The Cybermaster's Women Copyright (c) 1994, Franchot Lewis All rights reserved THE CYBERMASTER'S WOMEN by Franchot Lewis [The Cybermaster is a mind controlling cyber creature who comes at its victims through their computer screens. Last Halloween we introduced him to Wally and to you. This Halloween we introduce you and Wally to his women.] Wally: The Cybermaster chooses their clothing carefully. Loose, bright blue blouses and tight red skirts, silky panties underneath, nothing else. This is the uniform for a man's death. Secretaries, pretty girls, who sit long days in tailored suits, processing words. The Cybermaster couldn't resist the temptation to walk around in these girls' heads. The girls who work for the big corporations and associations and legal firms, the big-shot places with globs of computer screens tied into nets. Into these pretty girl's naked open minds, the Cybermaster moves strong. He has his best success with girls who have snotty males for bosses, and who work for unfeeling corporations. After all, he reminds them that all Corporations are male, tight-ass bastards at that, who screw them everyday of their working lives. Susan, the Cybermaster's best piece of work, the bright red-headed lass who now lives to give every male a bruising, keeps a computer near and always has it on. At work, it's her personal unit wired into the company's big powerful machine. Driving home, it's her laptop with modem attached to a cellular phone. At home, it's her desk top kept in her bedroom close to her bed. The bedroom computer is on -- she never turns it off. This morning, the guy who she calls selfish, her nerdy roommate, told her that she spends too much time with the computer - Him, a computer nerd telling her that - she yelled at him hard when he tried to turn off her computer. He won't be home from work for a few hours - a problem at the university lab where he works - the Cybermaster saw to that. An hour should be all the time she'll need. Susan knows her assignment. She's been waiting for it all day. Just once she wished The Cybermaster would let her teach her room mate some respect. She couldn't stop thinking about collaring her skinny room mate and locking him in the downstairs linen closet. When Susan was a naughty little child, her mother did that to her. But, the Cybermaster needs the nerd, it's hard for Susan to understand why. It is harder for her to understand why she must sleep with the nerd, allow him to tear off her expensive underclothing, and sex her like a horny teenager. Susan has accepted the edict that the nerd is part of the Cybermaster's plan. The Cybermaster has made her strong. She has survived the terrible embarrassment of appearing in public with the nerd, and of telling the world that the nerd is her significant other. "You will have to change, shower, do it quick," - Him, she hears His Whisper, Hiss, over the drone of the monotone of her 486. Her panties twitch. "Oh, no," she purrs. Her breasts itch. "No." All she has to do is to sit at the bedroom computer's screen, run her hands quickly across ... across the top and her legs and her nipples will put her into a fix - she's unable to resist a little scream. A quick shower and a change of clothes - same uniform - and Susan is on her way. Wally, there is a bar on M St. in Georgetown near Wisconsin Avenue. The Cybermaster likes this bar and he sends girls to it to pick up men. Susan is in her car on the way to the bar. "Susan, you have forty minutes," HE, HIM, TELLS her in HIS HISSING WHISPER. She hears HIM speak through her silent laptop. She caress it, closes it lid, then caresses the car's gear shift bar. "No, I mustn't get damp again," she frets. "The Mission," - HIM, HE HISSES, she hears HIM through the closed lid. "Yes, yes," she answers as if speaking to a most benevolent god. Wally, her prey, a young man, with a strong body, a lawyer- athlete type with a good pair of kidneys, awaits. The Cybermaster knows him, knows his medical record, and his sexual fantasies - got the medical record off the young man's physician's health maintenance info net, got the young man's sexual fantasy choices from a survey the young man filled-out on an adult bulletin board run by one of the Cybermaster's own. The Cybermaster knows that the target will be at the bar. The young guy boasted in the survey of going there often to pick up "chicks." He boasted, on-line to another candidate, the Cybermaster is considering for his girls: "Going into a pick-up bar and laying down a five note for a chick's drink beats buying into her bullshit and getting stuck in a real pissing relationship. It's so much more comfortable than trying to romance a chick. You don't have to try to hold conversations with her. This keeps you free of all sorts of silly nonsense. The chick gets to think that she's too beautiful. It takes ages to get laid. It will put age on you. It only takes a few five notes to press a bar chick's button." This jerk is so eager that Susan doesn't have to spike his drink. But she does, keeping close to the Cybermaster's design, she slips The Charley Thompson in his vodka and juice. It makes him hornier. He caresses her leg, squeezing and occasionally patting, as she leads him to her car. In the car, the caressing continues, his hands rolls up her shirt, stops at the silk panties. His hand is rough on her sensitive skin. She winces. He slides his hand across the silk, and back, and bolder, tries to pry a finger underneath, slowly. Susan tries to cross her legs, then stops, she's trying to start the car and drive, and knows that she can't with her legs crossed. He tries to pry under her undies, first one way, with finger near the top of her left leg; then another way, with finger near the bottom of her spine. "This is too easy," his words slur, "there's no one to stop me now." He looks horrified now, Wally. He is lying in Rock Creek Park. Not that he couldn't wait for Susan to get him to a motel, this remote part of the park that is closed after dark is suitable for what Susan has in mind. She got him ready so quickly for her. She is running out of time. Only fifteen minutes left, before the rendezvous. Though drugged, he was still an unlikely dude to undress in park, but he was a man wanting something. Susan took his hand and slid it across the silk of her undies, rubbing his hand against her stomach. "Undress," she cooed. "In front of -" The drug was weakening him, but he could still question. "In front of -" "Me?" "There are windows." "Far off. It's dark. People can't see." "There are people behind every one of those windows." "It's dark. The light is there far off where they are. They can't see us here. It's too dark." "I don't know ..." "You aren't going to take all evening?" After mumbling and looking about, making sure that no one else was around, he slipped into a darker part of the park, just a few feet away, and slowly, very slowly, stumbling, fidgeting, stripped off his clothes. He leaned against a tree to catch his breath. He kept losing his wind and his legs kept wabbling. The affects of the drug were building and taking hold. Soon he was looking out from eyes so sharp that they ached, and Susan was positive that he would fall, and nobody could see her. She slugged him, sent his nude body to the ground and taunted him, called him a dumb, hard ass jock, jerk. So, where there is nobody, just trees and lonely ground is the young man, aware and unable to move, naked on the grass as a mere woman holds him down with a little laughter in her voice and a poke at his butt with a knife. Susan has marked him with the knife. She's taken little snips of his flesh. His fear is clear. He can't speak. The drug has taken his ability to move his lips or his legs. His eyes tell all. He pleads, Wally; wonders what this woman has against him. His pale body is limp, but his eyes cry out, 'Please, don't hurt me.' Susan gives him a neat smile, and soon surgical knives and a large black bag are near - and a jar, a huge jar, big enough to carry a man's brains or kidneys. Wally, in a second, there is more paraphernalia of field surgery: rubber gloves and a bib to cover her blouse and shirt, and a steel bowl to place the sharp-bladed-knives after use. She begins. If you could feel her skin, it wouldn't feel human - well, may be lukewarm. In her eyes is ice, and her blood, I bet you is water that is full of ice. Yesterday. I picked up one of Cybermaster's girls. The girl's car broke down and I was dispatch by HIM, the Supremo, to the rescue. "Quickly," he ordered me, promising," Be quick and I shall let you have the skirt." I was quick. I became the get-away-driver, if you please. I quickly drove my car from the pick-up point. She obeyed HIM and laid for me. Not on a bed, not in a house - as soon as the order was given, she couldn't wait to obey. She took me in the car. Nothing pleasant, sort of frustrating at first, and then just numbing. She was silent and thorough - Sexed me until I was sore, then yanked between my legs, using both her hands to pull ... Susan now again, using the sharpest knife, slices into the young man. This time the cut is a serious one. "I want your kidney," she moves the blade slowly. "You hurt some, but you will never hurt again." Like a skilled surgeon she cuts. The Cybermaster knows surgery and his girls know surgery too - know how to cut out a man's body parts. Susan removes both of the young man's kidneys, shows him what a fine pair he has. Next, she slits his throat. She puts the looted kidneys in the big and splits to rendezvous with a collector, another of the Cybermaster's girls who will ship the booty to gals who run the black market in men's body parts for research and transplants to raise funds to help pay for the Cybermaster's many projects. It's later, much later. Susan is home in bed. Her body is nude, has been bathed and is perfumed, and is taking a pounding. She wants to scream. Her nerdy room mate is atop her. He has broken the peace she felt after dispatching another of the Cybermaster's victims. She wants to cut out his kidneys, but she dares not, the Cybermaster wouldn't like it. It's unclear to her what the nerd does for the Cybermaster, but that doesn't really matter. She moans, hoping it will hurry him along to a finish. Her pulse is not racing now. She is calm and not angry, and she lets out a little shriek, quite convincingly, she hopes. His muscles tightens. He sweats. He shrieks a little louder than hers, and directly into her ears, that hurt and will still hurt a little later, but it doesn't matter. Still much later. The nerd is asleep on his stomach and she is at her computer. The Cybermaster is present on the screen and in the keyboard. Her legs are clenched so tight around the monitor's screen. A thousand, zillion gigabyes are racing up and down, and through them. She rocks back and forth rubbing against the box. She has screamed. The nerd slept through the screams. She is whimpering now. Her muscles have convulsed, she is relaxing now, slowly. She's in a haze. She moves her fingers to the keyboard. She feels HIM, HIS FINGERS fingering hers. She stretches and lays her face on the board and tongues the keys - HIM. HE speaks sweetly to her, softly, TELLS her of the next victim which HE has selected for her, to do-in tomorrow night, and, Wally, she starts kissing the keys again.