The Pact A Master PC TaleChapter 14 The Pact
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The Pact: A Master PC TaleChapter 34: Meanwhile, Back In Cali... free porn video
Susan Castle’s antique four-poster bed found its owner sleeping along for more than 20 years. But she discovered that her old bed could easily hold three squirming, active females.
Her firm, tight dancer’s body had to squeeze out from between her niece and their new roommate/lover, Missy Arnovsky. Missy and Maria were more-or-less entwined with both the sheets and each other, and Susan felt a little twinge of pride at these beautiful young women who were as in love with her as each other.
As had become he habit in recent days, she walked nude through her apartment, pass the full-length mirror in the hallway (yes, she looked) and into the kitchen. She might have the body of a 20-year-old again, but she still craved her coffee in the morning. Steaming cup in hand, she walked back into the bedroom to see that Maria and Missy had cuddled up together like a pair of kittens.
Checking the clock, see saw it was close to her normal wake-up call. She sat down on the edge of the bed and dialed her studio partner. Alice picked up on the fourth ring.
“Hiya ... uh, hello?” Alice said after working herself free from the burly form with whom she shared last night’s bed.
“Hi, partner,” she said cheerfully. “In light of recent developments, I thought it would be prudent to touch base with one another.”
“Oh, really?” Alice’s laugh was unintentional. “I’m just glad you didn’t call an hour earlier.”
“Oh, I was busy an hour earlier,” Susan said in a hushed voice.
“You, too?” this time, Alice’s laugh was heartfelt. “Guess the more we change, the more we remain the same.”
“Think so?” asked Susan.
“Before, we were two old crabby bitches. Now, we’re two horny bitches,” Alice said, reaching back to slap the butt of her sleeping suitor. “Long may we run, baby.”
“See you at the studio. Hey, Alice,” Susan said quickly.
“What’s up, babe?” Alice said as she pulled fresh clothes out of her dresser.
“I love you to death,” Susan said.
“Me, too,” Alice said, cutting off the call before she sobbed aloud.
Susan’s favorite new outfit – a knit top (no bra), denim shorts (no panties) – pulled on after her shower, knowing there was new business waiting for her at the studio this day. As she fixed her newly darkened hair, she smelled something wonderful coming from the kitchen. She quietly stuck her head around the corner to see Missy and Maria, each wearing nightshirts that were hitched up over their naked butts, working in concert to throw together some pancakes, sausage and orange juice for breakfast – after all, they’d burned a lot of calories the night before.
“Aunt Susan! Breakfast in five minutes!” Maria called over her shoulder.
Susan withdrew to her bedroom. “Be right there!” she shouted. This morning, the studio could wait.
Whipping up a similar feast was Anita for a hungry audience that included me, Liz and Althea. The smell reminded me that some things were just as wonderful as sex at certain times. A glance at my two house guests confirmed as much.
“Everything packed?” I asked to kill the time.
“UPS picked up everything late yesterday afternoon,” Althea said. “It should arrive at my office sometime tomorrow.”
“I got to tell you,” Liz said, laying across her arm on my counter. “I am very, very excited. It was my best work, no question. There were times that I couldn’t believe it was my hand at the end of my arm doing those paintings.”
“I still am amazed at how quickly both of you worked,” Althea said, shaking her head. “If I hadn’t been here to see you finish those last six stories, I wouldn’t have believed you didn’t hire a creative writing class.”
“That’s why you had me write those last six stories, right?” I asked.
“Don’t hate me, but, yes,” she said in a coy, fetching manner.
“You’re a total professional,” I said, smiling. “That’s why I’ll only work with you.”
“I didn’t feel very professional this weekend,” she frowned. “I don’t normally spend most of a weekend having sex with my clients.”
“Or they with you,” Liz said, reaching out and taking her hand.
“You guys will be back for the wedding, right?” I asked in as casual a manner as possible.
Anita dropped an empty pan in the sink to punctuate my news. Someone screamed.
“Congratulations, boss!” Liz was hugging me and Anita seemed to be hugging both of us. Althea was still sitting beside me, but she was crying and laughing at the same time. “When are we talking?”
“More than that, who?” Althea asked.
“Nicky Moore. She used to be in Stacy’s dance class. Still is, I guess. She was gone for awhile and I realized how much I missed her,” I said truthfully. “We’re going to do this in June. The 15th as of right now.”
“Count on it, love,” Althea joined the group hug.
“Whatever you want,” Liz said. “Want me to paint the bride?”
“I hope you mean on a canvas,” I laughed. “Don’t want her to walk up the aisle looking like Mystique.”
“She’ll be my masterpiece,” Liz said in total seriousness.
Althea’s cab arrived shortly thereafter and I put the ambitious Brit in the back with one last kiss. But as soon as she was out of sight, I hurried back inside because I knew that some signs had been passed between Liz and Anita over the last day. Sure enough, they were together in the pool house and Liz was sampling yet another new flavor.
“Larry! Two clits! Really?” she came up for air long enough to shout towards the house.
A phone call changed my plans. I was already undressed and ready to join Liz’s clit-counting party, but Doc was on the line and he did not sound like someone who’d just had every dream come true. After all, his mistress was now sharing the bed with his wife – and, often enough, his daughter. Yes, Nurse Sam was turning out to be quite the practitioner.
It was just the first week of his solo practice since he took his nurse and his Master PC and set up on the outskirts of the richest part of Bakersfield. Yet his waiting room was packed; rumor and hearsay is a wonderful thing when you’re starting up a business. A peek around the corner showed more than a dozen people, most of them women, restlessly sitting in the smallish room. I thought I saw a pair of crutches.
His daughter Angel, who somehow had proven to be a little resistant to certain Master PC programming, was helping her dad with receptionist duties. Nurse Sam, wearing a very sexy pair of leggings under a typical nurses tunic, was moving people in and out like an air traffic controller. Mitch was moving from one room to the other with, literally, his Master PC laptop under his arm. At one point, I stopped him and pointed out what a risky action that was with the old computer.
“Tell me about it,” he replied on the run. “Chuck is designing a central keypad system for each of the patient rooms. Sometime next week I’ll be able to use a touch pad in each room.”
“Can I watch you in action?” I said. “I’ll even carry the laptop for you.”
“Would you?” he asked, actually relieved. “I’m scared to death I’ll drop the thing.”
Handing it over to me like a newborn baby, I followed him into Room 2 (or so it said on the door). A woman holding an infant in much the same way was sitting in an unreasonably comfortable chair (a nice touch, I thought). Nurse Sam, smoking hot without even trying, handed him a folder and stepped out without a word.
“Good morning, Mrs...” Mitch fumbled the folder looking for the name.
“Thomas. Janice Thomas,” she said. “This is Tommy.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Thomas,” he quickly recovered. “This is a colleague, Dr. Childers. How are you and Tommy doing?”
He frowned as he read the folder. When she started to speak, I think that might have been the expression on my own face. I hoped this wasn’t the norm.
“Tommy’s fine. I want you to fix me,” she said, shifting him from one arm to the other.
“You want a 16-year-old’s body?” Doc said, literally looking over his glasses at the weary-looking 24-year-old woman. “How is that different from what you look like now?”
“Are you fucking kidding?” she said harshly. “I have stretch marks from hell, my butt has sagged all the way to Australia, and my boobs are a joke. Do I need to show you?”
“That would be helpful,” Doc said gently, hitting a buzzer on the wall. Nurse Sam was there within moments. “My nurse will hold Tommy for you while you step behind the partition and put on a gown.”
That also afforded us a chance to run the Master PC scanning program on her son; he wasn’t fine. He wasn’t even close. The infant had a congenital heart defect and spinal defect that it identified as spina bifida.
“Jesus,” I whispered to Mitch. “Has this kid even seen a doctor? These things would have turned up in just about any postnatal exam.”
But with just a couple of keyboard taps, Mitch had already instituted the corrections; Tommy was now as healthy as his mother claimed he was, and would live a long, long time. His mother, Janice, stepped out from behind the partition with the hospital gown on backwards. Mitch and I both averted our eyes from the stretched out, saggy boobs that dangled there.
“Is this right? I knew you wanted to see them,” she said, holding them in her hands.
“Yes, ma’am,” Mitch said. “Wait one moment.”
He texted a message to Sam: PC HAS FILLED UR BOOBS. FEED BABY. Then in one fluid motion, he turned to Master PC and got the lowdown on this low, down woman. It turns out her name wasn’t Janice Thomas; 24 was in fact a distant memory; she was both addicted to alcohol and crack; and most importantly, the baby wasn’t hers.
“Holy shit,” I said out loud. “Lady, you’re the grand slam of lying. Can you even begin to pay for all the shit we need to fix?”
“Look in my shoulder bag,” she pointed, coughing. It contained cigarettes, tampons, cheap makeup and thousands of dollars in $100 denomination. Another function on the computer allowed us to compare the bills to the real thing – and they checked out. It was more than enough to pay for almost any procedure this side of an organ transplant.
“So, why lie about everything? Whose kid did you bring in here?” Mitch asked, having adjusted her settings to tell the truth.
“Another of the girls. She was worried about him,” she shrugged. “But I was here for me, not the brat.”
“Well, the brat is fine,” Mitch said angrily. “I gather that you’re a low-class hooker whose pimp wants to upgrade.”
“Bingo,” she said.
“For starters, what is your name?” Mitch asked.
“Marte,” she said. “Marte Bogusivec. I got to America the only way I knew how. I used to be pretty.” She produced a photo from her wallet that showed a stunning teen of 16 or so. It took more than a glance to realize it was she.
Mitch turned to me and whispered, “Now this something to work with.”
“Do you need to examine me?” she asked warily.
“You’ve been examined already,” Mitch said, busily tapping commands, pausing to show me each step. It took almost two silent minutes. The old laptop hummed once or twice and the lights dimmed briefly once. Mitch said, “Getting a power surge protector when I get the keypads.”
Finally, Master PC seemed to run its course.
“Marte, your addictions have been cured, and any attempt to use crack or drink will make you violently ill. I have greatly reduced your desire to smoke, but have left you the ability to be satisfied by one a day,” he began. “And you’ll notice that your boobs are coming back to life, growing to a size DD cup that will look huge on your body. Which, by the way, is 16 years old again.”
Her hair began to glow and lines faded from her faces in a remarkable transformation.
“You will be able to recover almost instantly from whatever type of sex you have, and your cherry will grow back every time you lose it,” he said impassively. “You have been cured of the two VDs that you already had contracted and have been made immune to every known disease, including HIV. You cannot get pregnant until you come back and see me.”
Miracle
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Going Back To Cali
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The Pact A Master PC TaleChapter 52 Meanwhile
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