VIRTUAL SEARCH by Kopema THE CAST OF CHARACTERS HAS EXPANDED (AND THERE'S EVEN A RUMOR THAT AN ADDITIONAL PUPPET-MASTER HAS ENTERED THE GAME). Part 3 As the local police officers escorted Ashley to a waiting squad car, an intense and dour (but otherwise nondescript) man stepped in front of them. He held up his hand and flashed a small wallet so quickly that Ashley only had time to begin to guess that it might have been some sort of badge, but it disappeared back into his suit pocket as quickly as it had been produced. "Agent Hal," the interloper said, by way of what was clearly the only identification he would ever give. Unlike Ashley, the uniformed officers appeared to have no doubt whatsoever about this person's authority. They instantly stopped their smirking and cajoling. Somehow, the men seemed to cringe even as they simultaneously straightened their postures. They were afraid of this person, but also appeared to be trying to impress him. Ashley could feel the hands holding her tremble slightly, but they did not slacken their grip. She beamed. Finally, if belatedly, her rescuer had arrived! These local yokels were going to pay for their inconsiderate treatment. Ashley had always considered the words: "I'm with the Government; I'm here to help you" to be the most comforting sound she knew when she couldn't find any other way to get what she wanted. Sure, this bunch of tin-horn bullies might run the show in their own little neck of the woods, but the United States Constitution held sway. If it weren't for that one document, the central government would have no license at all to run roughshod over the local "authorities." Once again, Federal officials would make sure the squeaky wheel got the grease. Without turning around, the man pointed behind him at the driver of the "Tick Inspection" van and said, "Stop." His emphasis on the last consonant somehow turned the word into an onomatopoeia. Even though he didn't shout, the driver of the van reacted instantly. The vehicle lurched forward as its brakes chirped to a sudden halt. The man grabbed Ashley's upper arm and began to walk her away. When he felt resistance, he turned to face the officer holding her arms. The agent's face revealed a barely controlled hatred, but at the same time implied that the uniformed man was utterly beneath contempt. "Release her," he seethed. The local police officer released Ashley as if she were on fire, and the squad backed away, incoherently mumbling apologies. Ashley did her best to keep up with her rescuer's rapid walking speed in the ridiculous, demeaning, impractical (but admittedly attractive), high-heeled pumps the computer simulation had been "kind" enough to provide for her. The aptly named "Wonder" bra did an astounding job of elevating her breasts. Unfortunately, it also managed, in an apparent violation of the laws of physics, to allow a surprising amount of latitude for them to bobble back-and-forth as she trotted along. With her hands hopelessly cuffed behind her back, she could not even stop thrusting her chest out, let alone hold herself or her outfit together. Her suit jacket, although chic, of course had a deeply plunging neckline. Her breasts looked as if they might fly completely free of all restraint (and covering) at any second. The slit along the side of her tight, short skirt gave brief, flattering glimpses of her legs as long as she constrained herself to conservative motions. But even this brief promenade caused her to hop-scotch the thin line between composed business woman and disheveled tramp. The agent frog-marched her to the "inspection" van and opened its side door to reveal two cowering, naked women lying on the floor in an embrace forced upon them by their captors' roguishly inventive bindings. Their hair was mussed, and their skin was flushed, as if from a combination of exercise and intense humiliation. The derriere of one had been marked with the number "1" in blazing red indelible ink; her partner's bottom was graced with a matching number "2," this one colored a vibrant blue. Since the computer focused its processing power only on Ashley, the stories of side characters seemed to have taken place in compressed time. While Ashley was absorbed with her own problems, the two agents had been approached by the "tick inspectors." They were told that, as respected government representatives, they had to set an example and show that the interests of public health applied to all citizens. In very short order the gullible pair had been convinced to not only strip completely naked on a busy Chicago street, but to then take part in a lewd series of stretches and calisthenic exercises in front of an ever-growing crowd of onlookers. All the while, they were felt up by the fakers in a grope session under the pretext of applying an "anti-tick lotion to every square inch of bare skin." Coy at first, the pair seemed to lose all of their canniness under these ministrations. They couldn't very well question the actions or motives of their molesters when it was all they could do to focus their concentration on fighting the urge to hump their bare and overly sensitive "hot spots" onto the invading digits. Looking at the two women lying nakedly on the floor of the van, Ashley wondered to herself how long it had taken the pair to finally realize they had been made fools of. One of the women squinted up into the light and said, "Is this where we get the ticks removed?" Her partner, whose hair was slightly darker, glared daggers at her. The agent ordered the denuded duo to stand up. At first glance, their tit-to-tit embrace seemed almost a blessing in disguise. Although it gave the impression they were a pair of hugging lesbians, it also served to keep hidden what could formerly have been referred to with a straight face as their "privates." As the sweating, breathless beauties writhed in a series of comic antics to right themselves, it became apparent that their "inspectors" had convinced them to allow their pubic hair to be shaved off. They were left without even the "landing strip" that any self-respecting porn star would have retained. One did not have to stand very close at all to see that they were extremely aroused. All of that gaping and glistening could not possibly be accounted for by mere exertion. And on those rare occasions they allowed their breasts to separate, their "nipple hard-ons" were so pronounced that Ashley worried someone could get an eye poked if she weren't careful. They never actually broke down and started making out, but it was pretty obvious they had to put a little too much effort into restraining themselves. "They might as well be sporting erections!" Ashley said aloud. Ashley would be forced to admit, if faced with the evidence of her reactions today, that she was subject to *some* titillation over the prospect of inadvertent public nudity. But heck, who wouldn't be at least a little aroused upon finding herself stripped of all respectability and lusted after by gawkers. Add to that the fact that she had just had all of her social standing stripped away, along with her clothing, and no woman would have any choice but to respond in some way to her newfound status. The difference was that Ashley was discreet about her arousal; these two horny naked sluts obviously had no ability whatsoever to control the impression they gave to others. Ashley couldn't help laughing out loud as the two stooges put themselves through a series of pratfalls and contortions that made their previous antics look like classical ballet. The funniest part was that each of them kept blaming the other for their problems. The bozos could have gotten up easily if they simply spent two seconds coordinating their efforts. This was the final straw, decided Ashley. Any women who couldn't show each other respect and support in a situation like this had no right to the title "feminist." She couldn't believe that these exhibitionist hussies had her convinced they could protect her from a fate they ended up blundering into themselves. These two bare-ass naked...hell, they couldn't even rightly be called "women" with those little hairless pudenda. They were nothing but silly little girls who had tried to pretend to be grown up, capable, competent professionals. If Ashley looked up the definition of "boobs" in the dictionary, she would expect to find a picture of these two ditzes instead of a pair of breasts. How had she let herself be fooled like that? The only explanation was those damned "costumes" they'd been wearing. It felt silly to call them "clothes," "suits," "outfits," or any words to that effect. They had been disguises, nothing more. Part of a charade designed to cause Ashley to build up a totally unjustified confidence and sense of safety. Now that those ridiculous coverings were removed, she could see the two bumptious bumpkins for what they really were. Ashley finally realized that had to be at the cause of all of her difficulties today. Instead of relying on herself, she had been tricked into expecting to be rescued by the likes of these two feebs. She had been acting as if she were the bubble-headed damsel in distress of this story, when all this time it had been those two. Still, now that they had all been rescued, those two losers would have to have something to wear home. This crowd had had enough free entertainment for one day. Finally stepping back into her natural leadership position, Ashley managed to stifle her giggling long enough to ask: "OK now, girls, why don't you just settle your pretty little heads down and tell me what happened to those fancy little outfits you had yourselves all dressed up in before you let those naughty men take them away from you?" The two former law enforcement officials stopped their scrambling. They still had not managed to come to their feet. They compromised on a position on their knees, their breasts propped against each other for balance. If possible, their faces became even more nonplussed. One of them even stuck her lip out in a full-blown pout. Chagrined, they tried to point. Unfortunately, each girl's dainty pair of hands was cuffed just above the buttocks of the other. This meant that even in the unlikely event that a bystander had been trying to avoid looking, he would have no choice but to focus his eyes on their shapely hindquarters as the girls gestured using their fingers, heads, and pretty much every other visible part of their bodies (which, in this case, consisted of every single part there was). Following their ungainly gestures, Ashley turned to see an open-sided barrel on the street corner. There had obviously been a fire inside it very recently. Within the still-smoldering ashes, Ashley could make out the remains of some charred patent leather shoes, belts, feminine shoulder holsters, and the frame from a pair of Ray-Ban sunglasses. This was too much! Ashley doubled over at the waist and laughed uproariously until her sides hurt. The male agent finally got around to removing Ashley's handcuffs. She rubbed her wrists as she put the finishing touches on the back-handed compliment she would favor him with for *finally* getting around to freeing her. Unfortunately, she never got to deliver her "zinger" (too bad, because it was going to be a really good one), since the male agent didn't release her. Instead, he had only unlocked her cuffs so that he could move her hands to the front and lock them into the cuffs holding the two female agents together. Ashley yelled, "What? What?" (Which was not nearly as clever as what she had originally intended to say, believe me.) Leaving the three surprised women, the male agent stepped to the curb and held his earpiece as he communicated with someone out of sight. Suddenly, there was a beeping sound. The three women looked at each other. The two naked members of the trio said, simultaneously, "It wasn't me." Chagrined, Ashley realized it was her cell phone. Unfortunately, it was in the breast pocket of her blazer. Despite the stares of the onlookers, who showed no signs of dispersing, Ashley decided she could not afford to miss this call, given her recent turn of events. She bent forward to bring her chest to her hands. However, due to the unfortunate constraints she was under, this also meant bringing her face to the waists of the very, very naked women to whom she was cuffed. The two nudes looked down reproachfully at her. She looked up reproachfully at them. This was pretty much the only attempt at dignity any of them could think of under the circumstances, but Ashley seethed inside. Couldn't they see it was their nudity that was causing this situation to be so awkward? Ashley couldn't help that she had to answer her damned phone! Carefully avoiding unnecessary contact with any erogenous body parts (ok, maybe just a tiny bit *too* carefully), Ashley managed to get her phone out of her breast pocket and hold it up to her ear, still bent over at the waist, and with her face unavoidably close to the two bare backsides. She heard an urgent voice: "If you want to stay dressed, do everything I tell you." "Who are you?" Asked Ashley. "There's no time to explain. Just call me 'Jeo.' There is a problem with the program." "No fooling! I'm handcuffed to two naked women, with my face about three inches from their asses!" Ashley, realizing what she had just screamed, looked up at the crowd as apologetically as she could, given her embarrassing predicament. "No, no, that part is supposed to happen... eventually, anyway. The problem is that someone has stepped into the story from the outside. He's trying to take it over without adding any plot or subtext." "Oh, yeah, like there's just gobs of that in most of your stories to start with." "Look, we REALLY don't have time for this. If you do what I say, you will encounter some pretty dicey situations, but you'll have a fighting chance to keep your clothes on for at least a while. If you go with him, you'll be naked in seconds." "But he's already got these two stripped just about as naked as they could possibly be. Trust me, from my position, I can tell." "It doesn't matter, those are just minor characters. He doesn't care about them. It's you he's after." "Oh, great, well...OK. What do I have to do?" "You see two numbers in front of you; one is red, the other blue...."