Your Wish Come True: Chapter 1 -- The Wish free porn video

The Wish Chapter 1 He was about to get all he wished for, but he should have read the fine print. THREE steps up to the front door, a fumble in the pocket of his suit jacket for the key, one turn and he was standing in the hall. He was glad to be home in a way, although the whole house reeked of his loneliness. Derek Ross was forty-five years old, his hair was noticeably starting to thin, he was unfit, overweight, and had been suffering depression, for which he had sought no help, for the last five years. Since the divorce. His wife (correction: ex-wife) was a solicitor, as was he. Thankfully they were with different firms. He couldn't have coped with seeing Dianne at work every day after they had agreed to separate. At least, he had agreed. What else could he do? She had decided to go anyway. She said he was just too dull for her. There had been no financial difficulties with the divorce. Both had good careers and good incomes. The children lived with their mother and he saw them quite regularly, though lately their get-togethers had become less frequent and it was getting harder to arrange visits with everyone so busy. He wondered how much they enjoyed spending time with him anyway. One or two-minute phone calls every few days kept them in touch. Emma was twenty-one now and studying Journalism. Peter was sixteen and doing well at school. Their lives were flourishing without him. He lived in an apartment in an Edwardian terrace in South Kensington, fairly spacious for one person but furnished for comfort rather than style. He had leased the place after the divorce. Dianne and the children still lived in the large house they had all shared in Hampstead. Derek had been particularly fond of that house. He had worked late at the office of Carlton and Carlton Solicitors, where he was a senior partner, to clear a backlog of briefs and submissions. It was a windy and chilly Monday night. The twelfth of March, 2007. Derek had kept on working right through dinnertime, so he'd bought a curry on the way home. He ate it straight out of the box while watching television in the kitchen, not finding much on to his taste. He tossed the empty container into the rubbish and went into the study. DEREK sat at the desk and turned on his laptop. Lately he'd been looking at dating and chat sites. He had visited them and looked, but never registered or made contact with anyone. He didn't think it would be a success if he did. It all seemed like too much of an effort. He wondered if he were ready for a relationship anyway. Yet five years should be long enough, part of him responded to his musings. And he was wary of scams. They might just be tying to get personal information. It might be a front to commit identity fraud or bombard people with spam e-mail. He was sipping his fourth glass of fifteen-year-old Laphroaig as he tapped at the computer, at last beginning to feel relaxed (actually, very relaxed). He never stinted himself as far as scotch was concerned. He considered himself something of a connoisseur, and he loved the strong peaty, smoky taste of this famous single malt. Conforming to recent habit he went to several e-mail forums and read the topics people were discussing, and tried to imagine what some of the contributors were like behind their secret identities of user names and avatars. He took part in a couple of online surveys where he was confident he was anonymous. Many were rather salacious but light-hearted. It was a pleasant escape. After a while he felt a familiar urge and began to follow links to different porn sites. Once again, while he was aroused and curious, he was finding himself a bit repulsed by some of the hard-core material which invited his perusal but which he didn't pursue, and saddened by the obvious debauchery of the subjects of the pictures he saw-a debauchery he was supporting and encouraging by looking at the pictures, he ruefully admitted to himself. At heart he was a bit of a prude. Maybe that was why Dianne had found him so dull. He sensed his own disapproval at what he was doing and tried to push it aside as he looked at the breasts and nipples and bottoms and genitals (male and female, in contact and apart) and the feigned lasciviousness of the participants. Throughout this, without really being aware of it, his left hand had been gently rubbing his crotch through his trousers, feeling his own hardness. He decided to go back to one of the light-hearted adult surveys he had tried earlier. He chose 'How sexually adventurous are you?' and decided for fun to complete it as a female, answering the questions in a way that made himself out to be as lewd and sexually active as possible. He scored 100%, feeling a strange sense of triumph. If they only knew the truth! he smiled to himself. THE screen of the computer flickered suddenly. Odd, he thought. A power drain somewhere? But even if there were brownouts taking place, a laptop shouldn't be affected, since surely the battery would take over. A power surge perhaps? But the computer and whole house had surge protectors installed. Perhaps there was a software error and a crash was imminent. He was considering this and had begun to give his attention to the behaviour of the computer when the internet browser window he was looking at suddenly disappeared, leaving only the normal desktop picture of the computer. The program has crashed then, he thought. Well at least it's not the whole computer. Wonder what caused that? He was about to reopen the Internet browser when a window reappeared. Not crashed then. Good. In the browser window was a black background and the words: 'Make a wish?' There was nothing else on the screen. He manoeuvred the mouse and hovered the curser over the words and saw it was a link to another website. He clicked on the words before thinking what he was doing. Just as he did so he noticed it was a pop up window, without the buttons found at the top of a normal browser window. That's strange, he thought. The computer was normally set to block pop up windows. He prepared to close whatever window opened next. In his experience clicking on pop up windows nearly always brought up something unwelcome, and he had heard warnings that they made computers vulnerable to hackers and viruses. As he predicted, a new page opened in the browser welcoming him to a web site. 'Welcome to wishcometrue.com.' Below this it read: 'Are you ready to make a wish? Select a category.' He hesitated. This could be interesting, he speculated. Perhaps he wouldn't close the window straight away after all. Instead of closing the window he began to peruse the list offered: "Just for fun", "friends and enemies", "lifestyle", "circumstances"... They all seemed rather vague categories, he thought. Without much clue as to what lay behind them, he would have to choose one to find out what it was all about. He noticed one called "your ideal". He clicked on that one. A new page opened. It looked like it was another of those surveys, the ones he'd done earlier. Okay then, he'd give it a go. He looked at the categories: "job", "home", "marriage", "partner", "family", "car", "holiday", "school", "date"... Derek was trying to decide which category to choose. None of them seemed to grab him particularly. He noticed there was a link below these categories that read: "New options". He clicked on the link and a new page opened. It read: 'Congratulations! The following new options use cutting edge science and technology to enable you to completely customise and actually realise your own Personal Ideal. And like all services provided by wishcomtrue.com it is absolutely free. 'You must agree to the terms and conditions. Please read carefully before proceeding.' Free, eh? Derek considered this. It sounds a bit like the bait for a marketing ploy. They'll probably want him to sign up for a self- improvement seminar or subscribe to some magazine at the end of it. His suspicions were aroused, but so was his curiosity. Just so long as they didn't try to get any personal details. He had never registered for any porn sites or even chat sites, as he was very nervous about (and a little ashamed of) his online activities, and fearful of them being somehow discovered and traced back to him. He had never opened a "FaceBook" account, or anything like it (it seemed so very vulgar). He always made sure he had up to date antivirus and good firewall and private browsing software. The categories offered were: "girl", "boy'", "man" and "woman". He was in the mood for some fantasising, so he selected "girl". A pop up window appeared with the heading: "Terms and Conditions", and beneath it the dense tiny writing that always seemed to be attached to terms and conditions documents. He wasn't about to buy anything. He just wanted to find out what this cutting edge technology might be. Anyway, they had said everything was free, though Derek wasn't entirely convinced about that. As soon as they asked for his e-mail address or credit card details he intended to bail out and leave the web site entirely. So he scrolled down to the bottom of the Terms and Conditions document. It seemed to go on forever. He chuckled at how ridiculously long it was. Does anyone ever read these things? he wondered. He got to the bottom and clicked the button next to "I accept". A message appeared in the pop up window, which read, 'Some required fields have not been checked. Please go back and read the terms and conditions carefully before proceeding.' He felt slightly annoyed. Clicking the back button on the pop up window he saw the bottom of the Terms and Conditions page once again. There was his "I accept" still selected. He scrolled slightly lower and saw that he needed to tick another response. It was quite lengthy, and read: 'I further understand that by my making a wish at wishcometrue.com it is assumed in good faith that I truly and utterly desire it to come true and to this end I will provide as much detailed information as I can in order to ensure that my wish is truly what I want and I understand that my explicit contract with wishcometrue.com is for it to make my wish come true and that it cannot be held liable for any consequences so long as the outcome conforms to the information I have provided and that wishcometrue.com cannot and will not alter the outcomes of any wish that conforms to the information I have provided and that no discussion or correspondence can or will be entered into in respect of any outcome.' Curious. Why do they always want to make everything sound so serious, Derek wondered. Afraid of getting sued, of course, he thought, and in America (where no doubt the web site originates) that sort of thing happens constantly. Thank heavens the law in England hasn't reached that situation. Yet. But if this is meant to be a light-hearted fantasy web site, he considered grumpily, this sort of thing might actually discourage a lot of people. A very unwise touch, that, he thought complacently. And if one wanted to be pedantic, "Dream come true" would have been the better expression. People talk about granting wishes, he grumbled to himself; they should have called the web site grantyourwish.com. As if they could do that, anyway! Derek sighed and took another sip of his scotch as he clicked "True". Another page opened in the pop up window. 'Do you want to use the Ongoing Adaptive Subconscious Preferences feature as described in the Terms and Conditions (recommended) or configure all choices manually (may take longer)? He wasn't about to be forced to go back and read the stupid Terms and Conditions. And he certainly didn't want to spend all night on this. He selected Ongoing Adaptive Subconscious Preferences. Whatever that was. The pop up window closed. Another new page began to load. It read 'Age' and had various options: "baby", "toddler", "child", "primary school", "high school", "finishing senior high school". That's a bit of a worry, he thought anxiously. Perhaps he should have picked "woman". He hoped this wasn't some kind of sick paedophile site. "Finishing senior High School" should be safe enough. He clicked on that one. A new page. 'Looks: butt ugly, plain ugly, okay, girl next door, attractive, rare beauty, absolutely gorgeous, stops traffic, angels weep for joy.' No need to think about this one. Angels shall weep. This was more like it. He was starting to have fun again. Another page opened. 'Racial/Ethnic Genetics: African, American (Native), Asian-Oriental, Caucasian, Malayo-Polynesian Oceanic, Exotic Mixture.' He chose "Exotic Mixture" and another page opened. 'Easy or custom?' He chose "custom". A new page appeared. It read: 'Five previous generations contain thirty ancestors: select geo- ethnic profiles to include in the mixture.' A long list with buttons beside each item appeared. They included nationalities as well as names of more general ethnic groups, and even mixed groups. He studied the list for quite a while, and then clicked on "English", "Italian", "Spanish", "Brazilian (sub group: Mulatto/Moreno)", "Scandinavian", "Ukrainian", "Czech", "Persian" and "Filipino". That's pretty exotic, he thought. He had tried to recall the ethnicity of the most beautiful girls he could remember seeing. Another page opened: 'Hair colour'. He chose dark blond. How predictable! he smiled to himself. A message box appeared: 'Blond hair is generally a characteristic of Caucasian ethnicity. This ancestry will now predominate. It may also be necessary to include up to eight generations (264 ancestors) depending on your subsequent choices. However, while your chosen genetic profile will be adjusted automatically across a maximum of eight generations to result in this and later choices, we undertake to ensure that your exotic mixture is as recent as possible. This may also affect dominant genes and have consequences for any descendants.' He clicked "okay" and the message box closed. He wasn't sure what all that meant. Another page. 'Hair Type and Style?' As options presented themselves he chose "long, straight, silky, full bodied". More pages opened with every choice. Complexion: he chose "soft and clear, olive to light tawny". A pop-up message box appeared: 'Recalculating ancestry.' It remained for about thirty seconds as a progress bar worked its way to the end, then closed. He made more choices as the pages came up, sometimes with several combinations. Body: "exquisite, healthy, agile". Eyes: (after some agonising) "dark brown". Lashes: "long, thick, slightly curling". Nose: "small, cute, very slightly turned up". Lips: "full and luscious, normally slightly parted". Eyebrows: "well- shaped". Personality Profile: There were some either/or choices. Outgoing or reserved? He chose "outgoing". (Exactly the opposite of himself, he thought.) Sociable/private? He chose "sociable". He had an image of her there with him, full of joi de vivre and cheering his life up. Realistic or speculative? "Realistic" he supposed. He didn't want her to be spending too much time with her head in the clouds. She'd be an antidote to his own tendency to dream and constantly hypothesise. Accepting or Curious? He chose "accepting". He had often wished he could be more contented and settled. One can think too much about things. Cool-headed/warm-hearted? That's easy, he thought. "Warm-hearted". Definitely. She should be very loving and caring. Unlike Dianne. Logical/personal? Logical didn't do anything for him. He didn't want another sparring partner, as his ex-wife had ended up being. It would have to be "personal". Objective/passionate? Ooh! "Passionate" sounds good. Organised/impulsive? He thought he'd like her to be "impulsive". One can be too organised sometimes. He ought to know. Definite/adaptable? Certainly not definite. He didn't want arguments all the time. "Adaptable" then. Serious/easy going? He definitely didn't want her to be serious. She should definitely be "easy going". Deliberate/spontaneous? He wished he could be more spontaneous sometimes. "Spontaneous" it is. A message appeared: 'Your ideal personality profile seems to correspond to an ESFP according to the Myers-Briggs Personality Type Indicator. ESFPs radiate attractive warmth and optimism. Smooth, witty, charming, clever, voluble and open to their environment, they are great fun to be with and are the most generous of all the types. "Performer" would be the word which best describes this type. Is the personality you want?' He clicked "yes" very enthusiastically. This description exactly fitted what he was after. There was room to add some more personality traits, so he chose "generous" (just to be sure), "considerate", "agreeable", "active" and "friendly". She'd be the most popular girl in school with those qualities, he supposed, and without any nasty streak. Disposition: "sunny". Character: "eager to please". (He felt a thrill at that one, and the hardness that had faded a while ago instantly returned.) Intellect. He looked over the options: "cabbage", "bimbo", "just average", "moderate", "prodigy", "genius". Girls that were too clever were a bit intimidating (at least in the mood he was in). A bimbo sounded sexy, but was probably just annoying. He hesitated, then selected "moderate". A new page: "competent", "curious", "clever", "quick-witted", "sharp". He chose "clever". The personality description had said 'clever', hadn't it? He would keep her clever. A new window: 'How clever? "A bit clever", "pretty clever", or "very clever"?' He chose "pretty clever". A new page: "intermittently clever", "clever flashes", "clever but scatty", "clever at something", "clever at everything", "too clever by half". He smiled. That last one was amusing, however "clever but scatty" sounds best, he thought. The weaker sex after all. He yawned. This was going on a bit. When was the cutting edge technology going to appear? Another page. Sex Drive. The choices were: "frigid", "reluctant", "if required", "healthy", "willing", "hungry", "famished", "greedy", "voracious", "insatiable" and "predatory". He went for "voracious", again feeling the twinge of arousal. "Insatiable" and "predatory" sounded a bit over the top. The next page opened: Sexual Orientation. He clicked "heterosexual" and a drop down window appeared: 'Select degree of preference'. He played around with the options. Anything below seventy-five per cent either way made the category change to "bisexual". He thought seriously about making her bisexual. What is it about lesbians that turns men on so much, he pondered. It's the thought of two gorgeous girls making passionate love instead of just one, of course! he leered to himself. After pondering this lasciviously for a while, Derek began to feel uneasy. Being thoroughly heterosexual himself, he actually found it hard to imagine why women would ever find men at all attractive. After all, he didn't. Every woman, even one that isn't all that pretty, has some charm, something unique to herself, he considered. But men just aren't attractive. Even handsome ones (and of course he could recognise when a man was handsome) did nothing for him sexually. As for being a gay man, he just didn't get it--nothing against them, of course. If his ideal were bisexual, she'd likely end up going the whole way and becoming a man-hating pain-in-the-arse femo-nazi dyke, he supposed. He wanted his ideal to really want men, he realised. (Specifically him, he lusted. Fat chance!) He chose seventy-five per cent "straight" and twenty-five per cent "lesbian". She'll be definitely heterosexual, then (as far as the website determined it), but only just. He felt another thrill of arousal. That bit was fun! he thought. The next page came up. It said "Religion", and gave options. Derek made a double take. How bizarre! he thought. Where is this heading? He clicked "next". 'Please select religion before proceeding,' said the pop up message. He scratched his head. Okay then. A drop down menu gave the choices. There were a lot of them. He considered "none", "new age", "pagan", "Wicca" and "Buddhism". He tried to imagine her views on religion. He pictured the high school girl with her womanhood at last in full bloom and ready to embark on wanton sexual adventures. Then he gave a little smirk to himself, and chose "Catholic". They say Catholic schoolgirls are mad about sex, he thought. She'll be a randy little Catholic schoolgirl! A new page: Outlook. He chose "hopeless romantic" from the list. He didn't want her a cynical trollop. A new page. Interests (select up to five). He chose "sex", "friends", "clothes and fashion", "music", "having fun". These weren't Derek's interests in the least. But a picture was forming in his mind of a sort of stereotypical nymphomaniac late teenager who somehow still had a sense of innocence-emotional innocence anyway. Not a gold digger or a manipulator. A nice girl who was beautiful and lovely and always up for it. Someone you would fall in love with. It was just a fantasy. And it was certainly turning him on. At some stage he seemed to have unzipped his trousers and he was now rubbing himself back and forth. New page. Physique: "slim and fit". New page. Body Shape: "feminine, young and slender". New page. Stature: "small but well proportioned". Up popped a box: 'How small?' and a drop down menu. He chose "five feet one inch". Petite but not undersized. Not in his estimation, anyway. Derek wasn't really that tall himself at five foot ten and a half. New page. Skills (choose up to five). She'd choose "dancing", "singing", "lovemaking", "hair and cosmetics" and "sport", he thought. He didn't really care for sport, but she would be good at it, he decided. A pop up message: 'Some of these are similar or related. You may choose an extra one without penalty.' He felt chuffed. "Cooking" then. The way to a man's heart! Next page: Favourite Food. He should say semen, or pussy! He grimaced at his own coarseness, yet he felt a surge of sexual pleasure. However, with a laugh he chose "chocolate". Girls can't resist chocolate. Next: Desired Career. A long list appeared. This is taking a long time, he thought again. He mused over "exotic dancer". How about "whore"? Again he squirmed at his grossness. Why squirm? It's just a fantasy, isn't it? He found himself hoping his ideal would be much less inhibited than he was. Anyway, she would probably want to be a model or something like that, he thought. Maybe a pop star. He scratched his head. He decided to settle on model, but felt a certain dissatisfaction. He decided to select "other" and put "model?" with a question mark in the text box that appeared. So many choices. He was feeling tired, and the number of drinks he'd had were making concentration very difficult. Why was he even persevering? he asked himself. Well, you've got this far... Another page came up. Best feature. He looked at the list and considered. Yes, that's the one. He chose "smile that lights up a room". A new page. 'Nearly there,' it read. 'Please choose three words others would use to describe Your Ideal.' This took him by surprise. There were three text boxes in which he had to type each of his three words. What three words would others use to describe the fantasy he was imagining? He yawned. Perhaps he should choose "sexy", but once again it seemed somehow too vulgar for what he was now imagining. Eventually he ended up with "warm", "desirable", and "fun". Not very inspired, is it? he mused. Still, they're all good qualities, especially "desirable". But he'd already said she was warm- hearted earlier, hadn't he? He suddenly felt daring. He changed "warm" to "flirty". His arousal gave a sudden surge. That's settled it then, he thought. 'And what three words would others never so much as think of using to describe Your Ideal?' said the next page. He hurriedly made his choices of "prudish", "stubborn" and "arrogant". He was dissatisfied. Not "arrogant"; it was too formal. "Stuck-up" was more in her age group. People would never think to call her stuck-up. The inevitable new page came up. It read: 'You're almost done. Is there anything else you wish to add to your ideal?' with a text box beneath it. Well it's fantasy after all, he thought: I could put absolutely anything. He typed in the box: 'can eat as much as she wants and never gets sick or fat.' He smiled to himself, then gave his eyes a rub. If that could ever happen, he thought, she'd stay thin but she would eventually loose the youth and vitality he was investing her with in his mind. He added below this 'never gets any older'. In the interests of fantasy, he said to himself as he typed it. He found himself feeling aroused at this thought. Perpetually young and beautiful. That would be a fantasy! He clicked the button which said "Done". A new page appeared. It read 'Is this what you really want? Please review your choices carefully before clicking submit.' It's taking itself very seriously for a light-hearted survey, he thought. And as for cutting edge technology, he hadn't seen much evidence of this so far. Just a few bogus sounding references to ancestors and genetics. Nevertheless, he looked back over his selections. His interest was definitely waning, but it had consumed a lot of time already and tired as he was he was very curious to see the result. He decided to add in the box which read 'anything else you wish to add' a new line with the word "easy". He felt a renewed feeling of arousal. 'It could mean just agreeable,' he said aloud, as if apologising to the picture in his mind. He got through reviewing and again clicked on "Done". Once again the page came up: 'Is this what you really want? Please review your choice carefully before clicking submit.' He clicked "Submit". As the screen began to load a new page he smiled to himself and thought, Be careful what you wish for. Indeed. He mused on this, realising ruefully how little time such a girl as this would have for him in reality, and what chaos it would cause if she were really in his life. I'm a dirty old man, he thought. She'd think I was old, anyway. Pathetic really. He gave a start as he read the new page, which had now loaded. 'Be careful what you wish for!' it read. The echoing of his earlier thought jolted him. 'Be careful what you wish for! It's not too late to stop. Do you truly wish your ideal to become reality? Make absolutely sure this is really what you want before clicking proceed.' He furrowed his brow. That's a bit weird. It felt a bit like being in some magical game like in movies such as Jumani or Zathura. Or Weird Science! It made him feel even more aroused. Wouldn't that be great! He decided to enter fully into the spirit of the scenario the web site had set up, and started to think what else he might want in his ideal girl. It's getting very late, though, he thought, yawning again. He gave a little laugh to himself and clicked 'go back and make changes' and at to the box that read 'anything else you wish to add' and added yet another line with the word "rich" to what was already there. He went to the end and clicked "submit". Again the message appeared, 'Be careful what you wish for! It's not too late to stop. Do you truly wish to obtain your ideal? Make absolutely sure this is really what you want before clicking proceed.' He clicked "Proceed". A message box appeared with the words 'Please wait. Calibrating.' The mouse curser became a little clock face. He waited. Whatever was being calibrated was taking a very long time. Several minutes went by. He was getting irritable. He might even have nodded off for a moment. Suddenly the screen went blank. Not just the browser crashing, but the whole screen. Nothing at all, just a blank black screen. He clicked on the mouse to wake up the display, but nothing happened. He tried a few keys on the keyboard. Again nothing. 'Oh, oh,' he thought, and remembered the flicker earlier. Has there been a blackout, and the battery is dead, so it isn't getting any power? That can't be it. The lights in the house are still on. A circuit blown then? He was trying to think what might be wrong when a message appeared on its own on the black screen: 'Downloading.' The fan in the laptop began to whir. The hard disk was making furious sounds of processor activity. Okay then, something's happening. Then he began to feel a bit concerned. It always worried him if the fan on his laptop worked too furiously or for too long. He always imagined the inside of the computer was melting with the excessive heat. Derek waited for the downloading to finish, trying not to get too anxious, but it was taking a long time. His Internet connection was very fast so he began to feel concerned. Maybe it's a slow download server. He tried to click on the computer's desktop again. No response. He couldn't get anything else to work. This wasn't normal. He should be able to do other things, even while downloading. It doesn't seem to have frozen though, it's working furiously. Damn! he thought. It's not downloading, I bet it's installing! I'm probably downloading a virus! He started to panic. He thought, It's going to fry my hard drive, or put thousands of porn pictures on my computer. Someone will find them there, there'll be a scandal and I'll be struck off! He tried various combinations of keys but there was no change. The fan was really blowing now. Perhaps I should turn it off, he wondered. But that might make it worse: maybe a restart is just what the virus needs to begin its destructive work. An idea occurred to him. He could disconnect the internet cable! He began to examine the back of the computer to find the right plug to pull. He found it and was about to press the snap and pull it free when the whirring suddenly died down, and an image appeared on the screen. It was a progress bar, about three quarters done. Below the bar it said 'Time remaining: twenty-five minutes.' So much for a fast connection, Derek thought to himself. He hesitated about the cable. It seems to be going back to normal now. Better wait and see what happens. He had seen it through this far, and he was curious to see what was being downloaded, so he waited. Eventually the words appeared: 'Finishing up.' The screen cleared and a normal browser window appeared, with a message: 'Congratulations! Download complete! Thank you for visiting wishcometrue.com.' DEREK felt slightly reassured by this, but also puzzled and a bit concerned. His heart was still beating fast at the thought that his computer had been hacked. He closed the browser quickly in order to examine the state of the computer. Everything seemed to be normal, except that on the computer desktop sat a new folder. It was called yourwishcometrue. He knew he must open the folder and see what had been so dramatically downloaded, but he was pleased he had the presence of mind to scan the folder with his antivirus program first. No viruses found. It was a large folder, though, nearly two gigabytes. No wonder it took so long to download. (And scan, he added to himself.) He double-clicked on the folder. More folders within. He read their names: "magazines", "movies", "clothes", "your sites". He opened the folder called magazines. In the window showing the contents of the folder were a large number of files with icons of magazine covers, corresponding to various magazine titles: Girlfriend, Cosmogirl, Jellybean, Elle, Elle Girl, Girl's Life, Seventeen, YM, Teen, Hair Today, Teen Vogue, Vogue, American Cheerleader, Sports Today, Teen Beauty, Sports Monthly; but also Penthouse, Sorority Girls, Bondage, Cum, Naked Hunx... He looked in the folder named "movies" and found the same mixture of teen romances, teen romantic comedies, teen action films, adult romances, dramas, comedies, action films, art films and porn movies. Derek laughed in disbelief. Typical! It was a marketing gimmick after all! Pretty sophisticated, though. I was really sucked in. It should be no surprise that it seems so tailored to the answers given in the survey, he realised. That was the hook to get the stuff on your computer. He was somewhat impressed despite his annoyance at being the victim of a marketing strategy. The joke was, he wasn't interested in any of this stuff himself. Well, maybe Penthouse... Then he saw another file with an icon of an antique box or treasure chest, named Your Ideal!. 'Pandora's box,' he smiled to himself. He clicked on the file to open it. A window opened on his screen showing a picture of a girl: a blond teenaged girl, gorgeously suntanned. She was absolutely beautiful. Brown eyes, lovely lashes-exactly the girl he had imagined in the survey. No ? better. Beyond his wildest dreams. She was on a beach with the sea behind her, slightly side on, wearing black bikini bottoms with ties at the hips and a wet white tee shirt which clearly showed her firm pert young breasts with hard erect nipples. She was kneeling, resting on her haunches with her hands on the sand, arms slightly behind her tanned body and the fingers flat on the sand. Her hair was pulled back behind her ears and was hanging down her back almost to her waist. It had evidently been wet but has since dried in the sun, tousled and blown by the breeze slightly across her face. She was leaning back arching herself slightly in a provocative pose, the nearer shoulder (her left one) somewhat more forward than the other, and a steady, impudent gaze. Her eyes were dark and exotic, long lashed and maybe just a little oriental looking, but the expression in the eyes was one of mischievous fun. She was smiling with the most amazing smile, such infectious joy in her face! Exultant! On the verge of laughing, she held his gaze and seemed to bring brightness into his life. He couldn't help smiling back. Derek sat back a little and looked, utterly entranced. He noticed that the picture, which exactly fitted his screen, was nevertheless reduced to one per cent of its actual size. No wonder it took a while to download, he thought. It was in such incredible detail that he wondered whether it was a photograph, which it seemed to be, or a painting in a super-realistic style. Either way, it was extraordinary that it so closely matched his preferences in the survey. He enlarged the picture with a click. The enlarged picture showed incredible detail. He enlarged it again. And again. The file must be huge. He gazed transfixed at the girl's beauty, amazed at the detail of the picture. He could see every pore of her clear young skin, almost smell the texture, drops of moisture clearly visible on the sun-kissed skin, every hair on her head clear and defined, soft light downy hair on her body completely sharp even at extreme enlargement. He had gone way past 300% of the original size and still it was crystal clear. He kept on enlarging the image. He could see the skin cells, then more complex shapes but still absolutely clear. He saw spiral shapes with other shapes attached. He thought to himself: a double helix. Her DNA. Derek contemplated it. This is a pretty clever simulation. He took the picture back to normal view and was amazed again at the girl's beauty. She seemed to look into him, challenging him and seducing him. He was filled with a sense of longing. He realised he had been masturbating himself while he looked at the picture, and now he stimulated himself to orgasm, letting out groans and cries of ecstasy. He kept on looking at the girl smiling at him knowingly as he wiped away the semen. He felt satisfied and happy. Wow! he thought. That was as good as making real love! A SOUND outside. A bird chirping? A voice? Derek realised it was morning, and he had to be at work soon. He started to close the open windows of the files and folders on the computer. He thought to himself as he looked at the folders labelled magazines, movies and so on, If she was really like how I answered the choices in the survey these are the things she would like. He was struck by the name of the picture file: Your Ideal!. She is, too! he thought. In fact, he could never have imagined such a beautiful girl all by himself. He wondered who she was, and what her name was. She could do anything with looks like that, charm anyone. Stop wars, or start them! He wondered about the other folders: clothes, your sites, the ones he hadn't opened. No time to look at them now. He headed sleepily for the bathroom to shave and shower for work. Looking ruefully at his reflection in the mirror, he briefly contemplated his flabby paunch and sagging shoulders, and began to brush his teeth.