Author: Hardguy
Title: owned (Work in Progress)
Summary: The following story is a work in progress and is presented
as is. It may be unformatted, contain misspellings, poor grammar,
half constructed thoughts, and continuity errors. Story title may be
misleading, as the plot may change during the writing process from
the initial inspiration. If anything, it is presented in an effort to
gauge reader interest.
Keywords: M/g, ped, cons, 1st, brain-washing
=====================================================================
Ron walked into the dark living room of the house...no, not
just /the/ house anymore, it was /his/ house now. A week ago, his
Great Uncle Ron, for whom he'd been named and grew to have a
relationship rivaling that of his best friend, had died. The will
was an extremely simple one, leaving everything to his namesake. At
age 25, it was a bit overwhelming to Ron for have what amounted to
another person's life just handed to him so easily. The house was a
very modest single story, 2 bed, 1 bath located in a nice part of
town. It was packed full of the kind of things that any 90-year old
bachelor would have accumulated during a lifetime of living it good.
How his great uncle managed to make it to age 90, while still
enjoying a stogie and a bottle of wine every night was a complete
mystery to Ron, but the fact that the old man had passed in his
favorite chair, TV tuned to the skin channel, cigar smoldering in the
ashtray and an empty bottle on the coffee table just served to show
others that he had at least died happy. Ron looked longingly at his
uncle's chair and felt a twinge of sadness that he was no longer
there. It was a little like a kingdom's empty throne, waiting
patiently for its new master to have a seat. 'What had once been
Ron's chair, was now Ron's chair,' he mused to himself, always
finding some degree of amusement that they shared the same first,
middle, and last name.
He turned and began to stoop into a sitting position in his
new chair, when the doorbell rang. Ron figured it was just more well
wishers or friends of his great uncle who wanted to express their
condolences. He opened the door to something of a surprise instead.
She was about 4 and a half feet tall, long brown hair, blue eyes, a
sprinkle of freckles and a cute button nose, wearing a simple
sleeveless dress. A bag was slung over her shoulder, and a manila
envelope was in her hand.
"Are you Ronald Allen Morse?" she asked in a somewhat monotone
voice.
"Yes...can I help you?" he asked her. No sooner had he
confirmed his identity, than the little girl blinked a few times,
almost like she was waking up, and then met his eyes with her own and
gave him a big smile.
"I'm home!" she said cheerily and as she did so, a black van
with tinted windows that had been parked across the street, sped away.
"Y-you're wha...huh?" Ron sputtered, moving backwards as the
girl walked into the house uninvited. She set down the bag in front
of herself, and turned to close the door behind her. She extended
her arm with the envelope to Ron, offering it to him.
"Here are my documentation and identification papers. Please
place them in a safe place," she said, her voice dropping back into
monotone only long enough to speak. "I'm hungry. Let's have lunch,
Ron!" she then said, a much more normal little girl voice.
"Who are you? What do you mean you're home?" Ron asked her,
completely confused.
"I'm yours, Ron, remember?" she said with a sweet and loving
smile. Ron looked her up and down, figuring she was about 10 years
old. She couldn't possibly be his daughter, since he had still been
a virgin about the time she would have been conceived.
"You're mine? What do you mean, you're mine?" She didn't
answer him, only blinking and giving him a pretty smile.
"Do you have a room prepared for me, or will we be sleeping
together?" she asked him, as though that was the most normal question
a pre-teen girl would ask a stranger more than twice her age. It was
Ron's turn to not answer her question. He opened up the envelope she
had handed him. Contained within was a passport, birth certificate,
Social Security documentation, immunization records, and report cards
from the local elementary school. All of them had the name Elizabeth
Paige Morse on them. The birth certificate indicated that she had
turned 11 yesterday, and that her father was, inexplicably, Ronald
Allen Morse.
Another piece of paper was contained in the envelope: an
invoice. It had no company name or address on it, but it was clearly
an invoice no matter how you looked at it. The date on it was over a
month ago, the delivery address matched his new home, and the product
detail line was simply astonishing to read.
Qty Model Price
1 Girl, 11, caucasian, brown/blue, virgin, pure $1,000,000USD
One Million Dollars. Ron couldn't believe it. Somebody had
actually purchased this child for a million dollars, or had they?
This was some kind of a joke, wasn't it? He looked at the little
face grinning up at him. She didn't look like she was related to any
of his friends, plus as far as he knew none of them had sisters this
young to play such a prank on him.
"Is something wrong, Ron?" she asked him, a glimmer of worry
on her face. "D-did I do something to upset you?"
"What's your name?" he asked her.
"Elizabeth Paige Morse," she chirped happily. If this was a
joke she was playing, he might be able to trick her into saying her
real name under pressure.
"What's your name?" he asked her again, quicker.
"Elizabeth Paige Morse..."
"What's your name?!" he practically shouted at her as soon as
she'd answered his prior question.
"E-Elizabeth Paige Morse..." she whimpered, a little
frightened. Ron took it to the next level, putting his hands on her
shoulders and shaking her as he asked again.
"WHAT IS YOUR NAME!?"
"E-ELIZABE-BETH P-PAIGE M-M-MORSE!" she screamed back at him,
bursting into tears, but doing nothing to fight back against him. He
released his grip on her, leaving her to cry quietly in front of him.
Ron realized this wasn't going to work, and looked at the invoice
again, more than a little frustrated by the situation. He scanned it
for any sort of clue as to who this girl was, and his eyes spotted
two items of interest that he had missed earlier. The first was the
spelling of his middle name, Allen. That was incorrect; his middle
name was spelled A L A N. The birth certificate was similarly
misspelled. The 2nd was a phone number. Ron needed no encouragement
to dial it.
"Please enter invoice number," prompted the pleasant female
voice. Ron found the number on the invoice and keyed it in. He
heard a click followed by a ringing tone and then a soothing male
voice spoke on the other end.
"Hello Mr. Morse. I trust you've met Elizabeth. Is she to
your liking?"
"Hello? Who is this? What the hell is going on?" Ron spoke
into the phone, a little upset at how calm and knowledgeable the man
on the other end seemed to be. There was a brief pause on the other
end before the man spoke again.
"Mr. Morse, you sound considerably younger than when we last
spoke. Perhaps I might also ask you the question 'what the hell is
going on?'" That was the moment in which the truth struck Ron, the
reason for the misspelling of his middle name, and the month old
order date on the invoice. Great Uncle Ronald A L L E N Morse.
"I-I think you have wrong person," he said. "My name is
Ronald Alan Morse too, but my great uncle, his name was also...he
died last week."
"I see Mr. Morse. That is most unfortunate. Has Elizabeth
already asked you for your name?"
"Yes."
"Did you confirm that name to her as being your own?"
"Y-yes...wh-"
"This is most unfortunate indeed. She has imprinted you as
her owner and her personality has been activated." The terminology
the man was using confused Ron. It was almost as though he was
treating the little girl wiping at her tear wetted cheeks in his
foyer as a robot.
"S-she's real...isn't she? A real person?"
"Of course she's a real person, Mr. Morse, as real as you or
I. You needn't concern yourself with this mix up any longer. I will
dispatch my men to retrieve her. Please gather Elizabeth and all
materials that she was delivered with and place her in front of your
unlocked front door. For your own safety, enter your bathroom and
wait there with the door closed and locked until the men have left.
Any attempts to contact authorities, news media or to observe
Elizabeth's repossession will result in your unfortunate death."
That was a threat, one that Ron got the feeling that he should take
very seriously. A stifled quiet sob from Elizabeth tugged at his
heart, and he wondered if her life might similarly be in danger if
she were to be taken away.
"W-what's going to happen to her?"
"As I said before, by affirming your name to her, your
likeness has been imprinted upon her mind as her owner. Despite the
fact that several master hypnotic techniques have already been used
to prepare her for serving your great uncle, it is a much more
difficult thing to reverse that programming and restore her to an
untainted state. In short, Mr. Morse, she is now used goods, and the
people I work for do not deal in used goods. She will unfortunately
have to be destroyed." The words sent a chill through Ron's soul.
He looked at the crying girl standing stock still where he had left
her, her fate in the balance. Out the window he saw a familiar black
van pull up to the house. "Now Mr. Morse, I recommend you make
yourself scarce, or there will be some very unfortunate
consequences." Ron's first instinct was to move in the direction of
the bathroom, but Elizabeth's sniffling held him in place. He now
had power over her life, and he would regret it for the rest of his
days if she were to simply vanish into nothingness.
"N-no...wait. I'll keep her," Ron spoke, with a quavering
voice, a lump rising in his throat as he stared nervous daggers at
the black van outside his window. "I can do that, right? Keep her?"
"Of course you can, Mr. Morse. Elizabeth's training and
delivery fee has already been paid, and as she has already imprinted
you as her owner, I should see no issue with her remaining in your
custody. I will remind you that any attempt to make the
circumstances of her origin known publicly will result in not only
her death, but yours as well. This phone number will also cease to
function once this call is completed. I trust that this has been an
enlightening conversation for you, and I bid you farewell." The
phone clicked as the line went dead, seconds later the van drove
away, and the most surreal 5 minutes of Ron's life came to an end.
==2==
Ron stared across the table at the newest member of his family
eating a peanut butter sandwich. His family... That was the first
pressing problem that came to his mind. What would he tell his
ACTUAL family? The funeral was in two days, and he had a brainwashed
little girl dropped in his lap. A wry smile crossed his face, as he
recalled some of the pranks that Great Uncle Ron would sometimes play
on him. In a way, this was the biggest prank ever played, and was
all by accident. Luckily for Ron, Elizabeth's fake birth certificate
named the elder Ron as father and not him. The mother's name was
somebody whom he had never heard of, and he doubted she even existed,
but there was certain to be questions about her, right?
"Elizabeth, where is your mother?" Ron figured it couldn't
hurt to ask and see what answer she gave him.
"Mommy is with the angels," she replied matter-of-factly,
licking some errant peanut butter off her fingers. Well, that solved
that problem, but what would she say about her father, considering
her programming to treat her owner as her father.
"And your father is..."
"Do you want me to call you daddy, Ron?" That was right, he
forgot that she had been calling him by his first name all this time.
No doubt that was to allow her to address her master however he
desired.
"No, I don't. You see, Elizabeth...your father...he died."
Ron approached that subject carefully, afraid of how she might react.
"...oh. Okay." That was it. That was all the response she
gave, and that was apparently all the instruction she needed on the
subject, but he wanted to make sure.
"So if somebody asks you who your dad is, what do you say?"
"My daddy is dead."
"Yes, that's right...good," Ron said, relived that she would
go along with that. He got up from his seat across from her and
checked out the bag she had brought along. It contained clothes, all
of them feminine, not a pair of pants or shorts to be found. Equally
missing was underwear. Ron was reminded of the invoice, and the word
"virgin" in the description. There were obvious sexual implications
there, and Ron wondered if Elizabeth was intended to be a sex slave
for his great uncle, or if she was to be something more domestic with
a little fun to be had on the side. He heard the clinking of a plate
being set by the sink, and Elizabeth came to join him.
"Can I see where I'll be staying now, Ron?" Ron didn't really
know where she'd be staying, but he knew there was an extra room, its
contents practically unknown to him.
"Sure, let's go take a look," he answered her, and picked up
her bag. Leading her down the hall to the closed door, the one room
of the house that he'd never been in, and one that Great Uncle Ron
had never allowed him inside. Turning the doorknob, he held his
breath, a little excited himself. For all he knew, it was a
cluttered storage room. As it turned out he was half right. The
room had several boxes in it, the great majority of them containing
furniture that you might expect to be found in the bedroom of a young
girl.
"Ron...my bed is in a box still," she said a little forlornly
after walking into the room. "All my stuff is in boxes..." she
turned to look at him. "Where will I sleep, Ron?"
Unlike her bedroom, the master bedroom was not boxed up, and
the bed was just as Great Uncle Ron had left it, unmade, but able to
serve its purpose. "Here, I guess," Ron said. Elizabeth walked up
to the bed slowly, looking it over.
"Are you going to sleep here too?" she asked him.
"I was, but I can just sleep on the couch until we get your
room set up," Ron answered.
"Oh," she answered with disappointment tugging at the tone of
her voice. "Will you sleep with me instead?" she asked next, as she
sat down on the corner of the bed. Ron felt his stomach turn, not in
disgust so much as in fear. She was looking at him expectantly.
"N-not tonight, Elizabeth," he answered her, thinking again
about the distinct lack of underwear in her packed belongings. Come
to think of it, he didn't recall seeing any sleepwear either.
"Oh," she responded again, just as glum as she had been the
first time. "I need to use the bathroom." She stood up from the
bed, quietly walked past Ron, likely headed for the bathroom just
down the hall.
Ron heaved a sigh, and took a seat on the bed himself. The
implication in her request was clear, considering everything he'd
observed about her up to now, but it also was a reasonable request
that a scared young girl who was now living with a complete stranger
might make. He was also worried about his own reaction to her
request, as he had actually considered it for a moment.
A sound caught his attention, that of running water, but it
wasn't the sound of a toilet flushing like he had expected, but of
the bathtub filling. Curious, he got up from the bed and went to see
for himself, and was greeted at the open bathroom doorway by
Elizabeth's naked backside as she leaned over the side of the tub.
"Elizabeth, what are you doing?" he asked, raising his hand to block
her body from view. The little girl turned to look at him and turned
to face him, making no move to cover her nude front.
"I'm taking my bath before bed, Ron," she answered matter-of-
factly. She stood frozen, like a statue, arms at her side,
completely devoid of shame. Ron slowly lowered his arm and took in
the view. She had the body one would expect from a 11-year old girl.
Her chest was flat, with just slight puffy growth under her pink
nipples and areolae. Her waist and hips were similarly undeveloped
and measured roughly the same, and her buttocks were yet to show
signs of hormonally triggered growth. Between her legs sat her
hairless mound and round edged soft looking labia. Ron couldn't deny
that her nude body was a pleasant sight, but he wasn't exactly
attracted to her despite the erection.
"Elizabeth, aren't you...embarrassed?" he asked her.
"Should I be?" she asked him right back, as though she hadn't
considered it before. This had to be some of that 'hypnotic
techniques' the guy on the phone had mentioned, Ron thought.
"Y-yeah, you should be," he told her, and like that her
demeanor changed. Her body twisted slightly to the side as her
thighs pressed together and she placed both hands over her bare
crotch. Her head tilted forward and she looked to the floor, as
though she were now embarrassed to be seen. Ron wondered if she was
just doing what he asked of her, and added, "Just a little
embarrassed, I mean." One hand moved away from hiding her sex, and
she squared her hips toward him once again. "No...you shouldn't be
embarrassed at all," he said next, and she moved her remaining hand
away and lifted her head to look at him, once again a fully frontal
nude exposure without a hint of modesty.
He walked slowly towards her, as though she were a wounded
animal, her eyes staying on him. He only stopped moving forward when
his next step was sure to knock her over, and any other normal person
would have probably taken a step backward. He got down on his knees,
putting equaling his eyelevel to hers, and then sat back on his
heels. "Move your legs apart," he told her, and she moved each bare
little foot away from the other, widening the space between her
thighs and exposing more the furrow of her privates. He looked up at
her eyes, and she was staring back at him, almost startlingly so.
Ron, who had wondered just far this exhibitionism and control of her
body could be taken, had his next instruction catch in his throat as
he felt a pang of guilt in his chest. "Elizabeth," he said slowly,
not breaking eye contact with her, "what are you doing?"
"I'm taking my bath before bed, Ron," she answered, just as
she had done the first time he asked her, as though his instructions
didn't even make an impression on her.
"Go ahead then. Take your bath," he told her, and without a
word in response she turned around and got into the tub. Ron sat
there a moment on his heels, watching as she worked shampoo into her
long brown hair like nothing unusual had just happened. He got to
his feet, and looked down at her, naked and wet and soapy, as though
she had no audience. "Go right to bed when you're done," he told her.
"Ok, Ron," she answered, looking up at him with a smile. Ron
turned and took half a step, before realizing he ought to correct
what he just told her to do.
"When you're done, dry yourself off first, and then go right
to bed."
"Ok, Ron," she answered him again, whereas a normal girl her
age might have laughed at the implication that she wouldn't have
dried herself off. Ron felt sad for her, and wondered if she had any
free will or thought of her own anymore.
Leaving the bathroom, he went to his great uncle's study and
wondered if there would be any kind of a clue or hint to this strange
situation at all. He pulled Elizabeth's invoice out his pocket and
looked at it again.
Qty Model Price
1 Girl, 11, caucasian, brown/blue, virgin, pure $1,000,000USD
So much about it was just...unfathomable. From the details
under 'model' to that price. A million dollars? Where had Great
Uncle Ron gotten that kind of money? How in the hell had he even
ordered her in the first place? Was he into little girls like
Elizabeth? Where did she even come from? Was she kidnapped? He
looked at the ancient computer on the desk, one that still used dial-
up to get online. His great uncle never really embraced the
technology, so Ron wondered if he would find anything on there at
all. He supposed there was really only one way to find out, and
pressed the power button. It didn't turn on.
"Great," Ron said, sitting back in the chair dejectedly. He
had a friend who knew a thing or two about computers, and decided to
take it over there tomorrow to see if it was a lost cause or not. He
glanced at the invoice again and saw the phone number on it. That
reminded him that there was somebody that he should probably call,
since Elizabeth likely would not be able to remain hidden. He
reached for the old rotary phone sitting on the desk, and started
dialing.
"Hello?"
"Hi mom, it's me. Um, this might sound a little strange, but
did Uncle Ron have any kids?"
"Kids?! No, none that I know of. Why did you find something
at his house that said he did?" Ron's mother asked.
"Uh, well, not 'something,' but 'someone,'" Ron answered her,
and then told her what had happened, leaving out of course the whole
shady death threat stuff as well as skipping over Elizabeth's lack of
modesty and pliable nature. As expected, his mother was shocked, but
when he read off the name of Elizabeth's mother from the birth
certificate that seemed to ring a bell.
"Betty Morse? You know, I do remember meeting some woman by
that name some years back...she was...oh, gosh, who was she...but I
do remember meeting her at Ron's office! Oh my gosh, Uncle Ron you
dog!" Ron's mother chuckled on the other end of the line. "She was
young and pretty, but...she was YOUNG-young," she emphasized the
word. "Couldn't have been older than 16 or 17 at the time, and this
little Elizabeth is 11?"
"Yeah, birthday was yesterday," Ron added.
"Hmm, well, I guess that follows then, since, well, I'm not
real sure of when I met her, but it was probably at least 15 years
ago. Well, isn't that something."
"Yeah, it's something alright," Ron said wryly, his finger
tapping upon the invoice.
"What are you going to do about her?"
"Do? Uh, well, like I said, Uncle Ron seemed to be expecting
her, you know, with the room he seemed to be setting up, so I guess
she'll stay here," he answered, truthfully not really having given
much thought to it before now.
"Ron, are you saying you are going to raise this girl?" his
mother asked, skepticism in her voice.
"Well I'm not going to just kick her out. She's a little
girl, mom. Seems kind of cruel to send her to an orphanage or
something now that she's here," Ron answered, scrambling just a
little. He had a feeling that if she was taken away, her origins
might eventually be revealed, and Ron did not want to see that black
van pull up outside his house again. "She seems kind of attached to
me too, since, you know, I've got the same name as her dad. She's
really well behaved too, and does everything I tell her. It
shouldn't be too hard, especially with what Uncle Ron has left me."
"I don't know. Adolescence for girls is a lot different than
it is for boys. Just wait until 'it' starts and she gets all moody
on you."
"Ugh, great Mom, just what I wanted to think about now," Ron
put his hand to his head and rubbed his temples. He glanced at the
clock. "Look, it's getting late. I'm gonna put her to bed, and
sleep on the couch. Could you watch her for a bit tomorrow? Uncle
Ron's computer doesn't seem to be working, and I'm gonna take it to
somebody." His mom agreed, and Ron hung up the phone.
Returning to the bathroom, he found the tub, still full of
water, but missing Elizabeth. A wet towel lay next to her discarded
clothes on the floor. Ron pulled the plug on the drain and went to
the bedroom where he saw a little girl shaped lump under the blankets
in the dark room. Seemed Elizabeth put herself to bed without him.
She seemed oddly capable on her own for some things, like drawing a
bath and going to bed, but she had needed him to make her the
sandwich she ate earlier. He closed the bedroom door and headed for
the couch.
==3==
Hushed noises of movement woke Ron from his slightly
uncomfortable slumber on the couch. Light was coming in from the
windows, and the digital clock on the VCR under the TV displayed that
it was indeed morning. Footsteps were heard in the kitchen, a sort
of gentle slapping upon the linoleum, followed by the sound of a
chair being dragged over the floor. He got up, assuming that the
source of the noise was Elizabeth.
When he rounded the corner, he saw that it was indeed
Elizabeth, and nothing but Elizabeth. The naked 11-year old was
standing on a chair getting a bowl out of the cupboard. "What are
you doing?" he asked her, putting up his arm reflexively to block her
nudity from his sight. His voice startled her, and she nearly
dropped the bowl.
"Oh! Good morning, Ron!" she said cheerily, getting down from
the chair with the bowl. "I was just getting a bowl for some
cereal." She stood before him, naked like it was normal.
"No, I mean, what are you doing naked like that?" he rephrased
the question.
"I just haven't gotten dressed yet," she answered, and then
set the bowl on the table and then dragged the chair over to reach
the cupboard where the cereal was kept.
"Well can you put some on?" he asked her, a little
exasperated. She already had one foot up on the chair when he said
that, and abruptly stopped her ascent to go up the stairs to her room
where her backpack and clothes were. This sudden change in action
upon his instruction did not go unnoticed by Ron. She was being
perfectly obedient, just like in the bathroom.
He waited for her in the kitchen, and when she reappeared, now
wearing a t-shirt and shorts, he decided to test this. "Elizabeth,"
he said, and she stopped midstep and turned to look at him. "Take
your shorts off." Without protest or change in expression, she
pushed her shorts down her legs and stepped out of them, her bald
mound on full display. There was a short pause, as though she were
waiting for something more, and then she resumed her prior action of
climbing on the chair. He watched her do this, and as she got down
with the box of raisin bran (the only cereal in the house), he said
her name again. "Elizabeth." The half-nude girl stopped and looked
at him. "Put your shorts on."
She set the box of cereal down on the floor, walked over to
where her shorts had been left, and pulled them up her legs. Again,
for a moment, she looked at him expectantly before going back to the
box. "Elizabeth." She stopped. "Push your shorts down." She did.
His next order seemed to stick in his brain for a second, as he
weighed the morals and ethics of it over in his head, but he was
genuinely curious if she would do it. "Touch yourself." She raised
her arm up and pressed a finger into her cheek. "No, not there. I
meant between your legs." Any normal girl her age probably would
have hesitated, but Elizabeth just lowered her arm and pressed her
finger into her labia. Ron realized how literal she was taking his
orders, as she stood there, shorts around her ankles, and finger
motionless against her sex. He felt his cock pulse and his mouth get
dry as he specified the order for her. "Masturbate."
Her eyes never left his face as she started to rub herself,
standing in the kitchen, next to a box of cereal. He studied her
face for any sign that she didn't want to be doing this and saw no
sign of fear or embarrassment. "What are you doing?" he asked her.
"I'm rubbing my pussy," she answered, her use of the slang a
little jarring, but he supposed maybe not unexpected for her age.
"Why?"
"I want to." That answer surprised him.
"Why do you want to?"
"I just want to."
"It is because I told you to do it?"
"I want to."
"You want to do anything I say?"
"I'm being a good girl for you."
Ron got the feeling that this kind of questioning could go on
for quite a while. "Ok, stop. Pull up your shorts, and eat your
cereal." Elizabeth, like the brainwashed doll that she was, bent
over and pulled her shorts up, and picked up the cereal box, then
carried it over to the table, where she set it down. Ron turned to
leave the kitchen when he noticed that she had left the table and
went to the sink where she began to wash her hands. "Why are you
washing your hands?" he asked her.
"I was touching my pussy, so I need to wash them before I
eat," she replied, giving a sensible answer for once.
"I didn't tell you to do that though," he said to himself, not
intending for her to be addressed by that statement, so her reaction
took him by complete surprise.
"D-does that mean I'm being a bad girl?" she asked him with a
tremor in her voice. He looked at her face and saw that she seemed
terrified and about to cry.
"N-no! You're a good girl, Elizabeth! You're not doing
anything wrong!" he assured her, himself feeling panicked at how her
mood changed so quickly based on his comment. The fear seemed to
just melt away from her face now that he had passed positive judgment
on her uninstructed actions, and she resumed washing her hands. Two
more quirks about her behavior were clear now though. She was
capable of doing common sense things that went along with her
instructions, in this case washing her hands before eating, and also
that she had a desire to be 'good' for him. He was simultaneously
impressed and terrified of whatever process had made her like this.
After breakfast, he loaded the computer into his car, and set
out to take Elizabeth to his mother, but there was a very necessary
stop to make first.
"What are we doing here, Ron?" she asked him when he parked at
the department store.
"We are buying you some underwear," he answered.
"Oh," she said rather emotionless, but once they were inside
she was whistling a very different tune.
"Gawd, this sooo embarrassing," she said quietly for the
umpteenth time, as they walked through the store, a plastic wrapped
pack of underwear in her hands. No matter how he looked at her, she
was acting just like a normal preteen who was being taken panty
shopping. Ron could only wonder if this was part of her programming
too, so that she wouldn't seem strange to others in public. At the
same time, he also wondered if she could be ordered in public like
she could be at home. He knew he probably shouldn't tell her to
start masturbating in the middle of the store though.
"Elizabeth," he said quietly, glancing around to see if
anybody would hear him before continuing. "Rub your privates a
little bit." He saw her glance around first, and then she very
subtlety rubbed herself between the legs, as though she had an itch.
Even though she had been ordered, she had some situational awareness
before following through.
They paid for her new panties and returned to the car. Once
in the car he told her to put them on, and saw her look around.
"Somebody might see me," she responded. Sure enough, there
were people walking to and from their cars around them.
"Ok, put on your seatbelt," he told her, and started up the
car. He drove just around the side of the building towards the back
where the loading docks were. "Now, put your panties on," he told
her. Again, she looked around first.
"Somebody might see me," was her reply. Ron looked around and
saw nobody.
"There's nobody to see you here."
"But we're outside." It was the most resistance he'd gotten
from her regarding an order.
"Elizabeth, be a good girl for me, and put your underwear on."
Those seemed to be the magic words, as she promptly pushed her shorts
down in the car without checking he surroundings. She struggled for
a moment to get the shorts off over her shoes, but succeeded and then
pulled at the plastic packaging while half nude to get her underwear.
Ron caught himself gazing between her thighs. He felt that he really
shouldn't do so, but that Elizabeth wouldn't care if he did or
didn't. In her altered mind, her naked body was his to see all he
wanted.
He felt his erection pulse into full hardness, as it had done
every other time her body was on display. He had never really been
into girls as young as her, only really getting turned on by the
bodies of his female classmates when he neared high school. Sure, he
jerked it to fantasies of numerous girls in middle school, what boy
didn't when they were that age and started seeing those little
seductive lumps on their chests, but actual lusting after girls took
a few more years for him. He lost his virginity at 17 to a rather
drunk girl a year younger than him, but who had a mature body with
curves and hair where Elizabeth lacked those things. 'Virgin,' her
invoice had said on it. There was only one reason that would matter
in a product description.
Pink cotton slid up and covered her pouty mound, molding
itself to the shape between her hips. A pair of shorts soon joined
her panties, and Elizabeth sat back in her seat, dressed once again.
"Itchy," she said, scratching herself in a rather unladylike way.
"They'll be softer after we wash them later," Ron told her, as
he started the car up. "But you need to wear them. It would be too
hard to explain why you're going commando if my mom found out you
weren't wearing any."
As he drove to his mother's house, he thought about his mom
finding out other things about Elizabeth. "Elizabeth, if my mom asks
you what you did today in the kitchen, what would you tell her?"
"I'd tell her I climbed up on a chair to get a bowl and ate
cereal."
"What if I asked you what you did in the kitchen?"
"I'd tell you that I climbed on a chair to get a bowl, and you
told me to get down from the chair and get dressed, then you told me
to take off my shorts, then you told me to put them back on, then you
told me to push my shorts down, then you told me to touch myself,
then you told me to touch myself between my legs, then you told me to
masturbate, then you told me to-"
"Ok! That's enough." It was pretty clear to Ron at that
point, that Elizabeth was good at keeping the important parts secret.
"Why wouldn't you tell her the other stuff, though?"
"I don't want to tell her that stuff."
"Why?"
"Because I'm a good girl for you." There was that answer
again. It seemed to be the limit of how Elizabeth was able to
explain her strange behavior.
As he pulled into his mother's driveway, she came out of the
house to greet them, though Ron knew it was only because of how
curious she was of Elizabeth. His mom was not quite 50, though she
lived life pretty hard up until Ron was born. It was Great Uncle Ron
who had, quite literally, slapped some sense into her when she got
pregnant, and convinced her to turn her life around for her child's
sake. It was that kind of guiding influence that had prompted her to
name Ron after her uncle.
"Why hello there," she said, bending over to talk to
Elizabeth, in that somewhat condescending manner adults sometimes had
with children. "You must be Elizabeth. My name is Kim. I'm Ron's
mommy, and also your cousin."
"Uh, hi," Elizabeth responded, some uneasy and slightly
dismissive sass in the tone of her voice. Ron wondered if this was
her public persona just like back in the store.
"Hey, manners," he scolded her, and rather than an instant
personality adjustment like he would have expected when they were
alone, she sighed in annoyance.
"Pleased to meet you," she said, a tad sarcastically.
"Yes, well, why don't you go on inside, Elizabeth. I need to
have a word with my son," his mother said, sounding like she was
holding back an opinion or two about the little girl. Before she
could move, Ron put his hand on Elizabeth's shoulder.
"Elizabeth, be good," he told her, and could see in her eyes
that this time the message was conveyed.
"I'm sorry," she said, properly cowed, and went into the house.
"Sorry, Mom," Ron said. "She's been so good and polite with
me. I don't know what got into her."
"Still sure you're going to take care of her?" his mom asked.
"Yeah. I'm sure she's just adjusting to things, you know?
New places, new people."
"Well, I will tell you this, she's got a resemblance to
Grams," his mother said. Grams was Ron's great-grandmother, and the
mother of Great Uncle Ron. Ron was born well after she had passed.
"Really? So they really are related," he mused.
"What do you mean?"
"O-oh, just that, you know, this is such a crazy situation, I
thought maybe there was a mistake or something," he said, covering
for his real thoughts. Why, if this girl really was Great Uncle
Ron's daughter, had she apparently been sold to him for a million
dollars as brainwashed living sex doll?
"I have a picture of her somewhere. I'll find it and show it
to you when you come back for her. You will come back for her, won't
you?"
"Yes, mom. Jeez, she really won't be a problem at all. I
told her to behave, and she will. She was a little cold towards me
too at first." That wasn't a lie, as Elizabeth had been practically
robotic until he accidentally became her owner.
"Well, alright, I guess. I hope you can get Uncle Ron's
computer to work for you."
"Yeah, hopefully I can find something on there that sheds some
light on this whole thing." He hugged his mother, and glanced up at
the windows of her home. Elizabeth was standing there, watching,
looking a little like a lost puppy. He waved at her, turned, and
left, hoping that something didn't go wrong.
Roughly 10 minutes later, he was pulling into the space in
front of his friend Mark's small computer repair shop. "Wow, that is
an old one!" Mark exclaimed as Ron hauled the computer inside.
"I told you I had something interesting, didn't I?"
"Well, let's see what I can do with it." Mark took the cover
off and whistled at the buildup of dust inside. He didn't even
bother trying to turn it on, and instead removed the hard drive from
the case. He attached it to another computer sitting nearby, and
made a copy of it, which didn't take long at all, since the drive's
capacity was barely larger than a common CD-ROM.
"This OS," Mark remarked, "I don't know if I could boot it.
It's probably not Y2K compatible, so it might get confused or
corrupted if it was booted on any modern system. I think I can load
it up in a VM with the date rolled back though and it will be ok."
Ron just nodded as though he had any idea what that meant. Mark did
it though, and soon they were looking at what had passed for a modern
computer desktop more than a decade in the past.
"Ok, so, um, can we see the e-mails?" Ron asked.
"Uhh, well," Mark said hesitantly and started to click on
things. "Probably not. See that?" he pointed at a triangle shaped
icon on the screen. The name under it sounded vaguely familiar to
Ron. "That's the ISP, and back then e-mails weren't downloaded by
separate programs or viewed in a web browser. They were viewed
through the ISP's program, and this ISP hasn't been around
for...well, at least 10 years or so."
"So no e-mails?"
"No e-mails. Sorry."
"Ok," Ron sighed. "How about documents? Spreadsheets? Word
processor stuff?"
"That I think I can do. Let's see...he's using that business
software suite there, so..." Mark's fingers flew over the keyboard
and opened up a window with a directory tree. He studied it for a
moment, and then started clicking with the mouse as though some
unheard voice was telling him where to go. It worked though, and a
list of files, their filenames limited to only 8 letters and a 3
letter extension, came up. "Those look like word processor files,
and," a few more clicks and another list of files appeared, "those
should be some spreadsheets."
"Awesome. Um...are there any pictures on there?" Ron asked.
"You mean like porn?" Mark replied with a smirk. "Just
kidding. No, probably not. Personal pictures weren't really common
on computers like this one. I can run just a basic search for common
file extensions though." As he had expected though, the search
returned nothing but the default wallpapers for the OS.
"Damn. So, is that it then?" Ron asked.
"It?"
"Yeah, I mean, there's nothing else on here that might be some
personal files or anything?"
"Hmm," hmm'd Mark, and went back to the directory tree. He
scanned his eyes over it, and then leaned in and squinted at
something. "That's a little strange." He brought his mouse to a
directory named 'RAM.'
"What?" Ron asked suddenly excited that this might be
something.
"Well, all the other folders here are pretty common place in a
default installation, but this one sticks out. I wonder if it's a
RAM management program or something." He clicked on it and Ron
realized the letters R-A-M in this case did not stand for Random
Access Memory.
"Ronald Allen Morse," he said aloud.
"Oh yeah, your uncle's initials," Mark chimed in, catching on.
"But...there's nothing there." Sure enough, the directory came up
empty.
"Damn it!" Ron exclaimed, surprising Mark.
"Whoa, what's got you so worked up? Is there something
specific you're looking for?" he asked. Ron hadn't told him about
Elizabeth when he called earlier to arrange to bring the computer
over.
"Yeah. It turned out he had a daughter that nobody knew
about, and I was hoping to find out more about her. I also found
some hints that he had a lot more money than any of us knew."
"Huh. Well, if it's any consolation, I don't think this
computer has been used in about 5 years." Mark went back to where
the word processor documents were. "See, look at the timestamps.
Kinda impressive that he was still using this thing even 5 years ago."
"I guess," Ron sighed, feeling defeated. "So can I open up
those old files on my laptop or something?"
"Yeah. I'll copy them onto a thumb drive for you. Hang on."
Mark got up and went to find a thumb drive, leaving Ron with the
computer. He put his hand on the mouse and scrolled through the file
list. A lot of them were abbreviated titles, necessary due to the
limitations of the old system. Things like 'momltr01' or 'lilron.'
That one actually caught his eye, since he remembered being
called Lil' Ron a time or two growing up. He checked the date on the
file, and saw that he would have been 9 at the time it was last
modified. He double clicked on the file, but instead of it opening
like he was accustomed to on a modern computer, a small box came up
that indicated that the type of the file was unknown and so it
couldn't be opened.
"What are you doing?" Mark asked, coming back.
"Oh, I was just trying to open this one. I think it's about
me, but this says it can't open it for some reason." Ron got up from
the chair, allowing Mark to sit.
"Oh, that's just because the filename doesn't have an
extension on it. That's just how things worked back then, and really
that's how they work now, only it's kind of hidden now." Mark seemed
to freeze as he sat down. "Hidden," he said, with revelation in his
voice. "Maybe that's why..."
"'Why' what?" Ron asked as he watched Mark navigate back to
the empty 'RAM' folder. Mark didn't answer, but instead went to the
menu and found the option to show hidden files. A list of files
appeared in the previously empty directory. "He marked the files as
hidden. That's why it looked empty," Mark explained. Ron leaned in
and his eyes widened as he saw that one of the files was named
'lileliza' with a last modified date of about 10 years ago.
"That's it! You found it!" Ron clapped his friend on the
back, who started to copy the files to the little USB drive. After
getting a short tutorial on how to open the files up on his laptop,
Ron was back out on the road to pick up Elizabeth.
Just as he had hoped, things were calm and pleasant between
his mom and her young cousin. "She's been an absolute delight since
you scolded her," his mother informed him, as Elizabeth stood
remorsefully by her side. "Also, here is that picture of Grams I
told you about," she said, handing over a faded photograph of a young
girl. Ron took it and was stunned. Elizabeth really was the
spitting image of her grandmother.
"Wow. That's pretty astonishing," he agreed.
"Did you find what you were looking for on his computer?" his
mother asked.
"Yeah. He had some hidden files on there, and one of them was
named 'lileliza.' I'm gonna swing by home and get my laptop, and
start looking through them later tonight." He looked to Elizabeth.
"Are you ready to go?"
"Yes, Ron," she said with a smile. A round of farewells
followed, and they departed for Ron's small apartment.
"So, how'd it go?" Ron asked Elizabeth. "She ask you anything
strange or suspicious?"
"It was fine. Your mom was nice. These panties itch," she
replied, and put her hand into her shorts to scratch.
"I know, sorry. You can take them off at my apartment while I
get a few things, ok?"
=====================================================================
***This marks the end of current progress on 'owned,' as of 17 April
2015.***
Current word count: 8,075
Current page count (in MS Word): 18