Computer Stories

This is a work of pure fiction. There is no connection to any real people or places. It is for your entertainment only and is not to be reproduced without written consent.

There are a number of chapters planned for this series. I know it will be hard to categorize the content of each chapter because some chapters will contain elements of multiple categories. The series itself will contain elements of Science Fiction, Loving Couples, Erotic Couplings, Mind Control, and NonConsent, to name a few. Some chapters will be somewhat tame and others a little rough. If you disagree with the plot of a story, that's up to you. They were not written to take objection to or to condone a particular life style.

If you like any of the chapters, let me know (and give it a good rating - lol). If you have some ideas for a story plot, talk to me and I might give it a shot at incorporating your idea.

I know chapter 01 is a little un-interesting, from an erotic standpoint, but it is necessary background information to succeeding chapters so bear with me. I promise, things will pick up.

*****************************

Jerry Waters was one of those kinds of guys that had semi-geek label attached to him most of his life. He wasn't all that great, athletically speaking, but he seemed to have a way with gadgets and computers. Of course, this wasn't the kind of thing that attracted girls his age so his social life was pretty dull. He was interested in the girls but they just weren't interested in him.

It's not that he was bad looking. He really did look pretty good. It's just that he just didn't seem to have that chick magnetism that a lot of the other guys had. Maybe it was the color of his steel blue eyes or his sandy red hair. Whatever it was, he didn't have much luck with the opposite sex. This kind of left him physically conflicted. His 18th birthday was just 2 weeks ago and his 5'10", 160 lb body was pulsing with hormones. With no steady girlfriend to find release with, his usual resort was some of his dad's old Playboys and a solo hand job.

His dad made an 'average' income and were not too bad off. You would have thought that meant that Jerry would have had a game system or something but his parents were the kind that held the belief that you'd have a much better appreciation for something if you paid for it yourself.

His dad had told him that he would have Internet access set up for Jerry if Jerry bought his own PC. I guess the idea was "I'll do half and you provide the other half'. Up until his birthday, he wasn't even close to having enough to buy his own computer. It was the birthday money that put him close to what he needed.

For more than a month, he'd been stopping by the big electronics stores, drooling over the 'latest and greatest' on the shelf. Even with expected money from his birthday, he knew it would be a long time before he'd be able to afford one of those gigabyte processors, with tons of memory.

It was on a fateful Saturday morning that he happened to walk by the old curio shop a couple blocks from home. He'd been in the store before and knew what to expect of the kind of stuff the place sold. In some respects, it was almost like a cross between a pawn store and a place that sold off stuff when people died.

The owner of the store, Wilford Rogers, was a crusty old codger. He looked like he was in his late 80's, with a wiry body and wrinkled up face and hands. He had a nice enough disposition and had grown accustomed to Jerry's frequent visits. Jerry had known him so long that he almost thought of Wilford as the grandfather he never knew. The two of them had got along so well that Jerry sometimes shared what was on his mind. Today's visit was no different.

While slowly strolling through the store, gazing at the latest oddities, Jerry happened to mention how much he had dreamed of owning one of the super fast computers at the big electronics store in the mall but couldn't afford it. It was at that moment the Wilford's eyes lit up.

"Son, I know it's not what you are hoping to own but I just got a consignment in this morning. I think it was from the estate of that reclusive scientist that died last week. I seem to remember there was something that looked like a computer but I haven't had a chance to sort through everything to see what's there. How about you go into the back storeroom and take a look for yourself?"

Jerry wasn't all that enthusiastic about the prospect of wading through boxes and boxes of old junk, but since he didn't have much else to do, maybe it was worth taking a look. If not for himself, maybe he could at least give Wilford and idea as to how much it was worth to sell.

In the back storeroom, there were boxes piled everywhere. It took Jerry quite a bit of looking before he finally found a box marked Computer Parts. Peering into the box, there was an old style PC, keyboard, mouse, and monitor. Jerry surmised it to be at least 20 years old. Jerry's initial reaction was that it was probably worth more for scrap than what it was originally intended for.

While pondering this nearly antique assemblage of electronic parts, Jerry was brought back to reality by Wilford's withered hand on his shoulder.

"Give me $10 for the whole box and it will save me thee trouble of carrying it out to the dumpster."

A vintage computer was not what Jerry had on his mind when he walked into the store a half hour ago but figured $10 wasn't all that much to pay for something to tinker with. Wilford even loaned Jerry a small dolly to wheel it home.

Within an hour, Jerry had it home, sitting on the table next to his TV.

For a time Jerry was almost afraid to plug it in, fearing it would short out and turn into a molten mess. Curiosity finally won out and his finger found the power switch. Jerry cautiously watched as lights flickered and the hard drive came to life. Instead of an instant display of characters, the monitor slowly came to life, like sluggish car engine in 20 below weather. There was an occasional crackle as bits of dust inside the case got blown around, finding bare electrical contacts.

"Jezzz, I should have known to open the case up and blow the dust out of it."

Shutting it down, Jerry grabbed his screwdriver and had the case opened up in just a matter of minutes.

"Wow, this thing really is vintage."

The hard drive and power supply were recognizable but the motherboard had a strange configuration. Sitting right next to the CPU was another unidentifiable electronic part that Jerry couldn't identify. The only thing Jerry could figure was that was some kind of auxiliary processor.

With all the dust blown out and the case buttoned back up again, Jerry nursed his oddity back to life again. What software was on the system was pretty old. There were a few simple games and some office productivity programs on the hard drive. The biggest puzzler was the word processor. It was nothing like he'd ever seen. There were commands like ALTER, DELAY EXECUTION, FREEZE, INTENSIFY, MAGNIFY, ENHANCE. Some of the commands had shortcuts to keys on the keyboard. This was going to be a challenge to figure out how to work with the software, seeing as how there were no manuals for reference assistance.

Jerry was about to dive into the help menu when alarm clock sounded. Jerry had set his alarm to watch an old re-run of the Twilight Zone. The Twilight Zone was one of his fascinations. Some of the plot twists were really good. Even if you had seen the same episode a number of times, you never failed to admire the irony of the ending. With the remote in hand, jerry settled back in his old, familiar easy chair.

This afternoon's episode was about a small town newspaper, whose readership was dwindling to the point that the newspaper was about to close up for good. The man who normally was in charge of setting type, just up and quit. This seemed like the last straw for the owner of the newspaper. The only thing to do was hope that the Help Wanted sign for typesetter would bring in somebody to apply for the job. Within 20 minutes of putting the sign in the window, a wiry old man walked in, grabbed the sign and said "I'm your man". A quick test of the man's skills confirmed he did indeed have the qualifications to run a typesetting machine. Now all that was needed were stories to print.

It wasn't until the next day, when the old typesetter brought in his own typesetting machine that the newspaper business started to pick up. At first the old man was cranking out the usual small town trivia. The following week, the articles in the newspaper seemed to have a darker side to them. There was the item about the house fire at the Wilkins place, the dog that was run over by a truck and killed, and the man that fell off a roof while doing repair work.

It seemed like such a strange coincidence that all the bad stuff was happening shortly after the new typesetter started working for the paper. On one hand, the paper's owner felt bad about the stuff that was happening but on the other hand, business had doubled as people wanted to read about the latest happenings.

One afternoon, the editor happened to read the latest copy of what was about to be printed. At first the editor thought it was a mistake. It was talking about a large tree coming down in the town square at noon, crushing the band gazebo. What didn't make sense was that it was still 11:55 in the morning and the tree was still standing across the street from the newspaper's front window.

The editor was about question the typesetter about the obvious mistake when the unmistakable cracking of wood could be heard, followed by a earthshaking thud. A quick glance out the window confirmed that the large, 200 yr old oak tree that had been standing in the town square, had come crashing down, flattening the gazebo.

The editor dashed out the door to survey the damage, still holding onto the advance copy of the paper describing the event in detail. There just seemed like no logical explanation for it to have happened just as the paper had described.

The stunned editor quizzed the typesetter. His response was that he had noticed the tree leaning in that direction, and with the rain soaked earth, it was a forgone conclusion that it would happen soon. He had written the story in advance so that it would be hot-off-the-press when it actually did happen.

In the coming week, these strange, unexplainable differences happened more frequently. Things were being written up before then even happened. It was like what was being typed on the old man's typesetting machine was coming true because of the machine. Late one night, the editor was cleaning up before closing up for the night. As he passed by the composing desk, he looked down at what appeared to an article for the next day's paper. The article talked about a fatal car accident 20 miles form town that happened at 9:00 pm. To his horror, the victim was his wife.

The editor looked at the clock on the wall. It was 10 minutes till 9:00. No time to rush out to warn his wife. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the typesetting machine and got an idea.

Quickly he sat down at the typesetter and began typing. His fingers nearly flew over the keys, as each letter dropped into place. Out on the road, the editor's wife was seconds away from a dangerous curve on the road. It was an extremely dangerous curve. One side was a near vertical wall of rock from the mountain, the other was a 200 ft drop. Mis-calculate and you would crash through the flimsy wooden guardrail.

As the editor's wife rounded the curve, a deer wandered onto the roadway. The car swerved, barely missing the deer. The tires howled in protest, fighting to grip the road, coming closer and closer to the guardrail, resulting in the drop over the edge. Inches from the guardrail, the tires finally found traction allowing the woman to steer back onto the road and come to a complete stop. Although shaken, the editor's wife was still in one piece.

Back in the newspaper office, the editor had just finished reading the last word of what he had keyed about an ALMOST fatal accident. Thirty minutes later the editor was embracing his shaken, but alive, wife. The next morning the typesetting machine was crated and wheeled out the door.

Jerry had been so engrossed in the show, he have failed to hear the deteriorating weather outside. A blinding flash and loud thunder-clap brought him back to reality. In a split second, there was a blue arc from the TV to the computer case next to it. There was a crackling sound inside the computer case, along with a small whiff of smoke.

Panic set in, then astonishment, as the monitor flickered for a second and then stabilized. A quick check of the system revealed that everything was ok.

Jerry was about to open up the computer case when his mother called him to come downstairs for dinner. Jerry shut off the TV but left the computer on. As Jerry wolfed down generous portions of lasagna at the dining room table, upstairs, inside the computer case, the unidentified electronic component near the CPU started to glow a faint red.

In the coming days, Jerry found the word processor application easy to use. He had read some articles, of an erotic nature, and thought maybe he could try his hand at writing.

He wondered what he could write about, and then it came to him. Maybe a fantasy story about his mom might help relieve some of the tension between his mother and himself, and his mother and father.

And so, Jerry began to write . . . .

Continued in chapter 02