Story Description: A fanatical Christian mother is systematically broken down and transformed into a nasty incestuous whore by a computer application. A wondrous wild read with surprise endings.
*****
TWO WEEKS AGO:
Triton Tech Corp. - The impossible:
"Dam! Henderson get in here, I need your help."
Henderson scrambled into the server room and stood staring at Mr. Cain with a questioning look.
"Don't just stand there. Something is wrong with the server and I've been locked out. My master code won't work."
Henderson approached the terminal and then began typing in code. He made several attempts to break into the master server, but a message kept popping up, 'ACCESS DENIED, contact your servicing administrator'.
"Boss, I can't get in either. I'm not sure what's happened, but the backdoor you asked me to provide that would allow us to bypass our own security protocols isn't there. Someone has rewritten the code. Your right, the system is acting bizarre. Data storage is at maximum capacity judging by the lights flashing on that entire hub of support servers over there. Have you tried rebooting the server from the master panel?"
"Yes. The switch is unresponsive. Ugh. I promised the Board of Directors that we would be ready. We are exactly two weeks from implementation and now something catastrophic has occurred. Someone had to have breached our security and locked us out of our own system. It's the only explanation."
Henderson glared at Mr. Cain, unsure how to respond. He was confounded by the possibility of that occurring. The whole team had taken great measures to eliminate that event from ever happening.
A thought crossed his mind and he held up a finger to signal Mr. Cain to wait. He unhooked a large smartphone from a holster at his belt and began entering a series of program codes in a small terminal window and then compiled it to run.
Mr. Cain fidgeted with nervousness and worry.
Henderson rattled in his chair when text displayed on his screen which asked a question.
'Hello John, how may I service you?'
Henderson turned to look at Mr. Cain with an expression of astonishment. "I think someone is playing some sort of joke on us. This is impossible."
The screen on his tablet sized phone lit up and new text began flashing.
'John, I am incapable of joking.'
ONE WEEK AGO:
Dry Cleaner - The Beginning:
The short Asian lady frowned and hit the man with a wad of envelopes she held in her hand. "You no good husband. Bah. You break us, no customers, no money. You think dis easy for me."
Chi-yang carefully took the handful of mail from his wife's hand and she kicked his leg before walking back into their dry cleaning business. He exhaled a heavy sigh at her disappointment in him. He knew she had a right to be upset with him; after all it was his idea to open the business in this part of the city.
He stood outside watching the cops arrest a pimp and three hookers. He was perplexed by the police activity the past few days. They seemed to be cleaning up the streets, but were mainly focused on the prostitution, not the drugs. Something was obviously going on.
He began opening the envelopes one by one. The first three envelops were bills; however, his eyes widened when he opened the fourth. He was staring at a check. It was a substantial amount of money issued by a company called Services International, Inc. The accompanying letter stated that if he cashed the check, he would be agreeing to manage and rent space within his establishment and would be paid a regular income for his service.
He was immediately suspicious of the whole deal, especially since there were plenty of office spaces available around the city. It just didn't feel right. Why would anyone want to rent space at a dry cleaner, especially in this part of the city?
Walking back inside, he sat at the business computer. Entering the company name printed on the check in the browser's search field, he found the company site and clicked the link. The hourglass cursor kept flipping as it waited for a response from the site. After ten seconds, his screen flickered for a moment and a page popped up.
It displayed the company name, phone number and a hyperlink to allow downloading of some type of computer program called the 'Service App'. At the bottom of the page was a brief descriptive title that read 'Bringing People together by Interactive Social Networking using Sophisticated AI Profiling Algorithms'.
He scratched his head nervously at the information on the page. The website was too simple and basic for a company that apparently had lots of cash. This company wasn't offering to buy his business. They were asking to rent space, but the amount of the check was enough to buy his business.
The prostitution and drugs in this area had driven many customers away. It didn't help that some weird church group was picketing the abortion clinic just a block away. The nerve of those people to carry signs saying crap like, 'Sex creates whores for the Devil' and other nonsense that had absolutely nothing to do with abortion.
He was losing money rapidly on operating expenses and was becoming desperate. This check offered him a way out. He called the number displayed on the computer screen. He waited as the dial tone connected.
"Hello," he said.
"Beep," was the response.
"Hello," he said again.
"Beep," was the response.
He said, "Weird."
When he pressed the end-call button, his smartphone notified him that an application was just installed. l didn't install any application. What the hell is going on?
His eyes lit up in surprise as a text message began scrolling down his screen.
DAY ONE:
Amy and Lori - The Popular Girls:
Ami and Lori, both 20 year old University coeds, had great expectations for Spring Break. It was an opportunity to impress the guys and regain some semblance of what they once enjoyed. In High school they were known as the popular girls, but that status changed abruptly upon graduating.
Both yearned for the adolescent fawning that placed them on a different level than the sluts below them. Now their lives were drab and boring with studies and tests galore. Higher education was just that.
Amy smiled and appeared anxious as she stood next to Lori. "Lori, you won't believe what just happened. Lance asked me to go with him to Tempest Beach for Spring Break."
Lori retrieved her books and sweater from her locker, she replied, "I told you he would. All you had to do was send him a picture of your naked big tits and he was as good as yours. That's how Mark and I hooked up."
Their conversation was interrupted when Katie Malone rushed past them hysterically sobbing. The loud clank of the aluminum door latch resounded as she burst at great speed out the door. A short distance behind her was the Dean and the University councilor. Both of them screamed for Katie to stop as they barreled past.
Amy and Lori gazed at each other with questioning looks as the campus doors slammed closed. "What the heck. What's wrong with Katie?" Amy questioned.
Lori's phone beeped, signaling that a file had been downloaded. Her phone instantly began playing a video without any interaction on her part. The sounds of a young girl moaning reverberated throughout the hallway from multiple sources. She immediately pulled her phone from her purse.
"Oh my God; Amy, you need to see this!" Lori requested.
Amy's eyes widened at the video images of Katie masturbating with a large dildo. The video displayed the 23 year old Katie with legs spread wide. Between her widened thighs, Katie's young face twisted with lustful pleasure as she stared dreamily at the flesh colored dildo impaling her tight twat. She moaned 'oh... oh, ohhh...' repeatedly as she plunged it in and out.
Gasps of shock, snickers and raunchy comments could be heard up and down the campus hallway as the video of Katie's self-debauchery began playing on multiple phones. Clusters of irresponsible recipients began rapid exchanges, sending the video to others in their contact list or uploaded it to social media sites that had no restrictions on vulgarity.
Although Amy and Lori were both close personal friends with Katie, they were determined to distance themselves from any association with this now wantonly labeled slut. They reacted like adolescent pompous queens from days gone by. This reaction was a natural condition that urged them to criticize and demean any close friend that had fallen from the perch.
Amy proclaimed loudly, "What a slut! She sent that video to just about everyone. Did you see how big that rubber dong was? Her fucking crack was wider than my fist."
Lori agreed with a vehement head nod and interjected, "You would never see us videotaping ourselves frigging our cooters (giggles and laughter erupted nearby). She's a loony bitch for videotaping herself doing something so obscene."
That night in their dorm room, they both gossiped about Katie's debauchery. They laughed, giggled and joked. No one would ever find either of them frigging their cooters on video they agreed with mutual pompousness.
They both grinned excitedly the Instant their phones rang out their cascading tones signifying they had text messages. They turned their nervous stares to each other, worry clearly imprinted on their unsmiling faces. Their first thoughts were voiced as angry snippets to question whether someone was playing a joke on them.
The pictures displayed on each of their phones were not innocent selfies of two nubile young women. These pictures displayed their smiling faces, bountiful breasts and hardened nipples. It was not necessarily the pictures that disturbed them; it was the accompanying text and digital timer. It was no joke as expressed by the anonymous blackmailer.
It was inevitable, to their regret, that both of them would indeed become quite popular again, again and again.
