Taking Advantage: A Master P.C. Story free porn video

A horrific crime is actually worse than it seems. Can the cops work with a Master PC expert, or will the corruption be too much of a draw?

Five yeas ago...

After a few weeks of learning and cautiously examining the ragtag computer and its "Master PC game", Shawn Brown finally convinced himself that there was something real about what was (at first) clearly labeled a fantasy game. Having latched onto a nearly obsolete computer at an estate sale, he was initially creeped out when he found out its owner was in jail, several people in the neighborhood dead (apparently) at his hands. The family disowned him (he found out afterwards) and sold, trashed or donated all of his worldly possessions in preparation for a hurried move.

He rationalized the purchase as one he would have never been able to afford if it had been new and the fact that its software had been updated at least three times. So if he ignored the fact that it still looked like a Model T Ford, it was a unit with twice as much memory as his newer, pricier laptop.

Much more of a sports fan than the average computer geek, he learned that the already loaded Master PC Program might be for real when a local star running back at the hometown university had blown out his knee Saturday and was facing the end of his college career. Having helped trouble-shoot the player's family work station, he knew the kid to be computer literate and someone who would make the most of a shot at college. Carefully following the directions, he typed in the player's name and came upon a rotating 3-D image of a reclining, muscular black man – the player, Joe Danvers -- in his hospital bed.

Using the left knee as a baseline, repair any damage to the right knee so they are of equal health he typed. He could not tell from the image if anything was happening, so he closed the computer and called it a day. However, the headline in the next day's newspaper told him everything he needed to know: DANVERS INJURY MISDIAGNOSED

It turned out that what was feared to be a major knee injury was nothing more than a bruise and the running back would be fine in another day or two.

"Damn! Double damn!" he said as he read the paper while dining on his usual breakfast of Cheerios. "This one's the real thing!"

Today

Brown, a creature of habit, flipped his morning paper over to the Metro News section and found himself engrossed in a sensational story. SURGEON, BEAUTY QUEEN'S DAD, BUTCHERED IN OFFICE

"Holy God," Shaun muttered. "This reads like a horror story."

... After attending a college football game with his wife Saturday afternoon, (Shawn read) he dropped his wife off at their Shadow Cove home, telling her he had papers to pick up at his office. When he did not return home by daybreak Sunday, she called the building's private security firm to check his office. Two unidentified members of the security detail found his office locked, but signs of a struggle in the hallway outside. Upon entering, they discovered the dismembered body of Dr. Bruce Gillespie.

Police officials had no further comment until positive identification was made, but unnamed sources indicated that there were enough body parts in the office and waiting room to comprise more than one person.

Brown took a sip of coffee (heavy on the cream), rubbed his eyes and resumed reading.

Gillespie, a popular cosmetic surgeon who made weekly appearances on the city's top-rated morning show, Jackson Now, is survived by a wife and four daughters. His eldest daughter, Blair Gillespie, is the reigning Miss USA.

Brown recalled seeing a photo of the tall, curvaceous blonde when she won the crown. He masturbated to her photo, but that was before he came across his new computer. Moments later, he was again sitting at that computer, but instead of uploading Master PC, he was calling up the newspaper's on-line Web blog. If anything, the story became more sensational.

Gillespie facing ethics charges with the state medical board. Hearing was less than a week away read one. A number of well-reasoned follow-ups made it seem very probable this was true. Surgeon "oversized" his clients, read more than one. Unauthorized procedures! Trumpeted another brief but damming entry.

He switched to a local media message board, where people were neither censored nor held accountable for their posts.

"He worked on local media celebrities for free. He fucked up the face of Cindy Paxton of Channel 7. That's why she wears so much makeup" read the first he found.

"It's been long known that Gillespie was a homosexual and had AIDS" said one poorly written entry. But it was quickly followed with a half-dozen better-written rebuttals. Less likely, Brown thought.

"Rumor has it he owns more than one home in the area. Both are occupied full-time" read an intriguing entry.

"He practiced on his employees, his wife and one or more of his daughters" said another.

A few entries claimed to be patients who surgeries Gillespie botched. Others claimed he was a godsend and a miracle worker. Brown figured that both sides might be right to a degree.

Gillespie forced wife to abort sons, read one that proved to be the last straw for Brown. He closed the blog with many entries unread.

From the blog, he turned on a longer, on-line version of the earlier story. In it he read that Gillespie's wife, Deb, was only 42 years old. Blair was the oldest daughter at 24, Debbie was 21, Brooke was 17 and Alexis "Ally"was still 15.

Brown searched in vain for photos of the three youngest daughters. He found one of Deb and Blair following her crowning. They could have been twin sisters, he noted.

"This fucker will put his family through hell for all his shit," Brown said under his breath. But after his little experiment with Joe Danvers, he thought of a way of sparing the Gillespie girls this grief.

48 Hours Earlier...

Kilah Roberts, cheerleading coach and owner of a Masters degree in physical education, had rarely been angrier. The only reason her assistant coach, Marcie Gray, took her screaming fit was that she shared much of Kilah's anger at this moment.

"What is she? Fifteen?" the coach shouted in an unfortunate screech.

"Sixteen this week. A birthday present, don't you know?" Marcie said sourly.

"Jesus! What was she – what was her family thinking?" Kilah replied. "Fake boobs on a girl that age? She still had time to grow!"

"Not that big," Marcie said, accurately as usual. "You ever seen a girl her age with a 19-inch waist and double-D cups? Me either – not until practice today."

"And they're so ... high and firm," the exasperated coach continued her rant. "It looks like she's carrying them on a tray."

"And she was so matter-of-fact about it," Marcie reported. "When she called me last night to say she was coming back, all she said was that she was going to need to buy a new uniform."

"Didn't you think she was sick? Didn't somebody mislead us about why she was in the hospital?" Kilah asked her trusted aide.

"I swear my memory is that I heard 'female problems.' I quit asking after that," Marcie said, palms out.

"Would you get boobs that large?" Kilah asked suddenly after a few moments of awkward silence.

More silence. "If you asked me to," Marcie said softly.

After a quick glance over her shoulder, Kilah reached out and gently cupped Marcie's hands in her face.

"Don't you dare change anything," Kilah said in an equally soft tone. "You are hard and perfect and beautiful and I wouldn't change a hair on your head." Kilah kissed Marcie lightly on the lips. "I might shave your pussy, though."

Marcie giggled and kissed her friend and lover more passionately. The sound of a door opening caused the two teachers to separate quickly. Kilah sat back behind her desk and the appearance of a routine meeting greeted Ally Gillespie when she knocked on the open door's frame.

"Miss Roberts? Ms. Gray?" asked the young cheerleader. Purely and truly blonde, the 15-year-old was the squad's only sophomore cheerleader. But her remarkable athleticism and petite size made her perfect for the spectacular tosses the Bailey School squad was widely known for.

"Hi, Ally!" Marcie and Kilah said simultaneously in cheerleader perfect tones. They glanced at one another and Marcie knew to defer to the head lady.

"What's up, kiddo?" Kilah asked.

"I just wanted to tell you that I was going to miss practice tomorrow," the young girl said somberly. Her impossibly beautiful blue eyes seemed ready to well over. "I'm going to be at the doctor's all day."

"Oh, no. Not you too?" Marcie blurted, but quickly fell silent after a glance from Kilah.

"You mean like Brittany?" Ally's face lit up with a metallic smile. "No way! I'm just getting my braces off and I'm getting fitted for a retainer. I like my little boobies, thank you."

The two cheerleader sponsors let out equally relieved sighs. "I know you'll be excited to get them off," Kilah said.

"Oh, yes ma'am!" Ally said, still smiling. "This is a day I marked on my wall calendar!"

"Anything else?" Kilah asked the girl, one of her favorites.

Ally paused for a moment, but only said, "No, ma'am. Thank you ma'am." She then turned and skipped out of the door. Once out of the office, Ally shook her head and laughed at herself. As if her teachers needed to know about the clit stud and pubic electrolysis...

She would finally look like a Gillespie sister, she thought. A moment later she stepped into the windowless room that was covered with a shock absorbing wrestling mat. The squad's other 11 cheerleaders were already there, 10 of them surrounding Brittany Thomas, whose top and sports bra were raised to show an impossibly large set of boobs on the tiny girl.

"Jesus, Britt! What size are you now?" asked Kelly, a tall brunette who had a nice, modest bust.

"You won't believe me," the tiny blonde beamed. "You are looking and an exactly measured 30 DD."

"Does that size even exist?" asked Collette, or Co-Co, the head cheerleader.

"Not in nature," Ally said, breaking through the group to give her close friend a hug, oblivious to her exposed boobs.

"Doesn't it hurt to hug?" asked Shannon, a redheaded senior whose twin sister, Shelley, was also on the squad and who nodded at her sister's question.

"Surprisingly, no," Britt said. "My dad told me I had to keep the heavy bra on for at least two weeks, but I had to come out and show you guys."

"Your dad?" Collette asked.

"Yeah. He did the surgery!" Britt answered. "Aren't these the greatest birthday present ever?"

"I'm sure the boys will think so," muttered Meloney, a plain-looking (without makeup) blonde who had just lost the title of biggest boobs on the squad.

"God, they're perfect!" Ally said, lightly touching one of the erect nipples with her finger. "Is it true that your nips stay erect permanently when you have your boobs done?"

"I hope so!" Britt said surprisingly. "I love how they're standing out through most of my clothes."

"Well, I'm looking all over, and I'll be dammed if I can see a scar," Collette said.

"Here," Britt said, pointing at her navel. A flesh-covered Band-Aid covered her belly button. "Now, you want to hear the good news? My dad says he'll be happy to do the boobs of any of you seniors when she turns 18. All you'd have to pay for is the anesthesia and hospital room."

"Oh, God, that's less than two months away for me!" Kelly said.

"Why would you want a boob job, Kelly?" Meloney asked. "Yours are fine."

"Yeah, but yours are perfect, Mel," Kelly said. "I've been envying you all year."

"Oh," Meloney said, pleased and surprised.

"Okay girls, show's over," Kilah said as she and Marcie entered the square room. Brittany lowered her top and bra, both which were clearly not meant for this kind of strain. "Britt, you won't be able to perform for, what, six weeks?"

"More like two, Miss Roberts," Britt replied. "I don't have any stitches to tear or be stretched out of shape. I just need to be properly fitted with a bra and I'll be good to go."

"That's remarkable," Marcie said. "Your dad must be the best."

"I'd like to think so," Britt giggled. "What do you think, Dee?"

"Can't be beat," said her older sister, a senior who had remained discreetly quiet during her sister's big moment. "All this attention kind of makes me wish I'd gone super-size."

"No, way, sis," Britt said. "Your body is totally perfect. You couldn't make those great tosses and catches if you had some of your muscles stretched out by big ... bigger boobs."

Deidre Thomas was a champion rower, but a girl who fiercely fought to hang onto her femininity despite her athletic skill. But years of rowing at a near Olympic caliber gave her an upper body unlike any other girl in the school. Her more modest small Ds were perfect on her frame and never required a bra except when she was in uniform. Currently braless under her practice top, her nipples were the equal of Britt's new buds.

"You guys realize that little sis here is still only third on the Thomas women's bra size scale," Dee said, shaking her head. "Mom and Brandy have her beat by a mile."

"Have I ever met Brandy?" Kilah asked the senior.

"Don't think so," Dee said thoughtfully. "She was home-schooled because she, ah, preferred not to submit herself to the crap she'd get in high school."

"Because of her boobs, you mean?" Marcie said.

"Yeah, she's a mega babe," Britt said brightly. "Mom had to have hers done again to keep up."

"Wow. Some competition," Meloney said, genuinely disgusted with the thought of the expanding the amount of attention the Thomas family gives itself. If she only knew...

24 Hours Ago...

As eager as she was to get on with the big day, Ally Gillespie was feeling a few butterflies of anxiety. Thank God her sister, Brooke, was alongside.

"Nervous, babe?" asked Brooke, a tanned, more muscular version of her baby sister.

Looking around the darkened waiting room, Ally noticed the first glimmer of morning light outside the window. At least the whole day would be ahead of her after her many procedures.

"What was it like for you?" Ally asked her sister.

"Nothing hurt as much as I thought it would," Brooke said. "Of course, I didn't need braces, but I had to have my wisdom teeth removed. I was good to go by the end of the weekend, and you won't believe how much fun a vibrator can be once you heal down there."

"You know, I have made an acquaintance of a vibrator," Ally said softly.

"I know. Thirteenth birthday," Brooke said. "Family tradition, babe."

"Speaking of family tradition," Ally said, "You're the only one of us who wasn't a cheerleader. I've never asked why."

"Not part of the deal," Brooke said, leaning forward and lowering her voice. "We can be anything we want to be, so long as we remember we're Gillespie girls. That's why Blair was able to enter all those pageants and Debbie could ... well, do what Debbie does."

"There are no words," Ally said, and both sisters were unable to avoid a giggle. "Bless her boob-covered heart."

A blonde receptionist stepped into the waiting room.

"Ally?" she asked, and the younger girl nodded. "Your dad is ready for you now."

Ally rose and looked over her shoulder at her sister, who was a championship tennis player and an Olympic-caliber swimmer. Brooke, who had designs on a Gold medal in 2008, smacked her sister on the bottom as she walked away.

"Nothing to it," she said, looking up at Ally. Neither girl even for a moment wondered why their father was their dentist, their physician, their plastic surgeon, their trainer and their lover all rolled into one.

Joanne, Dr. Bruce Gillespie's longtime assistant and partner in crime, helped Ally change into a hospital gown. She lay down on the gurney's soft mattress and almost immediately fell asleep. Dr. Gillespie never needed the anesthesiologist who worked on call, who did nothing yet was able to bill patients in full. As Ally slipped into a deep sleep, anesthesiologist Max Webb was reading a Playboy and smoking a cigarette in a nearby office.

Joanne wheeled Ally into the operating room – which in reality was a plush office that held a desk, a couple of chairs and a state-of-the-art computer at which Dr. Bruce Gillespie sat. A mirror covered with lines of cocaine, some partially consumed, sat on the desk as Gillespie failed to get any sleep the previous night. Joanne locked the gurney's wheels in place and leaned over to snort one of the untouched lines of coke. She then kissed Gillespie, her tongue shooting more than a foot out of her mouth and looking like a writhing snake as Gillespie sucked on it.

They broke their kiss and Gillespie walked over to his daughter's gurney. He lifted the covering sheet, threw it aside and pulled apart her gown to expose the naked teen's body to the room.

He then turned to the computer, which showed a image of Ally's nude body rotating slowly.

"Okay," he sighed after a tapping a few keys, stubbing out his cigarette. "I've opened a hole in her clit hood. Put the stud in and make sure it's sterile."

Only a few seconds passed before Joanne said, "It's done, doctor."

"All right. I've halted all hair growth beneath her neck. Wipe her body down thoroughly and don't miss any hair between her legs," Dr. Gillespie said as he tapped a few keys on the computer.

"She's pretty tightly trimmed," Joanne murmured. "I guess that's from being a cheerleader." She noticed Gillespie's attention directed towards the computer screen, so she discreetly moved between Ally's legs and thrust her long, thick tongue into the girl's pussy. Joanne probed around Ally's vagina and confirmed her suspicion.

This girl's no virgin, she thought to herself as she quickly moved away upon withdrawal of her augmented tongue, wiping away pubic and leg hair. In fact, she kind of tastes like Doc.

"When you're done with that, raise the head of the bed," he said sharply. He now had Ally's dental work on his screen, taking great pains to straighten everything perfectly and making them a permanently brilliant white. A complete cosmetic retainer completed the illusion.

Gillespie paused. Joanne noticed this right away.

"Planning to do something more?" she asked, eyebrows raised.

"This is my baby. This is my last one. I'm so torn..." he said as he started hard at the screen.

"Remember what you said last week with Brit --" Joanne began. But she was quickly silenced with a "shush" command.

"Brooke's right outside," Dr. Gillespie hissed. "I do not want anyone walking in on this."

"I'm going to give her a delayed command on breast growth," he finally said. "But I will not let this pass without reaming her ... she's so pretty ... I've got to."

Dr. Gillespie typed in commands that would awaken Ally, then cause her to forget totally what would follow. The teen stirred and came awake.

"Daddy? Are we finished?" Ally asked.

"Not quite," he said as he pulled off his surgical pants. Three of Gillespie's four distinctive cocks were becoming long and rigid. "Flip back on the gurney until you pussy is over your head."

Commanded by the Master PC program long before her father spoke. Ally Gillespie effortlessly executed the back stretch, her long legs extended straight back past her head while her now-smooth pussy and asshole waited invitingly six inches over her face and mouth. Gillespie knelt on the gurney, slipping one cock into Ally's awaiting mouth, then slowly guided one into her rapidly juicing pussy and a third into her seldom-violated asshole.

Joanne stood behind the doctor and grabbed his his other now-growing cock and began jerking it off while he began thrusting the other three into his youngest daughter. Her adjusted throat, pussy and asshole effortlessly took the two-foot long monsters as he began roaring in an non-human voice. It was pretty much like that over the next 20 minutes, before Joanne brought his freed cock to a gushing climax. He screamed Ally's name over and over until he finally filled her three holes with more than a gallon of specially concocted cum.

At no time during the 20 minute rape did Ally speak, attempt to resist or blink. One lone tear indicated her true feelings, but nothing more.

Gillespie, spent, slipped backward off the gurney and into his chair. Joanne immediately knelt before him and began licking him clean with her long, wide tongue. Ally slipped back onto the gurney and into a deep sleep. Joanne, having finished with the doctor, began sticking her tongue deep into Ally's pussy and asshole to consume as much of his incredible-tasting sperm as possible.

"Wow. You've never done that before," Joanne said as she wiped her mouth and changed her rubber gloves.

"I know," Dr. Gillespie said darkly. "I know."

Gillespie's commands would allow Ally's boobs to grow a cup size every year for the next six years until she would be a Triple-E by the time she was a college senior. Her gag reflex was gone, as was any barrier to a massive cock – or fist, or foreign object. Ally would easily take any of the above if offered without any forethought. Her tongue was also now fully distended into a massive muscle even bigger than Joanne's.

Family tradition.

Having cleaned up the bed and the patient, Joanne wheeled her into the bogus recovery room. Having left the sleeping Ally to awaken through the computer-dictated process, she returned to the office/operating room. She removed her scrubs to reveal three boobs resting equally across her chest and three cunts resting across her belly, above her own equipment. Gillespie immediately became hard again and slammed three cocks into the pussies while she returned the favor below. A fifth grew erect between them, and they alternated between sucking and slurping the massive cock until he came on the both of them.

Ally was all but forgotten in the recovery room

More than an hour later, Ally began stirring awake, feeling like she's just had the best nap ever. She quickly became aware of a wet feeling between her legs.

"Brooke?" Ally asked sleepily.

"Hey, babe!" Brooke said, looking up. "See how my tongue feels against your new toy." Her sister's massive tongue began flicking at Ally's sensitive clit as a blurring speed and the youngest Gillespie daughter collapsed into an incoherent frenzy of rapid-fire orgasms.

Brooke raised her head and smiled.

"Yep. You're a Gillespie girl, all right," she said.

"Glad to hear it," Ally murmured. "Could you do that again?"

12 hours later...

"So, how did she look?" Deb Gillespie asked.

"Perfect," Brooke replied. "Her little clit hood stood out like a magazine photo, pretty as you please."

"Since when have you seen magazine photos of perfect pussies?" her mother asked, drawing away from their naked cuddle.

"In Dad's waiting room, of course," Brooke said. "I must have masturbated for two hours while I was waiting."

"I wish I could have seen her before she fell asleep," Deb sighed. Brooke nuzzled against her mother's massive, soft mammaries.

"She was so tired, mom," Brooke said into the mound of flesh. "I know she'll show you in the morning. She has the day off from cheerleading, so I know you can keep her home."

"I know," Deb said in a whisper. "Sweetie, would you fist me for a little while?"

"Sure," Brooke answered in a similar whisper. Her tiny clinched fist slid smoothly into her mother's well-stretched pussy and daughter brought mother to a quick climax.

Both were asleep on the huge couch, Brooke's hand still inserted, when Debbie Gillespie came home from her latest, failed attempt to find true love. Two buttons were torn off of her silk blouse, revealing some of the massive black bra she wore. And despite her best efforts, there was enough cum left in her mane of blonde hair that the smell was the first thing Brooke and her mother noticed when they awakened.

"Debbie's home," Brooke said sleepily. "And I should be going to bed myself. Did I do it right, Mom?"

"Oh, hell, yes," said the former phone sex operator whose amazing, throaty voice turned on Bruce Gillespie years ago. They swapped tongue kisses and Brooke headed for bed, waggling her behind at her mother as she left. She passed Deb in the hallway as her older sister exited the bathroom, Febreezing the air to kill the odor of a strange man's cum.

She continue spritzing the air and drying her hair with a big, soft towel as she entered the sunken living room. Her namesake mother patted the couch alongside and the 21-year girl, whose breasts filled her chest from collarbone to hip bone sat alongside and kissed her identically endowed mother.

"Date okay?" Deb asked her daughter.

"If a ruined blouse and a premature jack-off constitutes a good night – then, yeah, it was a huge success," said the girl, who worked at both Hooters and a long-standing biker bar. "Ooh. That's very nice, Mom," she added as Deb began suckling one of her daughters hugely augmented breasts. But the computer had decreed that only her mother could nurse liquid out of Debbie's massive mams.

She drank deeply for nearly five minutes, then offered hers to her daughter. Not able to draw liquid from her mother, she merely kissed her boob, drawing away with a gentle pull of a nipple.

"Deb, I don't know what to tell you. I never dreamed I'd be as lucky as I was to find your dad – and even that was on..." She began.

"I know. It was on the telephone," Deb sighed. "Mom, that's because you have this incredible voice that just drips sex. I've never heard any woman sound as sexy."

Deb sighed and lifted her surprisingly petite frame off the big couch. She offered her hand to her daughter, but Debbie declined, opting to turn on the TV and crash on the coach. She wrapped her big towel around her busty frame and tucked her feet under her. She was still there, sound asleep, when Brooke awoke the next morning to get herself ready for school.

Having just brushed her teeth, Brooke elected not to go down on her sister, but proceeded to the kitchen to prepare a bowl of cereal. She was half-dressed for school, wearing her plaid skirt, knee socks and shoes, but was topless in order not to spill any milk on her crisply pressed shirt.

Debbie, hearing the clinking of the spoon in the bowl, stirred.

"Brooke? Is it morning already?" Debbie asked, stretching sexily.

"Yeah. Isn't your first class at 9?" Brooke asked, standing in the doorway, bowl in hand.

"What time is it? Shit! Why didn't someone wake me?" Debbie yelped, climbing off the couch, breasts swaying.

"I forgot. Ally's usually the first one up, but she's in bed sleeping off her clitectomy or whatever the fuck it's called," Brooke said breezily as she rinsed out of her bowl, reached into the freezer and applied an ice cube to each of her nipples. Debbie heard Brooke's gasp and guessed she was in the ice box.

"Hey Mom, what's up?" Brooke said, as Deb, as nude as her older daughter, stood in the doorway with a puzzled look.

"Dad didn't come home last night," she said.

A confused look came over the Gillespie daughters. Their dad's programming raced through their heads: home for six days, gone for eight, home for eight, gone for six. Never question where he's been or try to follow him. Accept it, unconditionally.

Gillespie was supposed to be home. This was unacceptable and the three women began to pace uncontrollably.

They were still silently pacing 15 minutes later when the phone rang. Deb's programming kicked in and she was able to answer the phone suitably. It was the police.

"I ... I don't understand," she stammered into the phone. "No. He's supposed to be here. I don't understand. No, he's not home..."

"Mrs. Gillespie's delirious," the detective said at the other end, hand covering the receiver so he could speak to his partner. "Not making a damn bit of sense." He turned back to the phone. "Mrs. Gillespie? Mrs. Gillespie? We'll be there in just a few minutes ... I understand he's not home ... Yes. Yes. Okay. Just hang up the phone now, okay?"

"Christ. Did she understand a word of that?" Lou Michaels asked his partner, Teddy Fiore, as he hung up the phone.

"Couldn't tell. She almost sounded like she'd been programmed or something," Fiore said.

"I've heard stranger stuff. But not a lot," Michael muttered, pulling on his coat as the two detectives left their station room.

Back at the Gillespie house, a sleepy Ally Gillespie, naked from the waist down to show off her new stud, discovered her family members pacing aimlessly.

"What's wrong?" Ally said, yawning.

"Daddy's not home!" all three said in unison. But that triggered a command unique to Ally, and the young girl rushed to the phone.

"I'll call Blair," she said even as she starting punching in the numbers.

Miss USA...

Blair Gillespie was in the back of a limousine with her entourage. Since others were present farther back in the massive vehicle, she was content to have her principal aide, Dixie McTavish, slowly but firmly stroking her clean-shaven pussy beneath her couture gown.