




                     VIRTUAL SEARCH

                           by

                         Kopema


THE CAST OF CHARACTERS HAS EXPANDED (AND THERE'S EVEN A RUMOR THAT 
AN ADDITIONAL PUPPET-MASTER HAS ENTERED THE GAME). 



Part 3

As the local police officers escorted Ashley to a waiting squad 
car, an intense and dour (but otherwise nondescript) man stepped 
in front of them.  He held up his hand and flashed a small wallet 
so quickly that Ashley only had time to begin to guess that it 
might have been some sort of badge, but it disappeared back into 
his suit pocket as quickly as it had been produced. 

"Agent Hal," the interloper said, by way of what was clearly the 
only identification he would ever give. 

Unlike Ashley, the uniformed officers appeared to have no doubt 
whatsoever about this person's authority.  They instantly stopped 
their smirking and cajoling.  Somehow, the men seemed to cringe 
even as they simultaneously straightened their postures.  They 
were afraid of this person, but also appeared to be trying to 
impress him.  Ashley could feel the hands holding her tremble 
slightly, but they did not slacken their grip. 

She beamed.  Finally, if belatedly, her rescuer had arrived!  
These local yokels were going to pay for their inconsiderate 
treatment.  Ashley had always considered the words: "I'm with 
the Government; I'm here to help you" to be the most comforting 
sound she knew when she couldn't find any other way to get what 
she wanted.  Sure, this bunch of tin-horn bullies might run the 
show in their own little neck of the woods, but the United 
States Constitution held sway.  If it weren't for that one 
document, the central government would have no license at all 
to run roughshod over the local "authorities."  Once again, 
Federal officials would make sure the squeaky wheel got the 
grease.

Without turning around, the man pointed behind him at the driver 
of the "Tick Inspection" van and said, "Stop." 

His emphasis on the last consonant somehow turned the word into 
an onomatopoeia.  Even though he didn't shout, the driver of the 
van reacted instantly.  The vehicle lurched forward as its brakes 
chirped to a sudden halt.

The man grabbed Ashley's upper arm and began to walk her away.  
When he felt resistance, he turned to face the officer holding 
her arms.  The agent's face revealed a barely controlled hatred, 
but at the same time implied that the uniformed man was utterly 
beneath contempt.
 
"Release her," he seethed.  The local police officer released 
Ashley as if she were on fire, and the squad backed away, 
incoherently mumbling apologies. 

Ashley did her best to keep up with her rescuer's rapid walking 
speed in the ridiculous, demeaning, impractical (but admittedly 
attractive), high-heeled pumps the computer simulation had been 
"kind" enough to provide for her.  The aptly named "Wonder" bra 
did an astounding job of elevating her breasts.  Unfortunately, 
it also managed, in an apparent violation of the laws of physics, 
to allow a surprising amount of latitude for them to bobble 
back-and-forth as she trotted along. 

With her hands hopelessly cuffed behind her back, she could not 
even stop thrusting her chest out, let alone hold herself or her 
outfit together.  Her suit jacket, although chic, of course had 
a deeply plunging neckline.  Her breasts looked as if they might 
fly completely free of all restraint (and covering) at any second. 
The slit along the side of her tight, short skirt gave brief, 
flattering glimpses of her legs as long as she constrained herself 
to conservative motions.  But even this brief promenade caused her 
to hop-scotch the thin line between composed business woman and 
disheveled tramp.

The agent frog-marched her to the "inspection" van and opened its 
side door to reveal two cowering, naked women lying on the floor 
in an embrace forced upon them by their captors' roguishly 
inventive bindings.  Their hair was mussed, and their skin was 
flushed, as if from a combination of exercise and intense 
humiliation.  The derriere of one had been marked with the 
number "1" in blazing red indelible ink; her partner's bottom 
was graced with a matching number "2," this one colored a vibrant 
blue. 

Since the computer focused its processing power only on Ashley, 
the stories of side characters seemed to have taken place in 
compressed time.  While Ashley was absorbed with her own problems, 
the two agents had been approached by the "tick inspectors."  They 
were told that, as respected government representatives, they had 
to set an example and show that the interests of public health 
applied to all citizens.  In very short order the gullible pair 
had been convinced to not only strip completely naked on a busy 
Chicago street, but to then take part in a lewd series of stretches 
and calisthenic exercises in front of an ever-growing crowd of 
onlookers. 
 
All the while, they were felt up by the fakers in a grope session 
under the pretext of applying an "anti-tick lotion to every square 
inch of bare skin."  Coy at first, the pair seemed to lose all of 
their canniness under these ministrations.  They couldn't very well 
question the actions or motives of their molesters when it was all 
they could do to focus their concentration on fighting the urge to 
hump their bare and overly sensitive "hot spots" onto the invading 
digits. 

Looking at the two women lying nakedly on the floor of the van, 
Ashley wondered to herself how long it had taken the pair to 
finally realize they had been made fools of.

One of the women squinted up into the light and said, "Is this 
where we get the ticks removed?"  Her partner, whose hair was 
slightly darker, glared daggers at her.

The agent ordered the denuded duo to stand up.  At first glance, 
their tit-to-tit embrace seemed almost a blessing in disguise.  
Although it gave the impression they were a pair of hugging 
lesbians, it also served to keep hidden what could formerly 
have been referred to with a straight face as their "privates."  
As the sweating, breathless beauties writhed in a series of 
comic antics to right themselves, it became apparent that 
their "inspectors" had convinced them to allow their pubic 
hair to be shaved off.  They were left without even the 
"landing strip" that any self-respecting porn star would 
have retained.  One did not have to stand very close at all 
to see that they were extremely aroused.  All of that gaping 
and glistening could not possibly be accounted for by mere 
exertion.  And on those rare occasions they allowed their 
breasts to separate, their "nipple hard-ons" were so 
pronounced that Ashley worried someone could get an eye 
poked if she weren't careful.  

They never actually broke down and started making out, but it 
was pretty obvious they had to put a little too much effort 
into restraining themselves.

"They might as well be sporting erections!" Ashley said aloud. 

Ashley would be forced to admit, if faced with the evidence of 
her reactions today, that she was subject to *some* titillation 
over the prospect of inadvertent public nudity.  But heck, who 
wouldn't be at least a little aroused upon finding herself 
stripped of all respectability and lusted after by gawkers.  
Add to that the fact that she had just had all of her social 
standing stripped away, along with her clothing, and no woman 
would have any choice but to respond in some way to her newfound 
status.  The difference was that Ashley was discreet about her 
arousal; these two horny naked sluts obviously had no ability 
whatsoever to control the impression they gave to others.

Ashley couldn't help laughing out loud as the two stooges put 
themselves through a series of pratfalls and contortions that 
made their previous antics look like classical ballet.  The 
funniest part was that each of them kept blaming the other for 
their problems.  The bozos could have gotten up easily if they 
simply spent two seconds coordinating their efforts.  This was 
the final straw, decided Ashley.  Any women who couldn't show 
each other respect and support in a situation like this had no 
right to the title "feminist." 

She couldn't believe that these exhibitionist hussies had her 
convinced they could protect her from a fate they ended up 
blundering into themselves. These two bare-ass naked...hell, 
they couldn't even rightly be called "women" with those little 
hairless pudenda.  They were nothing but silly little girls who 
had tried to pretend to be grown up, capable, competent 
professionals.  If Ashley looked up the definition of "boobs" 
in the dictionary, she would expect to find a picture of these 
two ditzes instead of a pair of breasts.

How had she let herself be fooled like that?  The only explanation 
was those damned "costumes" they'd been wearing.  It felt silly to 
call them "clothes," "suits," "outfits," or any words to that 
effect.  They had been disguises, nothing more.  Part of a 
charade designed to cause Ashley to build up a totally 
unjustified confidence and sense of safety.  Now that those 
ridiculous coverings were removed, she could see the two 
bumptious bumpkins for what they really were.

Ashley finally realized that had to be at the cause of all of her 
difficulties today.  Instead of relying on herself, she had been 
tricked into expecting to be rescued by the likes of these two 
feebs.  She had been acting as if she were the bubble-headed 
damsel in distress of this story, when all this time it had 
been those two.

Still, now that they had all been rescued, those two losers would 
have to have something to wear home.  This crowd had had enough 
free entertainment for one day.  Finally stepping back into her 
natural leadership position, Ashley managed to stifle her giggling 
long enough to ask: "OK now, girls, why don't you just settle your 
pretty little heads down and tell me what happened to those fancy 
little outfits you had yourselves all dressed up in before you let 
those naughty men take them away from you?"

The two former law enforcement officials stopped their scrambling.  
They still had not managed to come to their feet.  They compromised 
on a position on their knees, their breasts propped against each 
other for balance.  If possible, their faces became even more 
nonplussed.  One of them even stuck her lip out in a full-blown 
pout.  Chagrined, they tried to point.  Unfortunately, each girl's 
dainty pair of hands was cuffed just above the buttocks of the 
other.  This meant that even in the unlikely event that a bystander 
had been trying to avoid looking, he would have no choice but to 
focus his eyes on their shapely hindquarters as the girls gestured 
using their fingers, heads, and pretty much every other visible 
part of their bodies (which, in this case, consisted of every 
single part there was).

Following their ungainly gestures, Ashley turned to see an 
open-sided barrel on the street corner.  There had obviously 
been a fire inside it very recently.  Within the still-smoldering 
ashes, Ashley could make out the remains of some charred patent 
leather shoes, belts, feminine shoulder holsters, and the frame 
from a pair of Ray-Ban sunglasses. 

This was too much!  Ashley doubled over at the waist and laughed 
uproariously until her sides hurt. 

The male agent finally got around to removing Ashley's handcuffs.  
She rubbed her wrists as she put the finishing touches on the 
back-handed compliment she would favor him with for *finally* 
getting around to freeing her. 

Unfortunately, she never got to deliver her "zinger" (too bad, 
because it was going to be a really good one), since the male 
agent didn't release her.  Instead, he had only unlocked her 
cuffs so that he could move her hands to the front and lock 
them into the cuffs holding the two female agents together.

Ashley yelled, "What?  What?"  (Which was not nearly as clever 
as what she had originally intended to say, believe me.)

Leaving the three surprised women, the male agent stepped to the 
curb and held his earpiece as he communicated with someone out of 
sight.

Suddenly, there was a beeping sound.  The three women looked 
at each other.  The two naked members of the trio said, 
simultaneously, "It wasn't me."

Chagrined, Ashley realized it was her cell phone.  Unfortunately, 
it was in the breast pocket of her blazer.  Despite the stares of 
the onlookers, who showed no signs of dispersing, Ashley decided 
she could not afford to miss this call, given her recent turn of 
events.

She bent forward to bring her chest to her hands.  However, due to 
the unfortunate constraints she was under, this also meant bringing 
her face to the waists of the very, very naked women to whom she 
was cuffed. 

The two nudes looked down reproachfully at her.  She looked up 
reproachfully at them.  This was pretty much the only attempt 
at dignity any of them could think of under the circumstances, 
but Ashley seethed inside.  Couldn't they see it was their nudity 
that was causing this situation to be so awkward?  Ashley
couldn't help that she had to answer her damned phone! 

Carefully avoiding unnecessary contact with any erogenous body 
parts (ok, maybe just a tiny bit *too* carefully), Ashley managed 
to get her phone out of her breast pocket and hold it up to her 
ear, still bent over at the waist, and with her face unavoidably 
close to the two bare backsides.

She heard an urgent voice: "If you want to stay dressed, do 
everything I tell you."

"Who are you?" Asked Ashley.

"There's no time to explain.  Just call me 'Jeo.'  There is a 
problem with the program."

"No fooling! I'm handcuffed to two naked women, with my face about 
three inches from their asses!"  Ashley, realizing what she had 
just screamed, looked up at the crowd as apologetically as she 
could, given her embarrassing predicament.

"No, no, that part is supposed to happen... eventually, anyway.  
The problem is that someone has stepped into the story from the 
outside.  He's trying to take it over without adding any plot or 
subtext."

"Oh, yeah, like there's just gobs of that in most of your stories 
to start with."

"Look, we REALLY don't have time for this.  If you do what I say, 
you will encounter some pretty dicey situations, but you'll have 
a fighting chance to keep your clothes on for at least a while.  
If you go with him, you'll be naked in seconds."

"But he's already got these two stripped just about as naked as 
they could possibly be.  Trust me, from my position, I can tell."

"It doesn't matter, those are just minor characters.  He doesn't 
care about them.  It's you he's after."

"Oh, great, well...OK.  What do I have to do?"

"You see two numbers in front of you; one is red, the other 
blue...."





