Chapter 1

Jacquelyn was finding out for herself that money wasn't guaranteeing her much happiness. Nearly a year ago she'd taken a risk, along with a substantial increase in salary, and moved to San Diego for a job. Things at work were going great; she loved her work, and she managed to handle the added responsibility without a lot of stress, or even late hours. As well, her salary was generous enough that she'd bought herself a beautiful penthouse condominium with money left over for beautiful furnishings. When it came to her personal life though, it was still dreadful. She had been sure that she'd meet all kinds of interesting people in the big city, but it was all a bust so far.

She finally joined up with an online dating service as a last resort. She had done in-depth research and found a service that wasn't as large as some of the other big names, but it was based locally, and the customer response was overwhelmingly positive — positive enough to make up for a terrible name: MPC Dating. They featured a guarantee that all of their online profiles were accurate and that they took the greatest efforts to avoid anyone misrepresenting themselves. Jackie wasn't sure how exactly they'd monitor something like that, but it did seem to be a valid selling point — who would want to get all ready for a blind date with someone handsome, fit and tall only to be met by some balding loser who figured he'd talk his way out of his appearance.

Unfortunately, that didn't seem to be working either. She'd put up her profile, going through many drafts to give her description just the right tone — not too serious, not too jokey, but intriguing. She was also conscientious in describing her body — she even found a measuring tape to track down her measurements. It all went up on the service's website and she waited. And waited. And waited. For months it had been up, and there was nary a hint of interest.

She couldn't figure it out — she knew she wasn't a supermodel but she was an attractive woman with a pretty face. She had medium length brown hair and hazel eyes that always seemed to draw complements. She wore glasses, but she always made sure that her frames were stylish and a good match for the structure of her face. It was her body she felt the most insecure about. She wasn't the curviest, especially compared to some of the women she saw in the streets of the city, walking around in barely-there outfits, and she guessed that her B-cup breasts weren't turning too many heads.

It had really gotten to her over time. At first, right after she posted her online profile, she had been checking her mailbox nearly every hour, but after too many times without a response it went to every day, and now she only stopped by the site every couple of days. It was getting to the point of being ridiculous. She wasn't sure her ego could take much more of this kind of abuse. Not to mention that it was way too long since her sexual release had come from something without batteries. After making a quick check one Friday afternoon to confirm that, once again, her mailbox at the site was still empty she came up with an idea for last-chance strategy before abandoning the entire enterprise: she was going to check out the competition.

After a quick dinner at home that night, she refilled her wine glass, opened up her laptop and powered it up. As she sat in her living room, curled up with the computer in her lap with Supreme Beings of Leisure trip-hopping on her stereo, she thanked herself for splurging on the wireless internet hook up for her condo. With everything warmed up, she set to work. She brought up a search window to have a look at the profiles of some of the other women on the site.

She indicated that she was looking for someone around her own age — late 20's to early 30's — to start with her most direct competition but she left most of the other search options open. After paging through maybe ten or fifteen of the search results, she was shaking her head in disbelief. According the "guaranteed accurate" profiles, it appeared that nearly all of the women in her age group were not only blond, large-breasted (she saw no one with less that a C cup), with interests varying from sexually adventurous to just plain kinky. Just reading some of the things being proposed in these profiles was making her blush.

Well, that certainly seemed to be that. No wonder the men on this site didn't have time for her — they were all chasing after these lipstick lesbians or bi-curious barbie dolls so they could watch them bounce around while acted out perverted fantasies. Compared to them, it seemed that a sincere and intelligent woman didn't stand a chance. And how about this supposed guarantee of accurate profiles? She was sure as hell going to get her money back on Monday morning. She'd walked around the streets and beaches and sure, the women may dress a bit better on average than they did back in her home town, but they weren't the living Russ Meyer movie that was presented in this dating service.

She clicked back to her mailbox in order to sign out. Then she decided she might as well have a little fun. There was an area of the site that she'd never bothered with as it was geared to what they called "Intimate Encounters" or what Jackie called one-night stands. Since it was going to be her last time visiting the site, she thought she'd give it a look over. But first, she was going to change some things on her profile — if she wanted to get some attention with this crowd, she was going to have to pump some things up, so to speak.

She started with the simple things: making her hair longer, thicker and wavier sounded good, and changing her measurements to 36-24-36, with firm D cups for good measure. She discovered that the profile listings for Intimate Encounters were more detailed than the other areas of the site — much more intimate and personal. She poured herself her third glass of wine — damn that is a nice Merlot — and got down to business, thinking of the men that might read this information and choosing the answers for each prompt she thought were the most kinky or the closest to what she thought the male fantasy would be.

GLASSES/CONTACTS? None

HEIGHT? 5 foot 8 inches

WEIGHT? 115 lbs

BODY HAIR? Waxed

TAN? All over, no tan lines

PIERCINGS? Ears, navel

TATTOOS? Butterfly above vagina (okay, so that one was actually true — hmmm, thinking, back the Merlot was excellent that night too)

BODY SENSITIVITY — BREASTS (1-10)? 9

BODY SENSITIVITY — NIPPLES (1-10)? 9

BODY SENSITIVITY — LABIA (1-10)? 9

BODY SENSITIVITY — CLITORIS (1-10)? 10

DESIRE FOR ORAL SEX (1-10)? 10

DESIRE FOR VAGINAL SEX (1-10)? 10

DESIRE FOR ANAL SEX (1-10)? 8

ATTRACTION TO MEN IN GENERAL (1-10)? 10

ATTRACTION TO WOMEN IN GENERAL (1-10)? 9 — one thing she knew was that men just loved lesbians these days

DOMINANCE TOWARDS OTHERS (1-10)? 1

SUBMISSIVENESS TOWARDS OTHERS (1-10)? 10

OPENNESS TOWARDS SEXUAL EXPERIMENTATION (1-10)? 9

OTHER COMMENTS?

Hmm, she paused at that one. What was she specifically going for here? She looked over her previous responses to stay consistent. Okay — sex-crazed, bi-sexual, open to just about anything and willing to do what she's told. She nearly laughed out loud at the image that was coming to mind. She typed her comments, "I'm a good girl undone by her needs, needs that I can't help but feel when I see people staring at my body, or when I'm playing with my toys, or when I'm being a good little slave for my Master." Jackie smiled wide, mentally patting herself on the back. She was proud of that one. God, the horny bastards were going to be drooling at her feet.

With her new profile all finished and saved, she logged into Intimate Encounters. She was in the mood to try out her new persona as soon as possible so she was very happy to find that this section of the site also had a live chat section — no waiting for email from those who noticed her new and improved profile. She jumped into one of the chat rooms, typed in a quick hello to attract some attention and sat back to watch and wait while she took another long sip of wine. There were some general conversations about things to do in the city, favorite movies, etc., but there were also a couple of men that were getting right to the point — asking questions about openness to one-night stands, mutual pleasure and other topics more directly related to sex.

There was a beep from her computer with a notice of a request for a personal chat for her. She checked and it was one of the direct ones, so she figured she'd go along with it for now and have some fun. She got a bit of personal satisfaction in that after all this time of rejection she was going to let some guy who didn't have the time for her before get all worked up over this fake online bimbo and then dump him as soon as the conversation bored her.

"Hello, j-girl, are you being a good girl tonight?" came the question from the man with the pretentious nickname SirMaxx.

"Yes Sir," she replied — if he wanted to be called Sir, she'd play along for now.

"That's very good to hear, dear. Now tell me: are you one of those good girls who is even better when she's bad?"

"Oh yes, Sir, when I'm bad, I'm the best, but that makes a good girl like me blush," Jackie was giggling along as she typed; she could play these guys like a piano.

"No need to blush my dear. You can't be blamed for what you do, no matter how naughty, if you're only following orders," he replied.

"What kind of orders, Sir?"

"Oh that depends on the girl and what she needs, and what the one giving the orders needs."

"What kinds of things might this man need?"

"Oh, it could be many things, j-girl; maybe he needs a lovely girl on her knees before him eager to make him very happy."

Wow, Jackie thought, that didn't take long. She'd been chatting with this guy for a grand total of five minutes and he's fishing for a blowjob. She started to feel that maybe she hadn't been missing anything after all being deprived of the attention of these guys. Without so much as a goodbye to SirMaxx, she left the chat room and started to sign out of the service's website. The wine was making her tired and it had been a long week so she decided to just call it a night. Logging out, a window popped up asking her if she wanted to save the changes to her profile. What the heck, she thought; maybe I'll feel like messing with someone else later. She clicked YES and logged out. She shut down the computer and head off to bed.

Deep inside a nondescript building near the busy downtown airport, the hum of a high-powered air conditioning system added to the white noise provided by the fans of an array of rack-mounted servers. At 01:13:36.65 a signal from the MPC Dating PSS (Profile Storage Server) silently alerted the PES (Profile Enforcement Server) that there was a description/reality discrepancy incident. With the subject identified, the computer signaled its long-range sensors to re-confirm the details relating to the incident. After the check was completed, the enforcement subroutine was initialized with the timing of enforcement coordinated with the local time of sunrise. Its job done, the PES returned itself to sleep mode at 01:15:03.29.

As she slept, Jackie felt changes beginning in her body at the limits of her subconscious. The closest her awareness came to conscious thought was as a series of dreams with a lot more erotic charge than usual. If the changes could be said to have been the cause of her waking, it was only because the tank top she had worn to bed was now uncomfortably small.

As she awoke, Jackie let a wide mouthed yawn and arched in full-body stretch. She grimaced a bit as the fabric of her top seemed to pull at her — she didn't remember it shrinking in the last laundry load, but it wouldn't be the first thing she'd accidentally put in the dryer. At the tight cotton dragged over her nipples, they stiffened quickly, sending a shock of sensation that seemed to travel through her breasts, down her spine and between her legs. She smiled and acknowledged the sensation with a happy little hum. She stumbled to her en-suite bathroom, feeling a bit off balance. The real shock came when she finally opened her eyes fully, and looked at her reflection in the mirror.