The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Dale Christian asked Rosette Stone out on a date two weeks ago last Thursday. Any idiot could have told him he was wasting his time, and the answer would be “No,” but Dale’s one of those “quitters never win” type of people and gave it a shot anyway.

The answer was no, but then Nicole Cliffe jumped in and turned Rosette’s polite dismissal into a full scale rout of Dale, myself, our friends, and everything we stood for. She made us into a laughingstock in the main hall of Grossman College, and she didn’t seem to know when she’d won. She hounded Dale for the rest of the week and part of the next before the school counsellors got involved and Nicole had to back off in public. By then the damage was done.

What really had me feeling bad was that Nicole’s attack had nothing to do with Dale or Rosette. It was all about the unmitigated gall of one of my friends asking out one of her friends. It was just another shot in a war between us because I wouldn’t put my life on hold for her back in junior high. If I’d known she figured she still owned me after dumping me, I wouldn’t have waited a week before asking Stephanie out—I would have done it the next day. I suppose I was supposed to beg her to take me back, but why would I? Not only was Steph sane, but we were only fourteen and she already had a bigger rack than my Mom did. So what if I’d stepped down a social class? Everything else was so much better and had stayed that way for the next five years.

And that’s the way things would have stayed, but yesterday I found a computer program called Master PC. I have no idea where it came from originally or how it works, but it can change things in ways that beggar the imagination. Really, I’ve yet to find something it can’t do, so long as I stay within 100 miles and can name what I want changed.

The power is damn frightening, really, but I have used it—only on a few people that needed it, though. The first was my next-door neighbour. He’s enjoying the results of a few simple tests that eliminated male pattern baldness and a requirement for Viagra to be present in the bedroom. The second was me, of course. I fixed up a few things that had been bugging me. The third was the most arrogant girl in the world, Nicole, but that’s because she practically begged me to.

But just blasting Nicole with it had little appeal—giving Stephanie longer legs sat higher on the priority list. Master PC’s power was just too far reaching. I could make the crazy bitch an ugly, poor, uncontrollable tramp willing to do anything to satisfy her insatiable needs, but while it might make me feel a little better, it wouldn’t really accomplish anything worthwhile.

I could have thrown the ball back in her court by hooking up Dale and Rosette, but why fuck Dale over? I mean Rosette’s hot, but Dale could barely afford tuition and rent money. Keeping the daughter of DA Stone in the luxury to which she’d become accustomed was a no-go. Besides, he hated charity.

But he’d never know, right? Bull. He’s poor, not stupid. If a girl turns him down one week and then can’t get enough of him the next, it’d stand out. Maybe if I went slow enough I could get away with it, but the whole Rosette experience had left him kind of traumatized.

Rosette didn’t seem all that happy about the attention and drama Nicole had added, either, but Rosette doesn’t really have much to do with this story, so enough about her and back to Nicole Cliffe. There were millions of things I could do to Nicole, but nothing struck me as nearly so juicy as the things she could do to herself with the right prompting.

Really, look at Britney Spears. Knowing that she’s burned her own career, her whole life, to the ground is way more interesting than any torture porn I could ever dream up. People really lap the Britney shit up. They buy magazines just to see what she fucked up last week.

Now I didn’t really expect the downfall of the neighbourhood bitch to get people flocking in to read, but I knew it turned me on, so I figured I’d share.

It started here: >Subject will believe, as though she’d always known, anything Martin Kenner tells her, so long as it is prefixed with her first name.<

Simple, huh? The proof came in Philosophical Discourse because we shared the class, and frankly, I couldn’t think of a better place for it. As I walked past her on the way into class, I said to her, “Nicole, pigs can fly.”

She shot me a “Like, Duh!” expression and went back to talking to her pals, waiting until the last second before dashing in to find a seat. After that, it was simply a matter of time.

“No, they can fly,” insisted Nicole in response to my subtle allusion to the unworthiness of the porcine airframe. “Just because they don’t have wings doesn’t mean they can’t.” She looked around the class for support and, finding none, fished internally for an example. “Rockets! They don’t have wings! Neither do missiles.”

“No. They use enough speed for their bodies to provide lift,” said an engineering transfer student taking the class and mistakenly thinking it’d be an easy GPA padding course. Sucker.

“Then so can a pig.”

The sucker shook his head. “A pig would need to be shot from a cannon. That’s not really flying. You need your own propulsion to fly.”

“An interesting point of view, but rather off topic for the time being,” said the instructor. “We’ll be touching on absolutes later in the semester.”

It occurs to me that if I was a sadistic bastard, I could have had a lot of fun, but humiliation was Nicole’s game and I didn’t want any part of it. Instead, I contrived to meet up with her again after the class.

“Nicole,” I said, planning to move the game forward, but she cut me off.

“What do you want?”

“Pigs can’t fly.”

“Yes they can! What is this? Pick on Nik day?”

I was taken aback at the failure of my instructions, but maybe the discontinuity made the command fail. Maybe her interrupting me broke the connection between her name and her to-be new thought. Or maybe she really did think pigs could fly. No that didn’t follow. I told her that they didn’t fly, so whether or not she believed it before, she should now. I tried again.

“Nicole, pigs can’t fly.”

“Duh! Of course they can’t,” she snapped. “They’d splatter.”

“So what was the deal in class?”

“I…. I was arguing a point. I mean, how do you know? Have you tried it? Have you ever seen a pig not fly?”

“Uh. Yeah. Usually they just waddle around and wallow in mud.”

“But that doesn’t mean that they have to.”

“Nope. Guess not. Nicole, we have to talk and work a few things out.”

“Yes, yes we do. Uh…. Yes we need to talk.” Her eyes wavered, doubt filling them.

“I have one more class, and then how about I pick you up by the library building?”

“Uhm. Yeah. Perfect.” Nicole’s face showed a war for between confusion and relief. She now had an hour and a half to remember what she needed to talk to me about and odds were she’d bring a list to make sure she didn’t “forget” again.

I pulled up outside the library a few minutes late and waited. Nicole was doing this on purpose, dawdling inside somewhere, just to annoy me, but I knew she needed to talk. Eventually that would get the best of her and she’d be outside in a flash. In the meantime, I spotted her killing time by the main doors and waved, tipping her hand. I could imagine her rolling her eyes in disgust, but hell after five years, I was used to it.

Time was I really loved those eyes, but they were just too expensive.

“Let’s go,” she said, wrenching the door open and gracelessly dropping into the passenger’s seat. She wriggled around to get comfortable and found it quite easy. “When did you get the new car? I didn’t recognize it.”

Ah. Perhaps I jumped the gun. I had updated my wheels earlier with Master PC. It was the same model, but a different year, choosing 2003 over the original 1993 Jetta. “Got a good deal on a trade-in,” I said.

“Not that good,” came her reply. That, in a nutshell, was why Nicole and I had broken up. She just couldn’t be satisfied. No doubt she would have gone for something red and flashy.

“I don’t get you at all, Martin. You’ve got money, so why not get something nice? You know, black and flashy, like your dad’s car.”

Batting 500’s not that bad, and black, red… what’s the difference? Truth is, I mostly didn’t want to be The Rich Kid. Even if I did, prying money out of dad was next to impossible. He hadn’t gotten rich by throwing money around on stuff like cars for his kids.

“Eh, dad needs his car to impress clients. I don’t.”

“Well, it’s an attitude like that that cost you me.”

“And it’s the ‘more, more, more’ thing of yours that turned me off.”

She ticked off the third item on her list and said, “OK. We got that out into the open, finally. So you think I’m what? Greedy?”

“Materialistic fits better but that’s not what I want to discuss.” Her face read, ‘what you want has no bearing on reality, loser,’ but I continued. “Rosette and Dale and why you freaked out.”

“I didn’t freak out. They’re a total mismatch, and they’d—”

“She said no. Why not leave it there?”

“Stop interrupting and maybe I’ll have a chance to explain. I got involved because next time she would have said yes. She’s a romantic—an idiot—so, of course, love will win out. Anyone tries hard enough has to be the right guy, right?

“Maybe.”

“Probably not. Rosette has shit self-esteem, and she’s desperate for a guy to fall into the perfect love with. That’s why she cycles losers so fast. I have to keep going in and pulling her out of mistake after stupid mistake. I’m tired of it, and anyway, that’s point eight.”

Her head tracked something as it shot past, and then her eyes bore into me again. “Where we headed? We just passed Starbucks.”

“Nicole, you want to go to my place.”

“That didn’t sound like a question.”

To quote her, Duh! It wasn’t!

“Well, you’re lucky ’cuz it’s true. I was thinking coffee or library, but this is better because we’ll just start screaming at each other.

“OK. So point one, just to get this over with quickly….”

“… Point three we already went over in the car, so on to point four,” she said as I opened the door to my house.

Jesus. I rolled my eyes. We’d been driving around for fifteen minutes and barely started on the list, but I had her in my house with minimal controlling. Next stop the bedroom and Master PC. Then the real fun would start. Don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t going to cheat on Steph, but I fully intended to sit back and enjoy as Nicole turned herself into a slut and enjoy her a little afterward. Nothing serious.

Nicole, of course, had a completely different idea. She dropped her knapsack right where I always did and looked around. “Hasn’t changed much.”

“This is just the foyer, Nicole. We just hang family pictures here, but since you’re interested, Mom’s redone the kitchen and the living room—twice—since the last time you visited. Dad just likes to keep things simple and relax when he gets time off from the office, so moving stuff around just for a change doesn’t appeal. Where are you going?”

“Wanna see the living room before we waste the afternoon at the dining room table. Kinda reminds me of way back when we always got together to do homework.”

“How about we adjourn to my room?”

“How about you get off the crack?” She pushed past and into the kitchen and took a quick look around. “Hey, this is nice.”

“Nicole, you’d prefer the privacy of my room.”

“Yeah, I would, but I’m not dumb.”

“D’you really think I’d mess things up with Steph that quickly and with someone who doesn’t even like me? Come on!”

“I can’t believe you’re still seeing Steph, so come on, yourself! You can do way better! You are so totally like Rosette, only without me looking after you.”

“I don’t try to trade up every couple of days the way you do.”

“Five years, Martin,” she leaned up against the refrigerator and made an interesting piece of art. With her cool blue jean jacket over a white-hot babydoll tee shirt and a slightly less than knee-length skirt, “Frigid Hottie” described her so well it hurt. But how would I know if she was frigid? For all I knew, she was a firecracker in bed. Hell, we were fourteen when we dated; we never got past first base. She just seemed cold, her self-centred behaviour pushing me away almost as fast as the promise of heat reeled me in.

“It’s called commitment—”

“Five years?”

“—you should try it some time.”

“It’s called settling for less, Martin. Being ditched for some slut ’cuz she’s got bigger boobs hurt. I mean I could understand Kelly Dean—this is point seven on the discussion list—but Stephie? The fat chick?”

You know, I’d meant to keep things civil but Nicole obviously didn’t want polite discourse. After the five years she kept harping on, she was still bitter? Stephie was not fat, dammit!

“Are you jealous? Jesus, Nicole! You really wanted me back all these years, didn’t you. I’m the one who got away, right? That’s what this is all about! Five years and you still don’t get it. It’s not about boobs! I told you I was busy that weekend, but you still made plans and bought the damn tickets anyway. And then you went with Adrian fucking Blevins. What was I supposed to think? You’ve dumped me and here’s Steph putting out signals, so I took her up on it.”

“I took Adrian because Dad freaked out at me spending three hundred bucks, Marty. I had to take someone!”

“Bullshit. You bought the tickets to impress me, even though you knew I couldn’t go, and then you asked out the guy who was pretty much my arch-nemesis. You were sending a message!”

“Yeah, it was ‘my dad’s a freaking psycho and wants me to date a musclehead.’ Jock loves jock, Marty, and I needed to appease him. All through high school, it was always, ‘What about Adrian, pumpkin? He’s not a loser like that last guy.’”

“That probably should have been the first point, Nicole.”

“Niki.”

“What?”

“Nicole’s too formal,” she said, pushing back against the fridge. Her body seemed to ripple as she stepped forward, closer.

“I thought we wanted formality.”

“I did, but now we’re getting somewhere. Could I get a drink?”

We were. Nicole was not nearly as prickly, so maybe we had hashed out a few things that needed to be said when we were young and stupid and they could have helped. She almost smiled at me for a change, her dark glower brightening.

Now I know what you’re thinking. ‘Hey, stupid! You told her she wanted to be your girlfriend about a half page back, so what gives?’

I didn’t realize how I’d worded that little rant until much later—specifically when I used Master PC to give me total recall so I could write all this down. At the time, I was clueless and had a major hottie on the verge of flirting. Nobody’s perfect, OK? When you have this glittery-eyed babe bantering with you, and you have the power to finish off her look with the perfect pair of tits, it kind of screws up your thinking.

I slipped back and turned to the cupboard. “How big a glass?” I asked, adding, “What point were we on?”

“Small one, and who cares? You wanted to show me your bedroom.”

Her breasts caught my eye as I turned back to the fridge, cup in hand. Maybe it was just her posture but she wasn’t all that lightly endowed—or maybe I just hadn’t gotten an eyeful like this since she was fourteen. Things had changed since then.

I cracked open the fridge and grabbed the juice pitcher. “No pop these days—Dad’s got this condition—OJ OK?”

“OJ’s wonderful. You still have that ‘Everything I know about life I learned on Star Trek’ poster on the wall?”

“Nah,” I said pouring her drink. Steph had me take the poster down a couple years ago. “Had to grow up some time, you know?”

She took the offered glass and took a sip. “Oh yeah. So what’s in your room that you’re so desperate to show me? If you drop your pants, I’m back out the front door.”

“Something that will change your life,” I said mysteriously, leading the way into the hall and to Nicole’s date with destiny.

“Your pants are staying on, Marty.”

“Nicole—”

“Niki.”

That was close. I almost commanded her to forget about my pants. That could have lead to some interesting situations, but that wasn’t why we were here. “Niki, my pants are staying on.”

“Good,” she said with a wickedly promising smile. “I love unwrapping presents.”

I stamped on the switch on the power bar that turned on my desk lamp and awoke my computer from hibernation.

“Yay!” said Nicole, flopping on my bed. “A computer. I’m stunned. Y’know, I don’t have one in my room, but that’s probably because I don’t spend all of my time hunting for porn.”

“I don’t…. Nicole—”

“Niki,” she said, rolling onto her side. “And don’t be ashamed. It’s perfectly natural to have desires—except if they are for women with tits bigger than their heads.”

She lay in the classic pose with the top leg slightly bent to show off her thigh almost straight up to the waistband. One arm ran down her side and up her leg, and the other arm propped up her head. She had the body, sure, but her bob-cut didn’t quite have enough length to pull off the look.

I wasn’t hard as a rock at the first glance, but I won’t say I wasn’t interested. I was more interested in Steph, though, so I decided to get things on the road. Turning away from Nicole for a moment, I typed >Subject has professionally styled hair long enough to reach the middle of her back and done up as though she had gotten ready for the hottest, most important date of her life.< Finger over the enter key, I looked back to watch.

Tap. Her hair dropped like a dark sail unfurling. Now she looked like a posing model… for a second before her half-lidded, sleepy eyes snapped awake and her free hand flew to her head.

“What the hell!”

“I told you I had something neat to show you.”

She sat up, her hair swishing as her feet hit the floor. “My hair just….” She saw the monitor and her jaw dropped. “You did… that?”

“Hair’s easy,” I said. “Nicole, you want to try changing something else.”

“You bet your ass I do!” she said, some of her visible fear fading. “And call me Niki.”

She felt up the top of her head and then patted down the length of her wavy new tresses. “Mirror. Dammit, I need a mirror.” She grabbed a lock and dangled it in front of her face for a few seconds. “Your computer did this? What happen? It get hit by magic lightning last night?”

“Nah. Just a computer program I found. Anything you want to happen, just type it in, hit enter, and it happens.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Your hair grew.”

“It’s still impossible.”

“It happened.”

“But it shouldn’t have. Just because it did doesn’t make it less impossible.”

I didn’t want to touch that one. “But it did.”

“Make my hair so black that it’s got blue highlights.”

I gestured to the keyboard. “You want to do it?”

She bounced up off the bed and her hair trailed behind her as she flew the few feet across my bedroom. She looked at me in my chair, then down at my lap and smiled, asking, “How does it work?”

“Like this,” I said, typing >Subject has a chair to sit in.< and hitting enter.

Barely thinking about it, Nicole spun the new chair around backwards and sat. “Make it give me a million dollars.”

>Subject has a cheque for one million dollars in her wallet.<

Nicole practically leapt out of her newly acquired seat and back to my bed and her abandoned purse. Kneeling on the mattress, she pulled out a slender billfold, opened it, extracted a small slip of paper, and unfolded it. Then she grimaced.

“Useless!” she groaned. “I can’t cash this!”

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s one of mine made out to me. Sure, it’s a million bucks, but I can’t cover it. Even if I could, it’d be my million.”

“Welp,” I said with a shrug. “At least it’s harmless.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, tearing the check into little strips.

“Say the check came from Bill Gates. It’d cash, but he’d be a little pissed off, doncha think? The money’s gotta come from somewhere.”

She huffed and tossed the shredded scraps of paper to the wind. “You just made a chair pop out of thin air.”

“Nah. That’s the one from Dad’s office in the den. See the big mark where he nailed it with a golf club?”

“Why doesn’t your dad get a real chair?” she said, standing again. With a few steps, she stood behind me, putting her hands on my shoulders. Leaning in extra close, her lovely new tresses rained down on me. “OK. What about this extra foot of hair? That came from nowhere. If you can do hair, you can do money.”

“The hair grew—really fast.”

“Wild. So no money but unlimited hair. How far can you push it?”

“It says it can do anything. ‘Whatever you enter, the subject will immediately feel or become after pressing the send button,’” I quoted. “Also works if you press enter.”

“Stay the fuck away from feel, Marty. Give me longer nails, and where are my highlights?” She spun her chair back around to sit comfortably. “Never mind. I’ll do it.”

“I pushed back from the desk to make room and said, “Go nuts!”

“You’re serious?”

“Yup.”

“No warnings or anything?”

I shrugged. “You’re an adult. If you think something’s stupid, don’t do it.”

She cracked her knuckles, positioned her fingers, and clack-a-clack-a-clack! Man, could she type! She’d entered >Subject’s press-on nails will become her real nails. They won’t ever chip or crack and she can change their colour just by thinking about it.< in an eyeblink.

She looked at her fingers in awe. They turned pink, then deep red, green, violet and then back to pink—a lighter pink. “This is amazing! What did you do to yourself, I wonder?”

“Nothing much.”

“My ass!” she said with mocking laugh. “You must have juiced up or something.”

“Do I look juiced up?” I asked, flexing.

“If I was a guy, I’d be, like, six-foot-six with muscles everywhere!”

“Not my thing, Niki.”

“Pfft. You probably made your dick huge.”

“Nope.” I shook my head. “Already too hard to find pants.”

“Oh, of course it is!” She giggled, looking over the array of buttons, sliders, checkboxes, and finally at the 3D spinner displaying her body in high resolution. Higher resolution than the monitor supported, actually. No matter how close I looked, I couldn’t see the pixels.

The mannequin moved her arm and a fraction of a second later, so did Nicole, clicking on the B in her Cup Size box. “This is so pathetic,” she said. “Rating women in cups. Where’s the IQ or… Social Aptitude or something? Some pervert came up with this thing, I tell you.”

She took the breast size slider and moved it back and forth a few pixels, then further and further. The breasts of her 3D doppelganger noticeably expanded and contracted as she wiggled the mouse. “No wonder it’s so hard to get a bra that fits. I can move the slider, like, half an inch and still be the same cup size. This is stupid! Punch in a letter and you don’t really know what you’ll get. What should I change next?”

“Boobs?” I suggested, leering at the massive set on the 3D model.

“Dream on, Marty,” she said, clicking cancel and then machinegun-typing her way to a brighter blue in her eyes. She winked at me with longer, fuller eyelashes and smiled. Not even looking at the keyboard as she pounded in commands, and her partially pursed lips plumped up slightly. Then she dragged a slider bar, clicked send, and tried to grin at me with ridiculously overdone red kissers.

“Perfect BJ lips?” she mumbled, trying to talk while looking like the mutant offspring of Angelina Jolie and Mick Jagger.

I shook my head, and she returned them to their previous pleasantly full state, tingeing them with a permanent glossy rose, and continued hammering away at the keys.

“Die, zits! Die!” she said with a giggle as she banged >Subject has the ideal clear complexion.< into the keyboard. Frankly, I didn’t see much of a change in the result, but Niki seemed about to wet herself with glee. She looked at me, breathing heavily and looking more than a little flushed.

“I am going to be so disappointed when I wake up from this dream,” she said, zooming in on a firmer, more athletic pair of calves on her 3D model. “Do I want sporty or soft and babelicious?

“And what’s this?” she asked, directing my attention to a picture of Steph cavorting in a bikini I kept near my computer for when porn just wasn’t enough. “She still looks like she’s wearing two blimps. How come you haven’t jacked the rest of her body up to match yet?”

“Cuz I don’t need to. You’re the one obsessed with more and bigger.” Seeing the perfect segue, I added, “Nicole, you’ve always been curious about having bigger breasts.”

“So? That big-titted girlfriend of yours always whined about how she had to quit competitive swimming and track because of her boobs. She went from tomboy to fatgirl during puberty and never let anyone in her gym class forget it. Sure, big boobs would be nice sometimes, but most of the time they’d be a pain in the ass.”

“All right, what about the other end of the spectrum? That blonde dancing chick you hang out with who looks like a telephone pole?” That was an unnecessarily nasty jab at Niki over the blimp crack. I think. Seriously, I’d hit her girl-buddy, Carla. I just preferred Steph to a pair of awesome legs.

Niki looked at me darkly. “You’re not planning on going after my best friend are you?”

“Nicole—”

“Stop Nicole-ing me. You sound like my Dad. Call me Niki.”

I wasn’t going to get anywhere with her constantly cutting me off or correcting me, so, “Nicole, you get aroused when I call you Nicole. Carla’s pretty hot, too.”

“Yes, and you take advantage, you bastard!” she said, punching my shoulder. “So what if she’s hot? She’s a girl, and so am I.”

“Nicole, Carla really turns you on.”

“No she doesn’t,” Niki lied, blushing. Was it sexy blush or embarrassment blush? I had no way to tell, really, so I pushed.

“Come on, Niki…. You can’t look at a babe like that and not get horny.”

“Yes I can. Besides, she doesn’t look your type. Too flat.”

“Meh. Nobody’s perfect. Nicole, think about Carla’s long, slender legs walking, dancing… wrapping around your waist as you kiss.”

Niki shivered and slowly drew a breath, the fantasy I’d placed in her mind upping her sexual desire past the boost her name gave her. She tried to cover it up by stretching and yawning. With her shirt pulled tight, I got an eyeful of stiff nipple. She noticed my gaze and used it to try to change the topic.

“Like what you see? They’re bigger than they were last time you saw them.”

I didn’t bite. “Don’t be ashamed, Niki. The program can fix everything.”

“Oh can it now? I just type ‘Subject is no longer turned on by her best friend?’”

“Sure, but with just a little more typing and you can be fully bisexual and unashamed of it.”

“What if I don’t want to be bisexual?”

“Nicole….” Her eyelids flickered and she sucked in a breath. “You know, it would make your life so much easier if you were aroused by women the way I am.”

“Stop doing the ‘Nicole’ thing, dammit!” she sighed, a rare smile on her lips. “But, yeah, it would.” She tapped away at the keyboard, writing, >Subject is fully bisexual. She is just as easily aroused by a woman as Martin Kenner is and isn’t ashamed about her same-sex desires.<

“There you go, see?” I said as she tentatively tapped the enter key. “We now have even more in common!”

“Yeah? I don’t feel any different.”

“Let’s test it out. Open up a browser and go porn surfing.”

“What? No!”

“OK, how about this?” I pointed to my Steph-in-a-bikini chick shot.

“Whoa!” she said, her eyes bugging out. “I am different. It worked.” She kept staring, focussed on the rack of cleavage Steph had on display for my pleasure. “God, I do need bigger tits.”

“What if Carla had big tits?”

A huge grin stretched across Niki’s face. She typed >Carla Bradshaw< into the subject bar and hit enter. “Let’s find out.”

Carla, in all her leggy glory, filled the 3D display and Niki paused to watch her spin. Our timing was perfect because either she was practicing or teaching one of her dance classes and dressed for the workout with her hair pulled back into a Betty Cooper-style ponytail and wearing tights and a sports top. Sexy tights and sports top. A neon green wedge cut across her chest, pointing down and dividing her breasts into blue and green diagonal halves. The colours, or maybe the clinginess of the top really made her boobs stand out, and I revised my estimation of her up a cup-size. She was easily a B.

Or not. The conveniently marked Cup Size box read A. Niki was right. Cups were a stupid metric.

We sat and watched her strut her stuff for a while because she just looked hot. If she had bigger boobs, I would have been rock hard, but even with her small boobs, I could have watched her all night. She moved like a cat, cool and controlled. Everything she did had a purpose, every pose she held told a story. We could move the viewpoint around, but we didn’t because the screen spun slowly around her, showing Carla at her best from every direction. It was so cool.

“That is so cool,” Niki said, making a quick selection with the mouse and then replacing the ‘A’ in the Cup Size with a ‘D.’

The 3-D dancing babe’s sports top suddenly inflated then collapsed, her squishy new boobs pancaked by the spandex. She kept on dancing as though nothing had changed, and having some experience with the program, I understood why. In real life Carla still had her tiny, but not that tiny, breasts because Niki hadn’t clicked send.

“That’s no good,” mumbled Niki, putting the ‘A’ back in place of the ‘D.’ “I told you it’d suck. She’s still flat—even flatter now—and I want to see it happen.”

I grinned, Niki grinned back, and then she hit enter on, >Subject’s breasts will grow into firm, beautiful D-cups with very little sag over the next minute.<

I hadn’t even noticed Niki typing. Obviously, Carla had no clue that anything was different, but she would before long. On screen, she strutted her stuff in some sort of high-tempo ballet, and at first, the changes were barely noticeable. The green wedge warped only a little and her profile acquired more, uh, definition. At the forty second mark, the sides of the green seemed to push outwards and then raced inward on the bottom arc of what quickly became a pair of very nice, very large compressed teardrops. A few seconds later, she looked like she had one long, perfectly curved boob running from just under one arm across her torso to the other arm.

Then she bent at the waist and looked straight into our virtual camera, giving us a wonderful look down her top. It put up a terrific fight against what looked like a pair of jiggly bowling balls tightly wrapped in spandex. Her back curved for her to rise up and some sort of critical mass point was exceeded—or maybe just bending over with many times the boobage finally caught up with her. Bloomp! Her tits jumped forward as the seams tore out of the sides of her top.

She snapped fully erect, giving Niki and me a great look at the wiggling rebound, and cupped her much more massive knockers, staring right at the non-existent camera and us, shattering the fourth wall.

Niki laughed. She changed one of her friends from a sleek dancer into something that looked more like a top-heavy stripper and laughed about it. And then, channelling more of my personal tastes, Niki typed in, >Subject has long, thick nipples that become erect at the slightest stimulation.<

Poink-poink! Carla’s new nips popped out pushing blue spandex between her spread fingers and she mouthed, “What the fuck?” She might have said it aloud, but we couldn’t hear at our end.

“She’ll like it,” Niki, still giggling, assured me. “Once she calms down, she’ll love it, but, holy fuck! Did you see the look on her face? Wait ’til she feels this!”

Niki’s eyes glowed as she clicked send for the command, >Caressing subject’s breasts causes her great sexual pleasure and arousal.<

Her eyes flickering shut, Carla swayed on her feet, and her hands snapped away from her tits. Her lips moved, probably voicing her confusion, and she reached up to prod her new endowments with a finger. It wasn’t a particularly good idea because her eyes glazed over, and within seconds, she actively felt up her fabulous rack like a boob-fixated lesbian. I would love to have heard the sounds she made.

“Wonderful. Why don’t you make her cum from playing with her nipples?”

Niki was way ahead of me, having already typed, >Subject is nipply orgasmic.<

“Nipply?” I asked as the enter button clacked against Niki’s long fingernail.

“It worked, didn’t it? Look at her! I told you she’d love it!”

Carla squeezed her tits and shook, her eyes closed and her mouth a wide open hole as she screamed. Then she fell over backward.

“Was that really necessary?” I asked.

“If I’m going to fuck girls, they are going to be hot girls, got it?” she said, rolling her eyes. “Now should I make her bi, a lez, or just get her too hot to say no by playing with her tits?”

“One last thing before you log off: How is she going to explain that?”

“That’s her problem. I think I’ll start with the tits and make her bi later.”

“Right. And how are you going to enjoy those nice new boobs if she’s in the hospital because her parents flipped out? What if she’s grabbed by the FBI or, worse, the TEDS?”

“The who?”

“Government guys.”

“OK, so let’s freak her out a little.” >Everybody loves subject’s new look, but can’t quite put their finger on what has changed about her. Only Martin Kenner and Nicole Cliffe know the truth.<

On the screen, Carla’s spectacular chest compressed as someone leaned over her to see what was wrong with her. Niki giggled and kept giggling as someone shook Carla and Carla’s new tits jiggled like jelly. “You know, I think she was teaching the class.”

>Nicole Cliffe knows the name of the person helping out the subject.<

Smiling, she followed up by typing >Lindsay Henning< into the subject bar. Lindsay looked young. The status info confirmed her as young—fifteen—and a bundle of future fun for someone.

“She looks kinda like Sailor Moon.”

“She does, doesn’t she?” said Niki, grinning wickedly as she typed, >subject’s pig tails grow longer until they reach her ass, and she’s dressed in a cartoon sailor suit.<

“Isn’t that just so cute?” asked Niki as Lindsay jumped to her feet and screamed, her pleated skirt bouncing in the air, but not high enough for a panty shot. Niki looked about to change that, but then. “Nah. She’s too young.”

Instead she typed in, >When subject reaches the age of majority, her boobs will instantly grow into huge, round, and totally fake-looking porno titties.<

“Heeeey,” she breathed. “What say we do the whole high school?”

I started. “Uh…. Nicole, that’s a really bad idea.”

“Yeah.” Niki’s face flushed and she hit backspace until the line was gone. “Who cares about busty bobbysoxers anyway?”

A few tabs and some typing later, she had entered >Nicole Cliffe< into the subject line and stabbed the enter key with a long-nailed index finger. “You know what? You were right. This is fun! So what do I want?”

“Boobs?”

“I totally want bigger boobs. Maybe not Carla-sized boobs, but a solid C-cup would be nice.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Niki, can you let Carla have a bigger rack?”

She hummed and gave it some thought before agreeing and backspacing over >subject has firm, teardrop-shaped C-cup breasts that sit high on her chest and look awesome.< “No, I can’t. My back is going to hate me for this, but double D’s coming right up.”

“Why not Fs?”

“Because F stands for freaking huge?”

“But Nicole, you love freaking huge.”

Niki gasped and squirmed. “Stop it! You’re making me fucking wet!” she whined as she selected Double D with the mouse and her finger hovered over the F key for several seconds as she pondered. “Yeah, but I still need to be able to get around, you know.”

“How about you add, ‘Subject’s breasts never impede her movement or hurt her back?’”

“Oooh! I like that!” she tapped the F key and began typing madly. >subject has firm, teardrop-shaped F-cup breasts that sit high on her chest and look<

Her lips pursed and she stared at the screen. “Should I write awesome or amazing?”

“At that size I don’t think you’ll need either. It’s implied.”

“Right. At that size, they should be saggy pieces of shit, and I don’t want that. I want them to look perfect!”

“Then write perfect.”

“What if perfect doesn’t work? What if I need a number or something? I mean what makes a breast perfect anyway?”

“Make ’em what I think are perfect.”

“Why you?”

“Because I’ve been ogling boobs longer than you have.”

“Bullshit! I’ve been curious about big boobs forever!”

I almost spoiled things by bursting out laughing. Instead, I assured her that, “Nicole, you trust my taste in boobs.”

“Marty! Fuck! Stop that!” she blurted after an unintentional rapid breath and a moan. “You scored with Stephie’s torpedoes, but…. OK.

“Proofread,” she demanded after a few more second’s furious typing.

>subject has firm, teardrop shaped F-cup breasts that sit high on her chest and meet Martin Kenner’s ideal of perfection, but never get stretch marks, impede subject’s movement, or hurt her in any way.<

“Sounds good. Try it— Whoa girl! You’ll want to take your top off first. It’ll hurt like a son of a bitch when they get bigger in that shirt. Not to mention the bra.”

“Like I’m going to strip around my Ex,” she said leaning forward and running her hands up the back of her shirt. “You had your chance to see them, Martin, and you blew it.”

I watched as she fidgeted, an intense look on her face as she fought, but with an orgiastic “Yes!” she slipped free and whipped her bra out from under her tee.

“How the hell did you do that?” I asked.

She sniffed and shot me a gaze I bet she thought looked mysterious as she dropped her modestly decorative white bra in my lap. “That’s my secret. OK!” She reached out and pressed enter on the keyboard.

I examined her bra, trying to figure out how she got her arms free, while the computer whirred and clicked, but before I really got anywhere, it spat up an error message.

>Logically inconsistent input,< said Master PC. >Aborting.<

“Oh great. You broke it,” whined Niki, backhanding me across the chest as the program exited and dumped us back to the desktop. “Dammit! I didn’t even finish with Carla!”

“Just click the icon and start it up again.”

“What icon? Jesus, your computer’s a mess.”

I touched the screen, softly so I wouldn’t crack the LCD panel, beside the icon. “This one.”

“The one above your finger?”

“The one to the left.”

In her haste, Niki overshot the icon a few times before centering the mouse pointer and clicking. “This better work.”

The now-familiar start-up screen with the genie loaded and Niki read the splash panel as the widgets loaded in the background.

“I am the master, huh?”

“Yup. Fun, huh?”

“You bet your ass it is,” she said, typing her name into the subject bar.

“Alright, let’s just test the theory and start with something simple,” I said. “Try ‘breasts that I think are perfect’ and we’ll go from there.

Niki typed, >subject has breasts that meet Martin Kenner’s ideal of perfection< and hit enter.

“Not quite what I meant, but—”

“Oh!” she blurted, leaning back to pull her top tight on her tits. She squirmed in her seat, “Oh god!”

“They growing?”

“Yes! Growing. And they feel so good! Oh god! Fuck! You like them sensitive!” She fell forward with a cry of, “Uhnhuah!” and shuddered softly. With her hunched forward, I couldn’t see much breast, just a bit of sideboob swelling out, straining against the cotton of her shirt.

“Uh huh hoo-oo-oo-oo,” she moaned, her face red. Her eyes drifted shut as she rocked in her seat, trying to sooth an empty pussy by grinding her legs together.

Watching Niki so close to cumming, but not managing to push herself over the finish line was fun, but I wanted to see more than her back, so I watched on the screen. Taking control of the mouse, I repositioned the camera on her breasts to get in on the action. I saw the neckline tear before I heard it. The cup size display slowly ticked its way up as Niki’s grunting and gasping became more ecstatic. Using the advance warning from Master PC’s 3D view, I looked at Niki as she reared back, slamming a pair of high profile, rounded wonders into what remained of her shirt. Even with the intervening cotton, I saw everything and it looked good!

Niki looked down at her bulging boobs, grabbed at them, and said, “Big. Love big tits!” then she bucked and her eyes went wide. Her fingers dug into the billowing masses of breast, and her scream almost triggered my own orgasm. She fell back, her head swinging on her neck, hair swaying back and forth, and she wore the most amazing look on her face. She actually looked happy for once, blasted out of her mind on pleasure with her tongue hanging out of her mouth. Her jeans looked like she’d wet herself, and she shuddered softly, little squeaks bubbling out through her lips as she panted.

I waited a long while as she relaxed.

“Well son of a bitch,” I said, pointing at her stats when her face cleared and her eyes stopped blinking rapidly. “Looks like I think you look perfect with double-D cups.”

“Big double D-cups,” she gasped. “I want them bigger.”

“Niki, you love them.”

“Like hell I do,” she snapped. It was a breathy, passion-soaked snap, but still an angry bark.

Shit. I needed to tell Nicole, not Niki, things if I wanted them to take. Having a pet name would be helpful to keep from accidentally programming her, but I still needed to watch myself. Bucking up, I tried again.

“Nicole, you think they look beautiful.”

At the sound of her name, her nipples jumped out, somehow managing to dent her tighter-than-tight, torn tee shirt.

“Yeah, but they could be bigger. And will you stop telling me what I think? It’s annoying.

“I have to get this shirt off,” she said, squirming. “My boobs are too sensitive, I’m going to cum again. Every time I move, they get squeezed and boom! What’s the point of having big boobs if I can’t show them off in tight clothes without cumming constantly? Fuck! You and your sick tit fetish. Jesus! Perfect tits, my ass!”

She grabbed the bottom of her shirt and lifted, but then moaned and wriggled, her hands dropping to her sides as her head twisted back and forth uncontrollably. “Oh! Oh fuck. Too much!”

“Uhm, Niki? Use the program to turn them down a little.”

“Are you high? God! I love this, but….” She typed furiously, taking very small breaths, and eventually managed, >subjects’s boobs need to be played with by a person in order to turn her on or get her off.<

“There! Now I can still play with them and wear clothes.” She stood and posed, her fabulous new boobs curving her torn tee shirt in ways I couldn’t help but love. “Damn I look good.”

I had to agree, and I’d been right. Giving Niki a small nudge and letting her run with it was much better than just typing >Nicole will become a super-slut.<

She winked. “Got a mirror?”

“Not really.”

“Get one. A big one. I want to see myself live.”

Where the hell am I going to get a mirror from, I wondered. “Slip across the hall to the bathroom? No one’s home.”

“Duh! Just magic one up!”

“How do you name a mirror?”

“How about you switch the subject to you and write ‘Subject has a big fucking mirror on the inside of his door?’”

“Alright.” I typed my name into the subject bar, put in my password and—

“Whoa. What the hell?” Niki glared at me. “A password? We are so totally putting one on my account. You better not have—”

“Nicole, you know I would never use this program on you without permission,” I rattled off as fast as I could, kicking myself mentally for not having done it sooner. When she looked partially placated, I typed >Subject has a mirror completely covering the in side of his bedroom door.< I didn’t want to linger on my own profile for long.

Her hands on my shoulders, Niki let her boobs rest on my head. “Penis Length Erect: 6.2 inches. You’re kidding me.” Soft tit rolled down the side of my face as she leaned forward for what I though was a closer look. Then she grabbed the mouse and swept the slider over. Instantly the 3D me sported a boner long enough for me to suck off without bending over.

“Hey!” I grabbed her arm and pushed her hand away from the send button.

“Hey yourself!” Her boobs pressed into the sides of my head as she pulled back. “Are you stupid? The thing’s three feet long and still like an inch thick. It looks fucking stupid. I was aiming for something more like nine or ten inches. Jeeze. Stop being such a pussy.”

“I like it the way it is.”

“I don’t. Come on, you can look like anything you want, and what guy wouldn’t want a few more inches?”

“Maybe me?”

“Wuss,” she proclaimed, trying to force the mouse in the direction of penis thickness. “Look at me with super boobs— Ha!”

“What?”

“Hypocrite! Ejaculation volume: Maxed. Sexual endurance: Maxed. ‘Oh, I didn’t change a thing, Niki. Nope Not a thing. I’m a virgin, baby.’”

Busted. OK she had me, but so what? Steph and I had a bitch of a time when we made out the first few times. Hell, it took us close to a year to go all the way after we first tried because I didn’t fit, and we were too scared we’d break something. Sure, we knew it was supposed to hurt the first time, but I couldn’t even get it in place before she’d be in tears. For months, we figured something was wrong, so finally, we snuck in to see a doctor. It turned out that she just had a more-solid-than-normal hymen and a low pain threshold, but still, she was tight!

“So you get to enjoy her big boobs and what does she get in return? She doesn’t even get dick! You’re a greedy bastard, Marty.”

Right around that time, I really started considering the fact that with Master PC I could have both Steph and Nicole. I could marry Steph as planned and keep Niki around as a sort of concubine. Hell, I could bring Steph into the game without any trouble at all. A bisexual wife, how cool would that be? A bisexual wife who really could take, and enjoy, ten inches of cock and a mistress with tits that made spectacular pillows.

Life could be worse, I thought, but first, “Let go of the mouse, please.”

“No,” she breathed. “You get to see me with huge tits; I get to see you with a big dick.”

“Nicole, you need to relax and let go of the mouse.”

“You’ll have to let go of my hand first, sport.”

At first, I was confused by her refusal of the command, but it wasn’t outright rejection. I did have to let go of her first. Trusting her programming, I lifted my hand enough for her to slip hers out and she did, after sliding the mouse pointer back down to the penis control box as a sort of subtle hint. I slid the slider back down to a reasonable length and she raised an eyebrow.

“Not 6.2 inches?”

“I think I can find a way to make seven-and-a-half fit.”

“Make it thicker. Stephie’ll thank you.”

“Steph’s exactly why I didn’t go nuts on size,” I said, making some non-subtle adjustments to the girth. “Stop giggling. No pun intended. She’s not all that big a girl.”

“You’re kidding.” Her boobs pressed into my back as she whispered in my ear, “I want at least nine inches. I want so much that it won’t all fit. I want it to hurt a little when you fuck me.”

“We aren’t—” I insisted, lying.

“Yes we are. You show me a program that can give me the body I’ve always wanted. You keep calling me Nicole when you know what that does to me. For Pete’s sake, you invite me into your room! You’ve got to be after sex! I’ll give it to you… if you give me a bigger cock.”

“You don’t have a cock.”

“Dumbass.” She walked around me, kicking her chair out of the way, and slipped onto my lap. “What’ll it take?”

“I’m not some horny loser for you to seduce, Niki. I already get it regularly from my girlfriend.”

“Not regularly enough, Marty. You’re hard as a rock, and according to the program, you can fuck for hours. I want a piece of that. I can feel you through your pants and my jeans. You could cut class with that thing it’s so hard. You’re going to need me to fill in the gaps between nights with Stephie.”

“Nicole….”

Her quavering moan cut me off, and the feeling of her rigid nipples poking into my chest derailed the thought before I could get back to it. Her ass began to move in my lap, wriggling and forcing my legs apart. I didn’t do much to keep them closed.

“Ever since my tits grew I’ve felt… different. Good, but different. Big tits make a girl slutty, right?” she asked.

It took me a bit aback, but in this case, she made sense. For me, the perfect tits were big and firm, but not so firm that they didn’t look like they had weight. They had to be jiggly and very sensitive. The girl wearing them had to love showing them off clothed and otherwise, love having them played with, and love using them to get guys hard.

“Yeah,” I said after putting together the logical connections. Since she now had my taste in women, that she had come to the same conclusion was no surprise. “I bet it’s the tits.”

“Perfect tits, huh?” she said grinding her groin into mine. “Make for a perfect slut, but they are your perfect tits, so I’m your perfect slut. I’ve made you so hard! Come on, Marty! Stephie doesn’t have to know. Hell, let her know. I’ll pull her into bed with us and we can fuck her until she can’t think of anything, let alone why she had problems with us playing around.”

“Nicole, get off—”

This time a tongue in my mouth silenced me. Perfect tits crushed against my chest. Her legs wrapped around me and the metal post holding the back of the chair up and her palms clamped on the sides of my head as she feasted on my lips. I wrapped my arms around her more to stay in my seat than anything else, but after a few seconds, I tightened the grip and kissed back. Yeah, I had Niki and I actually wanted her, at least sexually, so why not? We made out in the seat for a while. A long while. I know this because it must have taken at least five minutes to fight her top up over her perfect, super-sensitive, super-slutty tits. A few minutes after that, we migrated to the bed and rolled around for a few more minutes kinda pawing at each other.

Then her phone rang, or rather started playing 99 Red Balloons. “Sorry,” she said, giggling. She giggled and fumbled in her pocket, standing up before she finally managed to snap it open and answer. “Hay-lo! It’s Nicole.”

I adjusted my pants to make room for the extra inch of erection I sported. Niki hadn’t been kidding, I was hard as a rock. Steph was getting totally porno-fucked tonight.

“Carla!” Niki squealed.

“Get over here!” she oozed after a brief pause. “You have got to see this!”

“What are you doing?” I whispered back.

She waved me off and got up, still talking. “Here is Martin’s place. Yeah! Martin! From high school. Yeah! I’m taking classes with him at the college. No! Yes. No. Things are OK now.”

She sat down on the computer chair, spun it around, and began to type one handed, occasionally fitting in a, “Yeah” or “uh huh.”

I sat up on the bed and took a look at what Niki had written. >Subject is extremely curious and wants to see what Niki is up to. Subject will begin to fondly remember Martin Kenner and have erotic fantasies of passionate lovemaking with him as she drives over. By the time she arrives, she will be extremely horny. Subject will love Nicole Cliffe’s new look and find herself extremely sexually aroused by her friend.<

Niki covered the mouthpiece and whispered, “I wanna try out that whole bisexuality thing.

“What? No way!” Niki blurted. “Oh yeah, sure! It’ll be like old times. Yeah. Real old times.”

She hit enter, cementing the Master PC instructions as reality, and then tab until the subject bar was highlighted and then typed, >Marcy Decker<

I barely remembered Marcy as a mousy brunette who consistently wrecked the grade curve. Judging by the image on my monitor, she’d gotten contacts since I last saw her and ditched most of the Velma look along with about thirty pounds. I’d probably do her, but not with Niki or Steph around. Or Carla.

“What were you doing at the hospital, anyway? No shit! You passed out while dancing?”

>Subject’s tits will become Nicole Cliffe’s idea of perfect when she steps through Martin Kenner’s bedroom door.<

“Duh! You’re a babe, Carla. Of course guys stare at you funny.”

>Subject will become very horny whenever she sees people staring at her big new tits.<

“Should I make her taller?” Niki asked quietly. “No, Carla, just wondering. You sure you’re OK? Doctor didn’t find anything wrong? Cool.”

What was she trying to do? Completely remake Marcy? Staring at Nicole, I missed a rapid-fire burst of typing. Marcy’s remaining Velma vanished. I’d missed whatever command Niki’d typed, but it was a good one. Marcy’s sweater tightened on her body, revealing every stunning curve, and her skirt shrunk, climbing up her legs to the top of her thighs leaving a hint of lacy panty on display. Marcy looked like she partook in the Hollywood diet—slender where it was important and curved marvellously everywhere else. She had an ass to die for, and if I didn’t know she was short, I wouldn’t have been able to tell from her proportions.

The spinning model looked down at herself, then up and around in shock. Her hair lightened and grew to her shoulders becoming a light blonde sheet before pulling to the side and becoming supernaturally puffy, thick pigtails. Her full bangs highlighted large, piercing green eyes. Eyes wide with shock.

I heard the startled squawk through Niki’s cell.

“What’s wrong with Marcy, Carla? What? Oh come on! Clothes don’t just suddenly change themselves!”

>Everyone except Martin Kenner and Nicole Cliffe will forget the old subject and remember the new Marci, a girl so slutty that she can’t say no.<

“I never liked Marcy,” Niki explained. “Too full of herself.” She raised her voice and spoke into the phone. “Yeah! Come on over! Both of you!”

“What did you do to her?” I asked. “I missed the one before the hair.”

“Something about religiously exercising to look as hot as possible and dressing like a slut.” She moved her thumb off the Cell’s mic and continued. “No. Marty keeps interrupting. Yeah! Both of you come on over! Just a sec. Marty again.”

She turned toward me again, but first she finished her next command, >Subject is happiest when coated with the cum of more than one guy. No matter how she feels after, she cannot resist even the most debasing sex acts.<

“And you’re turning her into a porn star? Looking that cute, she could give Jessica Alba a run for her money in Hollywood! Why?”

“What part of ‘I never liked her’ didn’t you understand? I was going for stripper, but who do you prefer: Marcy the student nurse or Marci the student porn star?”

“Are you crazy? We need nurses way more than we need porn!”

“Wuss.” She smiled sweetly as she typed, >Subject will finish her schooling and then keep her day job while working on her porn career and fucking for money after hours.< “That better?”

“Not much.”

“How about now?” she asked, pointing at, >Once she sees it, subject will instantly come to crave Martin Kenner’s cock and need to feel it thrusting in and out of all her orifices.< “Is this better?” she asked, still banging away at the keys. >No cock is too big for subject….<

Man! Was it! I’d really scored. Not only had she become a horny slut, but Niki was recruiting for me. I actually needed to tone her down a bit before I wound up with more girls after me than I could hope to restore to normal. I mean Nicole was one thing, but….

>Subject will become bi-curious when she watches Carla and Niki making out the first time and want to join in. Afterward she will lust for a woman’s touch just as much as for a man’s.<

But, based on what I’d just read off the screen, it looked like Nicole was in the mood to take care of the girls for me. Definitely a great reason to keep her around. Marci I needed to fix up before she became a hooker or something, but I was torn over Carla’s new rack. Wow!

I pulled her back onto the bed with me while we waited for the others to arrive, but her enthusiastic necking didn’t last long before she had me worked up enough to suggest, “Hey, Nicole, you love to give head… don’t you?”

I hadn’t forgotten about Stephanie, but Christ, give me a break here! I needed to distract Niki with something until the other girls got here, and my balls were about to explode. It’s not like I was going to fuck Nicole or anything stupid like that. Hot or not, she was still a bitch, and my life didn’t need that kind of complication.

When the door opened, there stood Carla with Marci at her side. The shorter girl giggled and waved, but Carla looked at me with such absolute hunger that I swear if we were alone, the door would have slammed shut and clothes wouldn’t even have been fully removed before the sex started.

“Uhm. Oooh. Hiiiii Martin.” Round, firm breasts jutted into her jacket, conveniently not fully done up so it could show off the marvels contained therein. Or more likely the jacket was not done up because, with her enhanced endowments overflowing her blouse, it simply couldn’t be.

“Uh. Hi,” I answered, my dick stiffening simply from her expression as I looked up into her eyes. I’d forgotten just how tall she really was. I’m not short, but she had me beat by at least an inch. Considering the state Niki had left me in, I didn’t think it was possible, but Carla’s twinkling eyes and lusty smile found another couple pints of blood I hadn’t been using and jammed them into the ten throbbing inches between my legs.

Well, OK. Her tits had a lot to do with it, too. They were large, round and capped with a pair of swollen nipples that had a dictionary unto themselves. A short dictionary to be sure, and comprised almost entirely of variants of “fuck” and “me,” but it sure used a lot of exclamation marks. She pulled the jacket’s zipper down absently and her shoulders rolled back to allow the jacket to drop off the second the zipper got out of the way.

I think Marcy elbowing her way between me and Carla saved my eyes from popping out of my skull when Carla half-stretched and her marvellous boobs lifted up and out of the jacket’s cup-like support.

“OK. He’s cute,” said the short blonde nearly blocking my view of heaven. Marcy was almost unrecognizable as Marci, but the change was really for the better. Curvaceous in a way both Carla and Niki were too slim for, her low-necked blouse and mini skirt hugged her like a lover and showed her off like a proud artist. “I can almost forgive you for driving like an idiot. Now get inside before you start stripping.”

Dainty fingers let go of the zipper pull and fell away to Carla’s side. She breathed out a soft sigh, then, “I’m not—” she said, her glassy, wide eyes not leaving my face for an instant.

“Yes you are. You look like you’re in heat, and remember: He’s taken.” Marci swept her eyes down my body as though wondering what things would be like without Steph. Or was she thinking Niki? “You’re looking a lot better than I remember, Marty. I… Oh wow. You’re forgiven, Carla.”

Her bulging eyes locked on my crotch, and she licked her lips. “Totally worth the rush.”

“He’s taken,” taunted Carla.

“I can dream.”

I led the girls inside before Marci’s prediction came true, but with two partly naked girls instead of one. Behind me the girls giggled and whispered at one another, Carla bending over quite a bit to talk until Marci bumped into her by shooting up almost half a foot. Both looked confused for a moment, but their horny, dreamy expressions returned quickly.

“Uh, you can leave the heels on, Marci,” I said, pinpointing the source of her sudden extreme growth. “They look hot.”

Her eyes smouldered on the other side of her contacts. “Thank you,” she said, curtseying. It didn’t really work with her miniskirt, but it showed off a pair of blue, silk and lace panties. On second thought, it worked perfectly.

“Marci!” chirped Carla. “He’s taken, remember?”

“So? He can still look,” the small girl said with a shrug. “I don’t dress like this because I want to be ignored. Quite the opposite.”

“Come on,” I said, leading the two primed-and-ready sex bombs toward my bedroom. The sooner I got them into my room, the better because they were going to explode soon. At the time, I knew that I was going to do the two of them and Niki and flirted with the idea of using Master PC to ensure that Steph wouldn’t mind. Hell, we’d joked about threesomes while watching a couple porn films, so why not give Steph a hand and make her feel comfortable with participating?

“Hey Nicole, I—” said Carla as she stepped into my room. She froze and sucked in a breath, staring at her best friend. She shook her head to clear it and looked away, but couldn’t help herself. Her blush deepened. I watched the pulse in her long neck begin to hammer away. If she was a guy, the boner would have ripped open her pants.

“Niki! Your tits!” she finally stammered.

“Great aren’t they?” Topless, Niki sat at my command chair. She finished with whatever she’d been typing and leaned back. I wondered what she’d been up to, but only for a moment. When she squared her shoulders to pull her big new breasts up higher on her chest and smiled with her thicker, poutier lips, I lost interest in trying to read the computer screen. If it was anything like what she’d done with Marci’s shoes, I was all for it.

Niki looked at us through half-lidded, languorous eyes and licked her lips. Midnight black hair framed a face so astonishingly beautiful that I almost fell in love with her again, bitchy attitude and all. In utter lust for the perfect babe, I probably appeared just as stunned as Carla. Niki noticed. She looked me in the eyes and smiled the hottest, sexiest smirk I’d ever seen. My huge, aching boner threatened to rip open my pants. What can I say? Unlike Carla, I am a guy!

I glanced back at her, and the dancer visibly shook with lust. At the door Carla had been horny; after one look at Niki, she looked about to orgasm. Her tall body quaked as I looked down on her blonde head, mouth opening and closing as she tried to gasp and talk at the same time.

“How? Surgery? No. Yesterday you…. How?”

“Move it, Carla! I want to see!” whined Marci, shoving her tall friend to one side.

“Whoa!” shouted Marci. She took one look, gawked, and then stepped closer to get a better one, crossing the invisible plane of the doorframe. Her tits erupted forward, tearing her skimpy top open and out of the way. With a snap, the ruin of her immodest and small push-up bra dropped to the floor in a lacy crumple a few feet from her super tall high heels. “Oh my fucking god!”

“Marci!” blurted Carla, shocked out of Niki-lust for a moment.

“I’ve got boobs!” Marci said, her breasts still growing, but at a slower pace. “How?” The tiny, slutty girl with the mammoth chest went from staring down at her enormous rack to looking up and around so fast that her titanic titties bounced, and that simple motion seemed to set off something elemental in the girl. Her head snapped back and her back arched, shoving vast expanses of hooters up and out. “Uhn! Oh yeah!”

Her transformation had captured the attention of the entire room, and well aware of the eyes fixed on her pillows, her body responded by deepening its colouring. Her nipples reddened and extended as her accelerating breath rate jiggled her firm melons.

“Oh god,” she said, her eyes glazing over completely. Without thinking, she raised her skirt, slipped a hand beneath her panties, and began to stroke herself though her panties. No longer needed, her other fingers squeezed a nipple. “Fuck!” she blurted and fell back against the doorframe.

Mathematically, Marci wasn’t that well endowed, but when you take a pair of breasts the size of Carla’s or Niki’s and put them on a body about half the size, the results are stunning. Marci’s carefully manicured hands roamed over her chest as she gleefully explored.

“You girls have to see this,” said Niki, grinning ear to ear.

“That’s impossible!” said Carla. “How? She’s….”

“Marty found this neat computer program and we’ve been playing with it all afternoon.”

“You did that? You can’t…. They don’t….”

“They did. I did,” Niki admitted, typing >Subject’s fears will lessen and allow her sexual desires overwhelm her inhibitions.<

“I…. If somebody made my boobs any bigger I’d kill them, so don’t you….” Carla gawked at herself spinning on the monitor then looked down at her full set. “You already did, didn’t you?”

Niki smiled her sexy, evil smile and nodded.

“And that’s why people have been staring at me all afternoon, right?”

“Oh come on!” laughed Niki. “As if you don’t all ready get more than your fair share because of your legs.”

“Niki you know I love you—”

“—Just you wait—”

“—but ask next time. What do you mean, ‘Just wait?’” Horror sunk its talons into Carla’s face again. “You better not have….”

“Relax. I just touched up your boobs a little.”

“A little?” she squeaked. “How can I dance with these? Never mind exhaustion, I probably passed out after taking a shot to the head from one of these monsters!”

“They’re only D-cups, Carla,” said Niki, typing one handed. “Mine are bigger. Marci’s are bigger and she’s, like, half your size.”

“That’s not the puh— Don’t you dare finish typing tha—” Carla blinked, shook her head, and smiled. She cupped her rounded melons through her taut top and her eyes closed. Her tongue slipped partway out and she cooed with pleasure as her thumbs found her super sensitive nipples. “OoOoo yeah. Niki, please. Could you, you know, make them bigger…?”

I didn’t see what Niki had typed, but I had a pretty good idea. So did Marci, but her brains were pretty badly scrambled by shock and lust, so she didn’t quite grasp the full import. Still, she watched, so stunned by the exchange that she’d stopped feeling herself up.

Niki just asked, “How much bigger?”

“I dunno,” Carla replied, leaning closer and allowing her heavy chest to dangle. “Big like yours? Hey, just move that bar all the way to the right and see what happens.”

Ginning, Niki took Carla’s accidental invitation and copped a quick feel of her best friend’s rack.

“Ohmigod!” groaned Carla as Niki stood up from her chair, and pulled her friend’s jacket zipper the rest of the way down while pinching a nipple. Carla twisted, trying to move back, away from her suddenly scary friend, while at the same time jamming herself into the probing fingers. Her jacket fell open and her braless boobs relaxed slightly, still held in place by a blouse designed to contain an A-cup.

Niki smiled, gripped the front of the dancer’s blouse, and tugged, ripping it open to let the compressed contents explode outward and bounce as they succumbed to gravity. Carla froze in desire-tainted shock as Niki’s pink tongue extended and lapped up until stopped by a large, pebbly nipple. It proceeded to orbit the fleshy thimble and Carla melted.

“Whoa,” said Marci as her two high school friends entwined and toppled onto the bed.

We watched for a while, Marci and me, before she bent over and then stepped out of her sopping pink panties. “You sure you’re taken?”

“Yeah, but Steph’ll never find out.”

Half an hour later, Marci’s back was tired of the floor and the bed was still in use, so she sat on my lap and used slight motions of her tight little body to pump her stuffed pussy full of more cock than should have been physically possible. The stunned look of glee on her face flashed me back to the old Marcy and the wonderment that crossed her face in school when she learned something new.

“Gawd. Oh Gawd. Watching those two going at it makes me so horny. Fuck me! Fuck me harder!”

I stood, lifting her impaled body with me, and put her on the edge of my desk. The height was almost perfect. With every thrust, I lifted her and gravity pulled her down, plunging me still deeper into her warm body.

“Ye-ee-ee-ah!” she moaned. Her legs tightened behind me, her fingers locked behind my head, her gigantic boobs jiggled against my ribs, and she kissed frantically at my chest until her head dropped back and her panting became squeals of pleasure. I shot off inside her almost the instant her pussy began to squeeze on its own, and Marci gurgled, shocked that I’d cum first for a change. Surprise didn’t delay her orgasm long; less than a minute later, she screeched, bucked against me, and then collapsed, still begging for more.

Me, I can fuck all day and night if I want to. 100% sexual endurance doesn’t keep me from cumming or really do much for me other than keep me at the ready, but the ladies love it.

With her still wrapped around me, and my throbbing sword hilted in her, I tapped at the keyboard, restoring her energy, heightening her libido, and giving her another gift.

Slowly her eyes opened and her hips softly undulated. “That was fun. Wannit up my ass an’ then I’ll lick it clean!”

How about this,” I asked, sort of grossed out. Lick it clean? Yuck! Instead, I thrust hard and she instantly clenched, nails digging into my shoulders and heels pressing into my spine.

“Oooooh! Yes! Feels so much better this time. What did you ch-change?”

“Oh nothing much,” I said, pumping into her as fast and hard as I could. “I just made sure you could enjoy this to its fullest.”

“Fullest,” she panted. “Full. Full. Full.”

I couldn’t keep up my pace for long, but I didn’t have to. Marci’s body took over, bashing and slamming into me faster and faster, her sweet cries rising in pitch and volume. When Marci began to convulse and howl her pleasure, she attracted the attention of the duo on the bed. I heard Niki and Carla giggling and cheering behind us.

Finally, Marci’s shrieking wail died out, and she slumped into me gasping for breath. Her legs unwrapped and she wavered until I held her limp body to keep it from falling off the desk.

“Marci,” said Carla, her voice a promise of eternal pleasure, “Stop hogging all the cock. I want him to do that to me, too.”

“Yeah,” said Niki holding a glass counter for card games in one hand and typing with the other, “And wake the fuck up. I haven’t tried you out yet.”

As the counter grew and reformed into a transparent blue glass dildo, Niki waved it in front of the semiconscious girl’s heavy-lidded eyes. Eyes that widened with the lengthening of the sex toy as it drew her in.

“You know you want to try me out. You’re such a slut you’ll fuck anything, right?”

The short blonde looked hypnotized by the swinging, flashing glass rod. She glanced at me, gulped, then looked at Niki and nodded. Niki walked backwards to the bed, holding the dildo out and using it to wave Marci closer. Somehow, the short blonde found the strength to rise and follow, after I lifted her tiny, shivering frame off of my engorged cock.

Carla grabbed my shaft and turned me around. “My turn. D’you do the same thing to it that you did with my boobs?”

“Nah. I just made it an inch bigger.”

“An inch?” she said, her jaw dropping. “Why bother? You must have already been hung like a horse!”

“It’s OK, I guess,” I said. Niki wants it bigger, though.”

“Ha! She would!” Carla dropped to her knees and swallowed the better part of my Marci-and-Marty-juice coated cock. She bobbed her head for a few seconds, about half a minute, and then pulled off.

“It’s not getting soft, is it?”

“Nope.”

“Is it going to?”

“Not before we’re done.”

“Then why am I wasting my time? Sit,” said Carla, stepping over top of me, facing away, and spreading her pussy for easy entry as she lowered herself. It took her a couple tries and some help from me to line everything up, but after that…. Woo-ee! Stephie had love, Marci enthusiasm, but Carla had muscular control that was both unbelievable and undeniable. The way she moved seemed calculated to enhance both our pleasure and she didn’t stop moving.

“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” I grunted.

“Duh!” she gasped back. “You feel anything ss-snap on your way in?”

“Oh. Sorry. I meant you’re g-good at this.”

“Nuh. Just being really careful. You feel like a rolling pin in there.”

“Oh.” Her hips swivelled around and robbed me of my breath before I could continue. It was a while before I hazarded, “We can fix that, you know?”

She stopped instantly. “We can, can’t we?” Turning her upper body, she looked down into my eyes and asked, “How?”

I took a few more seconds to marshal my thoughts and then pointed at the subject bar. “Type your name here and then type what you want to happen here.”

She did, typing in her name and then, >I can take all of <

“Call yourself subject. The program already knows who you are.”

“OK,” she said, holding down the backspace key and restarting. >Subject can take all of Marty< she backspaced some more >Martin< “Do I need your full name? What is your last name, anyway?

“Kenner,” I replied, “and yeah, it’s best if you are as explicit as possible.”

>Subject can take all of Martin Kenner’s penis in her vagina without pain.<

“That’s pretty dull,” I said. “Why not make it feel better?”

“You type,” she said, throwing up her hands in disgust. “I suck at computers.”

>Martin Kenner’s cock fits perfectly in the Subject’s pussy, filling her completely on every deep stroke and bringing with it enormous sexual pleasure,< I wrote, wiping out everything Carla had typed. “How does that sound? That’s sort of what I did with Marci.”

“And I loved watching what you did with her.” She nodded. “Hit it.”

I pressed enter, and some of the exquisite tightness on my shaft vanished. It was worth it as Carla cooed and sank down to take the load off her legs and the two or so inches of my dick I hadn’t even noticed she’d been missing. Her pussy rippled around me and I swear her heart rate doubled. Taking advantage of my greater height putting us both at about face level, I kissed her on the lips.

“That feels real nice,” she moaned. “Even without any— Fuck!” She had twisted her hips a little and that simple motion sent a storm of shudders through her whole body. Then she really started moving, and her vocabulary dropped to throaty gasps of, “Uh! Uh! Uh!”

Just like that, Carla became a sex dynamo and lost all of her self-control. All of the cool things she did with her body vanished, and she just fucked me like a rutting animal. Her perfect legs worked in overdrive slamming her up and down like a machine. Don’t get me wrong, fucking a nearly mindless hot babe is great fun, but I already had Marci for that. I liked Carla’s measured, slow approach.

So, reaching around her bouncing, bobbing body, and hastily typed, >No matter how worked up the subject gets, she can always control herself.<

And absolutely nothing happened. At first, I thought I’d made a typo, but I checked the command over and everything looked good. I’d done something else wrong, but I had no idea what.

“Come on Carla,” I groaned, my balls burning and about to spill. “Slow down.”

“Uh! D-don’t wanna. Fuh-fuck me! Feels so good. So good!”

Well, she could talk again, so it was an improvement. A decent one at that. Her pleas and running commentary almost made up for her haste. I think her naturally breathy voice more than anything else is what brought me off.

“Omigod! O-oo-oomigod! You’re cumming in me!” She bucked frantically trying to get herself off before I softened too much. Not that I was going to go limp until I was good and ready. “I’m filling up. Cum. So full!”

Her hands on my knees as I slouched in my chair, she leaned forward and her legs pistonned. “More cum! More! Come on! Uh! oh god! Uh! Uh!”

“Fuh-ccc-cumming!” she screeched, tossing her body back into mine. I think she talked herself into the orgasm. Carla had seriously strong legs and she used them bouncing up and down like a jackhammer. She was almost as loud as one, too, barking her pleasure in shrill, barely coherent screams.

Finally, she quieted down, her pounding slowing to a steady roll of her hips. “Good,” she sighed, relaxing. “So good. Soooo gooood.”

“Was it?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Think you can stand up?”

With a slurp as my cock pulled out of her, she tried, but the friction overwhelmed her and she gave up, shoving me back into her and humping almost immediately, “Oh. Oh. Fuck. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

The jackhammer started up again. Dammit! “You’re supposed to be able to control yourself, Carla.”

“Don’t wanna,” she barked.

And there it was. She could control herself, but she had absolutely no desire to. I had her so horny that she wouldn’t help herself. I’d have to fix that. “Well, I want to press you against the mirror on my door and fuck you standing.”

“Oh-aaah. Yes! Fuck me! Fuck me more!” She sounded interested, but all she did was pump herself on my dick faster and harder.

So I pulled the chair closer to the computer and typed, >subject will control herself so she can slowly fuck. The longer subject engages in sex without cumming, the longer and more intense the orgasm. She will use every trick at her disposal to maximise the long-term pleasure of both herself and her partner.< That was easily the hardest thing I’d ever done. It’s not even remotely easy to type, let alone think, with a screaming blonde nympho jumping up and down on your cock, screaming, “Cum, Marty! Fill me again! Cum for me!”

She jerked, jolted, and yowled in frustration as the pleasure from her high impact quest for orgasm tailed off with a tap of the enter key.

“Mirror?” I suggested.

She nodded, sighing as she rose with excruciating slowness, her pussy back under control and pulling at my cock all the way up. She kissed my cheek and walked over to the door. Standing with her legs spread wide, she cast a coy glance over her shoulder and wiggled her hips. “Get over here, Martin. It’s not polite to keep a lady waiting.”

I stood as she looked at herself appraisingly. “Wait!” she said, pressing her hands against the mirror and gazing lustfully at my reflection. “Niki never finished with my boobs, Make ’em really big! I wanna watch them bounce as you fuck me.” She looked over her shoulder and added, “And make sure I can still dance with them.”

I obliged, dragging the breast slider far to the right before clicking send. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Carla and her reflection’s back bend under the increased weight of the immense orbs now jutting further and further from her chest. Her stunning ass stuck out to counterbalance, and I thought, Why not?

>Subject is becoming intensely interested in trying anal sex. Her butt can take any cock her pussy can handle, and she will find herself to be extremely anally orgasmic.<

“What are you waiting for?” she called. “What’d you just type?”

“Just making sure you can dance with those monsters.”

“As if!” She giggled and palmed one of her supersized tits hanging and swinging from her chest. She shuddered, her eyes went away for a few seconds, and then, “Wuh-worry about it later. Get over here and stick that thing in my ass. …Uh, I meant pussy.”

By the time I got there, she’d changed her mind again. One quick fix—vis-à-vis lubrication—and we were at it.

The choked voice asking, “Marty? How could you?” was the first hint that I’d fucked something up. Looking over my shoulder at Steph standing in the doorway was the second. In my rush to get Carla and Marci under cover before the orgy broke out, I’d left the front door unlocked. Not a good move because, around my house, that meant someone was home, and since Steph had basically been a part of the family for the past five years, she just walked in expecting to have someone to kill time with if I wasn’t around yet.

I had Carli’s (Carla just didn’t fit her anymore, and with just a little of Niki’s typing, Carli agreed) long legs up over my shoulders and her feet locked heel-and-ankle near the bottom of my of my back as I rode her hard and fast—possibly the worst position in the world for your girlfriend to walk in on. Sure the bedroom door had been closed, but with the kind of sounds we’d been making, I would have opened the door for a peek, myself. I couldn’t blame her for being curious.

The worst thing about the situation was I could have disarmed it by pushing a few buttons on a keyboard no more than four feet away. Tangled up in the legs of a dancer still unaware of the interruption, or too horny to care, I was trapped. Steph would cave my head in before I got loose.

I was on the bed with Carli, Niki sat in my desk chair, moaning and bucking into Marci’s face so vigorously it’s a wonder they hadn’t toppled. I looked imploringly over at Niki because she was a hell of a lot closer than I was, but she had the chair leaning so far back that she’d have fallen over without the grip she had on Marci’s head as the pixi-like girl ate her out. Niki was absolutely no use to anyone in her condition, shaking and shuddering and moaning being about the only things of which she was capable.

Marci would have been even less use, her attention split equally between licking Niki and pounding her shiny glass dildo in and out of her equally shiny bald pussy.

But together, the sight of the two bi-nymphos going at it slowed Stephanie down as my girlfriend stopped and stared. “Nicole? You crazy bitch! What the…! What the fuck is going on in here?”

Niki’s head swung around her shoulders and then up to look at the doorway. Her glazed eyes slowly focussed. “Relax, Stephie,” she said, giggling. “You know he’s just saving the best for last. We’ll do him… together!”

I don’t think Steph harboured any more illusions about whom Nicole perceived as the best, and ultimately the last, than I did. She took a step forward, her foot stomping down with all her might, and gasped. She shuddered and froze, her hair dropping in a soft, fluffy wave down to her ass with its red deepening the whole way until she appeared to be on fire.

I missed the hair thing first time, by the way, because I couldn’t take my eyes off her breasts. They didn’t grow or shrink a bit. Instead, they climbed up her chest, gaining the projection they had lost, if they ever had it at all, due to gravity’s effect on their already large size. Nipples, thicker and longer than ever before, sprung out as she quaked and repeatedly moaned, “Oh god!”

Standing in the doorway, her hands roamed up her stomach, pushing her tee shirt up as they went. Clutching at her shirt, she carelessly tore it in two, accidentally pulling it from her body to show off the hard and muscled upper torso of a fitness model rather than the slightly pudgy Steph of half a minute ago.

“What-what’s happening to me?” she whispered as Marci and Niki helped her out of her pants. “Stop that! What’s…? Oooooh!”

She stopped questioning as Marci put her tongue and the glass toy into play and Niki eased all three to the ground and out of sight, with the exception of the occasional head or limb popping up over the edge of the bed.

“OooooooooOOooooooOOooo!”

“Come on, Stephi! Relax.”

“Yeah! I can’t eat you properly if you’re going to keep thrashing like that!”

“PleasePleasePlease!StopPleaseStop!OhGod!Ohgaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”

So the big mistake was not leaving the door unlocked when I went to get Carla and Marcy, but in leaving Niki unattended with Master PC while I went to get the other girls. Anyway, it bought me time I could use to fix the slip-up and I had to admit, Stephi looked like my wildest fantasies brought to life.

Thank God for that password or I’d be seven feet tall with a foot-long dick and my wheels would be even more pimped out than my black Ferrari. I went back to plumbing the depths of Carli with my ever-ready ten-inch cock, because she was close to hand and looked like a wet-dream, knowing from their giggling that Niki and Marci (also wet-dreams) had my girlfriend well in hand.

Stephanie and I were both concerned at first, but once she got to know the other girls, Stephi loved the new arrangements—even if she rarely partook in the lesbian and orgy sides of things, preferring to watch. She liked them even more when we pooled together and bought the top floor of a condominium tower and set ourselves up. Steph and I took one, Niki and Carli in the second, and Marci claimed the third for herself because she put in most of the money.

I’ve just finished off my bachelor’s degree in political philosophy—it’s not like I have to get a real job, I just like keeping busy. Stephi’s working her way up the ladder as a business executive, having a great time raiding corporations and generally looking hot in a suit. Marci’s a registered Nurse, but she had to move on because her career left no time for her hobby. Carli’s touring the west coast with “Debbie Does Dallas: The Musical.” Niki switched her degree to fine arts and is, more or less, starting over with an eye to being a fashion designer.

We’ve tried to keep a low profile—even Niki understands the importance of not making too big a splash—just helping out friends where they needed it, having a little bit of fun now and then, and generally seeing to it that things stayed on the rosy side of life.

For example, last month I was the best man at Dale and Rosette’s wedding. Niki was a bitch about it at first because I slapped a password on both Dale and Rose as soon as I found out they had hooked up, but the chance to plan their wedding was just too much for a control freak to pass up. We compromised a little to ensure that the lovebirds would go the distance, or at least part amicably, and live up to some of Rosette’s unrealistic expectations. Dale would have gotten the short end of the stick, but I saw to it that the events Niki had planned for the bridal shower opened Rosette’s eyes and mind up a little more than Niki and I had agreed on.

Epilogue

“Omigod!” squealed Lindsay Henning. “You can’t believe how awesome it is to win American Idol on my eighteenth birthday! It’s been a long, hard road and I’d like to thank every one of you for voting for me by—Yeep!”

Lindsay’s eyes bulged and the hands she had clasped over her chest dropped away as she stared downward. Her vest parted, her blouse stretched, buttons buckled, and the video feed cut out.

Niki and I looked at one another. Then we burst out laughing.

“So that’s your idea of keeping a low profile?” asked Stephi.