The Master Program Ch. 02

"OK," he said, sitting back down in front of the laptop, "undress."

She did as commanded, revealing her perfectly crafted body to Stephen, who spoke as soon as she went stationary again, "Actually, put those heels back on, you will now want to wear heels all the time, except when it is impractical, like swimming, driving, sleeping, etc. You'll especially like wearing them during sex." He realised when he talked about sex, he hadn't actually thought seriously about screwing her, but he instantly forced that new moral dilemma to the back of his mind for now.

"Oh and stand seductively," he added, quickly. The changes were applied and she stood just in heels, weight on her left leg, with the left hand on the corresponding hip. He gave up resisting and pulled out his hardened penis.

He began stroking his own dick as he spoke, "OK, so first stick your tongue out."

He watched as she obeyed, sticking it out as far as it would go.

"Right, Master Program, give her a standard tongue piercing that will never heal over. When it's done...you," he commanded, looking over at Imogen, not feeling quite comfortable enough to say her name, "place the straight bar into the piercing."

In the centre of Imogen's tongue, a small dip formed, getting deeper until it made a hole. As soon as it was done, she reached over to the table and picked up the straight barbell, which lay next to the laptop. In his excitement last night, he had chosen the jewellery he wanted for her, mixing and matching the rings and bars in the colour combinations he liked best. The straight bar was black, while the ball bearings on either end were a bright magenta. Next to where the bar had lain were two rings, also magenta, with black ball bearings, and two curved bars; one with black balls and a magenta bar, the other was the opposite. He waited until she was done, allowing himself 30 seconds of masturbating and staring before making her put her tongue away.

"Next," he took a few breaths, "create horizontal piercings, in both nipples, again so they'll never heal over. Optimise them for rings, rather than bars. Then, I want you to put the rings in." As before, she waited until the holes were made, then picked up one of the rings and with ease, removed the ball and just as easily inserted it and replaced the ball. This intrigued him, as he had fiddled for over an hour to remove and replace the ball bearings in the rings, and he wondered if the Master Program has inserted this skill into Imogen, or was remotely controlling her. He watched her insert the second ring, his eyes occasionally wandering to the first one, admiring how perfect they looked; both rings were a little thicker in gauge than the standard rings, so he was told, and he could slide the ring down almost to the base of his middle finger; exactly what he had wanted.

Getting impatient, he spoke as soon as the second ring was in Imogen's left nipple, "OK, last two, same procedure, vertical belly piercing, in the top of the button and a vertical clitoris hood piercing." The excitement laced his voice as he committed the changes and he watched as his plaything executed his commands without question. The pink belly bar took 20 seconds to place but for her clitoral hood, Imogen had to take a seat on the edge of the table and spread her legs just wide of shoulder width. As if she had done it a million times, she spread her outer labia with her left hand, and guided the black bar into the piercing with her right hand. She adeptly screwed on the second ball bearing and then tugged on the bar to align it in place, a sight that Stephen could barely watch due to the incredible level of arousal it caused him.

"Lick your nipples, one at a time. No wait, tug on the rings, one at time first, then lick them," he said, words only just able to come out as he furiously pumped his dick. He stared at Imogen as she tugged on the right nipple and then the left, proceeding afterwards to then flash her fresh tongue piercing as it glided alongside each nipple ring. She returned to her pose and he took himself under control by forcing his penis into its flaccid state.

"OK, onto the tattoos. How is the easiest way to describe this?"

"The easiest way is for you to picture what you want in your mind and I will then perform the task."

"But what if my mental image is blurry?"

"I will extrapolate. Should I continue?"

"OK... I suppose, go on."

He pictured her back in his head; on the left shoulder blade he thought of some Chinese symbols that spelt 'Imogen', not that he knew how to spell her name in Chinese, and on the right he thought of a large butterfly, mid-flight, as viewed from the side. Moving to the lower back, he delighted in imagining her perfect back adorned with a wide tramp stamp positioned so it sat just upon the crest of her buttocks. The image was of a dragonfly, from above, such that the tip of its tail just sat between her cleavage. Splayed out either side of the dragonfly, covering two-thirds the width of her back, were tribal markings. Mentally, he turned her around and looked to her near-flat stomach. Here he drew two stars, which lay on opposite sides of her stomach, aligned with an imaginary vertical line drawn up the centre of her thighs, and high enough that the top half of each star would protrude above the waist line of most jeans and skirts. Both stars were solid colour; the right one was dark green, while the left one was deep purple. He then proceeded to imagine her left wrist; on the palm side he drew a red rose and some leaves. Finally, he moved onto her feet. A vine wrapped itself around the joint to her left big toe, then over the top of her foot, towards the outside of her ankle. Here, it crept around her lower calf, in an almost horizontal bracelet, before snaking its way up the side of her calf, stopping short of the back of her knee by three or so inches. He added some fuzzy flora to the vine, before moving to the right foot. In his mind the outline of a one inch by one inch heart appeared on the top of her foot, offset towards the outside edge, so that the apex of the heart nearly touched the point between her fourth and fifth toes. He hesitated for a second then opened his eyes.

"Got all that?"

"Yes. I will instruct the subject to ingest the correct quantities of ink." As Imogen took the first bottle of ink he dearly hoped the program wouldn't accidentally poison her or something. He crossed his fingers all the while she was sipping from the various bottles and when she returned to her 'seductive pose' next to the table. He waited in anticipation for a few seconds, when he saw two stars fade into view on her hips. He made her turn round and saw the back tattoos gently come into existence. He noticed that the designs were all based on his mental images, but were vastly improved in terms of artistic talent. The tramp stamp for instance had turquoises and pinks augmenting greens and blues, while the tribal parts looked like ornate filaments rather than the chunky black lines his mind had drawn. The shoulder butterfly looked so elegant, as it filled will browns and oranges, and the shading made it look almost real. The vine on her leg and foot was embellished with flower buds, petals and tiny butterflies, in a design he hardly believed was his own brain child.

"Task complete."

"Holy fuck...spin for me," said the flabbergasted Stephen, as he ogled and wanked.

"Such a slut," he whispered to himself, knowing that she only looked that way because of him. He made her stop after she had spun three times and he looked at her; she was his perfect slut. He had actually created his fantasy sexual partner...but now what? He asked himself that question and he didn't like the reply. Having sex with her and sending her away without any memories of the incident; it bore too much resemblance to spiking her with rohypnol. His morals fought with his erection, but eventually his morals won out; he deflated his hard-on and commanded her to get dressed. He looked disappointedly at Imogen, wondering how he couldn't even fuck his ultimate fantasy, when she was under his total control, and then sighed when she had completed getting dressed. He looked longingly at her figure, first to her crotch, where he could just make out the pink ball bearing peeking through her outer lips and pressing against the fabric of her thin leggings. His eyes then went to her chest, where evidence of her nipple rings was not hard to spot, despite her wearing a loose top. He darted between these, her belly button and all of her visible tattoos, before cursing himself.

"Go back to your flat," he said, while thinking he would never get a chance to have sex. As she walked to the door, most of her new tramp stamp was visible above her leggings, and it coaxed his erection back into life.

"Wait! Stop there!" Imogen brought her legs together and froze in place.

"If I program her to want me, is it...is it...well rape?"

"Interactions between variables are used to create relationships, which often results in the alteration of the mind-states of one or all of the variables in question. Directly programming this mind-state would have the ultimate same effect as using the correct social interactions to coax a change in mind-state. In some cases, direct programming would actually have a more positive effect than relying on an unpredictable action and response system. To answer your question, you can program the subject to be exactly like someone who would volunteer consent for sexual actions with you."

"OK, I'll take that as you saying no... but, how much would I have to change her? Actually, tell me how much a person's 'mind-set' changes with age."

"The rate of change varies greatly for a given age range, but between the ages of 18-25, the average mind-set is altered by one-third."

"OK, well to remove someone's identity, that's almost like killing them, but if it's just a small change, then I suppose it's not so bad. I want you to warn me if any programmed changes alter a mind-set by more than 20%, and I want you to do any changes I order in the most minimal way possible. So, OK, I want you to invent a plausible back-story and say me and Imogen started a casual relationship about a month ago. Apply."

"Task complete, you and the subject talked after attending an academic class and you invited her for a drink at the student bar. She found you strange and quirky, which intrigued her and so she agreed to go on a dinner date. Since then, you have met each other twice a week for a meal or a drink, and once for a trip to the cinema."

"Have we done anything sexual?"

"You have kissed on a few occasions, and after one evening at a bar you engaged in oral sex at this location."

"Hmmm....we sound more like mates who sometimes get together when drunk," he pondered out loud. He was really scared of his first time and he wasn't sure Imogen knowing it was his first time would help, "I want her to have fucked me on our first date, I want her to be really up for sex, not so much that she stops doing work or other important stuff, but let's say she tries to have sex two or three times a day, and likes to touch herself when she can't. I want her to remember sex with me, on our first time, actually, all times, to have been...really good." It took the edge off his nerves a little, the idea that Imogen already thought he was good in bed, but now he had to match up to her expectations.

Stephen sat in his chair staring, at the Macbook's keyboard, and thought deeply to himself. He had mostly reconciled himself with the idea that Imogen would be a genuinely consenting sexual partner, but now he had to decide whether or not he should improve his own ability. Though he was truly terrified at the possibility he might be terrible at sex, he did have confidence in himself that he would at least be satisfactory at what was a pretty basic animal activity. He supposed he could make himself the best Imogen ever had, but then he would never get the satisfaction of knowing he was good at sex under his own steam. He gave the idea another minute of thought, before making a decision.

"Swap subject to me," he said and waited for the screen to change, "OK, I want you to input subconscious thoughts into my head, is that possible?"

"Yes."

"OK, when having sex, I would like subconscious hints to aid me. So say I am fingering Imogen and I stray away from her most sensitive bits, I want to get a feeling that I should move my hand back. But I should still be in control. Also, I don't want you to give me any ideas, so like I don't want you to give me the idea to try a new position, but if think about trying one by myself, I want to get a suggestion on how to do it best," he stopped for a second to think about this, and felt good; this was a sort of tune up of his own abilities rather than giving him something he didn't have, "OK, let's apply."

He considered wrapping it up there, but he knew there was one more thing; his penis. Like any teenage boy, he had worried about how big his dick was, but after measuring it many times in his youth he had come to the conclusion that he was at least average. Now a man of 20 he felt rather secure with its size, but that was before he had the power to change it in any way he wanted. He internally joked with himself that he could make it ten inches long and as wide as a coke can, but again, he felt like that was cheating.

"When erect, I want my penis to be 7 inches long and let's say...5% wider than the average penis of that length," he paused to think if that would be too excessive, but decided he was happy. He was about to apply the changes, then wondered about making it look impressive when flaccid, "Also, when flaccid, make it around 4.5 inches long, and never less than 4 inches long. Make it a bit wider than it is now. Apply."

He felt a tingle in his shorts, which he unbuttoned quickly, to admire his new tool. It didn't look outrageous but it would certainly impress in the changing room. He willed it to an erection and couldn't help but smile; it would definitely impress in the bedroom. Happy with himself, he turned to Imogen, who was still facing the door, completely frozen in place. He was about to bring her over to him, when it struck him that she was still in a trance. He carefully thought about what to do.

"Make her think she's heading to the library and she's stopped over on the way. I want her to go outside the flat and then knock on the door. At that point break her trance, and proceed as normal. Also, I just want to ensure out back story is reconciled in the memories of all her friends and mine. Apply."

Imogen strode out the door and shut it behind her. He gathered up all the tattoo ink and stashed it in his laptop bag, which sat next to the kitchen table. He took a deep breath and prepared himself; this would be the first time he ever properly interacted with Imogen and the first time he had sex. He reached out for the door handle slowly, when Imogen knocked on the door again, causing Stephen to jump with nerves.

"Stevieee? Stephen?"

"Oh God..." he whispered to himself. He took one final sigh and turned the door handle.

"Hey Stephen," said Imogen, beaming at him as she leant in to kiss him. He was slightly off-guard, which meant he took a minute to get into it. It was kiss like he'd never experienced before; firstly, he was sober, secondly, she matched his height of 6 feet in her heels and lastly, her piercing caressed his tongue, adding a pleasurable difference in texture. He nervously rested his hands on her hips, running his hands over the waistband of her leggings. He panicked for a second when she grabbed his right hand, with her left, and pulled it away, but relaxed when she directed over her ribcage and towards her left breast. As he cautiously cupped the side of the breast, she sidled round him and swung the door shut.

"Tug my rings, I know you love to," she offered, after pulling away from the kiss. She stuck her chest out, while both his hands went to grip her nipple piercings. He pulled downwards on each one alternately, which caused Imogen to moan out every time. She whipped off her top and tossed it aside as she stepped backwards, until her bum rested on the table edge. Stephen was still gripping her nipple rings as he followed her to the table.

She took his left wrist with her hand and guided it down to her pubic area, directing him to slide his hand into her leggings. He did so eagerly, feeling it get warmer and warmer until he reached smooth wet skin. Her vulva was thoroughly drenched, as were her leggings, not that he needed further indication that she was aroused. He was not sure if he should jump right into it, so he began to run his fingers over her slippery outer lips.

"Ooooh," she moaned, "don't tease me; I'm too horny for that; I had to start rubbing myself in the library."

She gripped his wrist with both hands and begged, "Please, I need it."

"OK," he said, aware that this was the only word he had said to her since she entered.

He moved his hand to rub her clit, which he found with no problem as her piercing flagged up its location clearly. He could feel with delight the bar rubbing against her clit; aiding his masturbation of her. He used his right hand to manipulate her nipples; he could feel an unseen force directing him exactly how and where to touch and he silently thanked his magic program. The fingers on her clit slid down towards her hole, where his hand turned palm up so that he could enter her. His middle and index finger penetrated her with almost no resistance, where they were subliminally guided to her g-spot. He leant forward and placed his right hand on the kitchen table so that he could pump her deeper and faster.

"Oh yes, that's perfect," she moaned and released his wrist so that she could grab his neck and pull him in for a deep, grateful kiss. Furthering her gratitude, she hastily undid his shorts, pushing them down his thighs, along with his boxers, so that she could reveal his hefty erection. Still gasping and panting she looked into Stephen's eyes, in a gaze filled with lust and grabbed his shaft so she could stroke and massage it with her right hand.

"I love how big your dick is. It's so hard. Put it in me. I need it," she pleaded with him as she pushed him out from between her legs. She slid her thumbs into her leggings, next to the stars on her waist, and peeled them downwards while giving Stephen a cheeky grin. She stepped out of her shoes, one at a time, only for long enough to shed her leggings and then steered his dick towards her own sex organ. He tingled all over the closer his penis got, knowing he was about to have sex with the hottest girl he had ever seen. Both of them exhaled in pleasure as his dick entered her and tunnelled its way deeper. When all but the base of his shaft was inside her he felt his helmet make contact with her cervix, prompting a groan from Imogen's mouth. Enjoying the warmth of her tunnel, he commenced thrusting his hips back and forth each motion guided by the Master Program's subconscious hints.

"Yes, I'm so close, keep going like that," she said, almost crying in pleasure. She lay down on her back, along the length of the table, almost knocking his laptop to the floor. She brought her legs up and wrapped them around his waist. Her thighs were angled apart giving her access to rub her clit with her right hand. He watched as she made circles with her index, middle and ring finger, a vision that gave him pleasure too. In fact, at this point he felt he was on the verge of orgasm, but chose not to take it; instead he took pleasure in being on the precipice of climax.

"Sooooo cloooose," she managed to whimper through her bliss. She yelled out as her back arched and her left hand gripped the table as if she were hanging off the edge of a cliff. Over the next thirty seconds, Imogen's heavy breathing subsided but she was still grunting as Stephen propelled into her, who was still experiencing a near-orgasm state. He pulled out of her and aimed his dick between her legs and released his orgasm. A jet of sperm flew over her body, landing on the left side of her face and in her hair. She shut her eyes and flinched away instinctively, and sat up on her elbows as heavy globs of sperm streamed across her breasts and stomach.