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It was a day like any other day. Uneventful and boring. It's come to the point where Bryan sees nothing else but schoolwork when he gets home. To the point where he just started living off of his school loans instead of working. "Who has the time?" Bryan thought. Despite his complacency, fortune had smiled on him a few times. He remembers when he used to play online blackjack to clear the bonuses and pocket the money. It was convenient and fairly easy to do. That is, until the big boys who owned the casinos suddenly became aware of this loophole, and installed the rule that playing other games would be mandatory at clearing the bonuses. "Goodbye free money," Bryan thought. If only he had discovered this a few years earlier, he said to himself. By now, he'd be rolling in the money. But free rides never last. Sulking at how he could make money with the least amount of effort possible, Bryan was about to give up. A knock on the door intruded on his thoughts. Bryan got up from his couch. His parents were out of town for the day. One thing he absolutely despised was to be reminded how he, being 25, still lives at home despite being an undergrad. How else could he afford to pay for his car, his credit card, and his phone bill all at once without having to work? A second knock came from the door. He checked himself in the mirror, in case it was a girl. Reflecting back at him was his six foot stature, his straight brown hair that had yet to be combed, his squinty brown eyes, his contemporary glasses that cost way too much then they were worth, as well as his clear complexion, with a day's old beard. He didn't notice his usual attire as being jeans and t-shirts, since that's what he always wore. Bryan gets to the door and opens it. It wasn't a girl that was waiting for him. In fact, he looked nothing like a girl. Rather, he looked more like a circus ring leader, fitted with white pants and an ambiguously striped red and white blazer topped with a straw hat with a walking cane, tweaking his mustache with his two fingers. "What do you want?" Bryan asked in an inquiring tone, knowing he had better things to do than to engage this weirdo. "My name is Mortimer Rubinstein, and today is your lucky day my friend!" he said in the tone of a second rate stage magician. "Sorry, not interested," was Bryan's reply at what was obviously an unwanted solicitation, closing the door as he usually did. But this time it was different. The salesman put his foot between the door and its frame, thus preventing Bryan from closing it. "You'd better take off before..." the young man said swiftly, until he was interrupted by the strange man at his door, who spoke through the small space, suddenly seeming more serious and to the point. "I'll be brief, Bryan. I heard your call for an easy way to make money. I know you've had difficulty in this aspect, right? Here is what I'm proposing. You take care of my website for me, and in exchange, I'll let you keep any profits you make off of it. What do you say?" Bryan thought for a moment, but then it occurred to him that this could be one of those websites that needed a financial commitment. One that he could not afford. Just when he was about to say no, Mortimer once more cut into his momentum, by adding, "Did I mention it was a porn site?" Bryan's face suddenly changed. He opened the door further and even invited Mortimer to come in. If there was anything Bryan enjoyed more, in between his homework, it was surfing the web for porn. He had always dreamed of owning a lucrative website such as that. But he had frowned earlier at the prospect, somehow thinking it would take the time and energy, which he didn't have, to run it. And besides, where would he find all the beautiful women needed to exploit it? Despite it all, this man was promising him a website that was already made. And it mattered less to Bryan if it was profitable or not. "I'm listening," said Bryan. "But be warned that I'm not investing any money into this. You'd better think twice if you're dropping me a sinking website". Mortimer simply smiled. "My dear boy, this website is far from being unprofitable. In fact, it has served me well up to this point. And it will serve you as well too. The only hitch is that I'm sorely in need of a vacation, which I haven't taken for a few years. It's been on the back burner for some time now. But now, I'm afraid I need to take a leave of absence in order to preserve my health. This is why, at the same time, I would like you to further my website in more...contemporary indulgences." Bryan thought for a moment. "What do you mean? Kinky stuff?" "Yes. You could call it like that. Fetishes of all sorts. Up til now, I've focused exclusively on traditional sex. But I'm finding there is a market for more. And seeing as you have a fair amount of experience in these subjects, more than I do, I thought it best to leave you at the helm of my precious website," Mortimer replied. "So what do I have to do?" Bryan asked. "It's simple really. All you need is to take pictures of others with this digital camera. You put them on the website, and let it do its work," Rubinstein answered. Here was the catch, Bryan thought. When it's too good to be true, it usually is. There's no way it could be this easy. He needed publicity, he needed people to come to his website and be willing to voluntarily pay for the material. What's to say that this would make his website stand out in any shape or form? Mortimer interrupted his thoughts, strangely, by answering this precise question. "Ah, but there IS something very different about this website. Let me show you. May I access your computer?" He asked inquisitively. "Sure. Right this way." Both stepped into his bedroom, and went towards his desk. His computer was still connected to the internet. Mortimer typed effortlessly the url, which read as http://www.tits.com. "Now watch and learn, dear boy," Mortimer uttered as he typed into what looked to be a search list embedded into the website. After a few moments of searching, the strange man sat back into his chair and clicked on a name. The screen opened up a window where it looked as if a webcam was monitoring a man who looked busy writing away in an office. "You may ask who this man is. Let me tell you that this man walked away with my wallet, which I accidently left in his office. It was my word against his. And, the authorities decided to believe him. Well, I think it's time he gets what's coming to him, wouldn't you say?" Mortimer asked, while twirling his mustache and smiling deviously. Under the window, Bryan noticed there seemed to be room to add some text. Mortimer started typing some words, and simply pressed enter. The words then disappeared. Bryan wasn't quick enough to catch what he wrote. "Now watch," Mortimer said. The man in the window seemed to become suddenly uncomfortable. To the point where he seemed to get warm. He put down his pencil, loosened his neck tie and unbuttoned the top of his shirt. For a moment, he seemed to think this would do. It soon became apparent that it wasn't. A second heat wave hit. This time, with more intensity. The man found it difficult to breathe, and soon after resorted to hyperventilate, as if to somehow gain control of his situation, but to no avail. The businessman's chest started to heave. He grabbed at it, trying desperately to understand and, at the same time, stop whatever was happening to him. "What's going on?" he asked, now clearly frightened. Mortimer grabbed Bryan's microphone and started speaking into it while still looking at the screen. "What's going on is I know you still have my wallet, James. You failed to return it to me even after I insisted you give it back. Now, let's just call this an incentive to your antisocial behavior." "I...I...I still don't know what you're talking about!" was all the man could reply. Suddenly, he pushed his back to the chair and saw his chest pushing up more and more against his shirt. Until it was just too tight, and popped a button, and two, and three. He could only witness the incomprehensible. His chest was growing. Despite knowing so, he put his hands against his new breasts in a vain hope to stop them. But he was only met with their further growth. His shirt was now completely unbuttoned. Torn off in a final attempt at confirming what clearly couldn't be. That he now had E cup breasts. Whatever happened to him ceased at that moment. He again brought his hands up to them, touching them, inspecting them, in a bid to further comprehend what had happened to him. His touch only confirmed that these breasts were naturally his. He was suddenly brought back to reality by Mortimer's frightful voice, which seemed to come out of no where. "Now don't you look lovely, James? I'm sure you'll have a lot of questions to answer. But now that you see what I can do, I think it's fair to say that the first question to answer is when can I expect my wallet returned to me?" Frightened at the prospect of having to explain this to anyone, James thought for a moment, and decided it wasn't worth ruining his life for a measly wallet. "I can have it shipped to you the same day! A-All I need is an address!" "I am sending you an e-mail as we speak," Mortimer mentioned in the microphone. "I'll communicate with you further once I get my wallet." James broke out. "Please! You can't leave me like this. I promise I won't do this again! Please! Turn me back!" He now got up and tried further negotiating with Mortimer, but to no avail. Mortimer replied with a final comment. "Best not lie to me, James. I can make those breasts so big that you'll be unable to walk out of that office of yours. I get my wallet, you get your life back. Case closed." And with that, Mortimer closed the popup window and turned towards Bryan. Bryan was dumbfounded. Could this be? Was this for real? Was he really this lucky to get to control a tool such as this? Rubinstein spoke out, "Yes, yes and yes, Bryan. This is yours to do with as you please. You've seen its power. Now, you can do the same." Mortimer pulled out what looked to be a digital camera from his stripped vest. He gave it to the young man. "Now listen carefully. This is important. All you need to do to have access to people's lifes is to take their picture with this or any camera, and simply download the picture into the computer. They will all go to the same place. That area of the website where I accessed the names. All I ask is that you use it to further my business. I'll let you know of my return once I get back. But now, consider any profits you make off of it to be yours, in exchange for your time. "Now, if you'll excuse me, a vacation is waiting for me." Ceaseless thoughts entered Bryan's mind. Once Mortimer reached the door, he simply turned around and told Bryan to explore the website's capabilities, in order for him to have all his questions answered. He then smiled, opened the door and walked out. Bryan closed the door behind him. "I trust you, Bryan," Mortimer thought to himself. Bryan sat back down, turned his head and stared at the camera. The things he could do with this! Feeling the excitement build in him, the college student knew he wasn't going to be thinking clearly for the night. It felt like he had won the lottery, and had to think about what he was going to do with the millions. So that's what Bryan did. He thought for the night. Never once going back to the computer. Bryan didn't have too many enemies. But he didn't have too many friends either. It was true what they said. Once high school is over, you turn the page, and start living the rest of your life after going through hell. He could very well remember that. Even with all that happened. But unfortunately, it was easier said than done for Bryan. Before he went to sleep, this, and the thought of the people who tormented his life came into his conscience. His choice was made. He was going to have fun tomorrow. He fell asleep with a smile on his face. *** The young college student woke up, startled. It suddenly occurred to him, in between his sleeping and waking state that he had no idea where to get pictures of his tormentors. Where were they now? How could he get in contact with them, much less get their picture? Then it hit Bryan. The one place where he knew to find pictures of his tormentors. Bryan smiled. He headed towards his old boxes and picked up his high school yearbook. "I knew this would come in handy someday!" he chuckled, hurriedly emptying the box he knew to hold his yearbook. He swiftly took pictures of the people in question with his digital camera, and soon after uploaded them to his computer. He followed the same path as indicated by Mortimer, and eventually saw the names of the people appear on Rubinstein's special list. He clicked on the first name. A window opened up, and a man appeared, as if being recorded by an invisible camera. Jim "the jock" Preston was just finishing his workout when his phone rang. "Hey babe. No, sorry, I can't make it tonight. I've got plans with my friends." He then hung the phone up. Had his girlfriend been aware that he wasn't seeing his friends, but rather, going out with her best friend, she would probably make a hissy fit. And he didn't want that. The less she knew, the better off he was. Playing the cold, distant type seemed to work for Jim. Especially since high school. Bryan had seen Jim break a number of girl's hearts, and he somehow knew his day would come. He was more than glad to be the one to assist in creating that fateful day. The jock was about to sit down to eat when suddenly a deep resounding voice was heard from seemingly out of nowhere. "Jim. You've treated others unfairly. Dare I say even harsh and cruelly." On his end, Bryan had selected the text to voice option from his computer. It didn't take long for Jim to look perplexed , and to confirm to the college student that he was being heard. "Who said that? Where are you?" Jim looked around, and stood up from his chair. "You needn't worry about that now," the voice said in a neutral tone. Jim's clothes suddenly disappeared. Bryan snickered. "What's going on? What do you want?" the jock replied, clearly afraid. "Vengeance isn't without a sense of irony, Jim," the voice uttered. Bryan simply typed away. He no longer needed to think about what was going to happen to Jim. It was decided even before he clicked on his name. "Remember high school? Remember all the girls whose hearts you broke? Remember all those who you intimidated? Well, here is your retribution for all that." Jim's body started to ache. It wasn't often that this 6'2, 250 lb athlete ached like this. Only after intense workouts. But this was different. Much different, as he was about to see. He put his hands on the table, and noticed how his skin seemed to be bulging from all over. Pulling at him. His fingers suddenly became thicker, as did his hands. It was almost as if his hands were full of water. The sensation soon reached up to his arms, climbing to his shoulders. His 40 inch biceps were now becoming flabby. He suddenly felt his muscled relax, and become more tender. He grabbed his right arm, which seemed to freely jiggle at every twitch of his fingers on it. The sensation continued, reaching for his shoulders and coming down to his chest. His broad shoulders suddenly drooped lower, but this was the less of his worries. His prized chest, which Jim took particular pride in, started to sag. Frantically, he reached up, with his new arms trying to stop the unstoppable, but it was clearly beyond his control. In a fit of utter desperation, Jim started to scream. Even more so at the prospect of his now ballooning pectorals. Bryan typed in the letter "J," relishing at the change that was occurring before his eyes. His hand slipped, and he then noticed the his single J become triple J. Jim's body complied with this order, further stretching his pectorals into round mammaries with large pink aureoles, which savagely expanded into a triple J cup. Bryan typed in further changes. Jim hips reacted by growing, and stretching his ass, until his boxers could no longer hold and ripped off. His legs soon matched the size of his ass, which was now 5 feet large. His feet shrank in proportion to his now growing femininity, which soon met its greatest challenge in between his legs, with his 10 inch cock. "No...please not that!" Jim begged. But it was too late. His penis was now shrinking, as was his scrotum. What little he had left of his masculinity was now vanishing with each passing moment. And then it happened. He felt the last remaining bit of his penis disappear, all while feeling the insides of his genitals moving, tugging, changing. He reached down with his thick fat fingers and felt what was the brand new opening to his new pussy. Bryan typed in yet another command, finishing whatever was left to complete Jim's transition. His voice cords changed, as did the length of his hair, which was now up to his shoulders. His face became rounder, to further match his body, which had also shrank in height by about 8 inches as he was about to find out. In all regards, Jim was now a fat lady. Whatever or whoever had done this had now stopped. Jim got up from the floor, finding he had fallen some time during his change. He walked for the first time with his new fat legs towards the mirror in his bedroom. Jim gasped at his reflection, which resembled nothing of who he once was. How could he work like this? How would his family react? Jim started crying. It was all too much for him. A voice broke out of the silence. "There there Jim. You needn't worry. I'll make sure you're well paid, as the fat lady of my new website. In fact, I think I'll even let you think about it. When you're ready, e- mail me here." Jim would soon find out that a piece of paper appeared on his kitchen table with Bryan's e-mail. Bryan smiled. This WAS going to be fun. *** Next on his list was Fred, whose fun it was to take pictures of everyone in awkward situations and post them all over school. To his dismay, Bryan had been one of his victims in the most compromising of positions: while changing in the boy's locker room. He soon found the picture of his naked bottom all over school. What's more, Fred had also taken a frontal shot of his chest, which was somewhat flabby due to a slight weight problem which was corrected over time, but nevertheless taken upon by others to point out and ridicule in every and all opportunities that presented themselves. Now it was going to be Fred's turn to be seen. But not in the way he had hoped. Fred Hutchison was a career photographer who managed to make a living exercising his craft. Barely out of high school, he was one of the few who managed to get recognized early in the photography business. Part of it was skill, but part of it was luck, such as being at the right place at the right time to take the proper picture. Such an opportunity presented itself today. He was lucky enough to convince Laura, a top lingerie model to exclusively pose for him. This would further help to boost his career, and he knew it. One hour later, after a few flirtatious words from Laura, and a promise to get together for coffee sometime later in the week, Fred was cleaning up his studio apartment following his picture taking. He noticed Laura had forgotten some of her clothes there. He laughed. Was it intentional? She had always been a tease. Now, it seemed even more so. In another part of the country, Bryan sat as his screen, having enjoyed the privilege of being witness to a rather sexy photo shoot. He soon started to type. Pictures suddenly seemed to fall from the ceiling down to Fred's feet after a brief gust of wind. "Strange," Fred thought, as he had no open windows in his apartment. The photographer bent down to pick one up. He then stood upright completely. That was when he suddenly recognized the picture. "Is this a joke?" Fred asked inquisitively, with a smile on his face, looking all over his apartment for whoever brought the pictures to him. It had to be someone from high school. Obviously an old friend who had tracked him down. Perhaps for a long awaited reunion. Who else would have kept such pictures? Unexpectedly, Fred lost his smile as he was violently pulled towards his living room, by what seemed to be nothing at all, dragging him by his sweater. Despite having turned off his lights, his picture scene was now clearly illuminated. Unable to stop himself, Fred took off his clothes, as if they were burning him. He now stood completely naked in front of his scene, clearly frightened. A voice spoke seemingly from out of nowhere. "What's the matter Fred? Don't you remember me?" The voice sounded familiar. Yet he couldn't place it. Then it hit him. The pictures. "It can't be..." Fred whisperingly uttered. "Oh, but it can!" Bryan replied, sitting at his computer desk with his microphone. "You see, you were partly responsible for my being taunted and ridiculed in high school. You remember that stupid picture you took of me? Well, now I think it's time that you showed off YOUR naked body to the world!" Perplexed, Fred asked: "What do you mean?" "I mean, it's time to think about a new career for yourself, Fred. Photography has served you long enough. Time for you to be the person in front of the camera." And with those words, Bryan started to type. Music suddenly started blaring from the stereo Fred had on hand to get the girls in the mood for provocative pictures. His fan suddenly started up, giving him a wild gust of wind through what appeared to be his ever lengthening long hair, now auburn red instead of brown. He grabbed at it with his hands, pushing away whatever got in his face, only to notice his new elongated fingernails painted firetruck red. "I'll make you into the prettiest of them all, Fred. You'll be the main prize". Bryan spoke, his voice appearing yet again in the photographer's apartment many miles away. Fred was then bombarded by what seemed to be thoughts of the most beautiful models he had ever seen, but never gotten close enough to talk to. Each had her distinctive feature. Full pouty lips, big sexy eyes, thin arched eyebrows, a cute button nose, and cheekbones to die for. Had Fred been more mindful of himself, he would have noticed that his thoughts intertwined with the very changes that occurred to him. He was now the one with the sexy eyes, the button nose, the arched eyebrows, the sculpted cheekbones and the pouty lips. His thoughts were interrupted by the swelling of his backside, which he knew to be his ass, soon after followed by the realignment of his waistline, which shrank and shrank before his very eyes, giving him the figure of a female. His legs and arms adjusted themselves to resemble those of a lingerie model. He suddenly lost his balance while his feet shrank, and met soon after with the floor. "What have you done to me?" Fred shouted, frantically. "Oh, we're almost done Freddy. Hang in there. The best is yet to come." It didn't take long for Fred to understand what Bryan meant. Arching his back uncontrollably, Fred's chest seemed to move and stretch until it was understood, to his horror, that it was growing. His chest ballooned further out until it met with double D proportions, sagging with their weight as he sat back up. Instinctively reaching for them, as if needing further confirmation of what happened to him. "They're real, Fred. Trust me," Bryan uttered through his microphone. In a bid of desperation, Fred looked down in between his legs. It was still there, albeit longer, and with more girth. It contrasted sharply with all else that Fred was seeing of himself. "You-you've made me into a freak! You bastard! I'll kill you," Fred blared out, with his fist closed and upright. "What's freakish about being a she-male? They are becoming more and more common. But if you feel you're truly one of a kind, here's your chance to be a pioneer," Bryan laughed out loud. "Consider this a thank you present for the hard time you gave me in high school. Now you'll be the one they'll all be ogling at. Oh, and best you to get support for those breasts. They do tend to swing a lot when they're natural. I think Laura left her bra here..." Bryan typed some more. Fred's newfound breasts were suddenly wrapped and pushed up by Laura's red double D bra. The young man spoke again. "I may be vengeful but I am not cruel. Here's an opportunity to flaunt your beautiful assets. You can reach me at this number or at this e-mail address. The choice is yours." A piece of paper fell from what looked to be the ceiling, down to Fred's feet. Bryan then disconnected from his computer, knowing it would take time for the now ex-photographer to decide on his next course of action. This was proving to be an interesting day after all! Bryan wondered what tomorrow held for him before sleep overtook him. *** Bryan got up earlier than usual today. Part of him was just too excited at the possibility of further getting a one up on his enemies. Had he dreamed of the past few days or did it really happen? Checking his e- mails and phone messages was all the confirmation the undergrad needed. Fred was the first, having e-mailed him twice and further leaving him a frantic and frightened message on the phone explaining that he could not live his life in such a manner. This was amusing. Jim, on the other hand, left nothing but sniffles and bawling. He hadn't even had the graciousness to ask to be changed back. Too bad. He'll just have to wait, thought the webmaster. And best that he did, for he Bryan had other things to tend to. He had one final person on his blacklist, who needed some taking care of. Mr Razi was one of the lucky ones. Despite his chain smoking, coffee drinking and caustic attitude, he still made it to the ripe old age of 65 intact and with no noticeable health problems. He had managed to make sound investments while sitting in the principle's chair at Almont High school. His nerves of steel allowed for him to stay at his post for an amazing 25 years. How do you do it, people often asked. How did he manage to remain sane and well despite having to steer an entire school towards the high standards required by the provincial administration? Simple. By taking out his frustrations on troublemakers, and on any who got in his way. Mr Razi was feared. Both by the faculty and the students. He took pride in this. Their fear was his strength. Bryan tuned in to his old high school principle, who was preparing for a fishing trip with friends of stature and power. It wasn't really about fishing. But rather about what information he could extract from them in order to continue making money. These random facts appeared beside Mr Razi's image. "Thoughts made manifest. Amazing," Bryan thought. "I'm afraid you're not going to be going to that fishing trip, sir," Bryan spoke through his microphone. "Huh? Who's there?" the ex-principle replied. The webmaster got to the point. "Remember me? Remember how you suspended me from school twice just because you didn't like the color of my shoes?" The ex-principle looked around to see who was speaking. "That's what you told me." Bryan fumed, as he spoke though his mike. "You made me miss my SATs. I failed an entire year because of your tyranny. Because of your abuse. I saved the worst of it for you, sir." "I don't know who put you up to this, but if you're hidden in my house, I suggest you show yourself. Lest you want me to tell the cops that this is a break & enter." Mr Razi smiled. Threats worked well for him. Everyone had something to lose. And if they didn't, then it was their life or freedom he would take away. "A no show, eh? Have it your way!" The ex-principle pulled his gun out from under his shirt and started looking in every remote corner of his room, desperately jogging his mind as to who could be behind this. He had made many enemies. His list was long. Bryan smiled and typed away. Thoughts of sympathy appeared in the webmaster's conscience. But they soon faded as he remembered each painful experience his ex-principle had put him though. "This one's for you, 'Raz!" And he typed. Mr Razi looked though his closet, his personal bathroom, his bed, but to no avail. He was going to make this prankster pay. After all, this had to be a joke. No one had anything on him. His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a sound coming from his stomach. Was he hungry? Now, of all times? No. This was different. The sound intensified, this time, followed by a painful cramp in his abdomen. Something was not right. The pain Mr Razi immediately felt made him collapse. He held his stomach. Violent spasms were overtaking him. He had been wrong on all accounts. Had he known what was happening, the middle-aged man would have realized that his internal organs were rearranging themselves. Twisting, shifting, closing up and reopening elsewhere. Mr Razi came back to his senses once the pain stopped. He woke up feeling different. "How do you like THAT, sir?" Bryan replied, after having finished typing. Where was he, the ex-principle thought. "I'm calling the cops!" said Mr Razi. But then it occured to him that his voice was coming from elsewhere. He ran to a mirror to see just what had happened to him. What stared back was horror in the man's eyes. His mouth had been replaced by a round wrinkled hole. "W-what's the meaning of this?" he spoke in wonder. His voice somehow was coming from the inside of his pants, in between his legs, stifled by what seemed to be his butt cheeks. "Impossible! What have you done to me?" he beckoned frightfully. "You always were a good shit talker, Razi. I just thought your body should reflect that," Byran said. "Let's see if it works." The webmaster typed away until his words reached the ex-principle. Mr Razi's stomach started to turn. He felt a pressure never felt before that compelled him to burp from his wrinkled opening. Uncontrollably, he felt himself cringe and feel his mouth getting fuller and fuller until he had no choice but to evacuate from his sole opening. Mr Razi let out a large piece of excrement. Then another, then another. "Beautiful!" Bryan scathed. "Now, every time you'll have the intention of screwing someone else over, you'll be met with mouthful of your just deserts. But I'm not without mercy. You work for me, OR you send me details to your bank account, and that will set things right. In case you haven't figured it out yet, sir, it's Bryan Peterson. When you're ready to talk, call or send me an e-mail." A piece of paper then fell from an undisclosed location down onto Mr Razi's bed. Tears rolled down the middle-aged man's eyes. Bryan could see the old fart now. Worrying about missing his business trips, about what he'd tell his wife, about having to adapt to a new lifestyle, which included wiping his new mouth with toilet paper, and brushing his teeth in between his legs. He laughed with delight. The webmaster now rested. It had been a long day, after all. He had sought and obtained revenge against all those that proved to have been cruel and unjust towards him. Calls started coming in. Large sums of money were being freely offered to him by Fred, Jim, and finally Mr Razi, who had a yacht and some savings in a swiss bank account which he was offering in exchange for his life back. Bryan freely took this money. In all, he had been given close to 250 000$. Not bad for a day or two of work. *** Within the following weeks, it came to be that the newly rich webmaster was in no hurry to change his enemies back. He had already spent much of his newly found money, investing little of it on the website and most of it on himself. Bryan now lived in a lavish condo in the better part of his city. He now had the website connected in such a way as to allow 24/7 access to any of his new freaks, provided people paid for it. He had to find a new idea, and fast, in order to make the website more lucrative, being that he was spending money faster than he was making it. Nevertheless, this was the least of Bryan's worries. Rather, he was thinking about how he was sitting on a castle built with a deck of cards. Anytime, his virtual empire could fall from his hands with the simple return of his predecessor. He had to think and act quickly. Where would Finkelstein be? He was no doubt on vacation somewhere in the world. But where? The webmaster didn't have much time. It had already been 2 months since the weird man disappeared. He needed to locate him as fast as possible, before he was located himself. Bryan only hired the best. Private investigators, bounty hunters, mafia men, all were interested in the 1 million dollar pricetag. He wasn't Bin Laden, he reasoned. Surely they'd find him quickly and with ease. He distributed a drawn sketch of the man. Within the hour, they'd be combing the world, trying to find Mortimer. The ex-student, who had given up his studies to maintain the website, continued in doing what he did best. One man whom Bryan thought would be wealthy enough to pay the ransom was surprised to find himself suddenly growing breasts. First on his chest. Then in his back. Then on his shoulders. Then over his existing breasts on his chest. And subsequently anywhere where they were allowed to grow. Soon, every square inch of the man, save for his head, had breast tissue covering him. He could neither sit nor lie down, for fear of hurting his new mammary glands. A further incentive into paying the webmaster, he thought. Another person whom Bryan saw regularly in the news seemed to have a rather big mouth. Often times, he would be seen grandstanding in favor of big corporate companies. Bryan decided to make this person less than presentable on national tv. Taking a lesson from Mr Razi, he typed in a few changes which led the colorful character into having his mouth become a penis and vice-versa. It came to be, as per his instructions, that a cheque was soon sent via western union in the sum of 125 000$. "All too easy," Bryan thought. The webmaster continued dabbling with important media figures while resting assured that whichever sum of money was solicited would in fact be sent to him in a timely manner. This reassures Bryan, but did nothing to calm his fear that Finkelstein would someday come back and reclaim what was rightfully his. Then, approximately two days later, Bryan got the call he was waiting for. Mortimer Finkelstein was spotted on a beach close to the Dominican Republic. He had investigators on the scene who were now following him. The webmaster requested a fax be sent to him. In it, had had asked for a picture of Finkelstein, just to be sure he could confirm his identity. In reality, it was simply in order for him to use the weird man's medicine against him. Days prior, Bryan had combed all of the software himself, making sure nothing of it gave Finkelstein an advantage over him. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Once the fax came in, the ex-student did as he was told. He took a picture of it with his digital camera, and uploaded it inside his computer. Mortimer Finkelstein's name appeared with all the other names Bryan had added to the list. He clicked on it, and soon-after, an image of the strange man appeared on screen. Curiously, he was seen typing on a laptop computer. Bryan wasted no time. "Morty! How you doin!" Bryan said in a rather casual tone. Morty turned around, and stared towards the direction of the voice. He spoke. "I see you've gotten my website back to profitability, Bryan. Good for you." "I only did what you told me to do," Bryan replied. Mortimer asked inquisitively. "What can I do for you, Bryan? I'm quite busy enjoying my vacation. I trust there aren't any problems?" "No. No problems. Except maybe for one," Bryan said in a nonchalant way. The webmaster started to type. He intended to take full advantage of this opportunity. If anything was to happen to Finkelstein, then no one would be left to contest his leadership of the website. Bryan kept on frantically typing. It was his first, and hopefully, last attempt at trying to kill Finkelstein. He had to make sure there would be no typos. He focused his stare on the keyboard, hitting each key with as much certainty as he could. Had he bothered to look on the screen, he would have noticed that Mortimer was walking steadily towards his screen. "Must my demise be so violent?" Mortimer asked, standing over Bryan's shoulders. "What?!? How'd you get here?" Bryan asked, frightened. "There are many things you don't know about me, Bryan. One of them is that I always cover my back," Mortimer replied. Bryan reached for his pocket in the hopes of ending it here and now, but his pistol was no where to be found. "Looking for this?" Finkelstein pulled what appeared to be a gun that looked surprisingly like that of Bryan's, and proceeded to point it at him. "I'd like for you to please follow me towards your living room." Bryan did as he was asked to. In his living room, were Fred, Jim, Mr Razi, and a number of other "freaks" whom the webmaster had created thanks to the website. "I just had to see for myself the work you did. Original, provocative, freakish, in some cases, even. Just the type of sick material people would crave. You've done a fine job. And the number of hits on the website have quadrupled. But there is the aspect of your trying to kill me. Of which I don't appreciate in the slightest," Finkelstein said in a solemn voice. "I was just testing the website's capabilities," Bryan exclaimed. "Young man. I've been around for a long time. If I didn't know when someone lied to me, I seriously doubt I'd still be standing," Mortimer said. "That said, I think it's time for your punishment. Many of those present here are innocent of any wrongdoing towards you. I think it's only fair that I should consult them in this process. Now, don't you move!" Bryan's legs suddenly went numb. He fell to the floor, unable to stand up. Mortimer walked towards the freaks who were wronged. They formed a circle, hands over shoulders, and huddled much like a football time would. They then broke their formation. Finkelstein walked towards the webmaster. He spoke, "I've accepted in restoring these people to their natural states. In exchange, they've offered various ways in which I could punish. One of them stood out the most. One, I am sure, which will continue to bring profits to the website. I can't have these people up and leave without protecting my investment, you see. All of you! Bear witness to the birth of the greatest freak of them all!" Finkelstein raised his hands and looked towards a nearby laptop. Keys started to move. Bryan suddenly felt strange. His close ripped freely off of his body. The strange man just grinned. Bulges started to appear on Bryan's skin. Then more of them. Until much of his body was filled with bulges. Each of them suddenly heaved, until one of them on his chest sprouted into a long 10 inch penis. Another soon followed on his stomach. Then another on his left arm. Still another on his right leg. Until his entire body had clearly sprouted penises all over. Dozens of shafts were now protruding from Bryan's body. All of them at least 10 inches. "You son of a bitch!" the webmaster blurted out. He got up from the ground and started to move towards Finkelstein, with less than honorable intentions. The strange man looked once more in the direction of the laptop, further commanding modifications. "And now, here is what people will pay to see!" Finkelstein shouted in an exciting voice. Bryan's new extensions surprisingly started to shake and stiffen. The pain was almost unbearable for the ex-student. Through each orifice, shades of brown could be seen. Until, in one swift movement, each cock shat no smaller than a 6 inch turd. Dozens of shafts now emptied themselves on Bryan's carpet. At once in agony and ecstasy, he relieved himself in what seemed to be an unstoppable motion. A ring of shit now surrounded the webmaster as he collapsed, emptied of both excrement and energy, sweat-filled and nautious. "You will repeat this process no less than 5 times a day, dear Bryan. Congratulations in taking on this burden in order to free the others. You are now my main event on this new website that you created," Finkelstein said, followed by a triumphant laugh. In a swift gesture of his hand, the strange man made the freaks vanish, and return to their normal lives, with the exception of Jim, Fred and Mr Razi. "You three will serve me on my website for a year less a day. Afterwards, you will regain your old lives back. Now go." And each of them disappeared, whilst still retaining their new shapes and forms. Finkelstein now leaned on the counter in front of his laptop. Looking back at Bryan, who was now completely exhausted from his tribulation. One question remained in his mind. "I wonder how much I should charge?" Months had passed, and as per Mortimer Finkelstein's prediction, he had in effect quadrupled his website's revenues, which remained stable. People wanting ever more to see his prized attraction, his most valuable freak, the shitting penis man. FIN