tagMind ControlMasterPC Ch. 01

MasterPC Ch. 01


Chapter 01: The Beginning

Whenever he visited a city, David's habit was to be sure to visit every used book and music store his spare time allowed. He loved books. His collection filled a room in his home -- and those were just his favorites. Other books were stored in boxes in the basement. He also liked music and was always on the lookout for old, hard to find, LP's.

If it wasn't for David's habit, this story would not exist.

It was a Wednesday. A weak late winter sun was shining; it's light imperfectly reflected by the dirty snow lining the streets and sidewalks in jagged ridges. The pan handlers were out in force on State Street -- some of them playing instruments, others just making noise with change in plastic cups. He'd seen them before. He ignored them. He was headed for a used book store he liked to visit whenever he was in town.

The bell jingled as he walked in.

"Mind if I just smell the books," he said to the clerk behind the counter, smiling.

"Not at all. Please do," she said. She recognized him from his previous visits and knew he would never come in merely for the distinctive odor of old paper and mildew. He would leave with a bag full of books.

David wandered up and down the stacks with no particular goal in mind. He really did like the smell and texture of real books. E-books were distasteful to him. He paused before a collection of the works of Rafael Sabatini looking for a volume that wasn't already part of his collection. He spotted one that didn't look familiar. "The Kings Minion," he said to himself, "I don't recall reading this one."

He grasped the black cover and pulled the volume off the shelf, and as he did his whole life was changed. There was a CDROM tucked inside the book -- no jewel case. He noticed it because it started to slip out from between the book's musty old pages.

Catching the disk in his other hand, he examined it. There was writing on it -- someone had labeled the disk with a Sharpie ™.

"Master PC," he read. "Hold on. Where have I seen THIS before," he murmured to himself. And then it dawned on him -- the reason it looked familiar.

"Oh, come on," he said, not believing that what he was looking at could possibly be what it seemed. "That's just a story on the 'net. I suppose someone's just put this here as a joke. Well, I'll take it home and see what it really is. Probably someone's porno collection."

Still, the possibility that it MIGHT be real was enough to distract him from his search through the stacks. He pocketed the CDROM, paid for the book, and directed his footsteps back to the Doubletree, where his laptop sat sleeping on the desk. He had a few hours to kill; that was why he'd been strolling up and down State Street to begin with. Gaining the privacy of his room, David threw his hat, coat, gloves, and suit jacket on the bed, and woke up his old laptop. He inserted the disc and waited. He heard the CDROM drive spin up to speed as the autorun sequence began. When the prompt asked if he wanted to install MasterPC, he answered yes, and waited. The screen went blank for a few seconds -- it seemed longer than that to him. When his desktop returned, a message box containing the words "installation complete" appeared and he noticed a new icon on the desktop. He double-clicked it and a small 3-D logo "Master PC" popped up and an audio file began to play as other words scrolled across the screen.

"Welcome to the Master Command Center... where the Master allows you to become a virtual god to the people around you... Now, you possess the power to bend their reality to your specifications. You are the Master's representative."

The logo disappeared and a prompt appeared asking for his name. He typed it in. Now, he was prompted for a subject.

"Hmmm..." he thought, trying to remember how the JR Parz stories said this thing worked. He typed in the name of a co-worker in the local office; someone he regarded as a friend. His pulse began to race as a 3-D image of the woman appeared on his screen; wearing the exact same clothing he'd seen her in just that morning. Her image revolved slowly in front of him. She was standing at attention, arms at her sides.

He chose "command center" from the menu strip at the top of the screen. 'Whatever you enter, the subject will immediately feel or become after pressing the 'send' button' appeared on the screen along with a box to type in the information or command desired.

David knew his friend had been struggling to quit smoking. So he typed in "You will stop craving nicotine from this moment forward. The taste of tobacco will make you slightly nauseated and you will never smoke a cigarette again as long as you live." Then he typed "send." While he was at it, he typed in some commands that would reverse the damage that smoking had done to her lungs and vascular system over the years; he also gave her an increased desire to work out, and better discipline about food. When he was done, he clicked "send" again.

Back at the main menu, he decided to conduct a test to see if any of this actually worked. Typing in his own name he brought up a 3-D image of himself and went to work. David was very overweight. It was tempting to type in the command that would transform him back to the body he'd had as an 18 year old; tempting but not practical. Instead he gave himself some discipline about food, removed his distaste for fish ("if it swims for a living I don't eat it" had been his motto), and gave himself the will to become physically fit. Of course, he gave himself a higher metabolism -- that ought to help with the weight, he thought to himself as he typed in the command. He knew these changes would take a while to be felt, so he decided to try something else.

Being male, David was, of course, somewhat obsessive about the size of his penis. He felt that he'd been shorted in that department and resolved to do something about it. So, he typed in a command that would cause his penis to increase in length to 10 inches with substantial girth as well and clicked "send." Instantly he felt a tingling in his groin and some discomfort in his shorts. He got up and dropped his slacks and underwear.

"Holy ....!" He stared into the mirror at the long, thick, stalk hanging below his balls. He laughed -- laughed so hard that tears ran down his face. Almost tentatively he reached down and grasped his new endowment, gently stroking it. He closed his eyes and continued touching himself. His new cock quickly stiffened in his hand. He looked down and saw, for the first time in years, a cock protruding from below his belly. He hadn't seen his dick in anything but a mirror in quite a while. It was long and thick and hard and he felt it throb in his fist. He could do some serious damage with a cock like this. He shook his head as if shooing a fly and got himself back under control; there was work to do.

He began to make other modifications. He gave himself another 50 points of I.Q. (his intelligence quotient had already been measured at over 150 -- now it would be over 200), improved his strength, reflexes, stamina, and immune system. He also corrected his eye sight (he'd worn glasses since the 9th grade), fixed a hearing problem in his left ear, healed a voice box damaged by years of undiagnosed acid reflux (which he also took care of), cured his sleep apnea, induced hair re-growth on his head, stopped his ear hair and eyebrows from growing so fast, got rid of some skin tags, and made a few other minor modifications. He clicked "send" again.

David felt the changes course through him -- a tingling sensation started at his toes and worked its way up his entire body to the top of his head. He literally "felt" smarter. Problems that had seemed insoluble just hours ago suddenly had solutions. A new sense of energy and purpose flowed through his mind and body like an endorphin rush times 10.

More modification ideas flowed through his newly energized brain. His immune system would be proof against any disease; his powers of healing would be remarkable, regardless of the injury; his flesh would not age at the rate that everyone else's did; and his skin and muscle tissue would, in a matter of weeks, return to the tone and health of his youth. In terms of physical age, he would be 20 years old again, even though he would continue to appear to be a man in his mid-fifties. And, still, he had work to do.

David pulled a yellow legal pad toward him and began to make task lists and notes about things he needed to do. He made several phone calls to set certain plans in motion, sent a batch of e-mails flying through cyberspace. In a matter of a quarter of an hour he'd accomplished more than he had done for the past day and a half.

Getting up from the desk he decided to go for a walk. He quickly changed into something more comfortable, put on his Brooks Addiction ™ walking shoes, added a red baseball cap with a white "W" logo on the front, and headed out into the sunshine of, what was for David, a new day. The temperature was in the mid 20's but he paid it no mind.

David's brain was working furiously as his body was getting some much needed exercise. He'd acquired a new source of power and knew that in order to exercise it properly he'd need a plan. At 57 he'd been giving some thought to retirement. Two things held him back. One was the possibility that he might be promoted to the position he sought within his organization. The other was financial. He really needed three more years to make his retirement secure.

Now, however, he saw other possibilities. With his new found intelligence and his more than three decades of experience in his field; why not hang out his shingle as a consultant? Why not indeed? Before he knew it, David had walked up State all the way to the Capitol Building, around the square, and half way down the hill on East Washington.

He stopped, suddenly, taking in his surroundings. "I'm not even sweating," David said to himself with some surprise. Normally, assuming he'd have actually walked this distance, he'd have been dripping even in the subfreezing temperatures. Now, all he felt was the healthy glow of good exercise and clean air in the lungs. David turned around and walked back, taking a shortcut through the Capitol and back down the hill to the hotel.

A quick shower and a change of clothing and David was ready to resume his meetings. He didn't really fully return, however. One part of his mind dealt with his colleagues while the other was drawing up a new plan for his life.

One thing that occupied his mind was his cock. His new "package" was always at the forefront of his awareness. He felt its weight, he felt its size, and he felt the joy of possibility. The meeting broke up around half past four and he turned aside offers from co-workers to have dinner. He wanted to get back to his room as quickly as possible and try a few things.

Fifteen minutes later he was sitting at his laptop again staring at his own image on the Master PC console. This time his modifications were all of a sexual nature. He gave himself a whole clip of extra stamina, lots of sexual staying power, and absolute control over his own orgasms. He increased the size of his load; "eat your heart out Peter North," he chuckled. He made his whole body more sensitive to sexual touching and increased his ability to enjoy sex. While he was at it he added another 50 points to his already high I.Q.

David minimized the Master PC program to his task bar and then opened his web browser. Logging into his Adult Friend Finder account he looked for a likely sex partner. He'd been a member of AFF for several years and had never scored a single woman or couple from the site. That wasn't too hard to figure out though, as the market for fat middle aged white men with smallish equipment was not bullish.

Now, however, David was armed with something extra -- a big dick for starters -- and he approached his task with anticipation. His new manhood was erect and throbbing. David absently rubbed it through his shorts. Taking out his digital camera and getting out the ruler from his Day Planner ™, David dropped his shorts and laid his impressive manhood on the desk next to the ruler. He snapped a photo of his new equipment and then quickly uploaded it to his account. He deleted all of the pictures showing how fat he was ("that's going to change pretty soon anyway") and left only the picture of his lips, which looked fairly sensual, and his cock, which looked fairly impressive.

Then he began to search for a likely candidate for his first real experiment in using the Master PC to get what he wanted from someone else. He scrolled through a list of possibilities -- women of a certain age and marital status who wanted to meet an intelligent, witty, charming man for a little NSA fun on the side.

"That one, I think," he said to himself.

His intended sex partner was a woman of almost his own age. Married but looking for a little something extra with no emotional entanglements. David speculated that she got a lot of mail on the site. Her photos revealed a very well kept body for a woman of more than five decades in age, and her profile suggested that she had the right combination of intelligence and good humor that he himself possessed in good measure.

He sent her a note proposing that he buy her dinner at the Tornado. It was an old fashioned steak house in the heart of downtown just off the Square and also had the advantage of being very dark. It would be easy to get a very private table in a dark corner.

He told her a bit about himself and, without being crude, suggested that he not only had full sized equipment but he also knew what to do with it. He gave her his name and a cell phone number and told her to call if she was at all interested.

This last bit was a gamble, but a reasonable one. The number was from a disposable phone that he had purchased for the purpose of being able to call his internet girlfriend in Colorado whenever he wanted without worrying about a bill showing up later. In this case, it provided some protection from the risk he'd taken. He'd enclosed a face picture to demonstrate his seriousness.

Now, he would have to wait.

He browsed AFF for a while, switched over to Out Personals, checked a few things there, went through his various e-mail accounts, responded to some messages from friends around the country, and then he went back to AFF one more time before shutting down the laptop for the day.

There was a reply to his e-mail.

"Hi, David, I'm Darla, and your proposal is very tempting. My husband is out of town for the week and I have no plans for the evening. We just moved here, so I don't know anything about the Tornado, but it sounds lovely. I realize this is kind of sudden and rather risky on my part -- after all you could be a serial killer (lol) -- but I've got a good feeling that we'll click. So, if you'll write back and let me know how to get to the Tornado and what time you'd like to meet, I'll take you up on your offer. "

David grinned as he finished reading, then he went to work. First, he made a map of downtown for Darla showing the location of the Tornado. Then he called the steak house and reserved a table for 6:30. He sent the map along with his note expressing great pleasure in Darla's acceptance of his invitation through AFF and then began to prepare for what he hoped would be a fun evening.

First, he put Darla's name into the Master PC program and adjusted her viewpoint on overweight men. He didn't give her unnatural attraction to fat guys; he just created a situation in her mind where body size and shape was not an issue. He had a big fat dick and that would be all that mattered to Darla when the clothes came off. And, that was it. No mental slavery, no secret words, and no post hypnotic suggestions -- he'd use his charm, wit, intelligence, and humor to convince her he'd be just as much fun in bed as he could be out of it.

By six o'clock, freshly shaved and showered (again), wearing a very nice sincere blue wool suit with a pink shirt, silver paisley tie and matching pocket square, David was sitting at the bar of the Tornado enjoying his first Cosmopolitan of the evening. He was savoring the initial sip when he felt a disturbance in the air around him as the door opened from the street. He turned and there she was.


"Darla," David said, standing up and going to her. He took her hands in his and smiled at her. He kissed her on the cheek, capturing a sample of her subtle yet sensual perfume. "You're even prettier than your pictures."

She almost blushed. But not quite. She was a woman used to the compliments of men.

"Thank you," she said, allowing herself to be led to a booth across from the bar. He set his drink down and then helped her off with her coat. She was wearing a black sheath dress with a strand of pearls at her throat. The dress showed off her body to good effect without being slutty. Her long legs were encased in sheer black hose. She was wearing a pair of black "fuck me" pumps. He smiled.

"Something to drink, Darla?"

"White wine would be nice, please."

David went to the bar and ordered a glass of wine, also telling the bar tender that he and his companion would be ready for their table whenever it was available.

"Here you go," David said, placing the glass of wine on a napkin in front of Darla. He sat down in the booth across from her and lifted his glass.

"Success to crime," he said. She laughed as their glasses touched.

"Where did THAT come from," Darla asked.

"I read too many Spenser novels," he replied.

"Do you read a lot?"

"Incessently. I have a book in my pocket right now -- I never go anywhere without one."

"May I see it?"

"Of course," David said, smiling, as he reached into his jacket pocket and took out a copy of Terry Pratchett's "Moving Pictures."

"You weren't kidding," Darla said, smiling. "I like to read, but I mostly read non-fiction -- biographies, history, politics -- that sort of thing."

They discussed books they'd read, plays they'd seen, movies and music they liked -- no politics or religion, of course -- and their conversation would probably have gone on like that for some time if the hostess hadn't come and announced that their table was ready.

The Tornado is old. Old fashioned compared to a modern steak house. The lighting is dim, and the tables aren't squeezed together so tightly that you can't have a private conversation. At his request (along with a double sawbuck for the hostess), they were seated in a corner of the dining room, well away from other customers, and a majority of the light in that part of the room came from a candle in the middle of the table.

David held Darla's chair for her and then took his own seat opposite.

"A gentleman," Darla said, smiling.

"Not always," David said, smiling back at her. Darla raised an eyebrow.

"So, David, tell me something," she started, paused, and then having made a decision of some sort, went on, "what are you doing on AFF?"

"Same thing you are, Darla," David responded, smiling what his father would have called a manure masticating grin.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," Darla replied, looking down in a mockery of the term "demure."

They both laughed and the ice was broken. They traded marital stories, which were fairly similar. They ordered a meal and a bottle of wine for Darla -- David had another cosmo. They talked. The food came. They talked some more. Both passed on the dessert cart, although Darla looked wistfully at the chocolate suicide cake.

David charmed her with stories -- he'd always been a good story teller -- over coffee until at last came the moment of truth. David put his hands, palm upward, on the table. Darla looked at them for a moment and then placed her hands over his. David looked into Darla's eyes and saw both invitation and trepidation.

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