favorite picture out of the spread, a full page image that showed the girl with a hungry smile, her legs spread wide as she played with her tits. I left that page open so my other hand could touch my own nipples.

I wouldn't just kiss her, I'd do her. I'd totally fuck her! She'd yell and I'd do it harder. I would push her down into the mattress and teach her a lesson or two. Oh, the look in her eyes when she started to come! She would love me. She would fear me. She would be mine.

That's when I came, hard and strong. Not a gentle little pink cloud orgasm, but a rock solid orgasm, fast and violent and satisfying. I closed the playboy and leaned back on the couch. I was still totally horny, but my head was clear, like it had been filled with positive ions by a passing storm. I started giggling happily.

This was going to work after all.

15: Girl hunting

The room was hot and loud and packed with lesbians. They were so tightly crammed together that you could barely move around. You had to negotiate a path through them carefully. To make it worse, they were dancing. They rocked and twisted to music so loud that it quickly numbed the ears.

The air was so hot and thick that sweat just pooled on your skin, going nowhere. There were spinning fans up above but they were just a placebo, we were dancing to waves of heat as much as the waves of sound. It had to be the most uncomfortable place I had been in years.

It was heaven.

I could not remember the last time I had in a room with so many girls. They were blondes and brunettes and redheads, they had long hair and crew cuts, curls and afros, bangs and dreads, braids and ponytails. They were tall and fat, lanky and busty, skinny and muscular. They came in every color and shape and style.

It was Trix, the Dyke Club at Madigans. Every Wednesday night, the little bar slash club opened its doors to the local lesbian community. Wednesday nights because dykes don't spend enough on booze to rate one of the good nights. Why do gay women have less money than everyone else? Ask your local feminist studies professor, she'll explain it to you.

Now, I do not mean to say that all the women at Trix that night were dykes, or would call themselves dykes. Experience told me that they came in a rainbow of complex self identifications. They were dykes, lesbians, and bi-curious. They were straight girls who had just come with friends. They were single and married, monogamous and polyamorous, faithful and cheating. They were sultry femmes, tough butches, suave gentlemen dykes and everything in between. I saw a handful of female to male transsexuals, a dozen or so male to female transsexuals, and all kinds of genderqueer people whose fluid and shifting gender presentations I would not dare to name.

I totally swooned over them all. I was a teenage boy in the cheerleader's locker room. There were leather dykes in steel-sheathed boots, dominatrix femmes in shiny black corsets and mohawked slave-girls being led around on leashes. There were glam girls in ponytailed pop-singer drag and mod bois with narrow ties and wing-tip shoes and perfect spit curls.

Of course, most of them were really perfectly normal looking college girls in t-shirts and jeans, but mohawked slave girls always deserve special mention. I could not remember the last time I had led a girl around on a leash.

There were even a few guys. Several gay boys and even a straight boy or two were dancing in the throng. The straight boys may have been a bit out of place, but they still had a chance of getting lucky. Trix was not a bastion of gold-star lesbian purity.

A few older, straight looking men sat at the bar. They looked like regulars who just had to put up with the lesbian invasion every Wednesday night. They adopted a slightly offended, long-suffering posture, but they found many opportunities to enjoy the view.

The DJ was a tall, spindly girl, like a praying mantis with a spikey black crew cut. She didn't so much dance to the music as pulse to it. It was hard to take my eyes off of her. To my amazement, she seemed to have no turntables at all, and was apparently just mixing music from several iPods. I had never seen such a thing, and felt suddenly old and out of place.

But then the DJ played a track of Bananarama that I had never heard before. I'd know those voices anywhere. Was Bananarama still around? Well then, I was not a fossil. Not yet.

The average girl at Trix looked to be in her lower twenties, but there was a pretty good spread. I saw fresh faced Lolita baby-dykes who must have slipped in with fake IDs, and a bunch of middle-aged women were in the mix. I even saw an aweseome grey haired grandmother butch, squat as a fireplug and tough as old leather. She had no trouble finding sweet young things to dance with.

I wasn't too old for Trix, not really, but I was glad that I had shaved those years off of my age. It felt good to fit in. Still, I could not help but wish that I had come as Candide Apples, instead of plan old Jean.

Still, I did OK. Girls danced with me and I had a ball. I did not lose track of my mission, however. I was looking for a girl for Ian. Darn Ian for being so picky anyway!

There was a gorgeous butch who clearly wanted to take me home. She was tall and lean, from her manner and her clothes she might have been a cowboy who had just wandered in after a hard day on the range. She was smooth dancer and her smile was full of wonderful promises. Her face was gentle and happy, but she had strong, roughly calloused hands.

When my Cowboy moved in close, I was able to learn all sorts of things about her. Her breasts were bound almost flat under her western shirt, and she was packing. I couldn't tell if it was just a rolled up tube sock or a little pack-and-play strap-on, but she was happy to grind the firm bulge in her pants up against me.

I was totally charmed. I was ready to bet money that she was an old-school butch. Her friends probably all called her "he" as a sign of respect. I wondered if she was stone. I had always been weak in the knees for stone butches.

Regretfully, I did not pursue the possibilities. I did not respond to all of the cowboy's advances, and in time a skinny little damsel with long pink braids stole her/him away. I sighed heavily, swallowed my jealousy, and kept dancing. The Cowboy just wasn't Ian's style.

A few minutes later, I almost melted while dancing with an awesome couple, a top and her slave. The top was an amazing fat dyke with wild black hair and perpetually unlaced combat boots. Her bitch, all properly leashed and collared, was a perfect little goth princess with the most nicest figure you had ever seen. She had the face of an angel. She was every fetishist's dream of a playboy centerfold, and she was clearly the total, adoring property of her Mistress. She wore the teeniest little black dress and the cutest black lace gloves. I could not keep my eyes off of her amazing tits. She had Candide sized tits. It's true what they say, I never saw her eyes.

They made it very clear that I could go home with them, and they looked like a lot of fun. I loved watching the top push her girl around, she was mean and loving all at once, and it reminded me of perversions I had not touched for years.

Still, Ian did not share my taste in fat girls, and bringing one girl home was complicated enough. I did not think I was ready to navigate the complexities of bringing home two of them.

I did make out with them though, and that was amazing. They had this tag team way of kissing a girl. The top would chew deliciously at your throat, like a vampire, while the slave-girl frenched you sweetly. They were an intoxicating pair.

I took my time. There was no hurry, and I was having a wonderful evening. I suppose it was just my new augmented charisma, but it seemed to me that I was terribly popular. Girls smiled at me, danced with me, offered to buy me drinks. I had a ball.

There wasn't much conversation, of course, it was much too loud. People would pretend to talk to you but you'd be lucky to catch one word in three. Mostly, I nodded and shrugged. Some people seemed to be having whole conversations though. I tried to recall if clubs had been so loud in my day. All these college girls were making me feel a little old.

And then I found my girl. She came right up to me and started to dance in front of me in a rather brazen display. It was like she was saying "here I am, if you like me."

I liked.

She was tall and lean, with the grace and the muscles of a professional dancer. Prominent cheeks and anime eyes made her seem happy and girlish. I met her gaze and we danced. I knew she was perfect. She was totally femme and her body was to die for, with bold breasts and a deliciously hard and contoured tummy. She had long, curly dark hair tied back into a single big ponytail, and she was dripping with pure cheerleader energy.

Right then and there, I wanted her. I wanted to fuck her. I wanted to watch Ian fuck her.

"Hi!" I yelled. "I'm Jean!" I didn't really care if she could hear me, I just wanted to give her the full effects of my augmented charisma. I knew that some of it was encoded in my voice.

"Cindy," she said, and she glanced down at her feet, shifting from bold to bashful in the wink of an eye. I knew that I had her. I didn't care if it was my new breasts or my magically enhanced charisma, I had snared her.

We danced like maniacs. I fed her smiles and each smile made her grin more, as if she was desperate for my approval. In a song or two, our bodies were pressed close, hands on each other's hips, the crotches of our blue jeans crashing together to the rhythm of Madonna, Li'l Kim, and Sleater-Kinney. Her skin was soft, smooth, and sweaty. She smelled like perspiration, vodka, and white musk.

We were surrounded by women. You couldn't dance at Trix without making contact with the women around you, but soon the world seemed to contract until it was just the two of us.

She said she was thirsty so I bought her a hard lemonade and made a point of opening the bottle for her. There's something about buying a girl a drink that can really establish who is in charge. She took it from me like a good girl poured it down her throat like it was water.

It turned out there was an alley behind Trix. The bright end, by the street, was guarded by all the girls who had come out to smoke or make cell phone calls. The darker end of the alley was therefore the perfect place to pull a girl aside for a little fast fun. It was pretty grubby, way too heinous for anything but up-against-the-wall type stuff, of course.

Cindy and I ducked out of the club for "fresh air." I dragged her down the alley, threw her up against the wall and pressed myself in against her. She was all firm muscles in a very soft package, and her throat was smooth and silky in my mouth. She tasted like salt and electricity.

I held her up up against the bricks, grinding myself into her like my whole body would somehow find it's way into her. She was supple and stronger than I was, but I had experience on my side. I had conquered stronger girls, in my day. And she didn't really want to get away, she just wanted to writhe against me.

I grabbed the base of her ponytail to hold her head still as I moved in for a kiss.

I could not remember the last time I had really kissed a girl, the last time I felt another girl's lips against mine, opening and eager. I had forgotten how good a girl's mouth can taste. I feasted on her lips and her tongue, lost myself in her warm wet passion.

I took a deep breath and said "Come home with me. My husband will fuck you silly." That gave her pause, I could see she was not sure how to answer. The poor little thing was not quite sure if she wanted to be in a threesome of not.

She had come to Trix to find a girl, after all. Not a couple.


I prefer to think that it was my kiss that charmed her. Either way, she said "Yes" and then "Oh God Yes!"

My conscience was clear. The Command voice was transitory, any given command only lasted for a moment. If she actually came home with me, then it was what she wanted anyway. The voice had just helped me close the deal, really. Same thing as buying her a drink.

I led her past the mob of guardian dykes and we flagged down a cab. The dykes waved us cheerful good-byes as we sped off home.

16. Can't Live with them

"Husband, huh?" she said as I closed the apartment door behind us.

"My husband Ian," I said with a grin, "Is the best lover on the planet. You'll adore him."

She nodded at me breezily. "Oh God, I'm sure I will. And you guys have a lover-ly apartment." She said it just like that, "lover-ly."

"Your old man must have a real job," she said as she scanned our CD collection with a frown.

We both have real jobs, I almost said, but this was my time to be charming. "He's a programmer," I said. "A good one." I was grinning like a cat. This was all working out just as I had planned. Ian had gone to see a band with Tyler. It was only wednesday night, so he would be back soon. Cindy and I could relax for a few minutes, and then I would lure her into the bedroom. When Ian came in the door, Cindy and I would be naked, wet, and putting on a show.

It was just what Ian wanted. He would come into the bedroom and find his wife making love to a beautiful young girl. He would watch us for a few minutes, and then Cindy and I would smile and invite him into bed. Perfect.

"Do you want some water?" I led Cindy into the kitchen and pulled out some cold bottled waters. "All that action totally dehydrated me."

Cindy screwed up her face. The result was very cute, very teen-age girl. "Water makes me thirsty. Do you have any forties?"

I handed her a Guinness, which she accepted happily enough. I resolved to get her to drink some water afterwards. She had obviously been drinking all night. She was in a happy place, but I didn't want her to crash too early. I had plans, after all.

It was a work night. I wondered if Cindy had to get up in the morning. I assumed she was a college student, which meant she probably had class. Ian and I would have to let her get some sleep, eventually.

"So where's your Old man?" She took a deep pull on her Guinness. We leaning against the kitchen counter, very close to each other, like people who were planning to fuck soon. She played with her hair and rocked back and forth faintly on her hips, all coy and lovely.

"He'll be here soon, he went to see Uma Theriman play at the Podium."

"I've seen Uma Theramin. They're really freaky. So what am I, his birthday present?" She giggled and emptied her bottle. That was fast.

I smiled. "He's been a very good boy. He deserves something special."

"That's OK, I'm totally a Cancer, so that's perfect." I didn't say anything. I had no idea what she was talking about. She giggled again and opened the refrigerator, clearly planning to grab another drink. Her capacity was impressive, but then she was a college student, right?

WATER, I commanded. She reached past the Guinness for a bottle of water. She stared at the bottle for a moment, as if confused. Then she shrugged, opened it, and started to drink. She gulped her water as loud as any twelve year old boy.

"So," she glanced at me with a happy smile. "We don't have to wait, do we?"

I smiled and took her hand. I led her into the bedroom.

She plopped herself down onto the bed. "Oh God, if we're going to party, we should totally chill. Got any hay?"


"You know. Weed." Her tone reminded me of when my niece was young, the way she would lecture her Mother for being clueless.

"Sorry," I said, trying to keep my voice light. I had stayed far away from drugs since my "Heroin Season." Some lessons have to be learned the hard way. And even a libertine should know better than to mix sex and drugs. Sex is a serious business.

"I'll make it up to you," I said. I sat next to her on the bed and kissed her, long and slow and seriously. She purred like a kitten. We made out for several passionate minutes. She wrapped her arms around me like she was hanging on for dear life. I groped delightfully at her tits.

"That's nice," she said. "Oh God though, I need another drink!" She pulled away from me and got up off the bed, as if to head for the kitchen. It struck me that she was not as sober as I had thought. She certainly didn't need any more.

STOP, I commanded. STRIP.

She paused, looked at me oddly, and then smiled, as if suddenly pleased with her own cleverness. She began to undress. She didn't have enough clothes on to make a real show of it, but she was supple and clever. I had assumed she was a dancer when I first saw her. As she slowly peeled out of her blue jeans, it looked like I had guessed correctly.

I have to say, I really enjoyed the show. Since I had made myself more "responsive to visual stimuli" I had become a serious girl-watcher. If a pretty girl is like a song, then bare breasts and fluid hips are like a hypnotist. I watched her hungrily.

"You like what you see?" She ran her hands over her own breasts, as if to plump them up and prove that they were real. The sight made my mouth water. I could almost taste her.

I couldn't wait any longer, I started to pull off my clothes. Cindy climbed onto the bed and helped me undress. Her hands touched and explored me. I loved the feel of so much of her bare skin against mine. She started to kiss me all over, her lips discovering me everywhere.

My hands went to her tits like they were magnetic. I liked the feel of having them in my grip. They were amazingly soft to the touch. Somehow, they were the outer key to all her hidden, inner mysteries.

And then her mouth found one of my nipples, and she started to suck. My nipples had never really been all that sensitive. When Ian and I first started to have sex, he was always trying to play with them, and I would get bored fast. But I was so much more sensitive now! When Cindy started to suck on my tit, I thought I was going to come, as easy as that. It was like she was sucking on some new erogenous zone I hadn't really known about before. I was finding whole new kinds of sensation. I cradled her head to my breast and leaned back on the bed, closed my eyes, and rose into heaven.

She was an eager, greedy little girl, and she sucked with great enthusiasm. If she hadn't been so annoying, I might have fallen in love with her.

When she switched to my other tit, it was so good that I screamed out loud. it was like my nipples had each become a clitoris in their own right.

"Oh my God, you are such a freak!"

"Just don't stop."

"I can do better than that." She slid down my belly and slipping her face between my legs. I spread them eagerly. Ian was reasonably skilled at oral sex, but since I had notched up his sex drives, he had been all about fucking. I was overdue for the skilled tongue of a girl.

Her technique lacked the sense of drama and theatre that she had brought to stripping. She just started to lick me without preamble, probing and exploring me. It only took a moment for her to find what she was looking for. I leaned back on the bed and let my breath out slowly and everything was bathed in light.

If my nipples had each become a sort of clitoris, my clit had become something totally new. Something magic. As her her tongue thrummed against it, I could feel my body turn electric, bright, and wondrous. I had been waiting for this my whole life.

She put her strong hands on my hips, her fingers grabbing tight to me to hold my body in place. She worked me harder. Her tongue touched me someplace deeply, and then stirred me there. I bit my lip and I may have cried out. Then something loomed ahead of me, something vast and unknown. Her lovely tongue was summoning a kind of supergasm up from hell. I was someplace outside of thought, but I grabbed fistfulls of bedding and braced myself for the event. I could feel it welling up inside me, inevitable, unstoppable, awesome. The godhead beckoned.

"Oh my God, I'm gonna be sick!" Cindy pulled away from me, got up, and ran to the bathroom.

For a moment, I was lost, an angel plummeting from heaven. Cool air touched my cunt and I was alone. I sat bolt upright in bed. "Come back here!" I yelled, my voice hoarse.

"Oh my god!" she groaned. My legs were not steady, but I got to the bathroom just in time to see her vomit a second time. She sprayed the toilet with pale amber.

She had not, alas, bothered to lift the lid. Everything was sickly wet. The bathroom was thick with the smell of vodka and bile.

"Sorry," she croaked, looking up at me through half-lidded eyes. A whole evening's carouse dripped down her chin, her throat, and her lovely breasts. As a dominatrix had said to me once, other people's fluids dripping on a girl's face is hot. Her own fluids dripping down her face is just gross.

I knew that look in her eyes. Fast as I could, I reached down and lifted the toilet lid, cringing to touch the slick surface.

I was just in time.

When Ian came home, he found me on my hands and knees, scrubbing the bathroom. "Why are you cleaning the bathroom late at night?" he asked, reasonably. "And why did you put on makeup first?"

I just shrugged at him. Cindy was on her way home in a cab, and I was reconsidering my plans. It seemed that I had been so worried about Ian or I falling in love with the damn girl that I had failed to forsee that chance that I just wouldn't like her at all.

That's the problem with having the sex drive and "stimuli patterns" of a teenage boy. All you can see are the damn tits.

I finished up in the bathroom and found Ian in the living room. He was relaxed on the sofa, checking out late night TV.

"How was Uma Theramin?"

"They were ok," he said. "Fun, not impressive."

"I know just what you mean." I plopped down next to him and snuggled up close. "Were there any cute girls there?"

"Yes," he said. "Plenty of them. Note quite as cute as you. One of them even hit on me, if you can believe it."

"I do," I said.

"But, you know. I promised to share my girls with you. She said she didn't do couples, and so I had to say no."

With a happy grin, I found my way to Ian's crotch, pulled open his pants, and gently revealed his lovely cock. I licked him up and down and all around. I sucked him slowly into my mouth. I made love to him with my lips and tongue. I took him deep into my throat, and then I did it again and again, faster and faster until I could synch to his inner rhythms and tides. I gave him the best damn blowjob ever. When he came, he tasted so good that I knew I was going to have to share him soon.

A little influence? A little just hadn't been enough. It was time, I thought, to learn a bit more about mind control. Tonight I had unfinished business though.

I swallowed Ian's come and looked up at him. "Let's go to the bedroom, Tiger. I need it bad."

He carried me there