Author: Bulgroz the Third
Title: The Adjusters #26 - Actions and Consequences
Keywords: MF, mc
Posted: March 1, 2012
Edited: March 1, 2012




			  The Adjusters #26


		       Actions and Consequences



Kevin Cusker was pissed. And when the president of the Delta Iota
Kappa fraternity was pissed, someone paid for it.

"Faster, bitch--" and he slapped her ass, hard, "or I'm going to send
you off to service the hobos at the soup kitchen tonight. I remember
how much you enjoyed it last time."

Patricia Temple--Trish to her friends--Darnell Mountain Lions
cheerleader and until recently strictly religious and saving herself
for marriage, moaned loudly and picked up speed on top of Kevin's
reclining body. She was straddling him, holding his cock inside her
and shifting her hips back and forth, rubbing the hard shaft from
inside, massaging it rhythmically with her inner muscles. Her thin
silk slip, midnight black to contrast with her pale skin and blonde
hair, clung to her body like a second skin, and did nothing to prevent
her large breasts from swaying enticingly underneath the thin
material, itself already soaked from the drool that had leaked out
during the earlier prolonged deep-throating session Kevin had
subjected her to. That he had already come down her throat not half an
hour earlier ensured that it would take a while for her to bring him
off again. And Kevin enjoyed making her work for it.

He looked into her eyes, saw the fear that he had known would be
lurking there. Trish was the one girl programmed for the frat that was
fully aware she was being controlled and could do nothing to prevent
it, and Kevin liked it--liked it a lot, as a matter of fact. The
thought of it made him hard every single time. And now seeing the fear
in her eyes was satisfying, because he was angry, and little felt as
good as venting one's anger on a powerless victim.

He reached up and pulled down the blonde's slip, ripping the thin
shoulder straps and baring a glorious pair of breasts that he went on
to grope and squeeze. Trish groaned, but never missed a beat on her
back and forth on his lap. "Oh! Squeeze my titties, Kevin baby--my big
slutty titties--make them hurt!"

He loved to make her talk dirty. It was worse than the sex--talking
implied volition, and could not be passive. It was more human, more
cerebral, more tied to one's identity as a person. He made her beg for
it, often, and relished how demeaning she must have felt it was.

And he had to take these moments of pleasure when they presented
themselves, because everything was in free fall lately, and he had no
clue how to regain even a semblance of control. And it was all that
Duquesne girl's fault, that was clear. That stupid Duquesne
girl. Cute, for sure, and a good fuck, but not worth a fraction of the
trouble she had caused. The doctor had wanted a subject for an
experiment in long-term programming he was conducting, and Kevin had
let the fraternity convince him that they could take advantage of this
opportunity, despite his gut feeling that it was a mistake.

But he did not protest--not too hard, at least, playing the political
game. And when the fraternity thought it would be cool to essentially
pimp the Duquesne girl out for favors and influence, he went along
with it. Even the doctor got nervous at that direction. And, indeed,
look what it did. Her reporter friend got it in her silly little head
to investigate the odd behavior and disappearances of her friend,
recruiting a bunch of meddling kids too. Which led to the fiasco at
the NADA party where those stupid NADA biggots got it in their own
heads to torture one of those kids looking for the Duquesne girl.

NADA, which had been a reliable source of money in exchange for
various services, messed up big time. And they were sacrificed during
the big clean up that ensued at Christmas--the reporter was snatched
and programmed, NADA was purged and its directors sacrificed for the
good of the cause, and the Duquesne girl, well, she did not really
survive the experimental procedure implanting the programming that was
meant to allow her to remain activated for days at a time. Her brain
fried, and she was now fucking perverts with a quasi-necrophiliac
fetish in some godforsaken dump in Asia. A nice and clean solution to
everyone's troubles, right?

"Come on, bitch--shake 'em some. This is not a meditation gig. You're
here to bring me off." He slapped Trish's right breast, sending the
twin globes wobbling pleasantly, and she immediately started swinging
her chest to make them dance.

"That's right, Kevin baby, slap me around! You know I love it when you
rough me up! I am your little slutty bitch, gonna milk you dry all
night."

A nice and clean solution! Ah! What a fucking joke! The good doctor
had been freaked out by the extent of what the reporter had uncovered
and went into hiding, afraid that if a two-bit college paper snoop
could find him then so could his former employers, of which he was
terrified. With the doctor gone, there could be no more programming,
and no new girls could be added to the frat's stable. His frat
brothers--those entitled spoiled bastards--had started to clamor for
some fresh blood and were getting restless and arguing for something
to be done about it. Bunch of ungrateful cunts.

He slapped Trish's breasts again, harder. "Get off me, and suck my
cock, you stupid bitch. And then you get your ass back on top, turned
the other way around. I wanna look at your ass when you fuck me."

"Fuck yeah--whatever you say, Kevin baby. Are you going to fuck my ass
later?" She said as though it was something fun that she was looking
forward to. Kevin knew better. He probably would fuck her ass at that,
but the threat worked much more effectively when it was looming over
the blonde girl. Meanwhile, Trish pulled herself off from him and
knelt by his side before taking his stiff cock in her mouth, moaning
pleasantly. Her oral skills were excellent, and he loved the way she
ran her tongue across the head of his cock when he was deep in her
mouth. He reached around and pushed two fingers into her dripping
pussy, eliciting a groan of pleasure from the blonde cheerleader that
reverberated down to his balls.

Bernie presumably could have helped programming girls once the doctor
disappeared, proving that he had had the ability to do so when he
helped Biff get a girl for himself--against orders, against procedure,
against everything. But then Bernie got killed. He was bled to death
in the frat house, for God's sake, and no one saw or heard
anything. It had shaken him something awful, finding the body like
that, tied up, tortured, drained. And there had been no explanations,
no demands, no threats. Bernie had been killed by persons unknown for
reasons unknown. Nils, indispensable Nils, had gotten rid of the body,
and together they had concocted a story to explain his absence so as
not to involve the police, but Bernie was a sword of Damocles over
Kevin's head, partly because he did not know how to fit in the bigger
picture.

"Deeper, you bitch!" He grabbed Trish's head and pushed it down as her
thrust his hips upward, forcing his cock deeper into her mouth. She
obediently tried to open her throat up, but her position was not
ideal. Kevin did not care. He pushed through the resistance he felt in
the back of her throat, pressing and twisting her head, thrusting with
his hips, until the head of his cock sank down into her gullet, and
Trish choked hard, snot flying out of her nose as she tried to clear
her airways, and still the valiant girl tried to please him, massaging
his cock with her throat as much as she could, despite the discomfort
she must have felt. Fuck that feels food, Kevin thought, savoring the
experience.

Biff. His idiot cousin, troublemaker, fucking child. That Bernie had
helped Biff get a girl was bad enough. That the girl had a fiance was
an added headache. That the fiance in question just happened to be a
friend of the reporter that had investigated the Duquesne girl's
disappearance was enough to give anyone an ulcer. That Biff had
indulged his stupid fetish of taunting and goading that fiance with
emails and videos of the girl getting fucked forty ways from Sunday,
well... Kevin had no word for how incredibly imbecilic that was. It
took some work, but before the big idiot could cause too much damage,
Kevin had Biff's emails to the fiance blocked, and then Biff himself
had been shipped off to the Caribbean to chill out the rest of the
semester with his newest fuck toy.

He grabbed a handful of Trish's hair and pulled her head back, taking
the girl by surprise. "Enough. If I wanted to come down your fuckin'
throat then I'd flip you over and fuck it good. Get on top and ride
me, you stupid bitch."

"Of course, Kevin, my stud" purred Trish, "whatever you want. I want
to feel your cock deep in my cunt again."

She straddled his lap, facing his feet, and he had a perfect view of
her ass, right there, in front of his face. He slapped one of her
cheeks, hard, making her yelp. He enjoyed how her flesh jiggled--a
pleasant surprise given the hard tone of her cheerleader's body--and
the way her skin immediately turned bright red. As she lined herself
over his cock, getting ready to sink down upon it once more, he
slapped her ass again, earning another yelp. "Faster, you slow bitch!
Get the fuck down--on--my--cock!" He grabbed her hips and pulled her
down roughly, and she impaled herself on the hard shaft with a scream
as she bottomed out, her ass pressing against his stomach. Her cunt
had a flaming grip on his cock.

And now DIK-Bash was almost upon them, the most important event of the
year, a multiple-days affair that saw important alumni and friends
converging to the Delta Iota Kappa fraternity house, and President
Calhoun had made it very clear that it was to go smoothly, and that
the alumni--which were exceedingly important to the University--had to
be catered to like royalty. And as if that was not enough to ruin his
sleep, he had heard reports that Biff was back in town, that he had
put on some sort of show at the local strip club with his fuck toy and
another girl, a move that was sure to bring unwanted attention to the
fraternity on the eve of DIK-Bash.

Family! Who the fuck needs enemies when he's got family? And the kids
all rumble because they want new cunts to fuck--whine, whine, whine!
Fuck them! What do they know anyway? What does Biff know anyway? Fuck
them! Fuck them all, dammit!

On his lap, Trish was dancing up and down, smearing his cock with her
juices as she squeezed it has hard as she could while doing her best
to hump him to his satisfaction. He slapped her ass again, enjoying
the sound. "Fuck, you're worthless as a whore, you know that? I've
seen nuns fuck better than you do, you stupid cunt. You're lucky those
hobos aren't gonna be too picky about the holes they fuck." There was
no point coddling the little blonde tease. He loved that he was not
only making her fuck him against her will and against her beliefs, but
also making her feel contemptible for not knowing how to please him,
or any man for that matter.

As he watched her tight ass bounce over him, he thought back to all
the times he told her to act as if she did not want to be with him but
had no choice because otherwise he would hurt her, or worse. He loved
to hear her beg him to stop, to let her go, let her free. After making
her act like a complete slut even though he knew it mortified her, it
was his favorite play-acting fantasy. And it always kindled his
longing to get her to fuck him not because he was controlling her to
do so, but because she chose to do so, of her own free will. And he
knew it would not be hard, either. All it would take is a few videos
of her slutting around with other guys, perhaps servicing three of
them at a time, one in each hole, egging them on to fuck her harder
and make her come, doing all sorts of filthy disgusting things, videos
he could then show her and which he could threaten to send to her
parents, to her minister, to everyone she respected, maybe even start
an online site with her own porn movies, and then she would have no
choice but to submit to him and do whatever he wanted. It was risky,
of course, but everyone seemed to be jonesing for whatever it was they
wanted these days, so why not him too?

Trish shifted her hips, and the new angle of penetration exerted a
wonderful pressure all through his cock and down to his groin, and he
closed his eyes to revel in the sensations. Trish, letting out little
moans, pumped up and down, her ass bouncing enticingly.

"Fuck yeah!" groaned Kevin. "I've got some big plans for you, my
little bitch. Let me take care of a couple of problems here at home,
and then we'll take care of you right. You'll see, when I'm done with
you, you'll be fucking me like you are now, but it'll be because you
agree to it--you'll choose to do the most debased things, the most
perverted, sick, twisted things, and I won't even have to control you
to do them--you'll want to please me. You'll see, you little bitch,
you sweet little teasing bitch..."

Just the thought of what he could make her do was driving him
nuts--between the stress and the fear, his emotions were all over the
place. He grasped her hips and used them as leverage to push into her
hard and fast, and Trish groaned with pleasure.

"Oh just like that, Kevin baby, you fuckin' stud! Fuck me hard!"

The beeping of his cell phone jerked him out of the contemplation of
Trish's ass tensing with every thrust. He caught himself on the edge
of screaming at his phone. He grabbed the ringing gadget from his
nightstand, and sighed when he saw the caller. He connected, taking a
second to slap Trish on the ass. "Don't you dare stop, you bitch!"
Then, to the phone. "Nils, I sure hope this is important..."

"It is. There's been a breach."

"A what?"

"A breach. Our internal network. We've been hacked."

"Fuck, Kevin baby--I can feel you so deep inside! You fill me up so
well, stud!" Trish was oblivious to Kevin's sudden distraction

"Hacked? You're fuckin' kidding me, right? That's just fuckin'
great. Hold on--" He slapped Trish once more. "Get off, bitch."

Trish scrambled off Kevin's lap, his cock snapping out of her pussy
with a wet plop. She turned to look at Kevin, a look of hunger on her
face. "Are we going to play confession now?" Kevin had told her what
the plan had been for their session, and she was playing it
straight. "I've got a lot to atone for. 'Father, forgive me for I have
sinned--over and over again--with my filthy mouth and my deep cunt and
my tight ass'..."

Kevin groaned. "Not now. Here--" he tossed her a huge ebony rubber
cock. "Go sit in that corner and stuff this up your ass and get it
ready for me."

Trish grinned, though her eyes told a different story. "If that's the
punishment I need, Father, I will do it. My sinning ass will pay for
its transgressions." She scrambled on all four to get off the bed and
sit in the corner that Kevin had indicated, and immediately started
lubing up the black dildo with her mouth.

Kevin sat up in bed. "Okay. Talk to me."

"I took a look at the logs like you asked me to this morning to
double-check that the blocks that Bernie had put in on Biff's emails
were still working, and I noticed a few weird entries. I've talked to
a friend in CS, and after looking around the system a bit deeper, his
best guess is that we've been breached."

"When?"

"Sometimes yesterday. The first items logged were from around
14h30--sorry, 2h30 PM. The logs are not even part of the security
setup--the intruder was good, and didn't trip any of the alarms. But
they ventured into a part of the network that Bernie had quarantined
almost a year ago, and that was flagged."

In the corner of the room, Trish was thrusting the dildo deep in her
mouth, an impressive result since the contraption was almost as thick
as her wrist and the length of her forearm. Her legs were spread, and
Kevin could not help admire her cheerleader's body, and the way her
pussy lips parted because of her position. She saw him look at her,
and redoubled her efforts, sucking noisily.

"Dammit. You sure it's not just some random brother that just stumbled
upon the quarantined network by accident?"

"Unlikely. There is no way to reach the quarantined subnetwork except
through back doors. And once we figured something was up, it was not
so difficult to find other evidence that someone was on the
system. No, someone's been accessing our records for at least the last
twenty-four hours."

"All the records?"

"Pretty much, as far as we can tell. The bad news is that they seemed
to have narrowed down to the stuff that relates to... well... our
girls. There's a bunch of docs from the Doctor, backups from his
files, our internal records. It's all encrypted, but still."

In the corner of the room, Trish had pulled the dildo out of her mouth
and was still sitting with her legs spread, but her pelvis was tilted
upwards and she was slowly pushing the large black rubber shaft into
her ass. Her eyes were closed and her mouth open, deep in
concentration. Her legs were shaking slightly, her feet pointed
down. Her breathing caused the rise and fall of her breasts, an almost
hypnotic rhythm that entranced Kevin. He sighed, turned his attention
back to Nils.

"What else did they get?"

"Emails."

"Also encrypted, I hope?"

"Yes. Bernie was pretty good at data protection, for all his other
failings."

Yeah, thought Kevin. One point for good data protection. Minus a
zillion points for helping Biff screw everything up and then dying on
me. He took a deep breath. Trish had managed to push the dildo as far
as it would go, and was now thrusting it in and out slowly, her free
hand caressing her clit and her pussy lips. Beads of sweat were
pearling on her forehead. Her legs were shaking more noticeably now.

"Nils, you go and find out who broke into our system, get our stuff
back, and deal with the intruder. Got it?"

"Huh, wouldn't maybe the police be better equipped to deal with that?
I mean, hacking is technically a criminal act, unless I'm severely
mistaken."

"No police. Not yet. I want to save my favors for some of the crap
that Biff's gonna send our way. So you take care of this."

"Speaking of Biff..." said Nils, a hesitation in his voice.

"Have you found him yet?"

"No. But when I do, what do you want me to do with him?"

"Bring him here."

"Maybe he should meet with an accident..."

Kevin paused, watching Trish sodomize herself with the large dildo,
the effort distorting her beautiful features. She was sweating
profusely now.

"He's family, Nils. I can't do that. Not yet. Not unless I really have
to. For now, just do as I ask."

"Find out who broke in, get our stuff back, and deal with the guy--or
girl. Understood. And how do you want me to deal with them?"

Kevin closed his eyes. "I don't care. Just make sure that they don't
do it again. Ever."

Nils paused at the other end of the connection. "Understood."

"Just make damn sure it doesn't connect back to us, okay? I don't need
more crap. And keep me posted."

"Understood."

He snapped his phone shut, closed his eyes for a few seconds, then let
his frustration boil over--he shouted an obscenity and tossed his
phone across the room. Trish looked at him, but continued thrusting
the dildo into her ass and stroking her clit with her free hand.

Kevin stepped off from the bed, his erection bobbing before him with
every step he took. He was angry. Everyone was acting like idiots, and
he could not be expected to make sure everyone behaved, could he? He
needed a distraction. He needed some proper Kevin-time.

Trish looked up at him as he approached her. "Do you want to stick
your big cock in my ass, Father, or--"

He slapped her breasts, hard. "Shut up, bitch! SHUT UP!" He slapped
her again.

Trish fell on her side, the dildo embedded in her ass. "Oh! Yes! Hurt
me, Father! Punish me! I've been a bad little girl! I've had naughty,
filthy, disgusting thoughts--"

"Spread your legs--more. No, keep fucking yourself with that
dildo. Harder."

He kneeled between her long cheerleader legs before grabbing them and
pushing them back harshly almost to her ears. Trish squealed, but kept
thrusting the dildo into her ass. Kevin watched it penetrate the tight
ring of her anus for a few seconds, and then he lined his cock up with
her pussy and pushed, thrusting his body forward to lie on the supine
girl, loving the feelings of her thighs pressing against his upper
chest.

Kevin grunted--her cunt was impossibly tight, all of the space taken
by the rubber cock in her ass. She was tighter than she had been when
he first penetrated her, only the second time a cock had been inside
her. Trish screamed, a long scream that he muffled by kissing her, but
she did not try to move away. He felt her body shook under his, her
pelvis moving to maximize contact, the rubber cock in her ass sliding
slowly in and out, pressing against his own cock as it moved inside.

He thrust a few times into her, savoring the feel of her body. Then he
pulled her head back by the hair, and looked her in the eyes. He could
see the lust, but also the despair and pain. Or maybe it was all in
his imagination. He did not care.

"Fuck yes," she said, "you feel so good inside of me, Kevin baby!"

"Shut up and kiss me, bitch!"

And she did, sloppily, pressing her body against his, helping him
ravish her body. The kiss did little to calm Kevin down, in fact
seemed to drive him on further. He looked at her again, his cock
pushed deep inside her body. The dildo was still plunged in her
ass. An idea had formed in his head, and the longer is lingered, the
wider his grin grew. So everyone's getting what they want but me, huh?
We'll see about that!

"Look at me, bitch. Your priest at school, what's his name?--Father
Reginald, yes?" Father Reginald was the catholic priest of the
University parish, a small but well-attended community.

"Yessss, Kevin baby--please fuck me harder! I want to feel you tear me
up inside," she moaned, her hips twisting to try and increase the
friction from Kevin's cock, which was still immobile pushed inside of
her.

"You ever fuck Father Reginald, you little slut?"

"Noooo. He's my priest. Oh! Yes! Like that!" Kevin had pulled out and
pushed back in, roughly.

"Well, it seems that Father Reginald's a bit worried about you, about
the drop in your grades, and the amount of time you seem to be
spending with boys, and he's been asking about you." Kevin started
fucking Trish with hard long stabs that made the girl squeal and shake
her breasts alluringly. "So, after we finish fucking, bitch, we're
gonna go and pay Father Reginald a little visit. And you'll show him
that you are doing just fine. Great in fact. Look at me! That's right,
like that. We're going to find you a nice little outfit, something
that shows off those fucking legs of yours and that tight ass, and
we're going to go and find Father Reginald, and you're going to seduce
him. I don't care how you do it, but by the end of the day you'll have
his cum inside of you, I don't care which hole. You got that? You make
sure Father Reginald stuffs his cock inside of you. And make it good
for him--show him what he's missing by devoting his a whole life to
God. You're going to be his personal Temptress, a devil with soft
hands, a warm mouth and the tightest cunt. If it helps, confess some
of the filthier things you've been doing for the past few months--no
names, of course. Do you understand?"

"Yes--oh!" Kevin was fucking her hard by this point, and she spread
her legs further out to encourage him.

Kevin wondered how Father Reginald would feel when he slid his own
underused shaft inside the blonde cheerleader for the first
time. "I'll leave you with a camera at the church. I want you to
record the encounter. I don't care how you do it--hide it, ask him to
record it, whatever. Just make sure that I have a record of him
sticking it to you hard. I want both of your faces recognizable, got
it?"

He lowered his voice, whispering in her ear. "If you fuck this up,
we'll make sure that those hobos you love so much enjoy you for a
particularly long time. You'll be tied up, gagged, and you're going to
be yourself when they unleash on you. Got it?"

Without waiting for her answer, he resumed fucking her. Time to finish
this.

"With those videos, we should be able to ensure that Father Reginald
doesn't make waves. Fuck!" He was thrusting harder into the writhing
blonde cheerleader. "It's a fair deal, though, since he'll have the
chance to enjoy your charms frequently. You'll get to know Father
Reginald very very well, my little slut. I wonder how long it'll take
before he stops trying to save your soul and just uses you like the
fuck toy you are!"

He kneeled up and slapped her breasts before pulling out of her. "Turn
around, bitch! I wanna come in your ass! And stick that dildo up your
cunt--I want it tight."

As Trish eagerly flipped herself onto her stomach, Kevin was
fantasizing about using the Father Reginald videos as leverage against
Trish herself. Presented with the fait accompli, her salacious
behavior with a priest of her own church, she would have no choice but
submit to him, of her own free will, lest she wanted to see her life
destroyed. Trish thrust the large dildo in her pussy, leaving her
asshole free for his final assault.

Fuck you, he thought, to no one in particular, as he felt the puckered
ring of Trish's ass give way to the head of his cock, clasping him
with the tightest grip imaginable. You fuckin' bastards!


				* * *


Radhu leaned back in his chair, and stretched his back. On one of the
screens in front of him, the latest trace he ran on the Delta Iota
Kappa networks confirmed that he had identified all the machines
connected to the main servers. On another screen, the cracking
software he had obtained from a friend with NSA connections was
whirring away, attacking the encrypted documents he had downloaded
from the fraternity's servers.

Breaking into the secured network of Delta Iota Kappa had turned out
to be easy once he had figured out the firewall layering that whoever
was in charge of system administration at the fraternity had
implemented. Unraveling the firewalls had taken the most time, with
careful probes from different directions, spaced enough in time to
seem like random noise from the Internet.

The firewall layering had been effective, Radhu had to admit, and he
genuinely admired the symmetric beauty of the design. Firewalls over
firewalls, with port remappers sitting in between shuffling ports
randomly every five minutes so that attackers would not know where to
direct their attack vectors.

He had managed to uncover enough data about the random port
reshuffling to determine that the pseudorandom generator that the
underlying software was using was weak, and he had needed almost a
week to extract the generator seed and replicate the stream of values
that the pseudorandom generator was supplying to the firewall
software. With this stream of values, Radhu had been able to
accurately predict the pattern of port shuffling, and equipped with
that information, it had been a simple matter to target an appropriate
weak port for intrusion. Once he was in, the rest had been easy:
mapping the network, finding the databases, extracting relevant
documents. He was reasonably certain that he had covered his
tracks. He had removed evidence of his intrusion from the various
system logs, and had disabled whatever online monitoring systems he
could find. Whomever had installed the security system had been
good. Not good enough to keep him out, but Radhu was impressed.

He had grabbed everything that looked vaguely interesting--a lot of
documents had to do with alumni contacts and fundraising,
mind-numbingly boring and at first glance not directly relevant to
what he was looking for. Especially interesting was the cache of files
that had lived on an isolated encrypted storage unit. It had been
mounted on a machine with a single link to the main servers. He had
downloaded the raw disk images, reconstructing the unit on his own
servers. He patted himself on the back at the foresight he had had of
buying an array of several terabytes of external hard drives.

Cracking the encryption on those disk images had been surprisingly
fast. The storage unit was off the shelf, and quite old, the
encryption technology a simple unaltered DES that took the
supercomputer buried deep underneath the campus and available to
physics students with the right connections less than a day to crack
open like a coconut dropped from an airplane.

The supercomputer was currently trying to crack the email database
that Radhu had snatched from the Delta Iota Kappa network as
well. That one was a tougher nut to crack. It seemed to be a homegrown
system. While security in such systems was generally a complete
joke--as it was whenever an amateur got it in their head to develop
their own encryption system--in this instance it looked like an AES
encrypted folder with what looked like an insane key length. Attacking
it directly was nearly impossible, so all he could hope for was to
derive the key from software accessing the database. Which was exactly
what the computer was currently attempting to do, again, using
specific software obtained from unmentionable sources.

While the supercomputer quietly churned away, Radhu was sweeping
through the documents he had extracted from the encrypted storage
unit. Much of them simply confirmed what Cindy had told Daniel, about
the Delta Iota Kappa fraternity's abduction of women, their
conditioning, and their subsequent use by the fraternity brothers. He
scanned down a list of names, spending some time on the ones he knew:
Marjorie Duquesne--the girl they had searched for the previous
semester; Patricia Temple--which he knew as Trish, one of Jennifer's
friends he had met at a dinner party at Daniel's; Kyra
MacKenna--Jackson's main squeeze, according to Daniel. Most of the
other girls he did not know, and a quick online search revealed very
little, suggesting that the girls had not been very popular and had
kept away from the spotlight.

And then, of course, there was Serena Banks. Cindy had told them that
Serena had been taken by the frat, but seeing her name like that, on
the screen--plain, unadorned, stark--was still more of a shock than he
had expected.

He found schedules governing the use of the girls, and could infer the
desirability of the individual girls based on the contention for their
hours. He automatically focused on the algorithmic complexity of the
resulting scheduling problem--a resource allocation problem with
variables weights--as a way to distract himself from imagining what
Serena was made to do during those encounters.

On a different monitor, a clip of automatically identified and spliced
videos of Serena grabbed from the wireless camera feeds was playing,
full screen. On it, the black beauty was going about her business,
talking to people, walking, working. An analysis of these videos had
established the pattern that led to finding Doctor Cargyle--also known
as Snowman. Thinking of him reminded him of the NADA party, and a
shiver ran through him, which Radhu almost did not notice. He gripped
his cup of tea more strongly, and stared at the monitor.

It was a clip tagged with a date from almost a week earlier. Serena
was leaning against a wall in some hallways--Monroe Hall, the
Journalism School--talking to two young men, which Radhu by this point
was able to identify as Delta Iota Kappa brothers. The documents had
included a complete roster and biographical information about the
members of the fraternity, including applicants from the pledge weeks
going back three years. Radhu watched the two men flirt with Serena,
who flirted right back as she was wont to do. Until that moment--he
had been waiting for it--where she stiffened slightly, after which the
men's demeanor changed noticeably. They leaned on the wall next to
her, invading her personal space, and Serena did not resist it, and in
fact ran her hand over the face of one of the men. The feed had no
sound, but Radhu supplied the dialog himself--"Are you as good a lay
as my bros have been telling me about?"--"Oh, sweetie, I'm the best
piece of ass you'll ever get your hands on. Wanna come back to my
place so I can show you heaven?"--"What about my friend here?"--"Bring
him. There's nothing I like more than being used at both ends, if you
know what I mean." As if on cue, Serena and the two young men starting
walking down the hallway, moving out of range of the camera.

Radhu moved the video player back to the point right before Serena
stiffened while the young man was talking. "Serena, I am your DIK
brother." He watched Serena react on screen. He moved the video player
back again. "Serena, I am your DIK brother." Radhu mouthed the words
as the young man was speaking them, watching Serena stiffen and then
lean over amorously.

The trigger sentence had appeared in a few places in the documents,
including a short guide to the girls that seemed to have been written
by a ten-year old with a severe inability to follow basic narrative
structure. Writing is not that hard, had thought Radhu, shaking his
head and fighting his impulse to edit the document. But the document
did--once again--confirm what Cindy had told them, that the girls,
once triggered, would feel this irresistible drive to obey the utterer
of the trigger. According to the guide, each girl seemed to
internalize this drive differently, but the overall effect was the
same: the girl would do anything that the utterer of the trigger phase
asked--and the guide emphasized, anything--and not remember a thing
after the effect passed.

Radhu returned to the video player, moved it back once more to the
point where the young man spoke. "Serena, I am your DIK brother." That
young man and his friend had undoubtedly taken Serena somewhere and
had her way with her. Got her to do anything they wanted. And from the
rest of the video, this sort of encounter was a common occurrence. No
wonder she was difficult to get a hold of these days--she kept being
triggered and used by the frat brothers. Doing anything they wanted.

Radhu was torn, in a way that cut so deep he was dizzy trying to
contemplate those feelings. On the one hand, he was
aroused--undeniably aroused. Just the thought of Serena, beautiful,
sexy, alluring Serena, available for anything sexual--ready, game,
enthusiastic--was overwhelming. Images came unbidden to his head,
images he had toyed with before, but now had become crisper with his
new-found knowledge. Of course, he had known about her sexual
proclivities before--Serena had never been shy to discuss her sexual
life--but somehow, seeing it on-screen, and knowing where it came
from, and why, well, it added an extra layer of titillation.

On the other hand, there was something deeply shameful about those
feelings. Serena was a friend, and he did care about her, and she was
forced to do things against her will, in at least one sense of the
word--and the intellectual part of Radhu's brain could not help but
ponder the philosophical implications of these events on the notion of
free will--what became of consent when the ability to consent was
wiped away? And yet here he was, aroused by thought of his friend on
her knees servicing fraternity brothers that could not appreciate her
for all that she was beyond a purveyor of sexual release.

Radhu sighed, pressing the palm of his hands into his eyes. He was
exhausted. He had been pushing at this for the better part of the last
few days, and now that he had found what he had been looking for, the
adrenaline had pumped itself out and he was crashing. And it was a
bittersweet victory, too. Be careful what you wish for, they always
proclaim. Cliches necessarily have their genesis in veracity, do they
not? One of the reasons he had insisted on hacking into the Delta Iota
Kappa network in the first place--aside from seeking independent
confirmation for what Cindy had been saying--was to explore and learn
more about Serena. "Serena, I am your DIK brother." The sentence kept
ringing in Radhu's head, like an impurity in the bosom of an oyster
itching to turn into a pearl.

His head was pounding. He reached for a bottle of pills in his desk
drawer. It was brown, unmarked, containing strong painkillers that he
had brought back from India the last time he went to visit. He idly
wondered when he would be able to go back home--how he would be able
to go back home. Leaving the question unanswered, he swallowed two
pills, and went back to search the cache of Delta Iota Kappa documents
for more golden nuggets.

Twenty minutes later, his headache was lifting, and he put his head
down on his desk, grateful for the reprieve.


				* * *


The Student Center is eerily empty as he walks down the main walkway,
the tables and chairs of the refectory lying abandoned as if the
entire student body was raptured away mid-meal. Outside, a stubborn
snow is falling, visible through the large glass windows. The silence
is blanketing, absorbing even the sound of his shoes on the tiled
floor.

Radhu heads up the main staircase, guided by instinct. He has never
come this way before, at least not for real. In his fantasies, he has
come this way too many times to count, of course. The hallway on the
upper floor looks just like he has always imagined it would, just like
the cameras told him it would.

Down the hallway lined with similar doors, he reaches the one he is
looking for. He just knows it is the one, even before seeing the large
sign that spells out The Darnell Daily in Times New Roman. The door is
large, larger than the other doors in the hallway. He enters. There is
no one inside. The room is wide, full of chairs and desks and
typewriters and he discerns an odor of tobacco floating in the air. It
looks every newspaper's editorial room he has ever seen in movies and
television shows. The only thing missing is an angry editor shouting
about getting the latest story to the printer before the presses are
done with the current edition.

He knows exactly where to go. Further into the room, to the left,
there are a few larger cubicles, for the star reporters. Around the
corner, he finds the one he is looking for. The words Serena Banks,
Reporter are stenciled against one of the cubicle walls,
unavoidable. Without hesitation, without second thought, he
approaches.

He can see Serena there, her head visible over the low wall of the
cubicle. She is bent over her typewriter, the keys clacking away
rapidly in the quietness of the editorial room. She looks intent,
probably filing a last-minute story or writing a crushing expose on a
topic of interest to the campus at large, if not the state. Her long
dark hair is pinning up and away from her face. She is beautiful.

He rounds the cubicle. "Hi Serena," he calls out, softly. His voice is
quivering. He feels stupid, a rare feeling.

Serena's head cocks to the side, as if wondering whether she heard
something real or something from a dream. She turns around and sees
him there, and her face lights up. "Rad!" She pushes her chair back
and takes the three steps needed to come to him and hug him tight.

Radhu is in heaven. He feels her body pressed against his, its warmth
and softness making his head spin. He does not know what to do with
his hands, so distracted he is by Serena's lips in his neck. She is
not kissing him, just resting her head on his shoulder. She fits into
him perfectly--he can feel every single curve of her body, from her
large breasts down to her thighs.

"I'm so glad you made it out! I was so worried about you! Look at
you!" She steps back, her hands on his shoulders, and looks him up and
down, a huge smile on her perfect face. He notices that her hair has
come tumbling down. "I'm so proud of you!" She steps back up to him
and kisses him on the cheek, a soft, lingering, promise-filled
kiss. Again, he does not know what to do with his hands. From far
away, a still remotely rational part of his brain is screaming at him
to put his hands on her waist, or on her hips, or anywhere, just touch
her already, but before he can act on the alien impulse, she is
stepping away from him once more.

"Serena," he is finally able to say, "you look sensational!"

Serena grins, and strikes a pose. "This old thing? I just felt like
something different this morning. You like?" She is wearing what Radhu
cannot help but think of as the sexiest saree he has ever seen in his
life. The deep burgundy wrap clings to every curve of her body,
underlining the swell of her breasts and the arch of her thighs. And
somewhat atypically compared to the sarees with which he has grown up,
this one has a long slit on the side, through which Serena's flawless
leg can be seen when she moves just right. The black high heels she is
wearing make the resulting picture almost obscene.

"I... I find myself speechless."

"You are way too sweet, Rad. So what brings you here? Not just to see
little ol' me, I hope?" Her smile is gentle.

Radhu knows deep in his bones that this is his one
chance. "Serena... I know not how to express this... I would like... I
would be honored if... I..." He takes a deep breath. "I would be
delighted if you accepted to go out with me."

Serena is still smiling gently. "You mean, a date? You and me?"

Radhu nods.

Serena gives a little laugh, her voice sparkling in the air. She is
still smiling gently. "Oh, Rad, my sweet lovely Rad. I can't go out
with you, not like that. You're my friend--my very good friend. I
can't mess it up by starting some sort of romantic relationship with
you."

Radhu feels his body start to tremble. Serena notices and moves
closer. "Please, don't be upset. I know you have a crush on me--it's
sweet, it's kind, and you're one of the most wonderful persons I
know. I do not want to hurt you. But I just don't love you that
way. And I can't risk losing you by giving you something that would
not be good for either of us. Please? Please do not be upset?"

She looks adorable. Radhu is compelled to nod and show her he is not
upset--perhaps a little bit disappointed, dismayed, heartbroken, but
not upset. Serena smiles again, and kisses him on the cheek once more,
holding his face in place with a hand. Her soft lips on his skin send
tingles of sensations coursing through every fiber of his body. She
steps back, her fingertips lingering on his other cheek. He would
accuse her of being a tease if not for the fact that he knows that
this is just how she is--physical, carnal, tangible.

She walks back to her desk, and Radhu only hesitates only a moment
before speaking up. He wills his voice not to quaver. Do you need eye
contact, he wonders? "Serena--"

She looks at him over her shoulder.

"Serena, I am your DIK brother."

With bated breath, he sees her stiffen, and is it his imagination
playing tricks on him or is there a fog that rolls temporarily over
her eyes?

She turns the rest of her body towards him, puts a leg forward, a hand
on her hip. She stands straight, her chest thrust out. She is smiling
still, although her smile has an edge to it now.

"Hello, Radhu." Even her voice is different--deep, caressing,
inviting.

"Huh... How... how are you feeling?"

She sighs, runs her hands up the side of her body, stretches like a
cat. "I feel alive, Radhu, my sweet Radhu. Alive--and hungry!" The
look she gives him would be explicit enough even without the sight of
her tongue darting between her parted lips.

Radhu stares at her, unable to reconcile his mind with what he is
seeing. It should not work that way. This is like... magic! And he
does not believe in magic.

Serena waits a few beats before prompting him. "I am all yours,
Radhu. What would you like me to do?"

Radhu swallows hard. He has fantasized about this so often, he knows
exactly what he wants her to do. But somehow, it does not want to come
out. That was fantasy. This is reality. Never the twain shall meet,
wrote Kipling. Still, he has to say something. "You--you are
beautiful."

Serena grins. "Thank you! Would you like to see more?" She reaches up
and peels off the fold of material sneaking up her shoulder,
unwrapping her upper body like a present, letting the upper part of
her saree fall down about her waist. Radhu is staring. Her
breasts--round, large, perfect--are exposed for the world to see, two
bright beacons of light in the dead of night, and he longs to reach
over and touch them.

As if she is reading is mind--at this point, Radhu does not dare file
anything in the impossible category--she beckons him. "Come here, my
sweet Radhu. You can touch them and fondle them and kiss them to your
heart's desire. They're all yours. My body's all yours. I'm all
yours." She runs her hands beneath her breasts and lifts them up,
offering them to his gaze and his touch.

Radhu cannot move. He is enthralled by the vision before him. While he
has no experience of sex, or anything involving the female gender for
that matter, he has seen many pictures of naked women, online and
otherwise, and has been exposed to much pornography--some enjoyed,
some less. So he is not altogether innocent. But there is a
distinction, a big one, between seeing a female body in two
dimensions, and a real, live, bona fide woman, half-naked, right
before one's eyes, holding her bountiful breasts in a silent oblation,
caressing them, massaging them. Her nipples are large and hard, he
notices, and bright red, contrasting with the darkness of her skin.

"I've seen the way you look at me," she says, "the way you strip off
my clothes whenever you see me, the hunger in your eyes. It's very
affecting--it makes me wet sometimes, and I have come to like dressing
to arouse you. I realize now that it was a mean, mean thing to do. I'm
sorry. What can I do to seek your forgiveness?"

Radhu cannot speak. He is paralyzed. This is what he has been wishing
for all this time, and he is struck dumb, unable to move, unable to
speak.

Serena takes two steps towards him. His eyes are still glued to her
breasts, and she notices and presses her hands on them harder,
catching her nipples in the vee of her fingers. She raises herself on
her tiptoes, puts her hands on his shoulders, and speaks to him. "You
can do whatever you want to me, my sweet Radhu. Whatever you want. You
just need to ask me. No, better--you just need to tell me. Order
me. I'll be your good little obedient girlfriend." The emphasis she
puts on obedient makes Radhu's skin tighten. He feels her breath on
his skin when she speaks. He feels the warmth of her body before him.

"How about we start slow?" Serena says, finally noticing that he seems
to be having some difficulty making decisions. "Tell me: 'Serena, kiss
me.' Go ahead. Don't be afraid."

Radhu looks in her eyes--she has never been so close, has never looked
at him so directly, so intently, so attentively--and swallows.

"Ser... Serena... kiss me..."

She smiles. "With pleasure." And she locks her lips onto his as she
presses her body into his, and soon Radhu is overwhelmed by the
feelings rushing from everywhere on his body--from his mouth, invaded
by her tongue, from his chest, assaulted by her breasts, from his
crotch, mashed against her stomach. Serena pours her soul into the
kiss, working her lips and her tongue furiously, holding him in a head
lock while her body undulates like a snake waiting to strike.

Radhu responds as best as he can, chasing her playful tongue. Without
thinking he puts his arms around her and when his hands press on her
back Serena moans deeply and presses her crotch against his thigh and
rubs lightly up and down, driving him crazy. He caresses her back, not
daring to send his hands lower, relishing the softness of her skin.

"Your hands feel so good on me," she groans, when she pauses to catch
her breath. She presses her stomach harder against his groin, his hard
cock blatant through his trousers. Before he can blush and justify
himself, she grins. "You like it when I squirm against you? Certainly
someone here likes it." She sneaks a hand down to his erection,
grasping it through the cotton. "Is this for me? Is it all hard for
me? It's only fair, since I'm all wet for you. You wanna see?"

Her eyes peer into his soul. He can barely nod.

"Then tell me: 'Serena, give me your panties.' Go on. Don't be shy."
She leans over, whispers in his ear. "Tell me: 'Serena, give me your
panties. Show me how wet a slut gets when she's trying to seduce her
man. Show me how much your cunt wants to get pounded.' Go on." Her
breath in his ear is driving him wild.

"Serena... give me your panties..." He cannot say more.

"Of course," she replies, looking coy. "Anything you want, you know
that." She lifts her saree enough to slide her hands underneath and
Radhu watches her pull down a wisp of material down her long legs. She
steps out of her panties with perfect grace, and lifts what turns out
to be tiny pair of black lace panties up to his face. "Here you go, my
sweet Radhu. Feel..."

She rubs the panties softly onto his cheek. They feel like satin, and
he is aware of Serena's juices leaving a wet trail on his face. This
is beyond anything he has ever hoped to experience. He lifts a hand to
touch his cheek.

Serena watches him, smiling, and she lifts the panties to her mouth
and gently sucks on the gusset. Radhu is shocked.

"Mmm..." she moans, closing her eyes. "I love the way I taste. That's
one reason why I love sucking a cock that's just fucked me, you know,
while it's still wet from my own juices. Would you like a taste?"

Radhu finds his voice. "Please."

"You don't need to be polite with me..." She drops a hand and slips it
under her saree again and he guesses she runs it between her legs--she
gasps and shivers--and brings it back up, three of her fingers shiny
with dew. She brings them up to his mouth, and runs them over his
lips. When he opens his mouth she slides the fingers inside, and he
sucks on them, appreciating the taste--the taste of her pussy, the
thought of which is enough to make his head spin. She tastes... he
does not know how to describe it. Unlike anything he has ever tasted
before. It is a subtle taste, like an ephemeral spice with a lingering
aroma. It is poetry of the palate. He sucks greedily, the flavor
producing a tingling sensation on his tongue. Serena chuckles
softly. She lets her panties fall to the ground.

"I want to taste you now," she says.

"How...?"

She grabs his hand and puts two of his fingers in her mouth, sucking
on them hard, all the while looking at him in the eyes. She sucks for
several seconds before letting his fingers go and smacking her
lips. "I think you can figure it out. Go on. Tell me: 'Serena, suck my
cock.' You can do it. It's easy. 'Serena, get down on your knees and
take my cock in your mouth.' Or if you prefer, 'Serena, kneel before
me and let me fuck your mouth like a cunt.' Don't you want to feel my
lips wrapped around you, sucking, licking, milking you? You can't tell
me that you never imagined me at your feet, worshipping you like a
god?"

Radhu groans, and closes his eyes. Serena's hand is back on his cock,
rubbing it through his trousers, and he has difficulty thinking. Yes,
he wants to scream, yes, I've wanted you to suck me since forever! She
is sucking on his fingers again, while massaging his cock.

"Serena..."

She looks at him, expectant.

"... please suck me."

"There you go with the politeness again." She grins. "Of course--I
would love to suck your cock, my sweet Radhu. How would you like it?
Soft and slow, or hard and fast?"

Radhu is finding it difficult to answer because Serena has taken hold
of his hand and lifted it to her breast, and the feel of the firm
flesh in his palm is incredible. He squeezes lightly, and Serena moans
in response. Radhu's breath is ragged. Press, rub, squeeze, and
again. He marvels at how hard her nipples are. Eventually he looks
back up--Serena has a look of appreciation on her face--and
answers. "Whatever you want. Do as you please."

Serena's grin widens. "Too bad I want to feel you spurt deep in my
cunt today--or I'd suck you so hard you'd explode right in my mouth."

Agonizingly slowly, she sinks to her knees, her hands trailing on his
shirt as she does. With deft hands she unfastens his trousers and
pulls them down, exposing his hard cock quite ready for her
ministrations. She smiles and speaks to the erect shaft.

"Hello sweetie," she coos. "Auntie Serena is going to gobble you up!"

She opens her mouth wide, and in one smooth motion engulf Radhu's
cock, sliding her lips over the flesh until she has almost all of it
inside her mouth. Slowly, she slides it back out, sucking hard.

Radhu gasps at the sensation, unprepared for the feel of a woman's
lips on his shaft. This is nothing like pleasuring oneself, he
reflects, fascinated. The hand is but a clumsy instrument compared to
the subtle notes played by Serena's mouth, lips, and tongue.

Serena opts for a slow smooth rhythm, sucking in and out deliberately
and lovingly. Her hand alternates between rubbing and squeezing
Radhu's balls and kneading and toying with one of her breasts. Soft
sucking noises fill the room.

It does not take long for Radhu to start shaking. His self-control is
not what it ought to be, something he attributes to his lack of
experience, and to the skill that Serena brings to her act.

Before he can reach orgasm, however, Serena lets his cock slide out of
her mouth and strokes it gently. She is breathing hard. "God, I'd love
to feel this baby pop in my mouth and fill me up with nice sticky
yummy cum." She looks up to Radhu. "It's all up to you--whatever you
want, you can have. Do you want to come in my mouth, my sweet Radhu?
Or would you rather shove your cock in my cunt and fuck me hard?" Her
hand is insistent, not so much that he risks exploding right then and
there, but not letting him forget the pleasures that are waiting for
him either.

Competing images fight it out in his mind. Serena on her knees,
swallowing greedily while he unleashes a stream of sperm down her
throat--versus Serena lying on her back with her perfect legs spread
wide, beckoning him to come and screw her as hard as he could.

"I want to..." He does not know how to complete the sentence. How do
you tell someone you want to fuck them?  He is frustrated by his
inability to communicate.

Serena reads him as if she had a direct link into his brain. She
stands up, running her hand on his body as she does so. His erect
shaft bumps against her hip, still covered with the saree. In his ear,
she half whispers: "We both know what you want, my sweet Radhu. So
just tell me: 'Serena, I want to fuck you. I want to fuck your slutty
cunt. I want to pork you like a bitch in heat.' Go on--I'm all wet for
you."

"Serena... I want... I want to fuck you." There, he has said it.

Serena grins. "Then fuck me." She grasps his cock, tugs on it once,
making him groan. "I can't wait to feel this bad boy slip into me. Go
sit in my chair. I'm going to ride you all the way into heaven."

He sits down. Serena straightens up before him, and slowly unwraps the
rest of her saree, which falls at her feet, leaving her clad in
nothing but her black high heels. Radhu drinks her body up, admiring
her curves, taking in the neatly trimmed patch of hair on her pussy
and the red engorged lips peeking out. Serena lets herself be watched,
lightly trailing the fingers of a hand from her thigh to her breast,
and back. A naughty smile on her face, she lets the hand wander to her
pussy, and gently runs a finger through her slit. Radhu is mesmerized,
following her finger wherever it goes, including when she brings it up
to her mouth to suck on it.

She walks slowly towards him, as if she was on a catwalk. She stops
right in front of him, leans over, and kisses him on the mouth. He
responds eagerly, adrenaline running high with the expectation of the
moment to come. Still kissing him, she crawls onto his lap, lining his
cock with her pussy, and in one smooth motion sinks onto him. The
feeling is unlike any he has ever experienced before--like sliding in
a hot bath in the middle of winter, but a thousand--no, a million
times better. Serena's kiss gets more intense as she rocks back and
forth slowly on top of him.

Radhu is lost in the moment, lost in the sensations, lost in the
mind-boggling awesomeness of his first sexual experience. He wants to
laugh, he wants to cry, he wants to ram into her hard--as if his cock
has a mind of its own and knows exactly what it wanted. But Serena is
in control, imposing a languorous rhythm, her hips prancing on his
lap, her mouth breathing in his soul, her tongue dancing on his lips.

When she captures his own tongue between her lips, he lets her. And
when she bites down on his tongue, he is too shocked to scream. Before
he can react, before he can jerk back, before he can push her away,
laughter rises up from all around him, laughter and jeers and shouts,
and he has heard it all before. Serena pulls back and licks her lips,
a trickle of blood dripping from one corner of her mouth. "Yum," she
says. There is no one around, but the laughter is still there, the
jeers and shouts increasing in volume.

"Oops... looks like you're making a mess, my sweet Radhu." Serena is
looking down at his lap, where his cock is still deeply embedded
inside her. Blood is pooling everywhere, rapidly. He knows he is
hyperventilating, his breathing shallow and fast. So much blood.

Serena straightens up and stands, and he sees that his crotch is a
red-coated mess of gory tissue, the cock that was hard and erect just
seconds before now a salad of sliced up strips of flesh spread all
over his lower abdomen. He wants to scream, finds he cannot. He looks
up in horror to see Serena with a wide grin on her face that bares her
teeth, and then looks down at her pussy now gaping wide, his eyes
fastening on the blades of the device from the NADA party trapped
between her pussy lips, blood dripping from the razor-sharp edges and
dribbling down her thighs. Around them, he can hear the chants of
"Fuck him! Fuck him! Fuck him!" merging with those of "Shred him!
Shred him! Shred him!" He wants to run, but he is trapped. He wants to
scream, but the sound will not emerge from his throat. And Serena
laughs, and the chants rise in volume. And then his screams finally
starts.


				* * *


Radhu jerked awake so hard he fell off the chair. Stunned, confused,
disoriented, he looked around--he was in his apartment, the computers
on his desk cheerfully whirring away, one screen showing the cracker
program he was still running. He shook his head. His breathing was
shallow, and he willed himself to inhale deeply. He looked down, an
irrational fear gripping him. His crotch was intact. It had all been a
dream. Just a dream. Of course.

Shaken, he curled up on the floor in a fetal position, and wept.
