The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

It’s time.

“This should have been our first story.”

Considering how poorly done our very first submission was, I’m glad it wasn’t.

“What was wrong with the debut of The Unbound Genie? I liked it.”

So did I, but…

“But?”

There was so much more we could’ve done in the opening chapters, and even the later ones are more focused on sex and weird transformations than anything else.

“We’ve had fun writing it, don’t be so critical... Still, you’re right, we’ve also improved since we started all of this nonsense.”

Not by much, granted. But yeah, I’d say that we’ve pretty much got the hang of things now.

“Damn skippy.”

Are you ready to finally get this shit-show started?

“You took the words right out of my mouth.”

Concept created by JR Parz.

“Execution perfected by William Pratt.”

Ladies, gentlemen, and everything in between… No disrespect.

“We present to the internet:”

Another goddamn Master PC tale.

“I can hear the critics already. I tApPeD oUt At ThE mUrDeR.”

… The what?!

“Enjoy, folks!”

February 14th — Sunday — 4:07 A.M. — Whittaker Apartments

In the dimly-lit living room of Lawrence’s small apartment, the only sounds that could be heard were that of fingers aggressively assaulting a keyboard and the maniacal, nasally giggling of an unfortunate-looking man in his early thirties.

“Yes.” Lawrence hissed to himself, running his slimy tongue along the bracers that lined his thick, crooked teeth. “Yesss.”

The only source of light in the room was coming from the laptop in front of him, obscuring the rest of his surroundings and allowing the pasty, acne-riddled man to focus on his primary objective.

Lawrence slammed his index finger down on the enter key; his greasy, balding dome glimmered in the light as he watched the list of commands populate on the screen over a high-resolution satellite image of the planet.

“Yesss! Haha!” He cheered, throwing both of his boney arms into the air as spit lightly sprayed from his mouth and trickled onto the screen.

“It’s all coming together now...” Lawrence said softly. “You’ll see… You’ll all see...” His breathing was getting heavier by the second. “You blind, ignorant fools... None of you are in control anymore, and you’re oblivious to the madness around you. Well, what happens when the foundation for your understanding of life comes crumbling down all around you? What happens when you find out the truth, and can’t do anything about it but suffer and watch as your existence is torn apart? What happens when you realize it’s all just one, big, stupid game to the people that pull our strings?!”

He ended up screaming in rage by the time his sentence was finished, then slammed his fist down on the small table in front of him, sending several empty cans of light beer tumbling to the ground from the impact.

“No more…” Lawrence took a deep breath, every fiber of his being trembling as an unyielding fury coursed through it.

“This is the end.” He said, his voice quivering as tears streamed down his reddening face. “It’s time to rip down the veil, and show the people of Imperial City just how fickle their oh-so-important lives really are...”

Then, something crossed the young man’s mind in that moment, perhaps the last shred of humanity left within its broken structure.

It dawned on him that there were a few people in his life worth sparing from the nightmare that was about to strike the city.

“I’m sorry...” Lawrence sniffled, doing his best to gather himself as his hands found the keyboard once again and quickly began typing.

“This should make up for what I’ve set in motion… You… You weren’t always the best friends a guy could have, but you were fair, kind-enough, and none of you have ever let me down when I really needed you… Especially you, Matt… Thank you all...”

With a few more strokes and a punch of the enter key, his final command was processed through the mystical program known to very few as Master PC.

Click…

“And with that…” Lawrence whispered softly, a weak smile breaking out across his fat, sausage-like lips. “The Great Game begins.”

Schlink!

Lawrence’s body slumped forward and to the left as a bullet passed through the back of his skull and one of the empty cans sitting on the corner of the table, no spatter residue making contact with the laptop.

His limp, lifeless body turned in the swivel chair he was sitting in, then fell out of it, landing face-first into the dark and onto the cold, tiled floor of his kitchen.

Blood began to pool around his assailant’s feet as it quickly drained from his corpse.

“Target eliminated.” The woman said softly, her features obscured by the darkness around her.

“Well done.” Came a static-masked voice from the small communication device within her inner ear. “Finish up there, and then report back to the rendezvous location. Zeta and her Master will meet you at the extraction site in exactly twenty-four hours.”

“Zeta, sir?”

“Correct.”

“... Understood.”

As the woman turned Lawrence’s chair and carefully sat down on its worn, dirty cushion, the light from the laptop’s screen revealed her tall, slender figure, which was wrapped up in a bodysuit from the neck down that appeared to be made of a cloth-like, dark, midnight-pink fabric.

Once the woman was settled, she reached down and slid the silenced, black handgun into the straps on her right calf that acted as a holster, then brought her attention to the computer running a software with the ability to rip apart the fabric of reality itself if even slightly misused.

As expected, she found herself locked out of Lawrence’s account, which would’ve kept a detailed history of everything he’d changed in the short period of time he was in possession of the program.

‘Input User’s Full Name:____________’, in basic, bright, green text was displayed over a black background.

Master PC refused to let the accounts of deceased individuals be accessed by anyone at all, but also removed any password restrictions on alterations that may have been in place by a user who was no longer among the living.

In other words, the logged-out screen told her that the person she assassinated wasn’t some kind of clone of the original that was being used as a possible decoy, he was the genuine user.

Kill confirmed.

Still, she needed to discover and undo whatever Lawrence had done to the world, no matter what the scale of the changes were.

It’s a good thing that she had a bit of help on that end of the situation.

“Alright, Omie. You’re up.”

The woman blinked, and her big, green eyes lit up with a bright pink upon reopening, the iris’ in their centers missing.

The serious, driven expression on her stunning, angelic face shifted along with her eye-color, softening up as a smile broke out across her matte-black-painted lips.

“Finally.” She giggled, running a hand through the long, now-pink bangs that hung down over her left eye; the rest of her short, black hair practically invisible in the darkness behind her. “It’s about time the boys gave us another field assignment, as easy as this one was. I was actually starting to think we found the program’s last copy when they shipped us off to Berlin three months ago.”

As she spoke, her glowing eyes were simultaneously and very-actively scanning the keyboard.

“Aside from that disaster, even you have to admit, the organization has been working overtime on tracking down users. This guy discovered the email containing the program, what, thirty minutes before we showed up?”

“Fair enough.” She shrugged. “We were busy last year, I guess it makes sense that there aren’t as many of them as there used to be, all things considering.”

Frowning, she glanced down at where Lawrence’s body lay for only a split-second.

“That, and the remaining users have likely been flying pretty low under the radar ever since the Pillar of Duty stepped up his game.”

“Game...” The woman mumbled to herself. “That word keeps showing up in the patterns of what this creep was typing. I can’t tell if he had some kind of ‘grand plan’ in mind for what he was going to do to the people of this city, or if he was just aiming for pure chaos. Either way, this is astoundingly intricate for a first-time user.”

“So? He’s not the first idiot-savant that we’ve ever—”

“Trix, this isn’t good.” A look of horror swept over the woman’s face. “Holy shit…”

“Calm down. What’s the problem?”

“Problems, plural.”

“I assumed as much. Start with the most urgent.”

Click…

“... Well, somehow this guy knew we were coming, for one.” She said, her voice shaky as she watched a poorly-drawn, cartoon clown run across the display of the monitor, laughing in a high-pitched chuckle as it wore what appeared to be a thick, lumpy, grey vest with a glowing number three in the center and a lit fuse sticking out of its side.

“Omie…”

Beep…

“Two, he’s sealed the room with a barrier that even I can’t break through.” She chuckled nervously with wide eyes as she firmly placed her hands over her ears in dismay, watching the number three become two.

“Shit! We can only handle versions up to one-point-six, why did the brass send us instead of that Cerberus?!”

“We may not have been the only ones to underestimate this psycho…”

Beep…

“What about the explosion’s magnitude?”

“Three, he wasn’t specific. We’re rolling the dice on this one.” She said as a bright, shimmering, pink aura began to appear around every inch of her body.

Beee-

Sunday — 7:32 A.M. — Comic Sins

At the sound of a jingling bell, Matthew’s head rose from the glass sales counter that he’d fallen asleep on.

He coughed and cleared his throat, then rubbed his eyes as they adjusted to the low lighting of Comic Sins, a small retail shop that the twenty-four-year-old owned and managed by himself.

“We’re closed, come back tomorrow.” Matt grumbled, his deep, hoarse voice barely carrying across the length of the spacey room.

“Actually, we’re about to open.” Sarah said, locking the front door of the store behind her. “I noticed you didn’t make it home last night, again.”

Ignoring his little sister, Matt glanced around for something to drink, his gaze quickly falling upon a half-empty bottle of water that he eagerly snatched up with one of his meaty hands and finished off in a heartbeat.

“Ahhh…” He sighed with relief, then threw the plastic container at a trash bin sitting by the door to the backroom, missing it by a mile.

As Sarah stepped up to the counter Matt was sitting behind, the awkward, raven-haired girl dressed in a baggy, grey hoodie and loose-fitting jeans frowned at the sight of her mess of a brother.

Scattered around the entire countertop were a variety of notebooks and binders that held all sorts of illustrations and documents that Matthew had drawn up from scratch during the late hours of nearly every night for the past few years.

“How are the stories coming along?” She asked, trying to be more polite than actually interested. “Any new developments in that fantasy land of yours?”

Matt scratched his cheek through the thick, wooly, black beard on his face as he looked down at the unorganized chaos in front of him.

“Maybe.” He said, the dark rings around his eyes more prominent than that of a raccoon’s. “I think I’ve got enough material to finally publish the first couple of issues for one of the stories.” Matt slowly began gathering everything together, trying his best to stack it all into one pile. “As long as that old printer in mom’s basement still works, that is.”

“Wow.” Sarah looked genuinely surprised. “Which story are you going with? Please tell me it’s the one about that cute vampire orphan.” She snickered, smiling from ear to ear and lightly bouncing on her heels.

Matt rolled his eyes. “I might fit him in there eventually, weirdo.” That was the only story of his that she ever enjoyed, and he wrote The Last Drop way back when he was a senior in high school. “It’s going to be a collaboration of most of the stories in the end, but they’ll all have their own individual series. The final serial will likely be a final struggle between the remaining protagonists and the main villain.”

“... Sort of like what ‘Varvel Comics’ did with the ‘Revengers’ Movies?”

Matt rose to his feet after a short but uncomfortable moment of silence between the two of them, the pile of papers and writing supplies bundled together in both hands as he stood nearly a foot taller than his twenty-one-year-old sibling.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have to go burn these.” He said, turning and making his way towards the door.

“Wait, wait!” Sarah said with a laugh, walking around the counter that also acted as a display for several limited-edition comic books and trading cards available for sale. “Geez. You need to quit being so sensitive, Matt.” She said, taking the clutter off of his hands and leading the way in the direction he was initially going.

“Eighty-three.” He grumbled, following behind Sarah as she opened the door to the backroom and went inside. “Still, you’ve got a point. A few consistencies with that franchise’s method of production would make me feel like a hack if I did it as planned. I think I might need to rework a few details in how I go about this.”

Sarah walked across to the spacious room that’s walls were completely covered by the store’s overstock and backroom merchandise, which consisted mostly of anime/cosplay costumes and regalia, along with categorized wracks of unsold and dated comics, cards, keychains, and several other goodies that Matt would easily be able to sell over the internet at a better price; then set the bundle of materials down in the middle of a very well-organized desk and on top of his laptop.

“I think that you think too much, you fuckin’ neat-freak.” She said, watching Matt saunter over to the long, black couch in the corner of the room and collapse onto it with a rather audible flump. “That, and you seriously need to start working out and find a girlfriend, or something. The way you just sort of exist here all day is depressing.”

“Quit worrying about me and go open my store, Beaky.” Matt said to one of his two only and mildly overpaid employees, then followed up with a lengthy yawn. “If you want, you can be done with your shift after I wake up and have a smoke.”

Sarah wrinkled her big nose and ground her teeth together in frustration. “Rude.” She said, slamming the door behind her as she left.

Matt sighed as he found a comfortable position to lie in on his side and drifted off to sleep with his shoes still on.

Sunday — 9:25 A.M. — Imperial Heights

“Well, then where is he?” Trent Stone asked, stepping out of the high-rise elevator and onto the top floor of his father’s hotel and base of operations.

“Can’t say. Fish has taken up drinking as of late, he might be sleeping in.”

He gave Wendy, the busty, twenty-something-year-old blonde at the desk across from the elevator, a polite smile and a wink as he continued down the left corridor.

Wendy smiled back and waved at him, then went back to whatever it is she pretended to do all day when she wasn’t busy worshiping his dad’s dick, Trent mused to himself while he did his best not to explode at the frustrating news he was just informed of.

After turning the corner and quickening his pace, Trent’s warm, friendly expression fell and he dawned one that was more fitting for the disgruntled, ruthless, businessman that he believed he was.

“Did that pathetic shit-heel forget what happened the last time he was late? We’re just a few days away from putting the finishing touches on everything, and he knew for fact that he would be working today.” He snarled, adjusting the red tie that was tucked under the coat of his black, tailored suit. “Go to his apartment, break his arm, and don’t fix it until you get back to the warehouse.”

“Got it, boss.”

Without another word, Trent tapped the small bluetooth headset attached to his right ear as he approached the wide, mahogany, double-door to his father’s main office.

He grabbed both handles and twisted them, then pushed forward and strolled in as if he owned the place.

That would most likely be the reality, one day, but it was still fun to act like he was king in the meantime.

Hell, the old man usually found it amusing, Trent thought to himself.

However, as soon as he laid eyes on his father, he knew there was a problem.

“Cuban?” The tall and muscular vice-president of an international hotel-chain asked, slowing his pace and adding a more professional tone to his voice as he cleared the gap between the office’s entrance and his father’s desk.

“Himilayan.” Robert Stone grunted as he ashed the golden-leaf-wrapped cigar in his large, callused left hand, which was all Trent could see of the man from behind his wide, brown, full-grain leather chair.

He was idly staring out of the one-hundred-fiftieth-floor window of his hotel suite that spanned from wall-to wall and ceiling-to-floor towards the main part of the city that he ruled with an invisible, but iron-solid fist, which is something the man in his late sixties only did when something was on his mind.

“Willis is dead.” Robert simply said, his gruff voice devoid of any emotion as his hand pulled towards his face for a long drag of his cigar. “And so is Richmond.” He exhaled the thick cloud of smoke as he spoke, causing his tone to shift only slightly. “Both of them were killed in their homes just before midnight, last night.”

“What?” Trent blinked. The first half of that news was somewhat devastating, Willis Sanderton was like an uncle to him; he’d known the guy since he could walk, and had been currently funding his little side-project up to this point. The second half, however… That was actually good enough of a development to outweigh the loss of his father’s oldest business partner.

“Imperial is mine, now.” He said, ashing his cigar onto the bright, red carpet underneath their feet. “And mine alone.”

Trent expected those words to be said at some point in his life, but by him, and with more… Enthusiasm? Satisfaction. Something, at least. The tone his father carried made it sound as if he’d given up as soon as the battle was won.

“Pops, this is big!” Trent said, slamming his hands down on the man’s desk as soon as he was in reach. “I’m gonna’ miss Uncle Willis, without a doubt. But, with him and Richy out of the way, we can do whatever the hell we want now!”

“Fool!” Robert roared, quickly pulling the cigar in between his fingers and crushing it as his hand squeezed into a fist that shook with unease and impatience, the embers doing no damage at all to his tanned, leathery skin. “I wasn’t the one that had a hand in that. Someone hunted them down, took them out, and is slowly dismantling everything they spent their entire lives building!”

His father’s response took Trent by surprise, but the words he spoke slowly sunk in and made his blood run cold.

“What are you saying?”

Robert took in and exhaled a deep breath, then snapped the fingers of his left hand.

The remains of the golden cigar reformed between his fingers back into its original shape, burning ember and diamond-encrusted band still intact.

“I’m saying that they were sloppy.” He stated, his voice calm and collected once again. “Either of them had as much control in this city as I did, give or take. But they didn’t understand true discretion, and if I’m being honest, I’m surprised someone like our mystery killer hadn’t found them sooner.”

“They relied on the program too much to hide their actions, am I right?”

“I knew I didn’t raise an idiot for a son.” Robert chuckled. “You’re absolutely right. As we’ve found out when my version of Master PC updated itself last year, I was superior to both my good friend and dearest rival in every possible way. Even with retroactive commands and profile-locked individuals, I was able to see what they were doing and to who, at all times.”

“That was until theirs updated too, anyway.”

“Precisely. This is a big world, Trent. Who knows how many other users are out there, and what kind of software they have at their disposal? If we went around using Master PC to turn every woman into a brain-dead supermodel and every man into a mindless dildo, even if we make it so that it’s completely normal to the world, wouldn’t someone more powerful than us eventually take notice? And if so, what would those kinds of people do?”

Trent let the final question hang in the air for a moment, but the answer was clear.

“Dispose of any and all competition, or threats to their own ambitions.”

Robert took another long drag of his cigar and released the fumes with a sigh. “I’ve taught you well.”

“Would you expect anything less from the mighty Trent Stone?” He asked, his cocky demeanor having returned at his father’s words of approval. “Lay off the program for a little while? Piece of cake.” He scoffed. “It’s not like I don’t have a few—”

“Do not use the program or any of those silly abilities that you’ve given yourself until I let you know that we’re in the clear.” Robert interrupted, but not with an unkind tone. “The fact that those two were killed in this city within minutes of each other leads me to suspect their assailants aren’t aware that we too are users of the program. Thankfully, we’re not the only wealthy people around, and if my hunch is correct, then laying low for the time being is the best course of action. Am I understood?” He finished the question with absolution in his voice, if you could believe that even was a question.

Trent bit down on the inside of his cheek. “Understood.” Damn, he thought. This was going to make his extra-curricular activities a tad bit more complicated, although not impossible. “Just live my normal life as a twenty-one-year-old billionaire playboy and business magnate.”

“Hah! If that’s what you want to call it, then by all means, business magnate.” Robert teased. “Take over an entire city, then come talk to me about business.”

“If that ever happens, you probably won’t be around to talk anymore.” Trent said with a slightly-too-serious edge in his tone.

“God damnit.” Robert laughed, then spun around in his chair and braced himself by slamming his hands down on the desk, wearing the same confident, unwavering smile that always quelled any doubt Trent might have had about his place in the world. “I love you, son.”

“Love you too, pops.” He smirked. “We’re gonna’ rule this planet, me and you.”

“Without a doubt.” Robert chuckled. “Now, what is it you came in here for?”

“Oh, right!” Trent said.

The situation wasn’t urgent, or anything serious, just sort of awkward to bring up to an old man like Robert.

“Do you remember that little comic shop down on Eighty-Seventh Street that opened up a few months ago?”

“Yeah, can’t remember the name of it for the life of me. Stupid idea, whoever owns the place. Printed comics haven’t been worth a shit for twenty years.”

“Right, he sells other things there too, but yeah, totally…” Trent said, holding his hands up to his sides in defense. “Just, hear me out before you have any other comments.”

The man that looked like a strikingly handsome, forty-year-old clone of his son brought his cigar up and bit down on the end of it with his perfect teeth, then put his hands together while still maintaining the smile he was famous in the local newspapers for.

“I’m all ears, business magnate.”

“Okay, then… Tell me, how does this sound?” Trent cleared his throat, then bent back and brought up his open-palmed hands for exaggeration as he spoke. “Stone Cold Comics.”

Sunday — 10:43 A.M. — Henderson Residence

It was no use.

“ZZZzzz…”

So much for sleeping in, Francine bitterly thought as her eyes fluttered open.

“ZZZzzz…”

She grunted, turning over in the king-sized bed to glare at her sleeping husband, Jamie.

“ZZZzzz…”

“That’s it.” She grumbled under her breath as she rose from the bed; her perky, braless breasts jiggled around in the transparent, black nightgown she wore with her swift, frustrated movements.

Francine wasn’t gentle at all in jumping out of bed, hoping that might cause the overgrown man-child to wake up in some way so he can bitch to her about not being able to sleep.

She wasn’t prone to fighting with her husband hardly at all, but his snoring problem was a massive pet-peeve for she was ready to blow off some steam.

No dice, though.

Francine shook her head at the sight of Jamie’s hefty, beer-bellied body as he lay on his back, wearing only a pair of tight, white jockeys that showed off the less-than-impressive outline of his morning erection.

“ZZZzzz…”

“Why did I marry you?” She asked aloud, feeling the daily dose of routine depression settle into her psyche as she looked around at all of the anime posters and memorabilia that was scattered throughout the walls of their master bedroom.

As much as she enjoyed the fact that he never really spoke with her about his obsession with japanese culture, she still wished that he would decorate his own home like an adult, not the boy who lived with his parents up until the age of thirty-five.

The door to their bedroom closed behind Francine as she made her exit and headed for the main bathroom to freshen up a bit, then went to the kitchen to whip up something to eat.

On arrival, the twenty-three-year-old, black beauty found that the only thing she really had an appetite for was the leftover egg-salad she’d taken home from her and Jamie’s date at Shea Leon last night, one of the most prominent restaurants in town.

“Oh, that’s right.” She mumbled as she grabbed a clean fork from the dish-strainer next to her sink, thinking back to the question she asked her unconscious, forty-one-year-old husband. “You’re loaded.” Francine giggled to herself, wandering into the living room with her meal and plopping down on one end of the lengthy, five-seat, leopard print sofa that her phone had been laying on the arm of throughout the night.

After replying to the texts of fuck-boys and friends alike, deleting any messages that could prove damning to her relationship, then blocking any of her side-guys that were showing a bit too much interest, Francine was bored again.

The perks of being a trophy wife also come with a few faults, Francine thought to herself as she reflected on the previous party-girl life she led before getting married four months prior.

Francine’s new life was fun, at first, but she couldn’t help but sink back into her old ways of finding a young, handsome man to split her big, bubble-butt in half with his meaty cock on occasion only just a few months after she’d gotten married to Jamie.

On a more private note, she absolutely loved anal, but only when it was an experience, not… Whatever you’d call it when her mediocre husband wanted some back-door action.

Still, Jamie was easy to satisfy, and she didn’t mind that fact.

At least once a month, she’d give the chunky man an early night handjob and let him blow his chunky load all over her girls, then slip out after he passed out so she could go over to the neighbor’s house for a little bit fun real fun with that cute college boy who comes over and cleans their pool for a few bucks on the weekends.

Since Jamie was retired, she unfortunately didn’t have many opportunities to put the boy’s more prominent talents to use when he came by and taunted her with that perfectly-sculpted body and juicy bulge of his.

Of course, she’s always had another eager gentleman or two waiting for her to make up an excuse to go out for a few hours, but in her experience, it was safe to cut them off after the first or second encounter given that most men tended to get too attached much too quickly for her liking.

Within fifteen minutes, Francine had finished her meal and was now spread out on the couch with her eyes closed and listening to soft, pop music that was coming out of the surround-sound speakers located on each upper-corner of her large living room.

“Boop.” Said a familiar and annoying voice as she felt something press up against her forehead for a brief moment.

Francine’s eyes snapped open, and she watched the bald-headed and smirking Jamie pass her by and drop his heavy self down on the opposite end of the couch, wearing nothing but his unmentionables and a blood-red, polyester robe/kimono with golden, japanese dragons intertwined along the center of his back, then broke apart around his neck-line with each head spiraling along his arms and extending to his wrists.

Francine knew that smirk on his face, just as well as she knew he loved to see the genuine pout that formed on her own whenever she was irritated.

She grabbed the remote that was lying next to her on the couch, then sighed as the music was turned down to politely low-levels.

“What’s up, baby?” Francine asked with a dash of honey in her tone, extinguishing her frustrations and putting on her best “loving-wife” face, as she liked to call it.

Which ultimately just consisted of a coy smile and the fluttering of her lengthy eyelashes from time to time when he tried to be his version of “charming.”

“Nothing much.” He said, giving the thick, salt-and-pepper goatee around his mouth a few strokes as he ogled his wife’s athletically tight, but lucious and curvy figure. “Just thinking about how I’ve got the most wonderful woman in the world as my wife.”

Ugh, she groaned internally.

It was one thing to have respect for a man for working hard his entire life to be able to retire as early as he did, but it was another to respect a man who could be fooled into thinking that she of all people was wonderful.

Deep down, she knew that she was nothing but a cold-hearted bitch.

More than anything, Francine took pride in that fact.

Nothing in the world could ever hurt you if you don’t let it, she thought, and that was especially true if you were smart enough to outmaneuver it.

“Oh, daddy.” She giggled, slowly sitting upright and then leaning forward on her hands and knees. “You’re too sweet to me.”

“I’ve got nothing but sugar for you, baby.” Jamie said, his eyes glued to the perky cleavage jiggling under her.

Smooth, she sarcastically thought.

Francine bit her lip and moaned in response, bringing her face just an inch away from his, then gave him a light smooch on the lips before standing up from the couch with a warm smile on her face.

Jamie sighed, his heart racing and the bulge in his underwear twitching as he thought about how lucky he was to have her all to himself.

“So, what would you like for breakfast?” She asked sweetly, cocking her hips to the side as she placed her hands on them.

“Whatever is the fastest to cook.” He chuckled. “It’s Sunday, remember? I’ve gotta’ be at the shop by noon.”

Francine rolled her eyes and maintained her smile, but was internally screaming at the reminder.

It was Sunday. Oh god...

“Right, duh. Silly me!” She said, pushing back the tears that were welling up in her eyes. It physically pained her to ask the follow-up question. “Which outfit should I wear this time, babe?”

Sunday — 11:24 A.M. — Corvid Apartments

“Darn.” Mars swore, trying to adjust herself comfortably in the plastic, silver-painted breastplate-palandron set of armor she had on.

The entire ensemble fit perfectly, dress and all, except for the shoulders.

The one time she decides to order an outfit, and of course it’d be that of all things giving her trouble.

Mars’ shoulders weren’t broad, by any means, but the measured-cut of that upper part of the costume was designed for someone who had a slightly more narrow torso than she did.

Cis women don’t know how easy they’ve got it when it comes to looking cute, she thought to herself with a dejected sigh as she gazed at her reflection.

Well, it didn’t look bad on her, at the very least.

And her make-up was on-point, she thought with a reassured smirk.

Mars was just going to have to be careful when she moved her arms, she realized when she extended them and felt the straps under the pseudo-armor strain around her soft, pale biceps.

“I just hope he likes it…” She whispered, looking down at and placing her small, deighty hands over the breastplate that was moulded to house a pair of modest assets she unfortunately lacked.

Taking her leave of the bathroom, Mars went down the narrow hallway of her two-bedroom apartment towards the front door.

As she walked into the living room, she was greeted by a sight that she likely wouldn’t forget for years to come.

“Alright guys, I’m—... Oh gosh.”

“Ma-ars!” Melissa whined as she panicked and threw a blanket over her and Greg’s naked bodies. “We thought you’d left already!”

Laying under her, Gred audibly snickered and made eye contact with Mars for an instant just before everything but their legs were covered up by the light-blue, silk comforter that had previously been folded up on the back of the couch.

“Ah!” Mars squeaked, then ran towards the door, grabbed her keys, threw it open, and slammed it behind her. “S-sorry!”

Mars pressed her back up against the cold wood, her soft, round face beat-red with her heart thundering within her chest.

Well, that just happened, she thought to herself as the side-shot, mental image of her roommates getting it on burned itself into her memory.

Panting, Mars quickly walked down the stairs and out the main door of the apartment house that contained her own.

She’d been wanting to see what Melissa’s new breasts looked like in full glory since she’d gotten implants last month, but Mars would rather it have been under more polite circumstances.

On account of both parties, to be frank.

She may have lingered for a second or two longer than she should have, but those two shouldn’t have been makin’ bacon out in the open for her to see, whether or not they thought she was gone.

Part of her believed that what she stumbled across was intentional, but Mars quickly brushed it off as silly thinking.

If Melissa was that much of a slut, why wasn’t she walking around the apartment topless all the time?

Unless it was some kind of ‘getting caught’ fetish of hers, but Mars had known the sweet girl since middle school.

She had always been fairly conservative about sex and showing off her fairly plain body, and was never suspiciously prude in such a way that her attitude would hint toward hidden desires such as those.

If Mars had to guess, that dopey boyfriend of hers probably started working his charm and Melissa completely lost herself in his big, stupid, pretty eyes.

As much as a creep as the guy could be personality-wise, Greg was too smooth for his own good, and her poor friend was putty in her hands each and every time he started whispering sweet nothings into her ear.

Oh well, Mars thought as she pulled her phone from the small, blue purse slung around her shoulder and checked the time.

She was running late; her and Melissa could about it when her obligations for the day were complete.

After jumping into her yellow jeep and being careful not to shut the door on her long, black dress, she sped out of the parking lot and down the road in the direction of her workplace.

It was Mars’ day off, but she and a few other regular customers of Comic Sins got together there on Sundays to play a game of Castles and Conquerors with the owner.

She smiled and giggled to herself, imagining her best friend’s goofy brother getting hyped up as he described a scene from the last game.

Sunday — 11:35 A.M. — Seventy-Ninth-Street

“Y’know, I’m really glad you two were able to make some normal friends since the move.” Helen Duran said, glancing in the rear view mirror at her niece and nephew.

Well, normal was a polite word for it, Helen thought to herself as she couldn’t help but feel a little uncomfortable seeing the twins in a pair of matching costumes with realistic, rubber extensions attached to their ears.

Andy and Amy Westcliff, the nineteen-year-old step-children of her sister Rene, made no effort to look up at Helen as they tapped away at their phones in the back seat of Helen’s jeep.

“It’s not like we have much of a choice.” Amy stated flatly.

“We have the options of either delving into the mundane world of fantasy—” Andy began.

“Or indulging in the debauchery that we see around every corner of this depraved city.” Amy finished.

“And you would inform our parents immediately if we were to get involved with such indecent activities.”

“So for the sake of our inheritance, we will refrain and fill our spare time with idle hobbies.”

“Regardless of the temptation that plagues us dearly.”

… Helen wished they’d stop talking in turns like that.

She knew twins were supposed to have some kind of psychic link, but the lack of pause between their sentences was downright disturbing, more so than the topics that the two could casually discuss in excruciating detail.

“You don’t have to keep reminding me how much living a normal life is killing you.” Helen sighed, passing the fourth strip club she’d seen since she began her journey across town.

An island-city funded and built by several of the richest entrepreneurs in the world tended to have a litany of those and similar establishments when the laws prohibited anyone under the age of eighteen from being able to cross its border.

Around sixty-something-percent of the population was comprised of college-students in their early-to-late twenties going to one of the city’s many prestigious universities, and the rest were just people there to work, vacation, or just retire and live a life in a city full of some of the most attractive individuals they’d ever seen.

Helen and her husband started living in Imperial City about ten years ago when the island first opened up to the public, courtesy of Samuel getting a promising job offer from one of his old friends from highschool as an investment banker, and has since worked his way up to owning a local bank of his own.

It was safe to say that the couple used to fit in with the crowd of studs and bimbos back in day, but the tole of time and half a decade of living the night-life to the fullest hadn’t been too kind to either of their bodies since then, so they hadn’t done much other than work and live their lives without ever having children of their own during the past few years.

Which, after having Amy and Andy under their roof for the past few months, might have been for the best.

“And besides, you two experienced plenty of indecent things around your parent’s mansion when they went out of town for weeks at a time. Don’t think I’ll fall for your little guilt-trip routine just because I’m not letting you both tie up poor girls and torture them under my roof.”

“The maids were willing test sub—”

“Participants.” Amy quickly interjected.

“Yes. And we were told that they had experienced more pleasure in our care than in their entire—”

“Okay.” Helen raised her right hand, cutting off Andy before he could finish. Jesus, she thought. Those two could talk about such bizarre sexual activities like they were chatting about the weather. “I don’t want to know the details, I just want to know that you aren’t going to be up to anything indecent after I drop you off here.” Their prude, pudgy aunt said, pulling up into the parking lot of the shopping mall where Comic Sins was located.

“Understood.”

“We will not do anything that jeopardizes the obtaining of our inheritance.”

“You have our word.”

“Good.” Helen turned back to face them as soon as they came to a stop, the ends of her ‘can I speak to the manager?’ haircut whipping around at the quickness of her head-turn. “Now, I’ll be back at six to pick you up. If you’re done before that, call me right away.”

The robotic duo finally put their phones away, matching her flickering gaze and nodding.

Dressed in full-sets of expensive, authentic, leather armor with light-green, hooded tunics under them, Amy and Andy stepped out from the back doors of Helen’s silver, pick-up truck, grasping five-foot-long wooden sticks that stood as tall as they did.

She sighed as she watched the blonde-headed pair head off towards the comic shop, walking inside and past the chubby sweetheart who owned the place after stopping for a moment to greet him.

Those two were many things, but they weren’t liars, Helen thought as she pulled out of the lot and drove home with a hint of anxiety lingering in the back of her mind.

Sunday — 11:39 A.M. — Comic Sins

“Go and get set up, you guys. I’ve gotta’ make my bi-hourly prayer to the Death God before we get started.”

“Hail to Remnis.” Andy said.

“Indeed. The Legion of Dusk are fearsome allies.” Amy agreed.

The two entered and Matt released the left of the double-doors that he’d been holding for them, then walked over to the side of the building as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his jeans’ right pocket.

Just as he lit up a smoke and took his first drag of the day, he spotted a rather familiar-looking, muscular gentleman wearing a red tracksuit come jogging out from behind the corner of the store furthest on the edge of the run-down shopping strip.

The man was headed down the sidewalk and towards the street, then rounded the corner and continued down the path across the parking lot from Matt.

There was something about crew cuts that just bugged Matt, he didn’t know why.

Maybe because it made you look like a douchebag with limbs, he thought.

Matt and the man made eye contact as he took another drag of his cigarette, then the man smiled and slightly altered his course, trailing off of the sidewalk and across the lot directly towards him.

Oh no…

Please don’t stop and talk please don’t stop and talk oh for the love of fuck please don’t stop and talk to-

“Hey there!” Crew Cut said, beaming with energy and positivity just before he stopped on the walkway a few feet away from Matt.

“Howdy.” Matt said with a flat tone, giving him a nod as he looked the college jock up and down and made an assessment based off of his appearance and immediate personality. It was safe to say, people like this guy weren’t interested in what he was selling. “Not to sound rude, but I don’t know where to get any coke, bud.”

“Wha—? No, no. You’ve got the wrong idea, my guy.” He said with a laugh, not out of breath in the least despite the amount of sweat that his white-trimmed tracksuit was soaked with. “You must be Matthew, I’m Trent.” He said, extending his arm for a handshake.

The guy smelled like a walking locker room, Matt realized as he attempted to mask the stench with another drag.

A gust of wind would be a godsend, he thought.

“Matt.” He corrected, reluctantly returning the gesture with his empty hand. “So, Trent, how can... I… ?”

As soon as their skin made contact and the traces of perspiration on Trent’s hand were absorbed into Matt’s, it was over.

“How can you, what?” Trent asked, releasing Matt’s hand and letting it fall to his side. “Help me? Is that what you were going to ask?”

As if a switch had been flipped, Trent dropped his bubbly, personable persona, and his facial expression and tone became much more serious and professional.

“Yes.” Matt said softly, his eyes glazed over and vacantly focused on Trent’s face. “How can I help you?”

“You could be more welcoming, for starters.” He said, watching the cigarette slip from Matt’s limp fingers. “Secondly, help yourself by kicking that disgusting habit. You’ll be better off for it.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Too formal. Just call me Trent, for now.”

“Yes, Trent.”

“Good.” He smiled.

Robert Stone forbade Trent from using the program or any of his abilities, but he didn’t see any harm in keeping one trick up his sleeve for potential business matters.

However, just telling this overweight giant to hand over the deed to his store would likely bring on a scolding from his father about secrecy and discretion.

On the other hand, if he were to make a friend and then buy their business establishment from them for next to nothing, there wasn’t a logical conclusion one would arrive at that didn’t have the mighty Trent Stone coming out on top without his father batting a suspicious eye in his direction.

Despite Trent’s awareness that there was a potential serial killer targeting users of Master PC, he believed that if he and his father ever would’ve been on their radar to begin with, they would’ve died alongside Willis and Richmond.

With everything those two were tied into with Robert, the killer had to have known they were users as well by now.

His father knew more than he was letting on about the situation, but that’s a conversation for another time.

“We just met, but you feel as though you can trust me implicitly. If you’re asked a question, you’ll answer it openly and honestly. If I personally have a request, you will take it into consideration if it doesn’t align with what you want, but will always and ultimately find a good enough reason to fulfill said request. Lastly, nothing about this conversation or your new attitude towards me will seem strange to you, and you are not allowed to look back at and ponder anything I’ve told you up to this point.

“I’m glad that we’ve come to an understanding.” Trent spoke slowly and clearly as a confident grin spread across his full lips.

“Right.” Matt said with a yawn and several rapid blinks. “Wait, what did you want?” He asked, giving Trevor another ocular pat-down.

Something wasn’t right, Matt realized immediately.

He didn’t even need to try and recall any of it to notice that the last ninety-seven-seconds of his memory had been… Turned into static?

“Just not a people person, huh?” Trent asked with a wince. “Sorry, I guess I am being a bit forward.”

“No, I’m not, C-Cre—... Trent. Now, answer the question.” Matt growled through grit teeth, with his mind short-circuiting, his eyes fluttering, and his left arm occasionally giving off a slight twitch.

Trent was taken aback by Matt’s response.

He’d recited those exact words to countless people he’d met in his life, aside from slightly botching the ‘answering questions’ line in his command just then, and every single one of them treated him like a long-lost brother as soon as they came out of their trance.

Who the hell was this guy?

And another thing…

“What were you just about to call me?” Trent asked, his mask slipping as his eyes widened and his nostrils flared.

Matt smiled, his teeth still locked together as he spoke.

“Crew. Cut.”

Trent paused for a moment to absorb the words as if he was taking them in through the deep breath he inhaled.

Never before had such an inane comment made him as furious as he was in that moment.

He exhaled, returning Matt’s gaze with a smile.

“You’re as interesting as you are frustrating.” Trent said.

“Three.”

“... What?”

“That’s how many times I’ve been told that exact same sentence.”

Trent cocked his head and raised an eyebrow.

“And how are you so sure?”

“Photographic memory.” Matt said without hesitation, then winced at his new forthcomingness.

“Hah! Wow.” Trent chuckled. “If you don’t mind, would you let me have some fun with this? I’ve never met anyone who was actually born with that trait.”

Matt didn’t respond, he just glared at Trent.

“... Well?”

“I’m thinking.”

With his rage long-forgotten at that point, Trent exploded with laughter upon hearing the statement.

Matt somehow knew that deep down he couldn’t tell Trent no, and even though he physically wanted to just blurt out, ‘Sure, buddy! Watch me make an ass out of myself for your amusement!’, every coherent thought and each of his trillion frames of memory were scrambling against the urges he instinctively wanted to act on without question.

In other words, his overactive frontal lobe and hippocampus just declared war on one another to avoid giving Trent the satisfaction of an inevitable answer.

And while Matt was relatively calm about the immediate situation, his subconscious was constantly setting off red-alerts all throughout his thoughts on the lack of consistency in his feelings toward the man he would now forcibly refer by his name, even in his mind, he begrudgingly thought to himself just before a chipmunk-like voice called out to him.

“Hi Matt!” Mars yelled from across the parking lot, giving him an enthusiastic wave as the long dress she wore trailed behind her just inches above the ground. The black lipstick on her soft, angelic face complimented the dark blush on her cheeks and made her long, fiery red hair shine all the brighter.

The armor was a nice touch, too, Matt thought as he held up a friendly hand, trying not to draw her towards the guy that could rewire a person’s brain and was looking Mars’ slender body up and down like she was his for the taking.

Screwing with him was one thing, but if Trent decided to do whatever he did to him to his little sister’s best friend, Matt would literally-

“What do you think of the get-up? It was pretty cheap, but I think I made it work for how my character is supposed to look.” She confidently giggled as she stepped up to the doors of the shop and opened one.

“The radiance of your beauty is superior to that of the sun’s.” The words escaped from a wide-eyed Matt’s mouth a second too soon before he had the sense to bite down on his tongue.

Mars’ face flushed bright pink, and a crooked, nervous smile broke out across her lips before she bolted into the store.

Matt turned to Trent with wide, annoyed eyes.

He had already been staring back at him in disgust.

“I can’t believe you just unironically said that to a solid eight, my dude.”

“What do you expect? I’m a writer, not a crew cut.” Matt spat.

Well, that was a fun workaround for the roadblock on using his nickname, Matt thought as he watched Trent’s face become red with a fury that he desperately wished he could feel as well.

“Since you’ve decided to make this personal, I’m going to take my time with you.”

- Sunday—11:42 A.M.—City Hall -

“Everything is ready, Mayor Willis.” Donna Summers said, adjusting the thin, rectangular glasses she wore over her sharp, Japanese face.

“Excellent.” The hulking, seven-foot-tall giant of a man said as he adjusted his tie in the full-length mirror that he kept in the corner of his office, his low, deep voice carrying across the entirety of the room without him needing to emphasize his tone. “Go ahead and clue your friends in on what I have in store for this city.”

“That’s a bold decision, Mayor.” Donna stated as a smile broke out across her lips. “If I were to tell Delta and his Master that one of the Alphabet was eliminated, as well as warn him of the Awakening, I’d be openly declaring myself an enemy of the state, and he would likely take immediate action.”

“Is that what you think?” Mayor Willis asked with just a hint of playful doubt in his smooth voice. “Those fools likely already know of what’s happened to the Omikron A.I., of what they suspected would happen to her. I’m sure the Epsilon and his dogs were already on standby when she killed my father and Thomas Richmond, after they were informed that one of them secretly had a version one-point-nine in their possession.”

“Very perceptive.” She said with a slight bow, the iris’ of her hazel eyes flashing with a bright, cyan color for just an instant. “I would expect nothing less from the Master of Pi.”

The Mayor turned around and walked over to his desk, his white suit and short, spiked, silver-black hair glowing in the sunlight that poured in from the large window of his very modern-styled, thirtieth-story office.

Underneath his suit and tie, he wore a vest that had a geometrical cut styled across its surface and looked as though it was both constantly and slowly shifting; disconnected from reality in way, as if it and the matching pupil-less iris’ of his eyes were openings to another dimension that was devoid of anything but shattered glass.

“I know exactly what’s going to happen next, just as I know how this is all going to end. The Pillars of Reality will fall, and the next stage in human evolution will begin here in Imperial City.”

Donna wordlessly strutted over to the Mayor, who turned his chair to the side to face her as she approached and ducked down onto her knees in front of him.

Once she had his thick, semi-erect cock fished out from its confines, Donna slowly began to stroke it to full-mast as she looked up into the eyes of the man who was going to kill the gods and would one day sit in the Creator’s empty throne.

“Let me indulge myself for just a moment before I deliver the bad news. I haven’t been this excited in quite some time.”

Sunday — 11:48 A.M. — Comic Sins

“I’m glad that we’ve come to an understanding.” Trent Stone said with a warm, friendly grin, walking around the group in a circle with his cellphone raised in hand.

The seven of them fluttered their eyes and felt as though they’d just woken up from a deep, deep sleep.

Matt found that he suddenly had on his long, black, hooded cloak he normally wore as he sat at the end of the long, decorative, rectangular oak table that the group played Castles and Conquerors on.

Everyone else was located in their usual seats with expressions of confusion written across their faces while they looked around at one another.

As soon as his eyes were open and focused, Matt’s first instinct was to flip the table and charge the man wearing a fine-tailored, back suit, who was at one of the opposite corners and standing between where Sarah and Mars were seated.

However, he found himself unable to get up, or even make a sound.

The muscles in his face also felt somewhat numb, as if function was cut off to some of them to prevent him from showing too strong of emotional expressions.

Matt was virtually trapped inside of his own body.

As he weakly grunted with a mildly irritated look on his face, Matt felt like a snarling wolf that was chained to a post and watching helplessly as his pack was about to be slaughtered.

His memories of being hypnotized by that freak’s sweat were no longer a haze to him, he realized, but the ones after the moment he was under once again had been completely erased.

Either that, or Crew Cut just knocked him out and carried—”

Matt visibly winced in pain and let out a long, drawn-out groan.

“You okay, Matt?” Jamie asked with concern, sitting on the corner to his right and was dressed in a full set of blue-and-white, paper-mache samurai gear that he made himself.

“Ha!” Trent laughed. “Even when you’re just monologuing in that fat head of yours, you’re still being an asshole, it seems.”

The rest of the group, who’s attention had been drawn to Matt’s sounds of distress, all looked towards the origin of the voice.

“Ah!” Sarah squeaked, attempting to jump up from her chair and dart away from the menacing figure that had suddenly appeared behind her.

“Sit down, there’s no need to worry or be afraid.” The handsome stranger said to Sarah as he gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

Matt grumbled from the other end of the table, but no one seemed to be paying him any mind.

Just as her small butt lifted off the seat, his sweet, soothing words seemed to have had an immediate effect on her.

“Oh, uh... Okay.” Sarah muttered, feeling a sense of ease hit her like an ethereal tidal wave as she rested back down onto the wooden chair’s soft cushion.

Everyone else seemed to become more relaxed at his words as well, settling themselves comfortably in their seat but baffled as to what was happening.

“Who are you?” Amy asked, placed across from Jamie between Matt and his sister.

“Yes. And how have you pacified us?” Andy followed her sentence without pause, a curious glint in both of their eyes.

“It’s quite fascinating.”

“But it defies logic.”

“Are you willing to teach us this power?”

“What other abilities do you possess?”

Trent held up the hand opposite the one that was clutching his phone. “Alright, woah. Time out.” He chuckled. “One question at a time.”

“Who are you?” Mars quietly asked, looking up at the man beside her.

He returned her gaze and gave a warm smile.

“I’m happy that you asked, beautiful.” He said cooly, lightly stroking a couple of fingers over her pale, lightly-freckled cheek. “My name is Trent, and I’m here to make a few new friends.”

Trent glanced over to Matt for a brief moment, who would most certainly skin him alive if he was able, judging by that fire burning within his big, brown eyes, he thought.

“The thing is, when I tried to introduce myself to the owner of this fine establishment, he was very disrespectful. Called me a name, even.”

“Yeah, he does that.” Sarah said with a sympathetic nod in the same, boring clothes she always wore, crossing her arms and giving Matt a look of disapproval. “Rude.”

“Right?” Trent chuckled. “And, you are?”

“I’m Sarah, his sister.” She said with a welcoming smile, offering up one of her hands. “It’s nice to meet you, Trent.”

“His sister?” Trent asked in a way that sounded as if he’d stumbled across buried treasure. “How did that oaf wind up with someone as adorable as you in his gene pool?”

“Ah, well, I, y’know…” Sarah said as her face quickly became flushed with embarrassment at the compliment, not at all sure of what to say to the impressive specimen that he himself was. She knew that she wasn’t bad looking, but this guy just made her entire year. “Thanks.” Was all she managed to say with a giddy giggle.

Trent just shook his head and chuckled, being fairly used to messy responses like from six-out-of-tens like Sarah.

She’d easily be an eight like the redhead on their left, if it wasn’t for that overly-prominent nose of hers, he thought.

And the eight would be a straight-up ten if she had a big, bouncy pair of jugs under that cheap set of plastic on her torso.

Oh well, it’s not like he couldn’t do anything about both of those things in the near future, he mused to himself.

Trent took her hand in his own, then bent down to give it a smooch.

With wide, joyful eyes, Sarah bit her lip and retracted her hand a bit too quickly out of embarrassment as soon as he released it, then put both of them together in her lap as she rubbed her thighs together.

Matt grunted from his end of the table, then groaned in agony once again.

Nobody seemed to pay him any mind that time, though.

“My my, aren’t you charming.” Came a correctly accusative and heavenly voice from next to the old, fat samurai. “If you’re looking to make friends, we are a man short for our game today, and there just so happens to be an open seat right here.” Francine in a clearly flirtatious tone, patting the cushion of the chair next to her while wearing the skimpy, bronze-plastic, two-piece bikini that Jamie had selected for her to wear; her long, silkey, black hair tied back into a ponytail.

Ah, yes, the oddity of the group.

There was absolutely no way someone of her caliber would be there unless she either felt like she had to be, or she just got off on blue-balling losers, Trent thought as he took in the supple, chocolatey flesh that she shamelessly had out on display.

“Ya’ see, Matt? That’s the kind of welcome I was looking for.” Trent said, never taking his eyes off of the cleavage that Francine was making sure to emphasize by poking her chest out slightly. “Take some notes, when you get your motor functions back, of course.” He snickered, walking over towards the seat and placing his well-toned ass down onto it.

Sarah frowned and sighed with dejection as soon as Trent’s focus switched over to the bimbo barbarian that barely understood what was happening in the game most of the time.

“Motor functions?” Andy asked.

“Curious.” Amy said.

Amy took the wooden staff in her hand and gave Matt a solid bonk on the side of his dome, to which he didn’t react to except for a slight turn of the head and a murderous look in his eyes.

“Amusing.” Andy said, the word devoid of emotion.

“Quite.” Amy agreed.

As Trent placed his well-toned ass in the chair beside Francine with his open legs facing right at her, he sat his phone down on the table in front of him.

“So, tell me… Francine.” He said after taking a quick glance at the screen. “What is one of the most naturally beautiful women in the city doing in a nerd cave like this one?”

“Oh, what can I say? I’m just a huge nerd myself deep down, I guess.” She gushed and giggled.

“Hm.” Trent’s smile slightly wavered. “Let’s try that again. But this time, with complete, undoctored honesty.”

“Uh…” For an instant, a worried look started to show on her face, but it never fully surfaced as several chemicals in Francine’s brain that were blocked off to prevent that and other, similar emotions from being felt. “Well, my sorry excuse for a husband pouts all week if I don’t come and play this stupid game with people that he thinks are actually his friends. I’d much rather be home and spending time with my vibrator while Jamie watches and plays with his little cock.”

While everyone in the room went wide-eyed at her words, Amy and Andy cracked smiles.

“W-what?” Jamie stuttered, feeling as though a stake had been driven through his heart.

“Interesting. Continue.” The twins said in unison.

“I’d rather she didn’t…” Mars said under her breath as she put her hands together in her lap and looked down, her face becoming as red as her hair.

“You heard the elves, keep going.” Trent said to Francine, his grin wider than ever.

Feeling like a dam had just exploded within her, letting her freely and shamelessly get out all of the frustrations that she’d been holding onto since the day she met everyone, Francine giggled and met the gaze of the twins as herself, not the person that the group believed they knew.

“You two give me the creeps, seriously.” She chuckled. “I honestly can’t tell either of you apart most of the time, and it makes my skin crawl when those dead eyes of yours are staring at my tits.”

Their gaze instantly flicked away from her chest and to her face.

“Understandable.” Amy began.

“Apologies.”

“We assumed your usual attire indicated that you found the gaze of others enjoyable.”

“Attempts will be made to not make you uncomfortable in the future.”

They nodded in sincerity, which caught Francine off guard.

“Uh, thanks, I guess…” She’d expected them to, well, have their feelings hurt, at least, not be sweethearts in their own bizarre way. Francine did suppose what she said was rather tame, but that was honestly the worst thing she had to say about them, she realized. Aside from the things she mentioned, Francine didn’t have much of an opinion about the two.

“Well that was disappointing.” Trent said with a roll of his eyes. “What about the ladies?” He said, pointing at Mars and Sarah with his index and middle fingers.

“Mars is a darling, but Sarah’s a total bitch.” Francine blurted out in exasperation. “She puts about as much effort into this stupid shit as I do, and I’m pretty sure both of them want to fuck Matt.” A split-second after she’d finished, Francine threw a hand over her mouth in surprise.

Whoops.

If her original statements towards Jamie held the same magnitude as C-4, then her most recent one had the effect of a nuclear warhead to everyone except Jamie, who was quietly sitting in his seat with his head down in thought and a sad, pathetic look on his face.

“Excuse me?!” Sarah roared, quickly standing up and slamming her hands down on the table’s surface.

Mars looked like steam was about to come spewing out of her ears if one took into account how brightly she was blushing.

“Now we’re cookin’!” Trent laughed.

“Is this true, Sarah?” Amy beamed.

“Mars, comment?” Andy inquired.

“Don’t lie, ladies.” Trent said, his tone commanding. “Tell us exactly how you feel about Matt, here.”

Matt audibly groaned once again.

“I do not just want to have sex with my goddamn brother!” Sarah shouted in fury, her eyes going wide as a single, unexpected word popped up in the initial message she was trying to convey. The next sentence she spoke was just as bad, however, and there wasn’t a thing she could do to keep it from escaping her lips at the same volume as the first. “I also want to watch him fuck other people with that fat cock of his!”

The room fell silent at a suddenly mortified Sarah’s words for a few seconds, until Mars spoke up, that is.

“I always think about what might happen if I crawled under the table and started sucking his dick during points when I don’t have anything to do during the game.” She said, trying to throw her hands over her mouth. Unfortunately, some kind of invisible barrier prevented them from making contact with her lips as soon as they were about to touch. “Sometimes I fantasize about him locking me up in a cage and keeping me all to himself as a private love-slave.”

If there was a proper phrase that could explain the lack of noise that followed Mars’ statement, it’d have to be along the lines of ‘church silence’.

As soon as Trent opened up Mars’ profile on the mobile version of Master PC installed within his phone, his eyes nearly bulged out of his head when he looked at her immediate stats.

“There is simply no end as to how much the seven of you continue to surprise me.”

- Sunday—11:57 P.M.—Whittaker Apartments -

“I dunno’, man. Something feels off about this.” Thomas said lazily as he and his partner Mike walked down the upper, concrete balcony for the third-floor apartment rooms. “Fish always does what the boss says. He has to, for Christ’s sake.”

“I know.” The dark-skinned police officer grunted, wearing a basic, black, zip-up hoodie over his uniform and bulky torso. “I’m thinking he might’ve done something to himself.”

“Boss said he wasn’t allowed to do that, either. Remember? The prick tried to slit his own throat after he saw what the boss had done to his wife.”

“How could I forget?” Mike chuckled. “That was my first day on the job.”

“Oh, yeah! Wow, I can’t believe it’s already been three years since then.”

“You’re preaching to the choir, buddy.”

Tom and Mike stopped outside of room three-hundred-twenty-one.

After the fair-skinned officer pulled out a set of keys from his jacket pocket and found the correct one on the ring, Tom stopped his hand an inch away from the door handle as he noticed something odd.

“What’s the hold up?” Mike asked, leaning forward to get a look.

“Sh! ... Do you hear that?” Tom hushed and held up a hand, watching as the knob gently vibrated every few seconds.

It was very faint, as if far off in the distance, but when the two of them listened close enough, they could hear a low, thrumming sound that accompanied the vibrations they saw.

Without warning, the next thing Tom knew he was being grabbed by the collar from a black, soot-covered hand that had exploded through the center of the door, sending Mike stumbling backwards and instinctively covering his face to avoid receiving any damage from the splintery debris.

The hand balled-up with Tom’s hoodie pulled itself back into the hole it created faster than either of their eyes would’ve been able to register, slamming the muscular officer against the damaged door and sending him tumbling backwards against the balcony’s steel railing.

The rest of the door broke apart on impact and a massive cloud of ash escaped from the entryway.

Mike quickly composed and readied himself as he drew the handgun from the holster on his hip, then pointed it at where the door once was while Tom coughed and had trouble even rising to his feet from the pain that wracked his body.

“Drop it.” A woman said through bright, white teeth that were ground against each other as she stepped out from the darkness and onto the balcony, which along with the whites of her furious eyes, were practically glowing in contrast to the layer of black dust that completely covered her slim, but athletic figure.

To Mike’s astonishment, his hands instantly relaxed and the gun fell from his clutches, falling to the ground and firing off on impact.

BANG!

“My arm!” Tom screamed, clutching his right bicep as blood began seeping into the fabric of his jacket’s upper sleeve.

“What the—... Who the hell are you?!” Mike shouted, taking a step back as a deep sense of fear began to creep into bones.

“On. Your. Knees.” She spat. “Both of you.”

Their bodies compiled without hesitation.

Mike quickly knelt, groaning as he struggled in vain against his own body’s involuntary movements.

Tom, in too much agony to fight back in the same manner, felt his muscles forcibly shift him upright and onto his knees.

Sitting there paralysed and looking up at the strange, terrifying woman, each of them wondered how they were about to die.

Mike seemed ready for it, biting his tongue as he awaited her to draw the gun on her calf.

Tom, however, had tears streaming down his face while he whimpered some incoherent gibberish about wanting his mommy.

“Omie, how much time do we have left?”

Mike cocked his head, a hint of confusion adding into the angry, pained expression on his face.

“Shit…” She said, her own rageful expression fading and being replaced with one of defeat, then looked into Mike’s eyes. “These two, are they users? … I see.”

The woman blinked, and Mike felt some kind of shift take place.

He wouldn’t be able to describe what exactly happened if anyone asked him, but he noticed that the once-open hands hanging down beside her midsection had instantly become slightly elevated and balled up into fists.

“Grab a hold of your weapons.”

Their bodies duitifly obeyed her words again.

Mike reached forward and picked up his smoking gun from the ground while Tom undid the strap on his holster and brandished his own.

“Put the barrels in your mouths.”

Both of their eyes widened with panic, helplessly watching themselves slide the black, steel ends of the guns into their mouths.

Mike winced at the intense heat of the metal on his tongue, then bit down hard on the gun out of spite and looked up to the grinning psychopath that had a power over them that was all too familiar, only he’d never experienced what it was like to be on the receiving end of it to this degree.

“Smile.” She hissed, the one on her face growing wider as the word escaped her lips.

Mike felt the muscles in his mouth contract, opening up around the gun into a wide, happy smile.

Tom experienced the same thing, only he began sobbing harder at the horror of his situation and from the devastating wound in his arm.

“Pull the triggers.”

As adrenaline pumped through their trembling bodies at a rate it never had before, they watched the hammers of the guns cock back in slow motion.

Click-click…

Mike and Tom blinked several times, finding that they had complete control of their bodies once again.

While Mike exhaled the breath he’d been holding since brought to his knees and took the gun out of his mouth, Tom let out a loud wail and began sobbing uncontrollably as he collapsed and curled up into the fetal position.

The woman sighed a deep sigh of satisfaction, opening up her hands and letting the bullets from their guns chime against the concrete floor as they fell from her grasp.

“Now, sleep.” She said, looking Mike in his eyes as they glossed over and closed, his body falling limp in suit.

Tom fell silent as he too lost consciousness.

The tall, ash-covered woman took a moment to savor the fresh air, as well as her victory over whoever these two puppets were.

“Ugh, men.” She groaned.

“That was cruel, Trix.” Said a short, tan girl with a pink, pixie haircut above her striking face as she walked out from the cloudy doorway of Lawrence’s apartment, her tone a bit more than disapproving of her Master’s actions while her body was completely devoid of any of the earlier explosion’s residue. “I mean, I get it, we kill people for a living, but what you just did was… Wrong.” She said, stepping beside the dirty woman and giving her glowing, pink eyes a blink.

The ash that coated Trixie’s body quickly dispersed and disintegrated around them.

“They’re lucky I didn’t kill them.” Trixie said with a flat tone as she rubbed her smooth, pale cheek. “An ‘authorized user’ is just as dangerous as a standard one.”

“That’s not my point.” Omikron said, crossing her arms over the large, jiggling breasts that were contained in a skin-tight, bright pink, latex bodysuit that cut-off just above her elbows and knees. “What you just did was no better than what the people we’re after do to their victims.”

Trixie ignored her comment as she reached for a pocket on her hip containing her phone, then pulled it out to check the time.

“Twenty seconds, Omie.” She whispered.

Her genie sighed, impatiently tapping an index finger against her arm. “We really screwed the pooch on this one, huh?”

“I’m starting to think Delta knew exactly what he was sending us into. Why else would he have a Cerberus on stand-by for a simple extraction?

“I—… I didn’t put two and two together, on that one. You might have a point.” Omie said, her eyes widening.

“And when does one operate without her sisters present?”

“... Never.”

“The Pillar of Duty set us up.” Trixie seethed between grit teeth, watching as the digital clock on her cellphone arrived at the next hour.

Sunday — 11:59 A.M. — Comic Sins

“I still can’t believe it.” Trent said, running a hand through Mars’ scarlet hair as she bobbed her head up and down on the upper half of his thick, ten-inch cock, looking up into his eyes with a blank, empty stare while he sat on the edge of the table with his tie undone and his expensive, black dress pants around his ankles. “The world’s most convincing trap, just hangin’ out in a place like this. What a gem you are.”

Mars didn’t respond, she just kept sucking Trent’s cock and stroking her own girthy member from under her lifted dress, as if those were the only purposes she existed for.

“I can’t wait to see what all I can do to you with the program.” He said, his tone malicious and domineering as he watched her small, perky butt wiggling behind her.

In the center of the table, Francine was completely naked and lying on her back as the twins were thoroughly ‘inspecting her measurements’, at Trent’s suggestion, of course.

“Despite the impressive size, they are surprisingly firm.” Andy said, pressing both of her big tits together around his cock as he straddled her torso.

“Her pelvic region is also quite astounding, as if it was sculpted by one of the great, Ancient Greek stone masons.” Amy awed, her left arm wrapped around Francine’s bubbly thigh as she rubbed and teased the ebony beauty’s tight, shaved pussy with her right hand.

Francine was constantly moaning and gasping on top of the many books and notes spread out across the table while they explored her body, having had her sensitivity increased ten-fold just from Trent saying it would be so sortly being before she was assaulted by the two, completely uninhibited, teenage twins.

Jamie, who had backed up several feet in his chair, sat across from Sarah as she leaned against the edge of the table in front of him, both of them staring into each other’s hollow, mindless eyes with insatiable looks of lust while they vigorously masturbated for each other.

The self-admitted voyeur and the closet cuckold feverishly going at it was an amusing concept for Trent, so he had commanded them to work out a few of their repressed kinks, but they weren’t allowed to share any physical contact in the process.

It was safe to say, they’d worked something out, Trent thought with a chuckle before letting out a groan as Mars’ mouth had moved off of his impressive shaft and down towards his large and perfectly smooth balls to suck on and lick.

Matt sat at the head of the table, his battered and abused mind still trapped within his paralyzed body.

For just over ten minutes, he’d watched the people, some he’d grown to know over the last couple of years to others he’d known since he was a child, turn into mindless, sex-crazed animals.

All because of some petty rich kid with a magic app on his phone that had a problem with nicknames.

Matt dare not even think the words again, lest he face the wrath of another multitude of simultaneous migraines.

Sometimes, they’d been a blessing compared to what his mind focused on when he wasn’t in unimaginable pain.

The worst part about it was that nobody seemed to care.

They all went about their... Business, without a second thought.

“It’s just awful, isn’t it?”

The static-like, ragged voice that came from behind Matt sent an icy chill up his spine, hearing the words as if they were spoken from the back of his mind.

The world, time itself, slowly came to a halt after that, and everything within Matt’s limited view was drained of color, as if he was now looking through a grayscale camera lens.

Both Sarah and Jamie were frozen mid-orgasm, the looks on their faces expressing the amount of pleasure that they were receiving from watching one another performances as their hands were soaked in their own respective juices.

Amy and Andy had stripped off their gear and were double-teaming Francine as she stood on all fours on the table, eating out Amy while Andy had a firm hold of her hips and was thrusting himself completely into the big, Sinstagram-level model’s ass that she dearly prided herself on.

Mars had taken about three fourths of Trent’s length as he was pushing down on her head with both hands, making a face that could only mean he was pumping a thick load down the poor girl’s throat.

“But… How would you feel, if none of it was real?”

I… What? Matt weakly thought, just as he caught sight of a smoking, black hand placing itself on his shoulder at the edge of his peripheral vision.

“Observe.”

With a blink of his eyes, the reality Matt knew dissolved before him.

In the frozen pocket of time that he found himself in, Matt had control of his body once more, which happened to be the only thing in his vicinity that had any color to it.

He blinked a few times and balled his hands up into fists as tight as his muscles would allow, then slammed them down on the table in front of him and let out a mighty roar that caused the still air around his unshaven face to shimmer and vibrate.

Breathing heavily, as if he was a starving beast freshly unchained, his eyes flicked around the table for the deserving target for his wrath.

However, the general sight that had appeared around him shocked and stifled the rage that’d been boiling over for the past eternity in which he was consciously incapacitated.

Sitting in their usual seats, fully clothed and half-asleep, was each member of the group with an expression of mild enjoyment on their faces, while the tracksuit-wearing Trent was sitting in the once-vacant seat next to Francine with a balled up hand that was aimed towards a multitude of different-sided dice scattered out in front of him on the stable.

His sister and friends just sat there with their heads down and eyes closed, as if the chaos that was taking place mere seconds ago had never happened.

“That’s because it didn’t.”

Matt, now able to move, whipped his head around at the sound of the distorted, broken voice that spoke to him.

There wasn’t anything there that resembled the black smoke that had touched him a moment ago; his sales counter was as vacant as the rest of the store aside from those at the table.

“Apologies, but we do not have long, and my appearance is irrelevant for the time being... No pun intended.”

Matt slowly turned back around to face the group, his heart threatening to explode within his chest from the sheer adrenaline pumping through him and a torrent of mixed emotions that he was overcome with.

“I believe you’re familiar with a man named Lawrence, is this correct?”

“I am.” Matt grunted, glaring at the tracksuit-wearing pretty boy who was sitting in said person’s seat. “He’s never missed a game before, until today.”

“He’s dead.”

“What?” Matt asked, taken aback by the declaration. “How?”

“That man over there, Trent Stone, drove Lawrence to insanity over the past several years, using the software that he has installed onto his phone. It is a digital program known as Master PC, a tool that acts as a gateway into the infinite number of universes and timelines that run parallel to this one. With the power it possesses, even in that smaller, more limited version he’s currently using to toy with you all, one takes the form of a god to those around them.

“Lawrence was unable to cope with the dismantling of his life, unable to seek any form of assistance during that time, and unable to prematurely end his suffering. Sold by his father into the custody of Trent Stone, the young businessman harvested the natural talent that Lawrence’s mind so that he would be able to experiment with Master PC and its inner workings. Sadly, Trent is a coddled, rich kid with a fickle sense of morality, and couldn’t stop himself from abusing the man at every opportunity. Lawrence worked as his diligent slave for almost every single day of the week these last four years, and finally found a way to take his own life using the program, with some assistance from an unwitting assassin.

“Unfortunately, hours before Lawrence was killed, he mistakenly unleashed something into the world that even he could not fully comprehend. Something that was meant to stay locked away, deep within the coded prison of Master PC. Something that will stop at nothing until every last soul on this planet is bent to its will.

“... But, as humans normally do when under the heavy burden of guilt, Lawrence decided to give existence one final chance for redemption as he was struck by a brief moment of sanity.

“He kindly requested that I find you, Matt, as soon as this Great Game of his begins, so that we may attempt to put a stop to the impending doomsday that will occur if what I spoke of extends its reach beyond the limits of this city.”

Matt didn’t know where to begin.

Poor Lawrence, he thought to himself, what a life…

He’d always been private about his life outside of the game, but came in and role-played with him and the group like it was the greatest thing in the world, which is an attitude that Matt had always been fond of when he hosted the shop’s get-togethers.

The guy was hard to look at, and didn’t shower as well as he could have, but he was a fun guy to have come up with a working ‘bard-zerker’ build for a character, and, well…

He was going to be missed, Matt thought with a frown.

Secondly, apparently there existed a computer program that acted as a debug menu for reality, and it was in the hands of the two biggest, most arrogant shitheads on the planet: Trent and his infamous father, Robert Stone.

Matt didn’t know anything about Lawrence’s family though, he realized, trying to recall the man who pawned off his son into a lifetime of servitude for a sociopath who wanted to tinker with the laws of physics, but instead wound up creating some kind of annoyingly-vague monster that wants to destroy the world.

“Good, it looks like you’ve got the gist of things.”

“So, who are you supposed to be, exactly? And why the hell did Lawrence point you in my direction?” Matt bitterly asked, his skin covered in goosebumps and the hairs on his arms standing on end from the uncomfortable stillness of frozen time. “Not that I’m ungrateful for the rescue.”

“The mass hallucination you’re all experiencing would have been dissolved at this very moment, regardless of my involvement. There will be time for a proper discussion, later. For now, I suggest you listen carefully to the message that each of you are about to receive.”

“What message?”

“Oh, and try not to get too distracted by the heads-up-display.”

When the voice went silent, color flashed back into the word just as Trent was throwing a four-sided die onto the table.

“Alright, Mars, you’re getting… Three pints of my cum down that greedy little throat of yours.” He laughed, looking up at the group as their eyes twitched began to flutter open. “I… uh…”

Grinning with vengeance, Matt relished the look on Trent’s face when the two of them made eye contact.

Then, for a brief instant, Matt’s vision was engulfed with countless numbers and letters, all fighting amongst one-another like static as they settled into a thin, expanding, white grid that vanished as soon as it appeared.

Matt’s smile fell as he looked up towards the ceiling at seemingly nothing, but what he was trying to focus on was the small, barely noticeable wording that had appeared in the upper-left corner of his peripherals.

MasterPCv2.0.exe

He couldn’t directly look at the text, but something clicked when he stilled his vision and focused on that part of his sight, as if a sort of “mind’s eye” had dislocated itself like a cursor and then highlighted said text once it was placed over it.

Something else then clicked, this time audibly, like that of the mouse plugged into his laptop, and then more information displayed itself in the very center of his vision in a fine, white font.

“Welcome to Master PC’s Command Center…

“The Master allows you to become a virtual god to the people around you.

“You now possess the power to bend their reality to your specifications.

“You are the Master’s Official Representative.”

As the six others fully regained consciousness and became aware of their current situation, each of their faces formed expressions that emphasized their own, unique dismay.

“Awe.” Amy and Andy whined with disappointment.

Jamie sighed, then put his arms over his chest and looked down in shame.

Francine just nervously glanced around at everyone, quietly asking if that’d just happened.

Sarah’s demeanor was relatively the same as Jamie’s, only her face was glowing red with embarrassment as her hands were tightly folded together between her thighs.

Mars hadn’t moved or reacted to anything since opening her eyes, she just remained still with a wide-eyed gaze burning into an empty spot on the table.

If it weren’t for the fact that Trent was still there, each of them may have been able to convince themselves that they just had some kind of wet daydream and move on with their lives.

Sadly, he was a shining and terrifying symbol as to what just happened to them.

“So!” Matt boomed, slamming his large hands down on the table as he quickly rose to his feet, which caused everyone, especially Trent, to jump in surprise. “How would you like to die? Slow and painful? Or slower, and even more—”

“Citizens of Imperial City.” A deep, unnerving voice came from every speaker located in and around the shop, as well as any others that happened to be located within the perimeter of the island. Next, every screen and monitor followed suit, displaying a colossal man standing up and shrouded by the darkness of the room he occupied, with a windowed backdrop behind him that showed the city’s primary downtown streets. “I come to you all today bearing horrible news.” He said. If it weren’t for the moving cars and hordes of confused people walking around the sidewalks, one would think the man was speaking over a still photograph.

“My father, your beloved Mayor, Arthur Willis, was murdered in cold blood last night. In his own home, no less.” Despite the mood he was trying to convey with his words, something about his tone suggested he felt a sense of satisfaction in his statements. “Under normal circumstances, there would be a funeral, some kind of memorial erected in honor, perhaps. I regret to inform you all, that there is unfortunately no time for such trivialities, and I have personally seen to the deposition of his corpse myself.

“We, this city, every single one of us, are now at war.

“Our connection to the outside world has been completely severed, and any ties or obligations that you may have had outside of our city are no longer of concern. We have been forgotten, abandoned, and left to suffer at the hands of our betters. At this very moment, everything you know has, and will continue to change, from here on out.

“For far too long have these incorporeal puppeteers hid in the shadows, those who would see us, the human race, as nothing but rambunctious insects that should do nothing except sit quietly and be complacent. My father was the first casualty in this conflict that they started, and he will most certainly not be the last. Fortunately I, Lawrence Willis, your newly appointed Mayor and Master, have a solution that will even the playing-field on both sides.”

“What?!” Was the table’s general consensus, in their own individual phrasing.

Matt had a few questions for this new friend of his, and for the alleged dead man on the large television screen hanging up on one of the store’s walls, his voice coming in loud and clear through the surround-sound speakers that were mainly just used to play customer-friendly music throughout the day.

From as little as he could make out, Matt didn’t recognize the shrimpy, awkward nobody that had a salivating problem and a hunchback.

If this really was Lawrence, then he’d done some serious work to himself with Master PC since the two had last seen each other.

The fear Trent had been feeling as he watched the others break free of his mind control was a thing of the past, now having been replaced by a chilling horror that he could feel in the depths of his very bones at the mention of his new Mayor’s name.

Everyone else was still confused and baffled as to why the Hercules-figured gentleman in a white suit was claiming to be their absent fellow player, and what he was going on about regarding some kind of war that had just kicked off in their city.

“For some time, my father had been in possession of a unique computer program that allowed him to transform and shape this city to his liking. Him, Robert Stone, and Jerimiah Richmond, they all served the ones who hide behind the curtain, using its unlimited power with moderate discretion as the three did their bidding on the sidelines. They did their jobs fine, boldly, even. But in the end, they were all betrayed and butchered like cattle, by the same beings that would see the same happen to you.

“I offer you, the people of Imperial City, a chance. A chance to take control of your life, a chance to take what is rightfully yours, a chance to save yourselves from the impending apocalypse. I offer you, everyone, your ticket to freedom.

“Each and every computer, mobile, laptop, and desktop, will have an unspecified version of Master PC installed onto them, and you all now have a randomized, twenty-digit, alpha-numerical password assigned to each of you, one that you will never have any trouble recalling at a moment’s notice.

“Being that the foundation for our way of living has now been forever changed, all previous forms of currency within the city are now worthless. If you desire to make any kind of monetary transaction with another individual or establishment, you will find that the capital you have obtained and saved up throughout your life has been analyzed and exchanged for a credit based currency that is linked to your registered Master PC account, which cannot be artificially altered by the program itself.

“We still live in a society, my fair citizens. Just because you are being gifted with power that even the gods fear, does not mean you should devolve into the animals that those beings think we are. The laws have changed little, and will be enforced by a team of elite soldiers that can easily apprehend and recondition anyone who is caught breaking them.

“Also, any and all previous mental and physical alterations brought on by Master PC that may have affected you fine citizens in the past have been rendered null and void.

“To those waking up from their dream, welcome back to the real world.

“You all now possess the power to bend reality to your specifications.

“I am the one, true Master, and you are all my Representatives.

“Good luck.”

As Lawrence finished, he seemed to open up his eyes for the first time from under the veil of darkness his features were hidden behind, the iris of his eyes glowing with an odd, out-of-place, crystalline pattern.

All across the store, as well as the city, the feed was cut, and the lives of just over two million people were changed forever in the blink of an eye.

“So, yeah, it’s been fun, you guys.” Trent said, scrambling to put the dice that he’d brought into a small, plum-colored, cloth bag, then stuffed it down the front of his track pants and whatever type of underwear he was wearing. “I promise I’ll come back tomorrow and let you guys chew me out, what happened a minute ago wasn’t supposed to go down like that.”

“How was it supposed to go down?” Sarah shouted in a shaky tone with tears of shame in her eyes, astonished by the nerve of Trent thinking he could just dip out without anyone having a problem with it. “And where the fuck do you think you’re going?!”

“Good question.” Matt spat, taking a few quick steps in Trent’s direction and half-spotting Mars fiddling around with her phone out of the corner of his focused sight.

“Ah, well…” Trent stopped in his tracks after getting snapped at, having just rounded the corner of the table and was a few feet away from the door at that point. He turned around to face the disgruntled group of nerds. “Y’see, Matt rubbed me the wrong way, and I was just going to screw with him for a bit and then wipe your memories, except his. Sorry…” Trent said with a shrug. “Now, if you don’t mind me, Mayor Fish just said my dad was ‘butchered’ along with his own and that prick Richmond. Since I just spoke to the guy a couple of hours ago, I’d like to go and make sure that he’s just spouting a load of bull—”

BANG!

Everyone shouted and screamed at the sound of the gunshot, then Matt swiftly ripped away the gun that had just suddenly appeared out of nowhere and directly into Mars’ hands as Trent’s body spun and tumbled down onto the floor.

The silence that followed was heavy as everyone took in what they’d just witnessed.

Mars had killed Trent right where he stood.

Matt sighed, remembering the terrible things that Trent had made her do when under his influence, and the things he made the shy thing say against her will.

Everyone’s got their fetishes that they don’t like to talk about, even Sarah, apparently, he thought to himself as he also felt something in his stomach turn at the reminder.

“Mars…” Sarah said somberly, placing a hand on her trembling shoulder.

“He called me a trap.” She said, softly and quickly, the rage within still boiling hotter the more she thought about his comment. “The son of a bitch called me a trap… Give me the gun back, Matt! I’m not through with this piece of—!”

“Relax, sit down.” He said, his tone kind and sympathetic.

Matt’s words took effect without hesitation, and Mars sat back down and stopped trying to jump on him to get the weapon from his hand.

Her eyes opened wide after that, just as everyone else’s did, even Matt’s, realizing what he had just done.

If Mars could panic, she likely would have, but the barrage of thoughts of things that Matt could have her do when under his control mixed in with the forced pacification was, well, let’s just say that it’s a good thing her black dress masked the outlines of erections well.

“I’m outta’ here.” Francine said, standing up as she took a break from looking through the multitude of options available to her on the mobile Master PC’s version one-point-six. Just as the bronze bikini-wearing bimbo was just about to turn and leave, she paused and glanced down at the pathetic lump of lard that she called a husband. “Are you coming, or what?”

Jamie looked up into her eyes with a deep sense of emptiness in his own.

Now that she had the program, Francine wouldn’t need him anymore, he thought to himself.

Jamie nodded, and the two got up and began to leave without another word.

“Dibs.” Amy said.

“Agreed.”

“On what?” Matt asked with exasperation.

Their gaze simultaneously flicked to Trent.

“Call your Aunt, you guys. Go home, stay safe, and be good, please?” Matt pleaded. “Don’t do anything that would make me have to hunt you down.”

They took a moment to consider both his warning and wording, completely aware of the power they held without actually feeling any unnatural compulsion along with them, then smiled as they stood up from their chairs to leave.

“Understood, Matt.”

“Today has been fruitful.”

“The murder was awkward.”

“Yes, that did put a damper on—”

Just as Jamie and Francine were in arms-length of him, Trent coughed and took in a long, deep breath of air, which caused the dark-skinned beauty to jump onto Jamie scream in terror.

“Ah, that hurt. That hurt so fucking bad, I… Jesus, fuck! Ah! It still hurts!” He said, his voice strained from the tremendous pain that had locked up his diaphragm.

Note to self, Trent thought, just because you can make yourself bulletproof, that doesn’t make the pain ceiling go down by default.

“Fuck.” He coughed.

Mars had not killed Trent, it seemed.

“Oh, thank goodness…” Mars said with a sigh of relief. Having had a moment to calm down, she realized the serious implications that came along with killing a guy just because he was an insensitive jerk, however the other things he had made her do warranted that she not beat herself up too bad about shooting him in the first place. “You still deserved that, rapist.”

“Keep in mind, none of that actually happened.” Trent said in defense as he climbed to his feet.

BANG!

“Ow, shit! Matt, what the hell?!” Sarah screeched, covering her ears.

“Those headaches were real enough.” Matt said after watching Trent collapse to the floor again. He held the gun up to the center of his vision and used the HUD within his mind to highlight it, which caused an ethereal list of features to appear over his hand. In an instant, the gun was deleted by the same type of power that was used to create it. “Hm.” Trent mumbled, getting an idea or two from the concept.

Trent let out a noisy, lung-emptying wheeze from the indescribable amount of pain he was in.

“Same spot.” He croaked, his voice high-pitched and strangled as he twitched on the floor with his arms crossed over his chest. “That was… the exact same spot, you f-fuckin’ asshole...”

“Amusing.”

“Quite.”

Sunday — 9:31 A.M. — Imperial Heights

“Aaaahahahaha!” Robert Stone bellowed, extending his left arm to point at his son as he laughed until he was wheezing. “This fuckin’ kid, I’m tellin’ ya’!”

All of Trent’s confidence left him as if someone had flushed it all down the toilet that his idea was metaphorically just thrown into.

Robert slammed his index finger of his right hand down on the button to his intercom, still breathlessly giggling with the golden cigar secured between his teeth.

“Wendy! G-gh-get, get in here and help me laugh at my son!”

Not a second later, the left of the double-doors to his office opened up, and a busty, big-bottomed, cleavage-showing, micro-skirt-wearing blonde sauntered in, her exaggerated features jiggling around with each slight movement she made.

“Sir?” The schedule-savvy bimbo was visibly confused by her Master’s order.

Robert gathered himself in an instant, then proceeded to make the same gesture with his hands that Trent had made. “Stone. Cold. Comics.” He said, his tone mocking of Trent’s. “Aaahahaha!”

Wendy quickly threw a hand over her mouth in an attempt to hide the wide smile that had forcibly spread itself across her lips.

However, she couldn’t suppress the giggle-fit that was coming on.

The next thing Trent knew, the both of them were hysterically pointing and laughing at the young man.

His broad shoulders fell along with his facial expression.

“Seriously, you two are the worst.” He said, the hurt clear on his handsome face.