Instant Gratification
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Instant Gratification free porn video
Instant Gratification
By Jacquie Windsor
I was really pleased with the performance of my new computer, with the cable
connection and everything. Where I used to have to wait several minutes
during my frequent Net surfing, now all the screens loaded quicker than
anything. Hours of time could be saved.
Not that I was about to make much positive use of that saved time. No,
instead I was now just spending even more time diving deeper into the nooks
and crannies of the World Wide Web. I discovered-and
bookmarked-increasingly obscure search engines and links that few people
seemed to have discovered. I felt like a real pioneer or something.
I had become less and less intrigued by photographic galleries, pay sites,
dating services, endless free offers from multi-level marketing, and chat
rooms. I was getting into weirder things: prose fiction sites, unusual home
pages, obscure university sites, religious and cult groups, and other
oddities.
My favourite new search engine didn?t even have a real name, just a
number-204.43.921.nrs/~44/kn.5.src-and a stream of other similar gibberish.
In certain parts of the engine, I was required to download unfamiliar
plug-ins and options that groaned and whirred inside my machine at
intervals.
Most of the pages were plain text with HTML links. Bizarre sex stories and
claims of encounters with alien breeding specialists mixed freely with crazy
offers of spiritual fulfilment and 404-Not Found errors. Nevertheless, it
held my interest in a brutal circle of time-consuming frenzy.
I became less inspired with the real world around me, arriving later at
work-frequently unshaven-and leaving earlier to get home to pursue my
fetish.
Among the various pages I visited, one afternoon I arrived at a plain site
containing a simple banner proclaiming ?Instant Gratification?. Sure-sounds
good to me! It?s what I was doing all the time anyhow-masturbating to kinky
stories and all that.
The pages were set up as a simple ?submit or reset? form. The first pages
contained the expected disclaimer:
?The user agrees to the Terms Of Service. The user holds
egratification.use.net blameless and innocent in any and all regards?blah,
blah, blah?completed form to be submitted by pressing ?OK?, ?Enter?, or
double-clicking the ?Submit? button?blah, blah, blah??
I grimaced and cheerfully ignored the Terms Of Service and all the other
expected patter that cluttered the welcome page. Page down. Page down.
Page down. It was my usual response to the excessive legalese that sprayed
across most of the sites of this type.
Finally I arrived at the first ?OK? button and glumly hit the ?Enter? key to
proceed. Much more of this, though, and I?d be ready to Alt+F4 right out of
there.
?Instant Gratification!?? I grumbled under my breath. ?More like ?Instant
Boredom?.?
The first page of the form itself was no more than a long page of radio
buttons set to defaults. Pretty easy and mind numbing.
I selected ?No? to anything that sounded like an invitation to spam. No
need to encourage that any more than I had in the past. Questions
progressed to cover personal topics-age range, income, amount of time spent
on the InterNet, family structure. I lied on a few of the answers,
protecting my privacy from the prying eyes of unknown webmasters and network
administrators.
Bleary-eyed, I finished the first page, clicked ?OK? and a second page
appeared. It was laid out in the familiar style, and I continued to answer
in a leisurely manner. ?What is your favourite colour among the following??
?Black.? ?Are you single?? ?Yes.? ?Do you have a pet?? ?No.?
Most of the selections were set to default on the answer I ended up choosing
anyhow, adding to my annoyance with this exercise. Finally, finishing that
page half-heartedly, I chose ?OK? at the end and a third nearly identical
page appeared.
?Great,? I muttered to myself.
I rocketed straight to the bottom of the text and clicked on the ?OK?
button. A fourth page of default buttons appeared. I did what I?d done on
the previous page. A fifth page. A sixth page.
?When?s this gonna stop??
At the seventh page, I decided to hit the Alt+left-arrow key. Nothing
happened. I lazily scrolled to the button of the page and noticed that
there was no ?Reset? or ?Back? button there. Just ?OK?.
I clicked it and checked the bottom of the next page. Still no option apart
from ?OK?.
?OK-OK-OK-take this!? I grinned at the terminal. I pressed Alt+F4 to
escape. My machine?s hard drive spun a little and nothing happened. I
pressed ?Esc?. Same thing.
Frustrated, I did the three-finger salute.
?God, the thing must be seized!?
I gave the machine another chance, pressing ?OK? to see if the same thing
would happen on the ninth page. It did. Since even ?Close Program? had no
effect any longer, and the Start Menu would not even appear on demand, I
angrily leaned heavily on the ?Enter? key to speed my way through page after
page of text until-at last-a page began to load images and a banner.
?Reality Check: by eGratification? sang a bright GIF at the top, along with
yellow outlined stars framing the faces and bodies of two dozen
pulchritudinous female models bordering another series of radio buttons
running down the centre of the page.
?This is more like it,? I grinned.
?Select A Date!? promised the table?s title.
?Sure!?
The radio buttons, checkboxes and option boxes weren?t set on any defaults
here, but I had no trouble maintaining an interest in this page-none
whatsoever.
?Height? [Feet and inches]:? ?5-foot-4.?
?Hair colour?? ?Copper.? ?Length?? ?Long.?
This part of the site wasn?t at all boring! I kept going, grinning, and
glad that I had decided to surf the Net naked today. I was even becoming
aroused by the particulars of the questions.
?Bra size.?
There followed an option box that had sizes in it I hadn?t even imagined. I
settled on 32-H, picturing a small, thin, copper-haired vixen with enormous
firm boobs. A JavaScript confirm box appeared once her physical description
was complete. My ?date? was an unbelievable 5-4, 120-pound, 56-22-34 vixen.
She would have weighed just 96 pounds without the breasts! Naturally I hit
the confirmation button quickly to proceed.
The next sub-title in the table provided my dream date?s personality.
?Reputation?? ?Easy.?
?English comprehension: Reads?? ?No.?
?Mathematics comprehension?? ?Grade Three.?
?Conversation topics? [Select any that apply]:? ?Boys. Shopping.
Clothes. Dancing.?
This was getting a little cruel, I thought, but entertaining nevertheless.
The last section was sub-titled ?Society & Relationships?. A little less
interesting, but I complied, certain that I was nearly finished.
?Employment??
I paused on a few choices-dancer, hooker, escort, bikini model and nude
model-before choosing ?Unemployed?. That would make her completely under my
control.
?Sexual taboos? [Select any that apply]:? ?None.?
I had second thoughts, then clicked ?Bestiality? and ?Lesbianism?.
Otherwise, though, I was fine with the entire alphabet of kink.
Finally, a text box asked me to select a name. ?Krissy? was fine with me.
The hard drive clicked and winked after I pressed ?Enter?. The previous
page vanished and a new page loaded. ?Are You Ready?? proclaimed the
banner. ?You are contractually obliged to complete this last question prior
to your ?Instant Gratification?!?
Fine by me!
The final question asked for a location and theme from a few option boxes.
Hawaii? The 7-11? On a lonely highway? After dark? The choices were
meaninglessly complex and detailed, I thought.
Tiring of the game, and having already come from dreaming about the babe I
had devised, I lazily made a couple choices: ?In the drawing room of a
mansion. Alone. Partially dressed.?
I chuckled at the thought of myself in a mansion. My bachelor pad was all I
had known, and I risked losing it, too, if I kept spending all my time and
energy on the InterNet.
I pressed ?Enter? for the last time, enduring the grinding of the hard drive
and the dopey mist that clouded my eyes. I blinked to assure myself that I
was still awake.
I was.
?Krissy-are you all right??
I felt a firm hand on my shoulder. I looked up in dull recognition of an
older man dressed only in a bathrobe. He looked like someone?s old uncle or
something. Yuk!
?Krissy?? I answered in a daze.
My surroundings were certainly nothing I was used to. Thick carpets, high
ceilings, rich furnishings and expensive paintings were everywhere.
?Krissy!? scolded the man. ?You have to get dressed. And get out of here
before my wife comes back from Britain!?
?Huh??
I heard a sweet, high voice escape my lips. Oh my God! And a weight on my
chest that made it quite difficult to sit upright. I looked down in horror.
A pair of tanned breasts-32-H as I learned-sprouted obscenely from my now
tiny frame. I was dressed in only a breezy baby doll and impossible
four-inch stiletto heels.
?Frank said he?d be by in a half-hour to pick you up, honey. Do you need a
Dr. Pepper or anything? An aspirin too, maybe??
I was crying and terrified inside. I had no idea who or where I was. But
the pleasant and firm demeanour of this man compelled me to answer.
?Yes, please, maybe both-a asp?rin and a Dr. Pepper.?
I was surprised by my lack of proper pronunciation.
?Frank?? I wondered aloud as the man turned towards the doorway leading out
of the large living room. ?Who?s Frank??
The man turned and laughed heartily, returning quickly with both a soda and
a bottle of pills.
?Krissy, Frank is your pim-er-boyfriend. You don?t sound all right. Must
have been that party last night, hey??
Party? I feared what he was suggesting, but found it impossible not to
simply grin and bat my eyelashes as I opened the soda and downed a couple of
aspirins. I realised that my baby doll was stuck to parts of my body,
cemented there with dried semen. My panties were crumpled on the floor
under the coffee table.
?I?ll tell you though, babe, you are worth every cent I paid Frank. My Arab
clients were totally amazed too. That deal will easily pay for your
services. How?d you learn to fit two in there, anyhow??
Two what? In where? The pills and the drink awoke my soul to a devastating
reality. I had become the dumb, big-boobed bimbo I had selected while
surfing on the InterNet.
?I just try hard, that?s all,? I heard myself say. ?I really like to make
guys happy.?
Amid my baffled inner soul, I couldn?t deal with my external whorish
appearance and slutty dialogue. No matter how I cried and protested, this
?Krissy? kept on being a pleasant and depraved-prostitute. I couldn?t think
of any other word for it.
?Well-fortunately we had you take off your jacket before we used you,? he
smiled. It was one of those greedy, self-important grins that came with
wealth, power, and experience.
He left to retrieve the jacket as a car horn bellowed in the driveway
outside. It was an effort to stand up and drape the gaudy, sequinned
garment over my 5-foot-four frame and totter on the stilettos towards the
front door. The older man patted my ass as we passed a mirror.
In the glass I saw the young woman bounce along-ballooning jugs, smooth ass,
shapely legs and a river of tousled hair. An extraordinarily exact match to
the description I had given, although Krissy simply smiled as she passed by.
A big middle-aged man, whom I took to be Frank, opened the door of the
Jaguar. In fact, that?s what Krissy said:
?Thank you, Frankie!! I had such an excellent time!! Can we go to the mall
today??
?Sure, baby, after one last stop.?
He shut the car door and drove away with my host?s VISA receipt in one hand.
He came to a halt in front of a deserted building on the north end of town.
?How are you feeling, Krissy?? he grinned at me, a dark pair of sunglasses
concealing his eyes.
?Great. Silly.?
?I mean, really-in here-?
He held his hand to his heart.
I yelled through the mask of Krissy?s persona: ?Tell him!!!?
?I-I don?t know what you mean-you?re confusing me,? I answered.
He nodded and smiled more broadly.
?See this building? You can go through that door and get everything back
again, Krissy. Everything. Or-if you prefer-?
I begged with Krissy?s soul, which was as transparent and invisible as
anyone?s intellect or spiritual depth could be imagined. I looked at Frank.
He had unzipped his pants, ran one hand through my thick bronze hair, and
used the other to pull his swollen erection out. I licked my lips and ran
my hand over his thigh.
?The final condition of the Terms Of Service, baby. This is it. Instant
Gratification is everything you will provide. What will it be??
His hand followed my head as I crouched in the front seat of the Jaguar,
opening my thick lips and drawing his cock into my drooling mouth.
?Oh God, baby, I knew you?d do the right thing,? he moaned, thrusting in
unison to my bobbing head.
?Whatever ?gratifation? is anyhow,? beamed Krissy as I began to taste the
juices flow.
THE END
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