Looking Through Your MonitorbyBOSTONFICTIONWRITER©
Maybe, because I have spent many hours on this site, maybe because of the lack of sleep, the alcohol, the pills that I take to stay awake and the pills that I take to sleep, and maybe it is all in my imagination but a strange thing happened to me when I was reading a story on Literotica.com. I wondered if the same thing has happened to anyone else.
Suddenly, my computer monitor screen went blank and turned completely white. I figured there was something terribly wrong with my monitor. Perhaps, and hopefully, it was something as simple as the plug loosened or fell out. Yeah, that's probably it. I walked around to the back of the monitor and jiggled the wire while pushing in the connections. All the connections that I checked appeared tight enough. They all looked good to me.
I didn't know what else to do. I'm no computer geek. I'm no Manu. I just write erotic stories. What do I know about computers? I turn it on, move the mouse, and depress thousands of keys on my keyboard in random order somehow producing a readable story. What else is there? What else do I need to know? I sat back down in my chair figuring that I was back in business. No dice. The screen was still completely white. Then, the screen went all black like it does when you turn the screen on before turning on the CPU. This is not good.
"What the fuck?"
I figured it was broken but the freaking thing was not even a year old. I bought it from Dell, you know, one of those new, sleek 19" flat screen panels with the high definition picture. Now, I wondered if I should have kept my old 20" Cathode ray tube monitor instead of giving it away to the Salvation Army and taking that tax deduction. Sure, the thing took up the entire desktop and weighed 50 pounds but it never failed me like this piece of shit. Now, I'm going to have to call Dell and speak to one of their customer service representatives in Bangladesh, India. This sucks. This really sucks. Fuck! I hate calling Bangladesh, India. Every time I talk to one of those guys, once I get accustomed to his accent and understand what the Hell he is saying, he asks me about America and tells me that he wants to come here one day.
"Yeah, so who Hell cares Rasheed, just fix my freaking computer." Just what we need more towel heads in America. I have nothing against Indian people or any people who want to come to America, I just don't like it when these big companies think that they can inconvenience me by making me call some foreigner in a different freaking company who may have taken my job or your job and now I have to listen to his dreams instead of him focusing on my computer problem. I'd rather speak to a customer service person in my own country.
Suddenly, an image of this Indian guy who has worked for Dell Computer and saved his Rupees tries to enter my country. Hey, is that a towel on your head or how you carry your dirty laundry? Those are the guys they need to check for weapons of mass destruction. They could hide all sorts of things in their towels. I can see the guy at customs who works in conjunction with Homeland security.
"Okay, fella, undo the towel. President Bush wants us to check if you are hiding any weapons of mass destruction."
The Indian slowly unwinds his towel and there perched upon his head is the dead body of Jimmy Hoffa. No wonder why they couldn't find him all these years. He's been hiding out on this guy's head beneath his towel.
Sorry, I digress, anyway, so back to my story, the nerve of that guy and I have a mind to tell him off. Oh, yeah, Pal? If you come here to America, you won't have a job because all the jobs are in, guess where, Bangladesh. You're better off moving to China, I wanted to tell him, because at least there, you'll be guaranteed a manufacturing job. You may only get 3 cents an hour but that 3 cents buys way more rice there than it buys here. Besides, over there, you won't need your car, just a pre-war bicycle. Oh, you don't have a car. You take the barge to work. I'd stay where you are, then. I'm pretty sure we already filled our quota of Bangladesh people this year.
Then, I heard activity on my CPU and a screen monitor appeared, you know, the one with all the fish swimming around.
"What the fuck?"
I don't even use that screensaver anymore. I stopped using that several years ago. I use a different one, the one with Leonardo Da Vinci. Once I saw the fish screen monitor was when I figured that I had a virus.
"Shit! Now what?"
I was all set to run my virus protection software, the one that is supposed to catch this shit before it breaches the firewall, and now it is too late. God damn it. Now, I'll have to call Bangladesh Dell after all.
I felt completely helpless and didn't know what else to do. I turned the thing off and on figuring that by rebooting it, that will somehow correct the problem. Next, I tried turning the power off figuring that maybe overnight some kind of electrical bug got in there. I mean, I had no idea what the Hell I was talking about or doing but it sounded good at the time.
My girlfriend, late for work, was in the bathroom blow drying her hair.
"Freddie! What did you do now?"
"Oh, sorry, Honey." I turned back on the power, rebooted the computer, and...nothing. I still had no video on my screen just this fish screensaver.
I moved the mouse with no avail. Moving the mouse did not turn off the fish screensaver and punching keys on my keyboard, the escape key and the control, alt, and delete key did nothing to stop the fish swimming by me. My screen still showed those phony fish swimming around phony water. Yeah, they look real enough but it is nothing more than watching a boring movie of fish swimming around that loops over and again. I needed to calm the fuck down. I figured that if I took some deep breaths and stared at the fishies for a while that they would put me in a better place, yeah, like the insane asylum.
"God damn it! Why won't the freaking monitor work?" I shook it and banged it a little. I remember my father used to do that with the black and white RCA TV we used to have and that almost always cleared away the snow, kind of, not really, well, not at all. But it made him feel better before he had to tell my mother to go up on the roof in the snow and the cold and move the antenna around while he yelled directions at her out the window and from the warmth of the living room.
Then, I got the bright idea that maybe it was my cable connection. So I went down the cellar and rooted around there checking to make sure that all the connections looked good. To be honest with you, I had no idea if any of the connections looked good or not and figured that I was fucked if a squirrel ate my connection on the pole. I can't tell a computer connection from a telephone connection from a television connection. Now, besides calling Bangladesh Dell, I had to call Comcast and listen to their message telling me that because of the high volume of telephone calls that the one person who handles customer service is experiencing a delay in answering my call and to call back later sometime in February.
There I was sitting in front of my monitor staring at fish. Only, after a while, once the alcohol and pills relaxed my brain, the closer that I looked, once I allowed my eye to look past the water and past the fish swimming around in the water, I could make out a room. There in the distance, past the angel fish, past the big rock, and the sea weed, was someone's bedroom. There in the murky distance, it slowly started to develop more clearly. Weird, huh?
At first I thought it was the reflection of my room but my computer is in my office and not in my bedroom. Suddenly, I figured that I was looking from my computer monitor through somebody else's computer monitor and into their bedroom. Maybe, this is the missing link that Stephen Hawkings, you know that Ph. D. guy that is tied to a computerized wheelchair and who speaks like Hal the Computer on that movie, 2001: A Space Odyssey, is looking for when he discovered black holes.
Okay, now this had my attention. Now, I was hooked. I figured that I was somehow looking through a porthole in space and time with the aid of my monitor. I felt like I was launched in the Twilight Zone as the theme song from that show played endlessly in my mind until the voice of Rod Serling entered my brain.
"A Literotica writer while writing his story has stumbled upon something bizarre. He has found a way to view others in the privacy of their home. Let's watch and see what happens next."
Suddenly, I envisioned myself somehow harnessing this technology and selling it on the open market. Suddenly, I envisioned myself being rich. Suddenly, I envisioned myself being a player in the techno-geek computer market.
Step right up and buy my special Snoopy Spy software that will enable you to look into your neighbor's bedroom. All you need is their IP address. Just type it in and it is like you are there in their bedroom watching your neighbor get undressed and ready for bed or are there to watch her and her hubby do the down and dirty.
Suddenly, I imagined with the help of this new secret software, Snoopy Spy that I would be bigger than Microsoft and have more money than Bill Gates. Then, whenever someone invented new technology to counter my technology, I would do just like the big boys do, come out with an upgrade, sell those, too, along with my Bangladesh Snoopy Spy customer service support and make even more money. Then, after I continued back and forth like that for years making update after update, then, I'd be in charge of the world. Anyway, back to the present reality at hand.
As my eyes adjusted to looking through and not at the bright light of the monitor, the closer that I looked and the longer that I looked, the more that I could see until clearly I could see a bed, a single bed, in a bedroom. It had a plain blue bedspread. Does this sound familiar to anyone? Am I describing your room? There was a blue rug, a darker shade than the bedspread. The rug was almost a navy blue with the bedspread being a royal blue. And there were maroon drapes on the windows that did not appear like they matched the rug and bedspread all that well.
There were pictures on the wall. One looked like it was taken at some kind of high school or college function and had a whole bunch of girls lined up. Another was a black felt picture of cats playing field hockey. I never saw one of those. I've seen the black felt picture of dogs playing pool and dogs playing poker but never of cats playing field hockey. Now, I suspected the room belonged to a broad. I had a difficult time making out the first picture. I don't know. It was at the far end of the wall and I was unable to see it clearly. Anyway, the walls were white. There was a bureau with a mirror across from the bed and a chest of drawers against the far wall beneath the picture and by the doorway.
Let's see, there was a fan with white lights hanging from the middle of the ceiling. Oh, yeah, a big, stuffed, honey-brown teddy bear was on the bed with a big pink letter J above the headboard. I don't know maybe it stood for Jessica, Janet, Joan, Jean Jill, Julie or Jamie, who knows.
Okay, am I hitting on anyone's room here? Definitely, it is a girl's room because there aren't too many guys who would have a big stuffed teddy bear on their bed and a big pink letter J over their headboard. I almost forgot. A cat nonchalantly came walking in the room; it was one of those tiger type cats, which may explain the black felt picture of cats instead of dogs on her wall. Then, a woman entered the room wearing a bath towel.
"Oh, baby." Suddenly, this is getting good, real good. Suddenly, I don't care about my monitor not working. I just care about this Alice in Wonderland, black hole space in time portal to this baby doll's bedroom.
I assumed she had just gotten out of the shower. It is difficult to tell from the angle of how I was looking into the room from inside her computer monitor, but she looked tall 5'7" had shoulder length brown hair and was very attractive. Am I ringing any bells here with anyone?
I'm just curious whose bedroom I was able to look into from their monitor is all. It's weird, don't you think? I could see her better the further she stood away from the monitor. The closer she came to the monitor, the more she looked like the reflection you get in one of those fun house mirrors.
Anyway, I kept hoping she would lose the towel but she paraded around that room for the longest time. First, she removed a beige bra and beige panties from the top drawer in the chest of drawers. Next, she brushed her hair in the mirror. Then, she sprayed some perfume on the parts of her body that were exposed. Then, she held the hairbrush up to her mouth like a microphone and was singing. Next, she rubbed some lotion on her shoulders, upper chest, arms, and legs.
My penis ached at the thought of her removing her towel and just as she was about to remove the towel, I sneezed.
"Achoo!" Fuck, fuck fuck, fuck and fuck, I said to myself, fuck.
She froze and looked around the room. Then, Mr. Whiskers or Miss Prissy walked back in the room again and she looked satisfied with the thought that it was the cat that sneezed.
She removed her towel and I saw her B cup tits, pink, puffy nipples, and a brown patch of pubic hair and then when she turned, I saw her perfectly round, bubble ass. Damn, she had a hot body.
"Yeow!" I could not help myself. It just blurted the Hell out of me when I saw her naked.
She grabbed her towel and wrapped it around herself, again.
"Who's there? Is there someone here? Where are you?" She walked over to the bureau and picked up her hairbrush and held it high like she was holding a handgun. "I have a gun."
Plainly, I could see that you did not have a gun but a hairbrush.
I tried not to be detected by acting like one of the fish, a big Blowfish hoping that she would not step too close to the monitor and spot my big head.
"Meow," the cat cried again, "Meow."
Again, she seemed satisfied that whatever noise she heard was coming from the cat.
She started removing the towel again when I farted. Honestly, I tried to hold it in but it just ripped loose and it was a loud, smelly one. Man, somehow that smell worked its way through my monitor, through her monitor, and into the room. I swear to God that is the last time that I am thinking outside of the box and the last time that I buy a burrito at Taco Bell.
"Sorry." Jesus Christ! What the fuck! I am such a dope. I cannot believe that I just apologized for farting to this hot naked chick that I am spying on and did not want her to know that I was there watching her. I am such a moron. Why the Hell did I just do that? Now, my cover is totally blown, Dude.
"Who's there?" Again, she pulled her towel tighter.
I didn't know what to say at this point so I made up shit.
"This is the ghost who lives in your computer," I said in the best mechanical voice that I could muster.
"Ghost?" She took a step back and looked like she was going to bolt from the room. "I have a ghost?"
To be continued...
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