Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa,
Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 1 - A young versatile university PhD professor is tired of being the object of derision as the pocket protector guy. When offered an opportunity to join a unique company, he takes a chance and enjoys the transition. Caution, there will be some areas of intense sex. Just skip over those that are offensive.
Once upon a time there was a really nice guy named Feeny, Salvatore Markus Feeny. About five-nine or ten, maybe a hundred sixty pounds, red hair that went wherever it wanted. Earlier in his life, glasses that were thick enough to withstand re-entry, always a pocket protector filled with a pen, a Sharpie, a retractable pencil, an ink eraser, and a daunting piece of equipment called a slide rule. Since it was tiny, you had to know where the gradations were to use it correctly. Feeny knew where the gradations were.
Students would come into the lecture hall, and as soon as they saw Feeny, they pinned him as a "Nerd". They were probably close, but Feeny was not merely a nerd. He was a self-made PhD who could dissect any computer on the market, including a Cray, and any other form of super computer that needed to turn out an answer that could only be calculated. Some answers could be had by the use of physical tools, but that would have been astronomically expensive.
Feeny looked upon computers as dumb animals that needed to be trained. Training consisted of first combining the best breeding, or components, then the correct operating system. To give the animal some finesse, Feeny would create the appropriate software to run whatever program and file needed attention. Feeny loved programming, and he likened it to taming the wildest of animals. The idea that he could teach the box full of electronic components to give him answers was amazing to him. Even though he had been making computers do that for more than fifteen years, he was still surprised to get an answer that corresponded to his slide rule. At twenty-nine, Feeny was one of the best in academia. Programmers knew his work the world over. When they were stuck, they e-mailed their file to Feeny, and often within minutes, the sender would receive a simple file with the explanation. Another training problem solved.
Feeny's office was a visual diversity compared to most of his fellow academic's offices. His desk was filled with monitors, six to be exact. The front of his desk looked like a data room, except the stacks of computers were somewhat in disarray. If you know computers, then you know there are wires everywhere that most would never figure out what they were for, or what they went to. Feeny knew.
On one wall was a jumbled, framed group of certificates and diplomas. Along with those, were awards from some of the most august bodies of recognition, including "Nobel". Feeny liked the other wall better, the wall behind his desk, as it had pictures of his youth when he was not Dr. Feeny. They included Feeny riding a bronc. Feeny riding a bull. Feeny roping a calf, Feeny doing horseback riding tricks, Feeny cracking a whip, and finally Feeny in a six-gun contest. If you looked at Feeny then turned to look at the photos, the only thing that could come to mind is "No way".
In the top center of the wall was a large, coiled, sinister looking, bullwhip. Next to it was a coiled lariat, and next to that a pigging string, you know, the rope you use to tie up the legs of a calf after you roped it.
On top of that was a beat up hat. Not just any hat, but a genuine Stetson. When life became too much for Feeny, he would don the Stetson and sit back, close his eyes, and visualize the activities of his youth.
Feeny had learned about computers when he was really young. He had begged for a Zenith/Heathkit computer kit that was advertised as a closeout for five dollars. He put that together, but the kit required a terminal to work. Feeny's dad found an old teletype machine that Feeny could enter basic code into and the machine would respond with various outputs. Feeny was rapidly growing in knowledge, and read enough information that he was able to hook up to an old black and white TV, which could then display his input and output.
Feeny's dad was a good guy and always kept his ears open for something for his kids. A man had a Zenith computer kit that was too complicated for him to put together, and he was willing to let it go for nearly nothing. It took Feeny three evenings to have this real computer, with real storage devices and a built in monitor, working. There was also a thick book about programming in Basic.
He became a self-taught programmer in Basic at age nine. Between his magazines and the library, he was gaining knowledge by the bushel and truck load. He learned that if he used machine language, he could have a much larger program that would do a lot more than just scroll some words across the screen. He learned to make his computer add, subtract, multiply, and divide. When he taught his computer to compute the square root of a number, Feeny strutted around worse than a bull that had just serviced a heifer. Feeny showed his dad a program that he created to compute all of the costs of the farm, in each of the profit center categories, and give profits and losses with a percentage, highlighting areas that more money than usual was spent.
You see, Feeny was special. His mother knew it and tried to shield the boy from some of the people who would deride and make fun of him. His dad knew it and trained Feeny to become more than he looked. He made sure his son could whip just about any other boy who was not more than twice his size. Wherever he went to school, after the first bully had to crawl away, bullies didn't bother Feeny.
He needed that, as when Feeny was thirteen, he graduated from high school. He was almost embarrassed at this achievement. Fenny had won scholarships to many universities, but chose the nearby Texas Tech in Lubbock, Texas, so he could continue to live at home to pursue his other youthful western interests and help out on the ranch. A father and mother couldn't have been more proud.
Feeny rocketed through undergraduate work and surprised his graduate professors with his knowledge, learning ability, and proficiency. Who would have believed this kid would have multiple articles published by the time he was seventeen, and when he went before a board of scholars to defend his thesis for his orals candidacy exam, he couldn't be stumped or rather, he bowled them over with his knowledge. By the time Feeny was eighteen, his mother and father sat in the bleachers of a huge stadium and applauded their son as he received a Doctorate of Philosophy in Electrical Engineering and Computer Science. The amazing thing was that when it was over; Feeny went home and did his part of the evening chores.
That night, his dad asked him what he wanted to do. Feeny told his dad he wanted to teach others how to use the biggest and best computers. The young man told his dad that if he was in a university, he could be using the most modern equipment and could continue to research his ideas in software.
That was a problem. The school had never hired an eighteen-year-old to be a professor at any level. Even graduate students, acting as grad staff student teachers who were not being paid for their efforts, were older than eighteen and of course, thought to be more mature. The department head wanted Feeny, but many who were jealous of his abilities were against a youth preparing students for the world.
Feeny did get the position, but there were strings. First, he had to teach the lowly entry level classes. Second, he had to gain valuable commercial experience that would give him the ability to correlate what he taught to the real world.
It took Feeny three interviews before an IT guy challenged him to find a software glitch. Within a couple of minutes, Feeny had not only found the bad line of code, but had re-written that area of the program to make it work the way the interviewing company wanted the program to work.
The company hired him with the understanding he would not be available during his classes, but agreed to pay him a full time salary. Once again Feeny was able to best the university spoilers.
Feeny was able to provide the work experience and an acclaimed teaching experience before being promoted to the abandoned position of head of the Engineering School of Programming. This kid was just nineteen and a Dean at the University.
Ten years later, after taking the derision of students, and many of his staff and counterparts or peers, Feeny yearned for a simpler life. He loved what he did, but didn't want the simple-mindedness of the assholes that roamed the halls of the University. He had changed his appearance by having Lasik surgery on his eyes. Now he was able to see with clear twenty-twenty vision, and often wore cool Ray Ban sunglasses, but he still had a pocket protector in his short sleeve shirt pocket with a clip on tie.
That's when one of his past students contacted him: a guy by the name of Sandy Flowers, or as he remembered the student's name, Santana Flowers.
Sandy had been a decent student and suffered with some of the same pocket protector problems Feeny did. The unique thing about Sandy, as he progressed through his Masters, was that he was able to focus on a function and create the driver necessary, or create a program that would solve a specific problem. Feeny was sure Sandy would do well in a business in the outside world.
Flowers had called Feeny and asked him to come and visit the company he worked for. Sandy kept telling Feeny that the company was moving into some very sophisticated equipment that needed analysis by computers rather than models. Sandy was a little vague, but it still interested Feeny as he thought it could be a fun diversion to act as an occasional consultant down in Florida.
The date was set for Feeny to show up at the local airport where a private aircraft was going to transport him to Florida for an interview. Sandy had raved about the company and how great the people within the company were. Feeny's anticipation was heightened to the point that he didn't sleep well the night before. He was in the private aircraft terminal an hour early, pacing, and waiting for he knew not what.
He watched as a sleek jet gently set down on the runway, came to a quick stop, and turned toward the operations building for private aircraft. The man at the desk hailed Feeny on the public address system, and when he approached the desk, Feeny was told, "Go right on out, that's your ride."
Feeny hesitantly walked out to the beautiful aircraft. The closer he got, the more nervous he became. As he got closer, he saw several caricatures of people painted on the aircraft, along with some cartoons. Under the left side cockpit window was a cartoon with 'Deputy Dawg' scrolled underneath.
Primary Editing by Pepere
Proofing and Continuity by Sagacious
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