USB - Unwanted Sexual Behavior Ch. 01

Chapter One -- Gamer in a Suit

"You look like a gamer in a suit," Paddy McClintock said to Taylor Averille.

"Even your name isn't right. What the fuck is Taylor? It isn't one thing or the other," Paddy sat behind his huge oak desk, one leg resting on the other.

He took a long sip of his coffee and looked up at Taylor.

"You still here?" he sniffed.

"So I take it that's a no to PostPay?" Taylor replied smugly.

"And that attitude isn't helping you kid. The code looks fine but you need to get a haircut, lose the earrings, drop the attitude and get a partner who knows something about business."

"Don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out," Paddy said dismissively and picked up his Wall Street Journal.

Taylor shut the door behind him and carried his backpack through the maze of desks in the open-plan office making his way to the elevators. He noticed that a disproportionate amount of staff working at Paddy's investment company were women. They weren't all young but most of them were; they were all stylishly dressed: power suits, killer heels, nylons, red lipstick, coiffed hair. Young, old, fat, thin, tall, short, they all had class; they looked like they belonged right here in the offices of McClintock Developments.

The men too, although most were down to their shirtsleeves, wore Brooks Brothers, Brioni, or Giorgio Armani, natty ties and crisply ironed shirts. The women leaned over desks chatting and flirting, skirts dangerously high on the thigh. Men stood in groups looking seriously concerned about something. It didn't look like anyone was working but Taylor knew better. The best analytical minds in Chicago worked for Paddy McClintock.

Taylor walked down Van Buren Street ripping off his tie. He dumped it in a trash can and crossed South Columbus Drive and entered Grant Park near Buckingham Fountain and turned left towards the gardens. He found an unoccupied bench away from the crowds and sat down feeling dejected.

Paddy McClintock had been the fifth investor in a row who had turned him down.

At twenty-five, with boyish good looks, shoulder length blonde hair and a slim build he did look like a gamer in a suit or possibly even a skater-boy in a suit. It didn't matter; he couldn't get anyone to take him seriously. He had the goods. His codes were clean slick and bug-free but it was hard trying to get somebody to believe in him, to invest in his startup, to take him seriously.

He bet those skinny-ass bitches at McClintock's got taken seriously. For some reason an attractive woman in a power-suit and heels carried more credence than a young man in a cheap suit from Suitsupply.

Taylor sat hunched over, staring at the ground, dragging his already scuffed brogues through the gravel like a petulant child. The sun reflected off a chink of metal buried in the sand. He wouldn't have taken any notice but the toe of his shoe swung back through the gravel and partially exposed the object.

Taylor recognised it immediately. It was a USB flash drive.

Taylor poked at it with his shoe and it broke free of the pebbles. It looked intriguing. He'd seen plenty of novelty USB drives before; in his line of work they were like nails are to a carpenter. He'd seen racing cars, guitars, aliens, teddy bears, hotdogs; one guy even had a penis-shaped USB drive.

He leaned down and freed the drive from the sand and rubbed it on the fabric of his pants. It was matte black and metallic and appeared to be set with some kind of red stones around the edge that glowed dully. When he picked it up he would have sworn that the red stones flashed brightly for a second and that it vibrated in his hand sending a little shock through his fingers. He nearly dropped it but he held onto it, in fact it seemed almost glued to his fingers.

He examined the USB drive, turning it over in his fingers. It looked expensive, not the cheap, plastic-cased utilitarian jobs you often found discarded in the street. It was likely someone had lost it.

As a software coder and programmer Taylor knew the dumbest thing anyone could do was to connect a drive to your device when you had no idea where it came from. It was like playing Russian roulette. It could contain a virus, a hack, a Trojan or malware. It most likely contained porn but it looked too elegant, too opulent, to contain something so prosaic.

Taylor knew that he should drop the USB back on the ground or toss it in the nearest bin but he slipped it into his pocket. He picked up his backpack and made his way to Union Station. It was a one mile walk but the walk allowed him to clear his head and he began to write code in his subconscious. By the time he arrived at his one bedroom walk-up he had forgotten all about the USB drive. But it remained in his suit jacket pocket; the little red stones were glowing, pulsing, vacillating.

After a microwave dinner Taylor took a shower and changed into jeans and a T-shirt and sat sans shoes and socks in front of his favourite computer and worked on some of the code he had conjured up during the journey home.

"It's shit!" he slammed his hands down on the keyboard and then deleted what he had written.

He got up to get a beer and noticed that it had gotten dark while he was working, the only light in the room came from the screen of his PC and the twinkling LEDs from the CPUs of his other workstations. On the way back from the refrigerator he thought he noticed a faint glow coming from his coat. He went over to where it was hanging on the back of the door and put his hand in the pocket. His fingers curled around the USB drive. He knew that he was imagining it but the drive seemed to vibrate in his hand.

Taylor pulled the drive out of the pocket and was surprised to find that the little red stones were in fact flashing sequentially, almost like a beacon. He found that quite incredible because the USB drive had no power source; none that he could he see anyway. Maybe it had a tiny NiCad battery inside it or something, but that made no sense.

Ignoring the warnings that were screaming at him in his mind he took the USB drive over to his least vulnerable personal computer, a standalone Sony Vaio laptop that was at least seven years old. He double checked that the Vaio was not connected to his network by fibre, Wi-Fi or Bluetooth and it wasn't.

Taylor scrutinised the USB device once again; it looked almost otherworldly, mystical, magical, like a miniature version of the black monolith from 2001 A Space Odyssey. He felt it vibrate in his hand and emit a minute electric charge. The red stones were now flashing erratically, almost like the device was excited to be near the PC.

The computer finally booted up and the Windows logo appeared and Taylor logged on. He looked at the USB drive again anxiously; something deep inside was telling him not to do it but he ignored the warning and slammed the drive into the USB port.

Taylor half-expected the PC to halt and catch fire or for some radical virus to execute a program that took control of the laptop or lock him out but at first nothing happened. Then a string of code appeared on the screen but the code was using symbols that Taylor had never seen in his life. They looked almost alien.

Then the screen filled with what looked like text but it was illegible, just a series of random symbols and cyphers. The red lights on the USB began to pulse rhythmically. The unintelligible symbols became glyphs and then what Taylor was almost certain were hieroglyphs and then the text seemed to cycle rapidly through a series of archaic languages: Hebrew, Latin, Etruscan, and numerous dialects that he didn't understand, until finally the text became English.

Taylor was amazed. Not only with the rapidity of the changes from unintelligible unknown symbols, to ancient languages, glyphs and calligraphy but with the appearance of the symbols and ancient languages themselves, because it was simply not possible for the computer to generate them. Put simply, the programming language embedded in the Sony Vaio CPU did not support them.

The screen became stable and it appeared that the program had finally settled on the English language as its means of presenting an interface, the red stones glowed a steady dull ruby-red.

Taylor stared at the screen and presumed that whatever software was installed on the USB drive was some kind of elaborate hoax, most likely a spear phishing scam. Whoever had thought up the ruse had gone to extraordinary lengths to build the USB and load the sophisticated program onto it. He was glad that he had plugged the USB into his old standalone laptop; the program looked like it would cause chaos if it was released onto a network.

Confident that the program was confined to the old Vaio and could not access his other computers, Taylor thought it might be fun to play along. He read the instructions on the screen.

Congratulations. You have been granted the most extraordinary and invaluable privilege. You have been selected to undertake a life changing manifestation that will grant happiness and fortune depending on how you use the gift being offered to you.

This is an unprecedented and unique experience but there are precedents and protocols that you must agree to before we proceed.

Do you agree to participate? Y/N'

Taylor hit the 'Y' key on the keyboard.

The screen refreshed itself.

We understand that at times you might become confused or have concerns so to that end we have provided you with a Help function. It is visible to you at the bottom right of your screen.

Taylor saw the little Help icon at the bottom of the screen and he nodded.

Good. You can see it. Feel free to use the function whenever you are unsure.

Taylor was taken aback. Could the hoaxers see him? Did they see him nod? Were they accessing the camera on his laptop? The indicator light wasn't glowing to indicate the camera was switched on.

Never mind let's see where the hoaxers were going with this. It looked like it might be fun.

You have a burning desire to be successful, to fulfil your dreams and wishes and we have a power unimaginable to you that can ensure you achieve these goals. It just won't be in a way that you expect. It will be challenging and difficult at first but if you use the special gift we are about to bestow upon you wisely you will succeed. Even if you are not astute enough to use the gift to fulfil your dreams and desires, you will have taken a unique and daring challenge that we are sure you will enjoy.

Do you wish to proceed? Y/N

Taylor pressed Y.

"This is going to be fun," he said to himself in darkened room.

Yes Taylor, this will be fun; but not in the way you are thinking.

Taylor was shocked. He was sure that the microphone function on this laptop no longer worked. The scam was very elaborate indeed. He was waiting for the program to direct him to connect to his home network or ask for his bank account details and when it did he would shut it down and wipe the computer clean and restore the factory settings or he might even just ditch it. It was old and outdated anyway.

These are the terms and conditions that apply to the gift which is to be bestowed upon you:

The gift cannot be returned for ninety revolutions

You will not be able to tell anyone else about your gift, as much as you would like to

You may use the gift in any way you choose but be warned: you will be held responsible for your actions

If you elect not to return the gift after ninety revolutions, the gift will be bestowed on you permanently and can never be returned

Do you agree? Y/N

"What the fuck?" Taylor stared at the screen.

The little Help icon on the bottom of screen suddenly activated itself and a textbox appeared on the screen.

Do you have a question Taylor? A concern? Doubts?

Why had the Help function activated itself? Never mind.

'Who is bestowing this gift on me,' Taylor typed, feeling a little cynical.

The cursor just blinked. There was no answer.

'Why me?' he typed.

The... I'm not sure what your kind call it... the rune, the oracle, the device... sensed that you are worthy

'Where did it come from?' he typed and tapped his fingers waiting for a response.

Nothing... just the blinking cursor. Obviously the Help function had a selective response feature. It wouldn't answer questions that it did not understand or was prevented from answering by the programmer.

'What will my gift be? The oracle or whatever it is should be able to answer that' he typed.

It won't be what you expect but it will be wonderful and astounding. You might be disappointed at first but if you use the gift wisely it will not only bring you good fortune it will bring you great pleasure

The Help function was 'all assistance short of actual help' Taylor thought.

"Fuck it," Taylor whispered.

He closed the Help function and pressed Y.

Your journey begins now. Enjoy your gift. Please remember the terms and conditions that apply.

The screen on the laptop suddenly went blank and it appeared that the computer had shut down.

"I knew it. It was just a scam," Taylor went to rip the USB out of the laptop but when he touched it, it gave him a shock.

This was not a little tingle, it was full on zap.

Then the ruby lights on the USB drive which had become dull suddenly illuminated to full brilliance; they were so bright they were hard to look at. The fan on the Sony Vaio began to whirl so fast that it sounded like it might disintegrate. The computer actually began to shake.

A tiny pinprick of white light appeared in the centre of the screen, pulsing rhythmically and morphing into a series of ever-changing shapes. Taylor leaned forward, his nose almost touching the screen trying to discern the patterns when suddenly the screen exploded into a kaleidoscope of brilliant colours that almost blinded him. Some of the colours were indescribable, he had never seen them before, it was like he was having an out of body experience. A loud thrumming noise filled his head and seemed to get louder as the colours on the screen got brighter and changed faster. He felt like he was undergoing sensory overload and then he blacked out.

*****

Taylor knew there was something wrong as soon as he awoke. He was sprawled in front of the laptop with his head on his hands and he woke up feeling like he had been asleep for days but was not rested. The events of the previous night played out across his conscious, but that wasn't the only concern he had.

He just didn't feel right.

His body felt different somehow. He remembered coming out the anaesthetic after having his appendectomy and he felt very much the same way; like someone had invaded and altered his body. He didn't hurt; he just felt peculiar, like he didn't belong in his own skin.

His jeans were too tight around his ass but too loose around his waist and his t-shirt was too tight around his chest. Something was going on between his legs, he hadn't awoken with his usual morning glory, or nocturnal penile tumescence as it was correctly referred. In fact nothing seemed normal down there at all. It didn't seem wrong; it just seemed different. He also sensed things differently; like he'd had some sort of epiphany that had given him clarity of thought from a new perspective.

Taylor needed desperately to pee and upon entering the bathroom it became clear why he felt so different. It was because he was not a he; he was a she.

Taylor was stunned. It was Taylor's face staring back but it was subtly different. The cheeks were more prominent and were fuller and the chin was a little more pointed and the nose not as prominent. It was still Taylor but a feminine version of Taylor, the neck appeared more slender, likely because the thyroid cartilage seemed to have disappeared.

But the most significant change Taylor could see was the set of pert breasts that swelled the front of her t-shirt. The nipples were prominent through the cotton fabric. Taylor ripped off the t-shirt and sure enough a pair of perky breasts, proportionate to her body size adorned her chest. Her stomach was flatter, the waist was small and the hips a little wider and the jeans would have fallen off Taylor's significantly slender frame if not for the plump but firm buttocks holding them up.

Taylor was dreaming but still busting for a piss and struggled out of the jeans and underpants. Taylor was amazed to see a curved pubis covered in a sparse patch of pubic hair which warranted further examination, but first, if Taylor didn't piss right now an embarrassing accident was unavoidable.

Sitting on the toilet came naturally; but of course it would as there was no penis to point at the porcelain. Finishing her business Taylor dabbed at that place with TP and flushed.

This was just bizarre. Taylor was evidently dreaming; likely brought on by that stupid USB program that she had stupidly loaded up on the old Vaio. Taylor went to the bedroom and stripped and stood before the mirror.

Sure enough it was Taylor's face... but then again it wasn't. It was feminised and the long blonde hair framing the face only made it more effeminate. It was Taylor's body, the freckles and moles were in the same place, the silvery scar on the calf from the childhood skiing accident, the appendix scar on the lower right side of the abdomen. But the body was more slender, the hips wider, the waist smaller, the skin softer. Turning side on the belly wasn't quite flat, it swelled a little but in a sensual way, the breasts were small, perfectly shaped and proportional to the frame, with pink berry-like nipples.

Turning front on again Taylor's eyes were drawn to the pubis, the curve of the flesh beneath the belly leading to the valley between the legs. It was covered in a downy layer of soft hair. Taylor felt the heft of the breasts, softly tweaking the nipples until they engorged and then ran her fingers down the curve of her waist, across the little swelling of the belly and finally into the mesh of fine hair between the legs. The nipples radiated soft ripples of delight, but when her finger touched what lay between the folds of the vulva it radiated a fiery, sensual, almost lecherous ring of pleasure that Taylor found hard to describe.

Of course it was a dream.

Boys often fantasised about having a female body. He remembered in his teens sitting in the bleachers with his friends watching the cheerleaders practice. He secretly envied the girls their curvy forms, their long legs sheathed in shimmering pantyhose, buttocks clad in tight panties, little skirts flicking around firm thighs, heaving breasts and tousled hair. Pretty faces with blue eyes accentuated by dark eyeliner and mascara, rouged cheeks and plump pouty lipsticked lips.

He was sexually aroused, as were the other boys. The boys described in great detail what they would do to those girls if they ever got hold of one, as unlikely as that would ever be. Then one of the boys asked the question that the others were thinking but were too afraid to extrapolate.

"What would you do if you were a girl?"

Of course they had joked and quibbled about how they would never come out of the bedroom. How they would be the biggest slut ever, enjoying the woman's body to the fullest in an orgy of debauchery. Thinking like a man thinks; unable to think like a woman.

"Is that gay?" someone had asked.

"Only if she takes up the ass," some bon vivant carped, and the subject matter changed and they moved on.

But at some stage, all men and boys have pondered that exact question: What would you do if you were a girl?

And now Taylor was.

Before the USB Taylor thought of himself as him or he. Since the transformation Taylor had been unable to think in gender terms referring to Taylor only as I, it or they.