Mark had been at it every night for two weeks before the box opened. It hadn't been easy, or quick. It was top of the line safebox with a six key tumbler lock. But every night, and some days, he slowly, methodically went through every combination. He felt like Charlie, he knew this box was his golden ticket. What was inside?

Mark needed a golden ticket. He life was miserable. His two older sisters alternated between bitch and slave driver. His mother was the worst. She always felt she deserved better from life. She was a rising star, 4.0, with a full ride to an Ivy League college, until Mark's dad knocked her up.

14 years and two more children later, the Wunderbitch decided to finally admit failure and divorced Charlie's dad Jack Fahey. Jack was merchant marine Captain. He made good money, but he couldn't keep his dick in his pants, foreign port or local neighborhood.

Mom got a fat settlement then moved them to a new house, closer to the university. She finished her Ph.D. in psychology, where she felt her superior intellect would do the most good.

Mark didn't measure up to her expectations. He wasn't as pretty, bright, athletic or as popular as his older sisters. When he succeeded, his mom's hatred of his father's personal success kicked in. It was never enough, or the wrong kind of success. When he failed, her sense of entitlement took control. Life owed her a son who got all A's and was captain of the football team. She couldn't punish life, so she punished him. Things his sisters got away with, he got grounded for.

He had the added fault of looking like, Captain Jack Fahey, Joanne's ex-husband. Mark was a constant reminder of the stupidest mistake of her life, the mistake she kicked herself for on an hourly basis. Have you every been blamed for someone else's mistakes? Ever suffer for it for fourteen years?

Mark once saw a stray dog trying to cross a freeway. The cars zipped by, not seeing the poor fleabag. The dog, tail between his legs, was desperately trying just to get off the road without getting crushed. He dodged this way and that. Mark felt like that dog. He was constantly dodging his mother and sisters, just trying to get off the highway called his life. After about five minutes, the dog was struck and killed. Mark witnessed it all.

His sisters looked mostly like his mom; fine, brownish blonde hair, eyes as gray as a stormy sea (as his dad liked to say) and oval faces. Elizabeth, the younger and shorter of the two, had inherited her mother's slim frame and her poor eyesight. Suzanne, the elder, had gotten some of her father's bigger build, which translated into large 38D tits and a big booty. Elizabeth was a junior in high school. Suzanne was a freshman at the college. Both were smart, high strung and cheated anyway possible to get better grades.

Mark had just entered high school and hated it. His grades were only adequate. Worst of all, he didn't fit in. The teachers and classmates were okay. It was just that switching classes every few minutes threw him off. He had come from an old fashioned school. One stayed on the same campus from kindergarten to eighth grade. He liked knowing everybody. It was like a small town. Now, he felt too rushed to connect with anyone.

Marc's only escape from the daily abuse was his fantasy books and his friends at the gaming society. Every Saturday morning, he would ride out to Sam's basement and play games in with his friends, even a few university guys. Of course, his mother and sisters beshrewed him this one little piece of happiness. All three harpies shrieked that it was a stupid waste of time. But since they were in bed when he left, they couldn't do much.

Mark was not without his virtues. He was more patient, more hardworking and seized on more opportunities than all three of them combined. That's how he found the charred safe-box.

He was on his bike, working his early morning paper route, pedaling by the house that had mysteriously burned down the previous day. A patrol car was on duty, keeping looters away until the investigators showed up later that morning. Mark was only 10 feet away when the car's lights suddenly flared and the engine roared to life. The car pulled a 180 and sped off.

Mark didn't think twice. He dropped his bike and bolted for the fresh house-carcass. He didn't bother being gentle he turned over burned remains like a madman. Hot cinders burned his hands, acrid fumed singed his nose hairs. At first, he found only melted appliances and furniture springs. He was at it for a half an hour when he spotted the red box. It was a fireproof box. Charred as it was, it was designed to save whatever it contained. He threw it into his news sack, and sped off to complete his route before the police came back and questioned a very sooty boy.

Inside the box, there was nothing but CD-ROMs, unlabeled ones at that. He frowned. He was hoping for jewelry. No such luck. The only computer in the house was in his mom's attic office. It was eleven at night so she was probably asleep. Eager to examine his treasure, he crept upstairs and booted the disks up. The first disk was a decoder/encryption disk. The second took a long time to boot up. The hard drive whirred and whirred. Suddenly, a screen popped up it said, <Welcome to Master PC, would you like to enter a password? >

Mark entered the name Silbar, his all time favorite character, the one he'd been building for years. Then he hit <enter>

After that moment, it was whole new world. Master PC was like a magic ring, his own personal genie. This program claimed to be able to change people physically and mentally. Slowly, methodically, he explored the program's abilities, like he was exploring a magic item. It had four major functions. It had scroll bars to enhance a person's stats, and a text message window that allowed him to "speak" commands. Another text window allowed him to read thoughts. The digital morpher was the coolest feature. When it was summoned up, a rotating three-D image of the victim was projected on the monitor. When one changed the person, or the person moved, his or her image in the window changed accordingly.

He started by maximizing his stats. He would be dexterous, strong (but not bulky) and have high endurance. He then gave himself the ability to charm anyone at will. He avoided monkeying around with his sagacity or intellect because he had seen those things backfire in the game.

He fiddled with himself until 2am. When he looked for a word procession program, Marc realized that Master PC had rewritten his mother's computers entire hard drive to serve its needs. He was worried.

His mother used the attic for her family counseling office. It meant a lot to her. The loan to build a separate stairway up the back had caused some serious financial strain, almost torpedoing Suzanne's student loan. Her office computer contained all the records of her foundling practice.

Near panic, Marc reached for her CD binder. He was relieved to see a CD entitled "Backups" next to a software install disk. His mom used a CD burner to back up all her files. Looks like she did it only Wednesday night, only two days ago, and she hadn't worked much since then.

It would only take him an hour or so to set things right. Still, after he reloaded everything, she might notice a difference. He decided now would be a good time to test drive Master PC.

He typed in his mother's name, Joanne York. His mother's image appeared on the screen. Her hair was tousled, her body splayed out on an invisible bed. She wore a simple, full-length nightgown that rode up to her thighs.

Marc was delighted. It was like he was predator, an evil mage with a crystal ball. "Well mom, looks like the worm has turned, doesn't it?"

Marc went to he text window. He wasn't sure exactly how it worked. It seemed awfully open ended. He tried typing in a false memory. <There was a power surge just before you shut down yesterday. You won't be surprised if you lost some data. > SEND

No response. But there would be none, if it worked right.

He thought about a physical command that would show him if the thing was really working. His Father's opportunistic streak came to the fore. "All right, let's have some fun, mommy dearest. Let's try an old hypnotist trick."

<It is very hot in your room. You in the mood to sleep in the nude on top of your covers. >SEND

Marc saw the image move. His mother threw over the quilt, stood, lifted off her nightgown and lay back down on the bed, quite naked. Marc touched himself. The rush of power was incredible.

He shrunk his mother's window and hoped the computer had enough RAM for his next idea. He summoned up Suzanne and Elizabeth and commanded them to do the same.

Both did as he commanded. He sat there, stroking his cock through his shorts, watching his sleeping naked mother and sisters. He tried more. He sent a command to all three.

<Go into a deep sleep. Dream about being fucked by Mark in your favorite way. You like it. You like it so much, you are in ecstasy. You will move you body but you will remain asleep. >SEND

There was no reaction at first. Then slowly, surely, each began to writhe. Suzanne rubbed her tits, pressing them together and pursing her lips. Joanne was rolling over on her on her hands and knees. Elizabeth's hand went to her tiny pussy. He could see them move but he couldn't hear anything, yet.

Suzanne bundled up three fingers and plunged them in and out of her mouth. Elizabeth simply mashed her hand against her quim. His mother shocked him. She wasn't dreaming of regular or oral sex. She reached underneath her and plunged her middle finger in and out of her anus. "So that's why she stayed married to dad." Mark sneered but did not stop stroking his young cock.

In his short life, Marc have never seen even one porno, but he could sense these "dreams" were coming to a climax. All three females were moving faster and faster. His mom and Suzanne always kept their doors locked, but not Elizabeth. It was too late to command them to open their doors now. He ran downstairs and entered Elizabeth's room. From there he could hear some noises coming from the other women's' rooms. Elizabeth's room was filled with an odd, musky smell. He could hear her pussy slurping all over her hand.

He left only the hall light on, dropped his shorts and stood at the foot of the sleeping, masturbating, Elizabeth. Her legs were quivering. Her lips moved with spectral kisses. She arched her back, raising her chest, her tiny flesh-cakes rising to greet her dream-lovers tongue.

Marc wanted to be that lover. He stroked faster. She began to thrash about. Suddenly, she issued a small shout and so did Marc. Bother and sister, they came together. Convulsing in rapture, he spewed his jism all over his older sister's bed. He waited. Elizabeth did not wake up. But she did talk in her sleep.

"Again? Humph. I don't know... Oh it feels so good...don't stop Mark...yes...."

Mark realized that, like an old shampoo bottle, he had put no ending to his command. He let Elizabeth and the other York women get dream-laid while he wiped off his sperm with a damp washcloth. As he wiped, he thought. His sister was on her third orgasm when he went back into the attic.

Illuminated only in the devilish cobalt blue glow of a the cathode ray tube, he entered for all three, <You love Mark. You will remember your dreams tonight. You think he is sexy. You will do what he says. SEND> Mark wiped the hard drive, reloaded everything and went to sleep. It was 4am, tomorrow was Friday, a school day.

Mark should have been sleepy when his alarm clock went off, but he wasn't. He really wanted to stay around to see what Master PC would do, but he had his paper route. His bike riding was effortless, even though his clothes didn't really fit right and that made the morning unpleasant.

In the family's morning routine, Elizabeth and Suzanne had already gotten their showers when he arrived back home. It was his turn. Mom, who made her own hours, would get her hot water later. He didn't see either of his two sisters on his way to the bathroom. But he jumped in and began to wipe less sweat than usual from his body.

Mark noticed his new build while he showered. His muscles were definite, "cut." He was built like a sleek comic book hero. Master PC and his years of role-playing had stayed him in good stead. He was one buff dude!

As he was soaping down his new body, he felt a draft of cold air. Had someone opened the bathroom door? How long had they been standing there, watching him soap himself? The shower curtain obscured his view. But the sun lamp above the tub would give any voyeur a good look at his silhouette. Mom had her own master bath; it probably was Suzanne or Elizabeth. "Who's there?" Mark asked. The only reply was the sound of the bathroom door shutting closed.

Mark smiled. Master PC was working its magic already.