Chapter 62: Knowing the Power of Master PC

The following things happened at that moment:

The power required for Master PC to execute a carefully orchestrated series of spontaneous events nearly caused the globally interwoven network to collapse as I pursued the dream of knowing, having and understanding absolute power.

Halfway around the globe, in Daytown, California, Cassandra McKinnon became whole as the final details of her intricate body tattoo covered her – details that would have been all but impossible for a manual tattoo artist to apply. Her mousy brown hair also became the colors of her body art, and the colors and detail of the tattoo itself went into such sharp focus, it seemed to become an almost 3-D piece of art.

Her youngest daughter, Michaela, the once-blonde busty teenager that she was, became an extension of her mother’s body art. The hair on her head fell away as the lines and images that now defined her loving mother seem to flow onto her pristine body. It was in a matter of moments that, when they were coupled together; each different sexual position created another image that seemed to make them one form. And, indeed, they were.

Watching them copulate like the living work of art they were, Mickey McKinnon and his elder daughter Jacy watched with joy and wonderment. The feeling of liberation was absolute for both of them, and after watching their wife and mother turn Michaela into her life partner in so many ways, they turned to one another and found the other smiling more broadly than either could ever remember.

“Honey, I’m staying in town. Be sure to reach out so we’ll know how to stay in touch,” the gruff cop said tenderly.

“I will, dad. As soon as I get settled in Vegas, I’ll make sure you have my information,” Jacy agreed. “We’ll always have each other.”

“You need a ride to the airport?” Mickey asked.

“That’d be nice,” Jacy agreed.

“Let me help you with, ugh, all your suitcases,” he said, lifting an impossibly heavy travel bag. Without another word, they departed their former home and went on to their new, improved lives – Jacy getting the dancing career she coveted and Mickey knowing not one, but two, donut shop waitresses waiting for him in his new apartment. Cassandra and Michaela would not think of them again.

But just as McKinnon pulled his unmarked car onto the subdivision road, a dark-haired, long-legged woman stepped in front of him. He pulled up short, well in front of the head cheerleader, who was in full uniform.

“Kira! Are you crazy? What are you doing standing in the road?” Jacy shouted out the window.

“Waiting for your dad,” she said, as she reached behind a parked car and pulled out a heavy suitcase. “Time for a change, and he’s already shown he can change me.”

Jacy looked over at her dad, who was sitting silently behind the wheel, frowning and occasionally revving the engine. Finally, after a lengthy wait, he lowered his window.

“Get in,” he growled.

Kira heaved her bag into the car trunk, then started to getting into the back. Mickey raised his hand.

“Up here,” he growled. “Between us.”

Kira got in the driver’s seat and sat down, giggling, next to her friend.

“So you’re choosing my dad,” she said, squeezing Kira’s hand.

“My mind is made up,” she said, grinning. “I need him and he needs me.”

“Occasionally,” Mickey growled, but then looked over at the women at his side and smiled.

“When did you say your flight was?” he asked his daughter.

“Not for hours,” Jacy admitted. “I was just wanting to get out of the house. Got an idea?”

“Your new place or mine?” he asked.

“Well, since mine is in L.A...” Jacy said, leaning in to kiss her friend. At the same time, in a show of skill that spoke volumes about her ability, Kira reached over and unzipped Mickey, freeing his cock and stroking it firmly and slowly without so much as pulling away from Jacy’s kiss. It took all his concentration to drive the three of them into their uncertain futures.

But they got there.

From island to island they flew, investigating the populated ones with a full scan, landing on those big enough to accommodate a landing. Michaux’s anger grew with each failed connection; his IT man received most of the wrath.

“What’s wrong with you?” he roared after the latest scan found no matches.

“Cell phone service, anything electronic gets disrupted around here,” he moaned. “We’re on the fringe of the Bermuda Triangle. The only communication you could count on is a satellite phone.”

“Did you know this?” he screamed at his pilot, getting only a shrug for an answer. “Goddamit! Get out of this and check the islands to the south.”

The signal gets weaker when we go south,” IT guy pointed out, and received the back of Michaux’s hand as a result.

“To the south,” he ordered the pilot. He silently nodded and aimed for the horizon.

“Picking up a possible hit,” IT guy said after 10 excruciating minutes. “We’re looking for Althea Channing’s readouts, right?”

“Yes. Yes! Do you have her?” Michaux began to grab the laptop, but the IT guy’s protest made him realize he might break the connection. “What is it saying?”

“The map indicates there are four or five cays large enough to be inhabited, but they’re all virtually in a straight line, so it’s impossible to hone on one. But she’s on one of them!”

He looked up, grinning. But he’d dared to hope.

“Wait. Something’s wrong,” IT guy said. “It just disappeared.”

“What? WHAT?” Michaux was back at full volume. “You incompetent fool! How could you lose it as soon as you found it?”

“I ... didn’t do anything,” he said as calmly as possible. “I was not touching it when the image went away.”

“Pick up something. Just a random image,” Michaux ordered.

“It doesn’t work that way, master, and you know that,” he said as boldly as he dared.

The continued flying south. He got a readout of a fisherman on a small boat, but it was clearly no one they sought. But that heartened Michaux that his Master PC was working. Too well, it turned out. The helicopter suddenly lurched once, twice.

“What was that?” he looked at the IT guy, who shrugged.

It happened again, and the rotors began slowing.

“What’s happening?” he asked the pilot directly.

“We’re out of gas, master,” he said. “We’re going down.”

“What? WHAT?” Michaux sputtered. “Why the fuck did you not say so before?”

“You ordered me not to speak unless spoken to, master,” he said, taking off his headset. “With your permission, I’d like to pray now.”

“Pray? Fuck no! You try to get us to land,” Michaux said.

“Yes, master,” the pilot said, turning flaps towards a patch of blue water.

“How close are we?” asked the fearful IT guy who had no God to pray to.

“Two to three miles,” the pilot said.

“Can we get there?” he asked, his voice rising an octave.

“No chance,” said the pilot. “We passed the point of no return 15 minutes ago.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” IT guy bleated.

“I wanted to. More than anything in my life,” said the pilot. “But Master gave me instruction.”

“Can we ditch?” Michaux found his voice.

“It’s too...” the pilot began. He never finished the sentence, as the helicopter hit the ocean’s surface at an odd angle and broke into a thousand pieces. The plastic floated away, all the way into the swampy morass that is the Bermuda Triangle.

The salt water shorted out Michaux’s Master PC laptop in about 30 seconds – the power surge causing the screens to flicker on Chuck and Doc’s screen for a long moment.

At my crowning moment, the wedding attendees quickly become aware of their rewards and/or punishments:

Many eyes turned initially towards the extraordinary line of attendants as their bright, pastel-colored dresses began inflating like a half-dozen life rafts suddenly inflating in full. As the attendants watched their own bodies changes with emotions ranging from awe to amusement to, in the case of my Stacy, pure horror.

Alyssa, who admittedly had a head start in bust size, was the first one to fill her top to overflowing. The flimsy (by design) top string gave way, right on schedule and her new HHH package fell out, looking perfect. And as was the plan, she made no effort to cover up, instead turning to the others, as if saying, “Look what you can expect!”

“I can feel them!” exclaimed Suzanne, Nicky’s mom, who still was coming to grips at being young and beautiful again. This, to her, was just more of the same, and she squeezed them with expectations that were soon realized.

Stacy, as I knew would happen, was on the opposite end of the emotional scale.

“Dad! What did you do?” she sobbed as her chest because more and more prominent. She sat, splay-legged at my feet, looking desperate.

“I decided it was time my little girl became a woman,” I said, even as I continued thrusting into my bride. “They’re only boobs. You’ll get used to them.”

“Sweetie! Mama’s got big boobs now,” Alyssa said, kneeling down next to her daughter. Already, her IQ was slipping down, down, down. “Ooo ... yours look like they’re catching up.”

Stacy was fruitlessly hanging onto her halter top with both hands, delaying the inevitable but getting a good feel for what Dad has just given her. After glowering at me for a few painful moments, her look softened, then she dared to glance behind her now-useless top.

“Wow. From here, they look pretty good, dad,” she murmured. I sighed, hoping I wouldn’t have to institute the Variable I had programmed into Master PC for purposes of this exercise. She let the fabric fall to her waist and slowly, gracefully stood up.

She was fucking magnificent. My cock twitched so noticeably that Nicky let out a tiny, “Eek.” from my surge.

“You look so pretty, Stacy,” my bride said. “Let me suck on one, please.”

Stacy glanced up at me, smiled warmly, then turned her smile towards Nicky, who looked genuinely eager. No sooner had Stacy put her left boob in position, Nicky latched on with her mouth. Stacy and I made eye contact again, and I leaned over to give her a kiss that contained all of the emotions I was feeling right at that moment.

Among the other attendants, I heard bits and pieces of their reactions as one dress after another maxed out and gave way.

“Thank you Master,” Anita said as she bounced up to us. “How did you know I wanted big boobs?”

It didn’t matter; I wanted big boobs, but I was happy to take credit for my insight and wisdom.

“You look perfect, babe,” I agreed. Nicky also nodded, without letting go of Stacy’s boob.

Sara, looking more perfect than I thought possible, stepped up with her new set looking like they were born to her.

“Oh hell yes,” she grinned. “I look forward to your enjoying them.”

“How are Belle and Bud dealing?” I asked, being in no position to notice.

“Oh, it’s happening,” Sara said, her grinning growing larger, if that were possible.

But what they didn’t see was the crowning achievement of Chuck Arnovsky: a Master PC shield. It was decided, once Sara opted to stay with me, that Casey would be given the chance to live with her mom in her original form.

But her form could be located by her father – unless we were able to block scans by other Master PC machines. I trusted that the complex series of computers that had gone into the final product that it might be stronger than other, earlier incarnations – or later ones.

Once up, we never worried about being tampered with so long as we stayed on the cay. We would have never known for sure that it had done its job had not pieces of a helicopter belonging to Edward Michaux washed up on the shores of Bermuda.

Once Michaux was officially pronounced dead, Casey as the lone heir inherited close to a half-billion dollars. She had a hard time collecting it, having Master PC’d her age back to 18, but fingerprints do not lie and she was judged the rightful heir.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. You want to know what I did to all those party guests, don’t you?

As Bud and Belle Wilson took their seats, it struck Belle that she’d seldom seen her dad as happy and relaxed as he seemed to be at the moment. Since communication was never a problem between them, she called him on it almost immediately.

“Dad, you really seem to be enjoying yourself,” she said quietly, hand on his knee.

“Trying, sweetheart. Trying,” he said, smiling again albeit with a whiff of whiskey accenting it. “This has been a fun time.”

“Did you have some fun while you here before?” she asked innocently, even batting her eyelashes for effect.

“Don’t rightly remember,” he shrugged. “Too drunk to remember much. I do remember thinking there was nowhere to pick here.”

“Your life shouldn’t be all-picking, not grinning,” she said, patting his leg.

“I grin a lot when you come on trips with me,” he said, distracted. “Hey look. Here comes Mom. Wow! What a dress!”

Belle had to agree; the Brazilian redhead’s hair, tan and even her white smile all seem to suit her dress. In fact, even through he held tightly to his daughter’s hand, it struck him that he never loved his wife more than at this moment. After all, she gave him ... Belle.

Belle, who was such a willing, compliant lover. It amazed him all over again how effortlessly they came together. There was no awkwardness, no hesitation, especially no guilt – but then, what was there to feel guilty about? Belle knew she could end it any time with a word. That word, he’d never heard leave her lips. He glanced over at her, smiling with her mother’s lips, he knew. But at that moment, her eyes grew wide and she grabbed his shoulder.

“Dad! Look! Something’s happening to mom!” she exclaimed. He quickly turned around and saw the front of Sara’s dress swelling out as if inflating, and also saw that every colorfully dressed bridesmaid was having clothing issues. As he watched, he suddenly felt dizzy and a bright glow seemed to fill his vision. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it, but it persisted as a stream of thoughts seemed to run through his head. He squeezed his eyes shut, but heard Belle moan as if in similar distress.

Bud opened his eyes at the same time Belle did, and he found himself looking lovingly into the eyes of his child bride.

“You okay?” he asked tenderly, running his fingers through her golden red hair.

“So strange,” she said, fluttering her eyes as she attempted to focus. “It felt like I was reliving our time together, moment by moment in a flash. Bud, did we do the right thing by eloping?”

“You know it was,” he said, now clear in his thoughts and resolve. “Your parents were never going to let us be together, and you help me so much on the road. You know you’re the ‘Queen of the Pickers.’”

Bud and Belle Wilson embraced, loving husband and wife that they were. Belle glanced at her finger and saw her fabulous wedding ring that she did not recall receiving or putting on. But as she gazed at it glowed in the tropical sun, she knew she’d never be taking it off again.