5. Give them an inch...

Sure, it was tempting to use Master PC to lose a little weight, but surely everyone would have noticed if I suddenly lost twenty pounds, or made any other dramatic changes. I didn't want people asking those sorts of questions. Somehow, Master PC seemed like the sort of thing you aren't supposed to tell people about.

"Hi there! How was work today baby?" I asked Ian as he came in the door.

"You don't wanna know," he said, but he gave me a very nice kiss for my troubles.

Ian wasn't one to talk about such things a lot, he could be pretty taciturn, but I knew they'd been putting a lot of pressure on him at work. So I chatted and puttered and when he had relaxed a bit I served him a stir fry with veggies and noodles I had whipped up.

After cleaning the kitchen we plopped down in front of the TV. He was still being quiet, but he stretched out on the couch and we watched the latest version of Star Trek with popcorn and cherry coke.

The new Star Trek didnt hold my attention. They hadn't added much this time around but more breasts. I liked it better when Ian watched the old ones, they had great hairdos. I leaned up against my man and tried not to think about Master PC.

Or, to be specific, I tried not to think about the big question that Master PC posed for me. Specifically, where did it come from? What should I do with it?

The first question was the most important - but the least useful. I mean, just the idea that something as powerful as Master PC existed was, well, mind-blowing. It violated every scientific principle. The laws of thermodynamics were out the door. Master PC looked very modern and technological when you sat down to it, but it was pure magic. It was a genie coded as software.

Was it something that had escaped from some secret government project? It seemed unlikely that the government had such vast powers. If the President had Master PC i was sure we would all notice it.

Was Master PC a gift from Aliens? Something dropped by time travellers? A flaw in the fabric of the universe? Did god write the code himself?

I had no answers there.

But what difference did it make, really? Master PC itself was a lot bigger and more important than I was. Or anything I might do with it. I was just a girl with a copy of secret cheat codes to life. The big picture was out of my hands. I mean, who do you call to report something like Master PC?

So much for the first Question.

The second question was less profound, but much more to the point. What was I going to do with Master PC? Delete it and go on with my normal life? Tell Ian about it and watch him assemble his harem of sexslaves?

My man had fallen asleep to the sounds of phaser fire and the Enterprise in danger. Even asleep, he looked troubled. I knew I had to help him. That was the role I had signed up for.

And that answered question number two, didnt it?

I slipped off the couch and over to my computer, and laoded up Master PC.

So far, I had only looked at myself. Now I opened up a new file for Ian. Windows blossomed across the screen - diagrams and maps and windows of Ian's body and his mind.

I was just going to make some very tiny changes. Just tweaks, really.

Ian was a clever guy, a deep nerd and a good programmer. But his mind wandered easily, and boring corporate work did not excite him. It seemed like he needed to be a bit more productive. I knew that Master PC had control surfaces for attention span and focus.

Sure enough, Master PC listed Ian as having 30% Attention Deficit. I had no idea where the "30%" number came from, or how it was registered. There is no scale for ADD like that, not that I'd ever heard of. Master PC, it seemed, was it's own little universe, it had it's own standards and measurements.

I changed the settings. I took away the attention deficit that had been a part of Ian's life since he was little, and replaced with a deep ability to focus on tasks.

Master PC also said that he was very smart. It was right, he was. But Ian often complained that he felt slow-witted. Master PC had a control panel for basic intelligence. I made him smarter. Just a teensy little bit. It's what he'd want, if I asked him.

And then I found the real key to the whole thing - a set of inter-related dials that governed self-confidence. Ian's were surprisingly low. I notched them up to a much more realistic self-assessment. Ian was terrific, and he should know it.

That took care of his work problems, I suspected. What else?

There was, of course, a whole set of panels devoted to control of sexual functions, responses, capacities, and abilities. I was suspicious about making changes there, but once you start using Master PC, I discovered, it is hard to resist.

I didn't do anything weird, or dramatic. I just made everything a little bit better, a bit more sensitive, a bit more responsive. Subtle changes. Nothing wild. I supposed I was more or less turning his sex-clock back to college levels.

And then I Hit "save."

Ian was still sleeping on the couch when I leaned down to kiss him. He tasted like cherry coke and pure boyhood. He startled a bit, and then started to kiss back. He reached up and wrapped his arms around me and pulled me in, and I was his, like I was meant to be.

We made out on the couch like teenagers whose parents might come home soon. Was it my imaginiation, or was he a bit more excited than usual? A bit more urgent?

We wrestled each other out of our clothes and laughing, we ended up on the floor. On the TV, starships were still fighting. Suddenly, Ian seemed very insistent. He slid between my legs and he was all cock, all testosterone, all forward advance. Normally the King of foreplay, Ian pushed his way into me. It was OK, I was up for it, and more than ready.

There on the floor, amid the spilled popcorn, he fucked me like he loved me, or hated me, or whatever. It was wonderful. There wasn't time to talk dirty or even feel the love. Ian was just a fiery spear and I had no complaints at all.

He lasted forever. I wrapped him up in my legs and just lied back to enjoy the ride. To my amazement, I came first. I couldn't recall the last time I had come from pure fucking. Ian followed along right behind me, making wolf-howl noises. By the time he collapsed on me, a big sweaty mass of super-boyfriend, I was terribly impressed.

We cuddled for a moment, and then his kissed me, not tenderly, like I expected, but passionately.

"Let's go the bedroom," he said. Startled, I agreed. And there, on our bed, he did it all again.

I suppose when it comes to Master PC, I didn't know my own strength. Or maybe Ian didn't need a lot of magic to get going. Just a teensy bit, just a little push.

And when he fell asleep in my arms at last, I could not help but wonder, hey, what else can I do with that thing?

6. Good Times

It was nice to see him so excited when he came home from work. He was barely through the door when he started telling me about his advenutres.

"They really weren't prepared," He said, "I was surprised, you'd think they'd be more on the ball. They all seemed to be on doofus pills, or something. I had to explain everything twice. Still, they seemed happy enough when they caught on."

"Well, the conquering hero returns home. You deserve a beer."

He took the beer I handed him and set it down on the kitchen table unopened. "Don't I deserve a real reward?" he asked. He'd been undressing since he came into the kitchen, now he was nearly naked, and his current frame of mind was, well, pointedly obvious.

"Hey." I said, giggling, "It's your turn to cook!"

"I'll cook afterwards," he said, practically carrying me into the bedroom.

He skipped the foreplay again. He'd been doing that a lot lately. I had learned to be prepared.

It had been a wonderfull week. Newly focused and invigorated, Ian was having fun at work again. And our sex life had really livened up. I had almost totally avoided the temptation to use Master PC again. I had tweaked my sex drive up just a little bit, so that I could keep up with Ian. I didn't need so much foreplay and I was running hot for my boy all the time. Other than that, I had resisted temptation.

Well, I had used Master PC to spy on Ian a bit. After all, a girl likes to know what's going on. Mostly, Ian sat at in his cubicle all day coding, which wasn't that exciting. Sometimes though, I saw other things, like him flirting with pretty coworkers, or the sweet young thing who sold him his coffee every day. Ian had always been a wolf, but with his glands all tweaked up, he was even more out of control. It was only a matter of time before he did somethig stupid.

Now, I'm possessive of the love of my life, but I've always given Ian a little lattitude. A little spice is good for a boy.

I was contemplating my options when we went to bed that night. Snuggling up to Ian, I was surprised to discover that his cock was already getting hard again. He was insatiable! He looked sleepy but he pulled me into his arms. We lay there quietly for a bit, just kissing, feeling the comforting circle of each other's arms.

"I feel like things have really taken an upward turn," he said, lightly kissing my throat. "It's like everything's coming together for us."

"We've always had it pretty good, loverboy," I said giggling. "But we do seem to have hit a soft patch. We had it coming."

Without another word, I slid down and found his lovely cock, now all proud and eager again. Lovingly, I kissed it again and again, tasting it, making love to it. Worshipping it. Then I opened my mouth and started to give him a slow, luxurious blowjob.

It didnt take long for him to come, and he came gently, nearly drifting off to sleep as it happened, but with a dreamy smile. I swallowed my mouthfull happily.

It seemed to me that there was more semen than before, and it seemed to taste a little different too. It struck me that altering his sex drive had probably increased his testosterone levels. I wondered if Master PC accounted all the various second order changes that the hormones would make to his body? Did Master PC even work that way? When I increased Ian's sex drive, what happened exactly?

It seemed like I couldn't think about Master PC without going down a path that made my head swim. It was just too big think about, really. I resolved to stick to things that were within my reach. Like my boy.

I could, after all, make some of his dreams come true. It's what he would want, right? Sex and adventure. More transformations? A threesome? A harem of sex robots? Master PC could make all sorts of adventures easier.

Thinking about the possibilities was rather exciting. When I had tweaked my own sex drive I was mostly thinking that I wanted to be able to keep up with Ian, but the side effect of it was that I was as horny as he was, and I found my imagination getting more and more... well, explicit. Perhaps I should re-tweak? tIt was hard to be sure.

I snuggled up against my Ian, he was warm and cozy and he smelled like mortal sin, and he was all mine. One thing was sure, technology was making my life better, and I had no intention of turning back.

7. ...and they'll take a mile

I had made a few other tweaks. Master PC had a control panel for "physiological age." I'd begun a slow process of ratcheting a few years off of Ian's wear and tear. I was dropping his weight a bit, and tightening up his muscles. He was slowly getting back the body that he had in College. His sexual capacities and sensitivites were now better than he had known at the peak of his adolescent passions. He and I were doing it like bunnies every night, and I knew full well he was masturbating in the restroom every day at work. He was horny all the time, and loving it.

Master PC had other uses too. I had loaded it onto my work computer, so I could open a little widow and keep track of Ian. It also turned out to be fun to be able to glance in on my co-workers and bosses.

And Master PC could be very revealing. Once you learned to read the complicated little icons and schematics that Master PC used to describe mental state and personality, you could learn all sorts of things.

Like, my friend Maggie was masturbating all the time. According to her icon display, she spent a lot of time thinking about sexual fantasies. Well, that was no surprise. She had known all about Master PC, hadn't she?

I learned more about my boss, Laura. She had an odd empty smile, a good heart, and tended to wear quaint angora sweaters. I got along wither her pretty well. She had always struck me as one of those people who really live for their job. According to her Master PC brain-map however, she hated her job and was feeling lost and meaningless. I had not suspected how miserable she was. It seemed she had made it her life's work to hide that sad truth from the world and just soldier along.

I also learned a lot about her boss, Mr. Wiggins. Wiggins was one of those drab, grey men that haunt middle management everywhere. He turned out to be a crossdresser. I was suprised to see that he wore fancy lingerie under his drab suits almost every day. The peek window turned out to have a handy "x-ray" mode for that. Suddenly, Mr Wiggins was a real person to me, someone interesting, someone I could be friends with. The more you know about people, the more there is to like.

And he had nice taste in lingerie.

People tend to seem simple and kind of dull because they hide all their complexities. Once you can see what's going on underneath, everyone is fascinating.

It also turned out that Rick, the new kid in the department, and Janet, our administrative assisstant, were having little trysts in the supply room. I claim to be a good snoop, but I hadn't suspected a thing, I must confess. Not only were they slipping in there for some quick fun, but they did it all the time. Apparently, Rick liked to get blowjobs from Janet just about every day, and Janet, for whatever reason, seemed eager to help him out with that. And really, they weren't being all that carefull about it. They were going to be discovered eventually. If you're going to sneak some guerrilla nookie, as Ian calls it, you have to be cautious. They were really lucky that no had caught them so far.

Of course, it was tempting to start changing them - I could do a lot with a gentle tweak, after all. But I had decided not to tweak anyone at work. Using Master PC mind control I certianly could have made Laura give me more days off, or I could just command Mr Wiggins to give me a raise. But it seemed like there had to be a line there somewhere. A line between using and really abusing Master PC. I wasn't quite sure yet where I thought that line should be, so I was being cautious. Surely using it to spice up my life, and Ian's, was different from using it to reprogram the people around me, or take advantage of them?

When I had first read the Master PC porn fiction, I had been struck at how silly it seemed to take something as powerful as Master PC just use it to play sex games. After all, with Master PC, I could cure anyone of cancer! My Aunt Myrren had died of cancer years before. With Master PC, I could have saved her. I really loved Aunt Myrren, I wish someone had saved her. So why not save everyone? Why not heal everyone? Why not make everyone happy?

Was everyone supposed to be happy? Was that really my job? Having Master PC at my command must come with some kind of responsibility, but was I really smart enough to fix everything?

I resolved to take it slowly.

8. Dressing Up

And yet, whenever Janet and Rick snuck off, I made sure I was watching. Once a snoop, always a snoop. And these two! They were taking way too many chances, and they were both taking real risks with their jobs and the relationships. The two of them were like a car wreck. No one can look away from a car wreck.

Of course, I was tempted to intervene. I could easily put some cold water on their relationship, or smarten them up. I suppose it was just too fascinating to watch it happen.

My cell phone rang. It was Ian, so I answered it, keeping half an eye on Rick and Janet. I'd given Laura and the rest of my office-mates the subtle and harmless command that they would never notice Master PC on my monitor, so I didn't have to fret about that.

"Hi Honey," Ian said. "I was just calling you up to remind you that it's Bachelor night tonight."

"Already?" I asked, sounding just lightly disappointed. "Didn't you have that last week?"

"No hon, it's been weeks. Don't worry. I won't be out too late, I promise."

"Of course you will be out too late. Don't try to play me, you dog. Just be honest and promise you will make it up to me." It was fun to tease Ian, he never seemed to be sure when I was serious or not. He was awfully smart about some things, but he had always had a tin ear for nuance. Programmers!

"Make it up to you?" he asked, a little tentative.

"When you come home, I don't care how late it is or how much you have had to drink," I said. "I will expect you to perform your marital duties the moment you get in."

"Oh," he said. "You really shouldn't wait up..."

"I won't," I said. "You wake me. Just be ready to perform," and I hung up on him. I didn't need to tune him in with Master PC, I could just see the look on his face. Priceless.

Bachelor night was a tradition with Ian and his friends since they mostly all settled down. They would go out every other friday night or so and do 'boy stuff,' which mostly meant beer, pool, cards, beer, and the occasional lap dance at the "Wandering I" club.

Girlfriends, wives, and other significant other's were expressly not allowed. They had a little trouble when Jeffrey turned out to be gay. His partner Dan was a boy, so he didn't fit under their "no girls" rule. They resolved this by declaring Dan an "honorary wife" and switching to a "no wives or girlfriends" rule. We live in a very modern world.

Of course, I had been waiting for bachelor night, this was the first one since I had found Master PC, and it fit my plans perfectly.

See, I had problem looming, and I like to be proactive.

Ian was likely to stray.

I mean, boys will boys and all that, but Ian was surging with hormones and energy. He had the sex-drive of a seventeen year old boy and the confidence of a grown man. He was a rangy and sexy tiger, and though our sex life was the best, monogamy is a tricky proposition at best.

Now, I've always been pretty flexible with my monogamy. I mean, Ian and I are forever, and I've never really liked sharing my stuff with other people. I've allowed him some fun on the side because, well, I just think that's being realistic. I don't really care what he did with that redhead in Vegas, or with that slut Suzy Waters. Or the occasional lap dance.

But Ian was at the top of his game, and the girls around him were certainly noticing. There were going to be temptations.

I mean, I couldn't really blame the girls. Who could resist Ian? And I could hardly blame Ian - I loved him for who he was, even the scoundrel part. Never trust anyone who says "I love so-and-so, except for..."

Love is for everything.

And I had Master PC, which made all sorts of magic possible. And I had a plan that I had been working on for several days.

The rest of the afternoon went quickly. Janet and Rick had once again avoided being caught, though at Laura was heading for the stockroom at a very bad moment, and I had to make up an excuse to interrupt her. I'm not sure why I helped them out, but I did. by the time Laura got into the stockroom, the fools had fled.

I cleared out of work on time on went straight home. I opened up my Master PC and checked in on Ian. He has already met up with his best buddy, Tyler, and the two of them were hanging out at their favorite record store. It was still early, after all.

I had been snooping enough to know their plans - they would eventually meet up with their friends at a bar, go to a party they had heard about, and finish the evening at Ryan's, which had been their favorite bar since forever.

That gave me plenty of time.

I finished up some leftovers and took a relaxing shower, and then I started to lay out my new outfit, which I had bought over the last few days - a little black dress, a belly shirt to slip over it, fishnets, glittery high-heeled sandals, various accessories. It was the perfect outfit for a slutty high school porn star, but it looked like nothing I would ever wear.

And none of it fit me anyway.

Then I stripped down to nothing, sat in front of Master PC, and turned on the magic.

I started by changing my physiological age to about seventeen. That was an amazing experience. When I hit "save" I felt this shudder slide through me, like a breeze from an open freezer door. I'm still in my twenties and I think of myself as young, but I had forgotten how much better it feels to be a teen-ager. Tiny aches and flaws throughout my body just evaporated, and it felt like my metabolism was revving up, running hotter. I could feel my skin soften. It was an incredible sensation, and it was tempting to find out what it felt like to be, say, fifteen. or twelve. But I was doin' stuff.

I couldn't resist glancing at myself in the mirror. Sure enough, I was seventeen again. Kewl.

Next, I made myself taller, more slender, and gave myself the muscle tone of a girl who had nothing to do but hang out at the spa all day. Feeling my muscles tighten up was incredible, the way you imagine a cat feels when it really stretches. I tried walking around, and discovered that gaining an inch or two and losing twenty pounds totally changes your center of gravity. It took me a moment to adjust.

Long blonde hair was easy, and I loved the feeling of it as it suddenly cascaded down over my bare shoulders. I'd been blonde many times in my life, but this hair was thicker, fuller, and curlier than anything I'd ever had. Feeling it grow was like a very fast, but very wonderful, scalp massage.

I know because Ian, God bless him, gives very nice scalp massages.

The face was hard. So many little details to get right! I didn't want to screw up and look like a clown, so I stuck to very basic things. I made my lips more full. I made my brows more arched. I made my cheekbones sharper. I adjusted the shape of my eyes a little. And I made them blue.

I made my nose smaller, and cuter. Trust me, that was a real miracle. Im an attractive girl, but in the "normal" range of attractive, as opposed to the "actress" range or the "supermodel" range. Generally, I make up for it by having a dazzling personality.

But being able to just shrink away your schnozz? Priceless.

I finished up with little details. I whisked away my body hair, which was an odd sensation. I made my pussy virginally tighter and stronger, which was an even odder sensation. I was suddenly an Olympic kegel champion. I made my eyebrows sparse and my eyelashes full. I made my skin clear, soft, and more sensitive. I made my voice higher and breathier.

And then it was time for the boobs.

OK, look, I don't get the boobs thing. I mean, I get that they are sensitive erogenous zones and beautiful - believe, me, I really get that. I have not always played for the Boy's team. I could write books about how nice breasts are.

But I don't really understand the whole size thing. I always thought that small breasts were as nice as big ones. I just don't see the special appeal that big breasts have for so many people. I suppose it might be a testosterone thing.

OK, True story: Testosterone. I had a friend in college who was a female to male transsexual. One day her name was Rita and then the next day she asked us to call her Max. She started to dress more and more like a boy, and act like one, and, well, at some point, we started to think of him as Max. At some point, Max started to get testosterone therapy as part of his transition.

It changed him, but slowly. It helped him bulk up on muscle, and it changed the way his mass was distributed. His chin and his body started to get hairy. And he would talk for hours about the way it changed him inside.

"Suddenly, I like to look," he said. "I mean, I was always into girls. But now, I can get hot just staring at them on the street. They can just walk by me at the mall and I can't think straight. I just stare at their tits. I promise you, I have not seen a girl's eyes since my second injection." He eventually married an exotic dancer (more about her later) and became a lawyer.

So you see, it may just be a hormone thing after all.

But sometimes, you don't need to understand things, you just need to act on them.

So I put my cursor over the dial and made my breasts grow. I dialed them up to perfect D cups - the dial, disturbingly, went up into imaginary breasts sizes that I had never heard of or imagined, but I stopped at D, thank you. Very big, but hopefully not ridiculous.

They felt odd, hanging their on my chest. They felt, well, heavy.

I checked them out in the mirror. I have to say, they made me look like a total sexpot. I know my well endowed friends have complained that men don't take you seriously when you have big breasts, and suddenly I could totally see it.

They really were too big. They made me feel terribly top and front heavy. I was going to have to learn to walk to compensate for that. They were also kind of itchy.

Still, I have to admit, I kind of like the way they looked. Every girl dreams of having bigger tits at some point in her life, and getting noticed by the boys in the ways that only bigger breasts can provide.

OK, I thought, I don't have all night, time to get dressed. I put on the new underwear and the little black dress, I slipped on the sandals and pulled the little t-shirt on. It all fit me now - I had planned out every detail, you see.

I fluffed my hair into a wild, curly mane. I did my makeup heavier than a good girl should, but I didn't get silly with it. Some cheap jewelry livened the whole thing up. I put on a new perfume so I would not smell like, well, me.

Then I looked in the mirror.

Sure enough, it wasn't me at all. It was some teenage troublemaker, a sloe-eyed girl who was much too sexy and likely to get into a lot of trouble fast. She had the killer body of a porn star, but she didn't have that hard chrome & enamel look I associate with porn stars. She was young and fresh and very real. She had supermodel aerobic limbs and luxury centerfold curves. She was out of your league.

I decided to call her Candide Apples.

Don't laugh, I was having fun.

I sat down with Master PC and got back to work. There were other changes I could make that might enhance the plan - deeper changes.

Perhaps this was a good time to indulge myself. Or was that just Master PC bravery talking? Hadn't I made myself more self-confident? I bit my lip, and tentatively made more changes.

I made my sex drive a lot stronger. I increased my sexual responsiveness. I improved my "overall orgasm" index (there were lots of sub-indexices for Orgasms, but I had not yet worked out the difference between O-sensitivity, O-multiplicity, O-profundity, O-scope, O-duration, O-access, and so on). I didn't go crazy, but I notched a lot of the Sexuality/Response dials up a few notches.

Then I shut down the computer and it was time to go.

9. A Girl in the World

Cadinde Apples, however, was a different situation entirely. Suddenly, I was trouble just waiting to happen.

Still, it was amazingly easy to flag down a taxi.

The driver acted like he drove porn stars around all the time. Perhaps he did. He was one of those rugged, older arab men. You know the kind, they have hard wirey bodies and you know they're used to giving orders to women and taking what they want when it comes to sex. As he drove my to Ryan's, I tried to think about something other than what it would be like to fuck him.

He pulled up in front of Ryan's and I passed him his money. "Keep the change," I said, tipping him extravagantly. His rough fingers brushed mine as I paid him. I could almost feel his hands sliding across my naked body.

I managed to pull myself away from the elderly arab dreamboat and up through the door into Ryan's. Ian's favorite bar is a bit of a dive, one of those well settled old places where you could walk through the door anytime in the last forty years and only the clothes the patrons wore would change, nothing else.

It was a quiet night at Ryan's, but the crowd was especially hot. Nubile girls sat invitingly next to their beefcake boyfriends. Have you ever walked into a bar where everyone was totally hot?

Neither had I, come to think of it.

I walked up to the bar and took a seat. The bartender came right over, but he had an odd look on his face. I knew exactly what he was thinking, he had no poker face at all. His first thought had been "Wow, what a hottie!" but his second thought had been "Hey, is she old enough to drink?"

I had left my ID at home. Jean Reynold's driver's license wasn't going to do Candide Apples any good. But I had this all planned out, and I had an ace up my sleeve.

See, Master PC, at it's heart, is about control. Ways to control people. Changing their shape and appearance is just a small part of that. Now, the easy way to control someone with Master PC is to do it directly - you just open up a Master PC window for your subject, and you can reach right into their heads. You can adjust their thoughts, their memories, even their basic personality.

It is probably evil to do those things, of course.

But Master PC also has a "Second Order Mind Control Menu" that is filled with other forms of MC that you can employ, like sex-pheremones, dominating telepathy, and super-optical subliminals. There were, in fact, dozens of them listed.

I had chosen "The Combination Command Voice." It was, apparently, a three way combination of Mind-shifting ultrasonics, neutral scent domination triggers (which is something like pheremones, but different, I guess) and Directed Telepathic Bursts. It was, according to the read-me file, a good combination for quick, easy, and reliable results, recommended for the beginner.

Yes, I always read the read me files. Master PC documentation was really spotty, but you could learn a few things from it.

So when the bartender asked to see my ID, I just looked him in the eye, smiled, took a deep breath, and said YOU JUST SAW MY ID. IM TWENTY. He just blinked at me. WHAT ARE YOU HAVING MISS? I added.

He just sort of stared at me for a moment, and I thought perhaps he was about to laugh out loud at me. But then he smiled and asked "What are you having Miss?"

Relieved, I ordered a Smirnoff Ice (I know, but it seemed like the sort of thing Candide would drink, at least until someone else was paying.) I glanced around to make sure no one else had noticed my using The Voice. Had it been really loud? I wasn't sure about that. It sort of echoed in my head when I used it.

As the bartender brought my drinks, I couldn't help but notice his hands. He had big, strong hands. You could imagine him tearing off your clothes with those hands. You could imagine him grasping you shoulders by those hands as he thrust himself into your-

And it suddenly struck me that the cabdriver had not been sexy, Ryan's was not filled with hotties, and the bartender did not have especially sexy hands.

I had just turned my sex drive up too much.

So I sipped my drink and just sat there quietly, trying to pull myself together. If you took a deep breath and thought about math and cold water the guys and gals in the bar started to seem more ordinary.

OK, I thought, I can handle this. Having a super sex-drive was just a new experience, it was totally something I could work with. And it was kind of fun. Though I think I was going to leave a wet stain on the barstool.

And it's fun to scope people out when they are scoping you out. If you want people to stare at you, then you want to be a slutty teenybopper with blonde hair and ample breasts. Trust me.

A few guys hit on me. I made small talk and discouraged them politely. One guy, a beefy jock type, did not take no for an answer. He was so not my type, though I have to admit, I totally wanted to see what his cock looked like.

I finally had to get rid of him. I AM UGLY I told him, GO AWAY. He lost interest fast. Using the Command Voice, I noticed, was really work. Giving someone a command was like picking up a heavy box and putting it on the top shelf. It was an effort. Still, it really worked.

There was couple was who seemed interested in me that I rather liked the looks of. He was a broad shouldered, pasty-white Clark Kent type, she was an ebony waif with extravagant dreads. You couldn't help but wonder what had brought two such different people together. I was certain they were talking about me, they kept glancing over at me as they chatted. Were they thinking that I was the perfect third for their evening's plans?

It was a nice thought. Odd images filled my brain. All I could think about was sex. My pussy was hot and alive. My nipples were endlessly hard bullets straining against my dress. The feeling made me squirm. Everything smelled good. Was this what it was like to be a sixteen year old male?

But just about then, I was saved by the bell - the boys had arrived.

Bachelor Night.

10. Bachelor Night

Ian! He was a tall and lean, with a boyish grin and hair prettier than any girl's. I'll bet everyone in the bar heard my pussy gurgle and gush when I caught sight of him. He was just perfect.

Goodness, fiddling with my sex drive didn't change the way I felt about him. Not really. I just wanted him. The extra sex drive was just added salsa.

So I sat on my stool and watched the boys come in and claim a table. They had clearly been having lots of fun already. If they had stuck to the plan, they had gone to a bar or two, and then a wild party in Westville. They should all have been in good spirits and a bit tired. They would hang out at Ryan's for awhile, swap outrageous stories, and relax. Eventually, they would drift apart and start to head home.

Now, Bachelor night started on the subway and buslines, but it ended in taxi cabs, so there was no designated driver. Still, I knew that generally Tyler was their lightest drinker. At the end of an evening he generally had the most wits together, and it was his job to make sure that everyone got into a cab safely.

Tyler was pretty dependable. He was smart, quiet, and rather handsome. He and Ian had been best friends since they were in a band together, years before. I had always had the vague feeling that Tyler didn't like me, but he was always perfectly nice. Boys always think women are just in the way.

Anyway, the boys weren't such wild drinkers anymore. It looked to me like they all had their heads together, at least mostly. Ian was a bit flushed and he was talking louder than usual.

I hoped his performance skills weren't going to be too badly affected. Never been much of a drinker myself, I always hated to mess alcohol with sex. Sex is more fun if you have your wits and reflexes.

A waitress came to their table and they ordered a round and flirted with her. They were regulars and reasonably well behaved, so she seemed to be handling them fine.

She was a broad shouldered girl with spiky green hair, and she almost certianly played for the girl's team. Still, she gave the boys smiles, and they swooned over her.

I swooned some myself. She was more my kind of girl than theirs, I figured.

While they were waiting for their drinks, they noticed me.

Yes, boys, here I am. Every boy's wet-dream. Take a nice look.

I pretended to ignore them and ordered another drink. Now we were getting to the hard part. I had baited the hook, but I had to reel him in very slowly. Timing, as they say, is everything. So I sipped my drink and pretended to be lost in my own thoughts. They had taken a table a little too far away from me, so I couldn't really hear what they were saying, but I picked up a few words here and there and tired to follow along.

They talked all kinds of shit, some of it about the hot blonde at the bar. Goodness, I liked being the center of attention! Eventually it sounded like they were starting to wrap up for the evening. It was late, and time for them to get back to their homes and partners.

That's when I just happened to glance over, and catch Ian's eye. He looked back, and oh-so-subtly gave me a sly smile. The dog! I smiled back.

Then I turned my attention back to my drink. Let him stew over that. It didn't take long for them to pay off their check and start saying their good-byes. Once they were going out the door, I counted to twenty, gave the bartender a smile, and got up.

I walked out onto the sidewalk. It was cooler outside, and the air was fresh and wonderful. I could feel it waking me up some. Ryan's was on a quiet street, everything was closed except for a little all-night diner across the street. The diner's neon sign - a big palm tree - touched everything faintly with violet. I could see Tyler helping Mark and Vincent into a cab. I didn't see Jeff, he must have already gone.

Ian gave me a smile as I came out into the cool, fresh air. I smiled back. Would he be brave enough to go for it? Of course he would. He'd gained a lot of self confidence recently.

"Can I get you a cab?" he asked me. He was very suave.

"Ooh, maybe you and I could share one," I said. My heart was racing. Here I was, just a few feet from him, and he didn't recognize me. Years of marriage, and here he was looking me right in the eye. He had no clue, but he wanted me. Was it because of my big tits and my cute little nose? Or was there something about our bond that drew him to me despite my altered flesh?

Well, OK, it was probably the tits. But if my guy was gonna cheat on with some blonde bimbo, then that bimbo might as well be me.

So I gave him a dazzling smile, and I could see him making up his mind. He was totally going to cheat on me! This was going to be many kinds of fun.

Of course, I had it all planned. He could hardly take me back to his place, could he? I'd claim to have the same problem. I'd tell him I lived with my parents. That would add to the overall naughtiness of things. I'd suggest we stop at the Hamilton, a sleazy little hotel where you could rent rooms by the hour. "For a quickie," I would say.

Then I'd fuck him till he was exhausted. Ian always fell asleep after sex, after all, he'd be tired from a long day and a little too much drink. I would be safely home long before him. I would change back into plain old Jean, and he'd be a very late, very tired, very guilty little boy.

And then I'd make him perform his marital duties to me. Or try to, anyway.

Sure, I'm terrible. But let's face it - every other guy on the planet dreams of having the problems I was giving Ian. I couldn't wait. My pussy was clenching and unclenching like it was having some kind of attack. My nipples were so hard, I felt like they might burst. I nearly threw caution to the wind and fucked Ian right there on the sidewalk.

I thought I had experienced sexual desire in my life, but I had not. Not really. Not until that moment. And a moment later, I knew, it would be even stronger.

"What's your name?" Ian asked me. I made an effort to focus on what he was saying. We still had flirting to do, after all.

"Candide," I said.

"Well hello Candide. I'm Max."

I started to laugh out loud at him, and I had to cover up for it quickly. Max indeed! "That's a wonderful name!" I said, trying to make my laugh into a sunny smile. I hadn't given myself away - as far as Ian was concerned, he was about to score with a very hot blonde bimbo. If she was giggly, well, that was just part of the charm.

He was also looking pretty tipsy, suddenly. The night was catching up with him. We can honestly say he was not using his best judgment. I was confident I could rouse him to great activity, booze or no booze.

A cab pulled up.

Tyler came over from the sidewalk. I guess he had been holding back, giving Ian a chance to chat with the hot blonde. Ian gave him a smile. "I think the little lady and I will take this one," Ian said. You could almost here him winking at Tyler.

Tyler opened the door of the cab with a flourish. "In you go," he said. Ian climbed in without thinking, and before I could follow, Tyler said "You'll thank me for this," and slammed the door shut. "1100 Providence Ave!" Tyler yelled to the cabby. the cab pulled off with very confused, rather addled Ian looking back at us through the cab window.

Ian was going home.

11. Neck and neck

"Sorry," Tyler said. "But Ian had too much to drink tonight. He has a wonderful wife at home. He really loves her. I just couldn't let him make a mistake like that. He'll understand someday." His smile turned rueful. "Not anytime soon though. You're totally beautiful. He's really gonna kill me for this tomorrow, you know."

"You idiot," I said, almost whispering with what little voice I could summon. I felt totally flummoxed. There was pussy juice plastering my fishnets to my thighs and this guy was just standing there with this stupid look on his face.

His very handsome face. Tyler was a tall, lean, muscular guy. Half japanese and half, well, Im not sure. He was half Eurotrash, I guess. He looked awfully good to me. Hadn't Ian mentioned that Tyler was single again? I wondered if I should kill him or just fuck him.

God, I thought, I needed to fuck somebody, and fast!

"Are you OK Miss?" Tyler asked. I looked up into his eyes, and sure enough, he wasn't flirting with me, he was actually concerned. I suppose I did look like a porn star who was suddenly falling apart. "Do you need a cab?" he asked.

I nodded, and he stepped over to the curb to flag me down a cab. It must have been closing time, the cabs seemed to be cruising Ryan's. And Tyler was quite the gentleman, wasn't he? Ian always said that Tyler was real ladie's man. Tyler never seemed to last more than a few months with any girl though. I wondered why.

I also wondered what his cock was like. I wondered how big it was. I wondered if I could lure him into the cab, take him to the hotel and fuck his brains out.

He opened the cab door for me, and I thought, this is it, all I need is to find a good come-on line, and he was mine. He was totally into me, that was obvious. What boy doesn't want a girl like Candide Apple? I could do the nasty with him until I was satisfied, and then go home to Ian and -

- and Ian was already halfway home!

"I am totally going to fuck you," I said, looking Tyler right in the eye as I slipped into the cab. "But not tonight." I pulled the door shut. Tyler gave me an odd look through the cab window. I wondered what he was thinking.

"Where to miss?" The cabby asked.

1100 PROVIDENCE AVE I said with my magic voice. AS FAST AS YOU POSSIBLY CAN.

The cab peeled out like we were going to spring bridal sale at Kesley's. Zoom! We raced down Cross street. The cabbie was a gristly old guy who looked like he had seen many better days. He was like Popeye the sailor turned obscenely fat. I desperately wanted to fuck him. My pussy thrummed like a girl-punk band's bass speakers.

Popeye drove like a maniac. We took a shortcut down the Cotter Street bike path, which is terribly illegal and reasonably dangerous. It saved us precious seconds though. Popeye really was doing his best.

Ian had a huge head start though.

We went straight down Palmer to get to Providence. Of course, Palmer is a one way street going the other way. Somehow, we survived that too. Then at last we came to a screeching halt in front of my building. There was no sign of Ian's cab. Had it already dropped him off?

I threw all my money at the cabbie and ran out. I ditched my high heeled plastic sandals and left them glittering on the sidewalk. I needed to really run. As I fumbled with my key at the front door I saw another cab coming down Providence. Ian's cab! I was ahead of him, but just barely.

I dove down the lobby for the elevators, almost sliding right past them - who knew fishnets were so slippery? Or was it leaking pussy juices that made me so slick? I was addled with lust and all that candy malt liquor I had been drinking at the bar. My hands shook as I pressed the button for the elevator. If anyone saw me, they surely thought I was in heroin withdrawal. That's certainly what it felt like.

I lurched into the elevator and it closed, I could hear Ian opening the front door. I might beat him to the apartment, but it was going to be awfully close.

Leaning back against the side of the elevator I pulled up my skirt and pulled down my nylons. I thrust my fingers into my pussy. I masturbated clumsily, desperately. It took about a thousand years for the elevator to go up all five floors. A thousand years without satisfaction or release..

And then the doors were open and I was racing down the hall. I fumbled for my apartment key. It seemed terribly small, and the lock seemed even smaller. It almost drifted away from me as I tried to jam the key into it.

I heard the other elevator arriving. Ian was going to be awfully shocked when he found Candide Apples trying to break into his apartment, and his wife Jean mysteriously missing. How was I going to explain all of this?

And then I was in. I remembered to lock the door behind me. I was tearing my clothes off as I ran for the study. I fell to the floor peeling the fishnets off, and ended up nearly crawling to my desk. I needed to get to my computer fast. Master PC would -

The computer was turned off.

Of course I it was. I had turned it off. I always turned my computer off. It drove Ian crazy, he left his computer on at all times. I had been raised to turn things off when I wasn't using them.

I hit the power switch and it started to power up. It would take a billion years for it to start up, and then another billion to load and run Master PC. I was not going to turn back into Jean in time.

I heard Ian unlocking the front door. Damn!

I ran to the bedroom. It was late. Jean would be fast asleep, right?

I jumped into bed and pulled the covers up over my head.

"Honey?" I could hear Ian calling from the hallway. "Are you still up?"

Now he was coming into the bedroom. He flipped on the light. I could see him as a shadowy form through the cream-colored sheets. The Angel of Getting Caught.

I pulled at the sheet, reeling it in so that I exposed my feet, and my legs, and finally, my poor weeping pussy. I kept the rest of me covered though. Was he too drunk too notice that my legs were too long and shapely, or that my pussy was suddenly blonde?

Candide's voice was different than Jean's, so I whispered. "Come on," I said, "do your duty!"

"I don't even get a kiss?" he asked, but I shook my sheet-covered head deliberately no.

And then I heard the zip of his fly, and the thunk of his belt buckle hitting the floor. The bed bent to his weight as he climbed on, and I could feel my delicious man sliding over me. The sheet, like some kind of silly condom, kept our faces from touching, kept us from looking in the eye.

And then his cock found my pussy, and started to push its way in. My pussy screamed then, I'm sure it did, and I bet they heard it all over the building. What can I tell you? Ian's perfect cock slid into me, and I could feel my release looming over me. It was wonderful.

Then he moved. He thrust into me, and this was not just release or satisfaction, this was the real thing. Ian started to fuck me. I had spent the whole evening suffering the effects of my "enhanced sexual drives" and now I learned, at last, about my "improved sexual responsiveness."

You know how your back has fewer nerve endings than your fingertips do? If you touch something with your back, you just have a vague impression of it. If you touch it with your fingertips, you can learn all about it. It's all about resolution, like the number of pixels in digital picture.

Well, when I ramped up all those Master PC "sexual responsiveness" dials, I must have made the inside of my pussy more sensitive than my fingertips. I could almost see Ian's cock as it was inside me, I could feel every bump and wrinkle and blood vessel. It was dizzying, overwhelming. The deep inner parts of my vagina - which actually aren't all that sensitive, usually, were suddenly as deft as the tip of my tongue.

I would have said said that I was an expert on Ian's penis already, but now? Now I was the Supreme Zen Master of Ian's cock.

Now, Ian was a normal, reasonably well endowed boy. But I had made myself tighter with a spin of a Master PC control. I was essentially a virgin, getting penetrated for the first time. I am fairly sure that it hurt some. But I've never minded a little pain.

God, it felt good!

I tried to kiss him but all got was a mouthful of bedsheet. I could only feel his skin against mine from the waist down. He didn't seem to care though.

The lamp was on a little table next to the bed, along with the alarm clock. As we fucked and thrashed on the bed, I managed to kick it with a flailing foot. The lamp flew and hit something, and the room was suddenly dark.

Good. I needed to get out from under the sheets. Trust me, when you're having a total rapture-fuck, you need a little fresh air to breathe.

I had just decided to risk pulling the sheet down off of my face when the orgasms started to hit. Apparently, when I ratcheted up my general "O-index" I had done more than just make myself multi-orgasmic. I had made my orgasms stronger. I had made my orgasms much easier to reach. I had made my "time between orgasms" much shorter. My orgasms were deeper. Wider. Louder. Brighter.

I didn't "come" - I went off. I exploded. I was every sinner in history and Ian was God's divine lightning, and he smote me, and smote me, and smote me.

Somehow, my enthusiasm seemed to stir Ian's passions. He reacted with more and more strength, more and more enthusiasm. It was a very wild ride. He had one hand clutching at my left breast through the sheet. His fingers felt wonderful as they play with my nipples - the cotton sheet was harsh against my super-sensitive skin. Surely he would notice that I had monster tits?

Well, maybe not. Boys can hardly tell fantasy from reality anyway.

At some point, Ian came, but he didn't stop fucking. His cock never really got soft, he just get thrusting until it was steel-hard again. Only know was I seeing what Ian's "enhancements" really added up to.

Thankfully, I was producing a lot more lubrication now.

Eventually, we exhausted each other, and Ian collapsed onto the bed next to me. We were a mass of sweat and limbs and linen. The sheet I had been hiding under was as sopping wet as any dish rag. I took a deep breath and a final chance.

GO TO SLEEP I said. SWEET DREAMS.

And Ian was asleep.

I slid out of the bed and fell, hard, onto the floor. My legs, it seemed, were far too weak to support my weight. I just lay there on the cold, hard floor for a moment, listening to Ian snore, waiting for a bit more strength. I was weaker than a kitten. Somehow, I had expended every ounce of my strength in the amazing sex.

I had never really been terribly orgasmic. I mean, I've always loved sex, but some people are more orgasmic than others. I was never someone who could count on coming every time I had sex. Before master PC, two orgasms in a single night was a rare treat.

But I had just had dozens of orgasms, an endless stream of jaw-cracking sexual peaks. I could barely feel the world around me, I was numb. Normal sensations seemed so subdued, so subtle compared to the world of Ian and his cock.

But as I pulled myself along the floor, I noticed that something was too damp. I stopped and tried to explore a little. Sure enough, I was bleeding some. We had totally overdone it.

I managed to work my way into the study and pull myself up to where I could reach the keyboard. I pulled up my Master PC file. I saved something called the "Candide Apple Morph target file" and loaded the "Jean Reynolds Base Morph target file." It felt like a warm wind blowing right through every pore of my skin, for just a second.

A few more quick adjustments and I wasn't bleeding and exhausted anymore. Master PC can give you a magic caffeine blast with a quick sweep of the mouse.

I glanced in the mirror. Sure enough, I was me again. Medium length brown hair, cute little breasts, hips that had spread out a bit recently. I was "twenty-something" again, instead of a teen-ager. My body was riddled with tiny little aches and pains and failures. My vision was no longer 20/20.

I wasn't a glamorous porn queen anymore. Still, it was my body, it felt comfy, like coming home after going to the ball.

Now, I won't deny it. I was tempted to turn up my sexual responsiveness again, wipe away Ian's fatigue, and take another hit of pure sexual joy. But I didn't do that. I turned off the computer and picked up all the discarded clothing strewn around my front hallway. It was evidence, after all, and none of it would fit me anyway. Then I went to bed. I curled up with my wonderful husband and went to sleep.

Master PC or not, I'm just a perfectly normal woman in love.

12. My Lesbian Past

I made pancakes and we ate enough for a whole family of hard working farm folk. We topped them with fruit and then smothered them in maple syrup. We ate them with toast and jam and salad. We washed them down with coffee and orange juice and cola.

Super sex means super appetites, I guess.

Then we collapsed on the couch together. I had fantasies about the kitchen being clean, but they did not magically come true. That seemed like an odd departure. Didn't my fantasies just magically come true these days? Or was that just for Ian's fantasies?

Did I even have any fantasies?

I mean, I had been a pretty wild kid once, but when I met Ian, I made a real choice to settle down and put my energy into making our relationship work. Good marriages don't just happen, you know. They're like skateboarding or surfing. You have to lean into them.

Adventures are almost the opposite of fantasies. I mean, you think about fantasies. You dream them. But adventures? You just do them. I guess I had never really been a fantasy person. I just did stuff. Dreamers get into a lot less trouble, I bet.

If you don't have fantasies, you should at least have ambition. Ambition gives you a future. What were my ambitions? Did I want kids? A rewarding career? Did I have an image of where I wanted to be ten years in the future? Not really, I guess.

I had stumbled upon the ultimate in wish fulfillment, Master PC. I could do anything with it. So far, I had mostly used it for amazing sex, just like in all the stories. Perhaps those sixteen year old boys had been right after all. I had been quick to make fun of them before, but using master PC to make sexual fantasies come true seemed to be one of its safer uses. I had not quite become one of those story characters yet. I did not want to make love to my sister, for instance. Of course, Ian probably did want to make love to my sister, so there you go.

I snuggled up against my man. We had nothing on but one pair of pajamas. I had the top half, he had the bottom half. If that doesn't make sense to you, then you probably haven't been married.

"So," I asked. "How did Bachelor Night go? Am I going to hear stories? Or was it the kind of night where you just say 'It was OK dear' and nothing else?"

"Oh, it was the usual silliness." Ian spoke softly, but my head was up against his chest, so his voice seemed deep, resonant, and comforting. "We went to this party but it turned out to be pretty lame. We saw Doyle. Do you remember Doyle? Anyway, we ended up at Ryan's. That was the fun part, actually, there was this total babe at Ryan's, just sitting by herself, like she got stood up or something."

"Total babe?" I asked, with what I hoped was a skeptical tone.

"She really was. I made a fool of myself hitting on her, too."

"Tiger," I said, trying to sound a little threatening. "You're not supposed to hit on girls. You know, cause of the whole marriage thing. You remember the marriage, right?"

"That's just what Tyler said," Ian went on, as if he was being perfectly reasonable. "He totally talked sense into me. Besides, I was out of her league. Never had a chance. If you'd seen her, you'd totally forgive me."

"She must have really turned you on," I said, teasing. "Does that mean she was just a teen-ager?"

"I am wounded," he said, in the voice of virtuous boy scout. "Why do you think so little of me? Besides, you didn't complain last night when I got home."

"Apparently love is better than strange girls in bars," I said softly, nuzzling him gently. He smelled gently of sweat, maple syrup, and summer.

"Apparently it is," he said, sounding happy.

Ian always made me happy. He had been rather honest about his encounter with Candide Apples, more so than I had been expecting. I mean, boys will boys and all that.

"Poor boy. You missed out on a good adventure though. Perhaps you'll meet your hot girlfriend again someday. You might get another chance at her."

"Well, If I do, I'll bring her back home."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Sure. Next time I get a chance at a girl like that, I'll share her with you."

"Oh right." I poked his tummy playfully with two stiff fingers. "You're consistent at least."

He shrugged, which was fun when we were cuddled up together. "I'm a very simple person. I like hot babes. I like to watch hot babes do it. I'm lucky enough to have a hot babe wife. And why should I keep all the girls to myself? You deserve happiness too, after all."

"Right. You are such a generous guy. It's amazing!"

"Exactly." He leaned back and closing his eyes. "Exactly."

"You probably wouldn't really like it anyway."

"Of course I would. Why wouldn't I like it?"

I sighed. "Because Lesbian sex is not about boys." He smiled and snorted at me. That's when I changed the subject. It was, after all, the thousandth time Ian had mentioned his two-girl fantasy.

What is is about guys and their lesbian fantasies?

I mean, I understand the "two girls" part. If you like to have sex with one girl, then two girls would be even better. I did my share of group sex when I was young, and I liked it fine. But the "lesbian fantasy" goes way beyond that.

Perhaps it's just that lesbian sex is something no guy can ever have. It looks pretty in a movie, maybe, but no guy can ever be a lesbian, he can never know what those two girls are feeling. And boys make female sexuality into something weird and magical, don't they? To a boy, two girls together is pure science fiction.

The whole topic always bugged me, however. I mean, our culture is so homophobic. Gay men and women are treated like criminals. And it's weird and evil that gay men are "icky" but gay women are cool. Well, gay women are cool if they are pretty enough, I guess.

Like, my first real girlfriend was Spike. She was a tough street dyke who seduced me back when I was in high school. She was a broad, muscular girl with a shaved head and a world full of spit and style. She had incredible energy and she totally swept me off of my feet.

She was amazing. She was wonderful. She was not pretty, however. She wasn't Marilyn Monroe, she was more John Wayne. If that doesn't sound good to you, then you aren't a dyke. She was beautiful to me, though.

When boys dream of girl-girl action, they dream of two lingerie models air-kissing each other in slow motion. I've seen the movies. They don't dream of Spike. Guys would curse Spike, throw things at her, try to beat her up. One on one, Spike would win. But boys, brave creatures that they are, always move in packs. So Spike got beat up a lot.

Spike didn't do gentle air-kissing. Spike kissed like a Tiger, all teeth and hunger. Spike fucked like a beast.

The whole "girl on girl" fascination really only applies to young girls, pretty girls, girls who obey and conform. Sure, there are pretty dykes, and glamorous femme lesbians, and skinny supermodel bi chicks. But my lesbian fantasies, when I have time for fantasies, also have genderqueer bois, tough dykes, and old fashioned stone butches. I guess something about turning dykes into a commodity, into a sideshow, has always bugged me. If you've lived in that world, it doesn't seem like something that exists for guys to drool over.

So when Ian would bring up wanting a hot threesome, I'd always sort of put him off. Ian knew I used to sleep with girls. He didn't know all the details, however. He didn't know I was poly, and he had no idea how kinky I was back then. He didn't know a lot of things. I'm sure what he knew sounded totally hot to him. It's always good to have an exotic and mysterious past.

But what would happen if I really went out and got us a girl to share? It's a fine fantasy, but in real life, it can get kind of complicated.

I know, I was the other girl a couple of times.

OK, here's a story.

One summer, during my college years, I met this girl. Her name was Halo and she was very hot. She was a curvy girl, I suppose you could call her rubenesque but she just called herself fat. She was smarter than a room full of PHDs and had enough energy to launch moon rockets. She was one of those people who seemed to live for sex and kink. You always saw her at dyke parties and get-togethers, and she spoke openly of having several lovers, and she did dominatrix work on the side.

I thought she was awesome. I was totally intimidated by her.

I actually met Halo at a leatherdyke party. I had come along with some friends, I was a total newbie. I really didn't know much and must have looked like a kid in a candy store. Halo took me under her wing. She was actually the first girl to flog me, and she was my first real mentor in the gentle and subtle arts of BDSM.

We had sex a lot. She was good at it too. Really good at it. She could do things with her tongue that would just make your clit melt. She was romantic as well, which is a killer combination. We made an outrageous pair. I found her courage liberating. We had many adventures together.

Halo had a boyfriend, Cory. Cory was a big, muscular boy. He was just out of high school but he looked like he was ready to star in his own line of Hercules movies. He worked as a bouncer at some very cool clubs, and he and Halo were pretty tight. I found Cory to be kind of scary at first. He was so big, he seemed so rough. After meeting a million boys who posed at being macho, Cory was the real deal. When you watch one of those tough guy movies, the actors are pretending to be Cory.

Cory turned out to have sweet and gentle sides too, and I became very fond of him. The three of us started to get along famously. And so of course we slept together. One night we were out dancing and Halo was taking turns making out with both of us, and it just sort of happened organically. At some point, Cory put his arm over my shoulder and I melted in against him. He was a big muscular wall of manliness, and for the first time in my life, that seemed really good to me.

We all went home together. It was awesome. Cory was as wild as Halo in bed. I was scared of his huge cock, but he knew how to take his time and use it well. To tell the truth, my experiences with boys up until then had been pretty disappointing. With Cory, I found a new appreciation for sex with men.

Halo taught me a lot about that. She taught me how to suck cock, and how to make a boy happy. Some girls just sort of make up those skills as they go along. Not Halo, she had chosen to really study and research and practice. She was an expert at sex. She taught me all sort of things.

For a month or two, the three of us were an item. I pretty much moved in with them, and I took over the housework and stuff. They both worked odd hours, and when one of them came home I had a meal ready, and I was ready too. Cory would come home from a job and have a meal and fuck me and go to bed. Then I'd watch court TV until Halo came home, and I'd feed her and she would play with me.

It was a lot of fun, and I remember that summer very fondly.

It didn't last, though. Over time, it became obvious that Cory was growing unhappy. He and I had a good friendship and great sex, but what Halo and I had was something else, something more romantic. Something more like love. Cory found that kind of intimidating. Sex is fun but love can really scare people.

Eventually, things got tense, and the household became kind of nasty. Feelings got hurt. Things got said. Doors got slammed. People went to bed alone. I realized that if I stuck around, Halo and Cory were going to be driven apart. I loved them too much for that. I sort of pulled back and got out of the way. I think they both appreciated it.

I ended up moving in with Vampirix, a mutual friend, and Halo and Cory stayed together. Last I had heard, they were a running a tattoo parlor up in Boston, and Halo was more or less the queen of the local sex scene.

But I never forgot the basic lesson. Adding an extra girl makes things complicated. I wanted to make Ian's fantasy come true, really I did. But I didn't want to ruin a good thing.

Surely Master PC made all things possible? Well, if you used it right. I would have to think about it.

Ian and I eventually got up off the couch. Ian cleaned up the kitchen, the doll, and we ended up puttering away the afternoon and then going out to dinner. Apparently, mind-blowing sex will make your man all cuddly and romantic for a day or even longer!

We went to Maisey's on Meadowfront Ave. Maisey's is one of those wonderful sidewalk cafes were you can really enjoy a nice summer evening. I surprised Ian by ordering a big meal. I was totally off my diet. Thanks to Master PC, I could weigh exactly want I wanted to weigh. I had avoided using it to lose weight, or do anything else radical. That just seemed smart. Still, there was no need to get silly about it. I certainly never had to gain another pound.

Yes, that means I got dessert. Master PC is not just the key to magical sex, it's the path to all the tiramisu you want.

Ian had the blueberry pie. While we were eating, a girl strode by and Ian made a great show of ogling her. She was sort of pretty, a corn-fed farm girl trying to pass herself off as a playboy bunny. She had hair and boobs and not much else. She was sort of a coach version of Candide Apples. She was chatting with a friend and she seemed very shrill and giggly. More Ian's kind of girl than mine, I supposed.

"Like what you see?" I asked, letting Ian know by my tone that he had overdone it a little. He just grinned. I shrugged it off. My tastes were just different than his, after all. What could you do about that?

And that's when I started to have ideas.