Morning, and the house seemed free of mysterious lingerie, so Isis and I settled down to our breakfast bowls. I was pretty sure the two of them were still in Martin's room, but they were quiet. I found myself tiptoeing about the apartment. I really didn't want to talk with them. I didn't want to know any more about it. I just wanted to go to work and live my life, such as it was. The sense of "something strange" that had settled over our apartment like a thundercloud was something I preferred to avoid.

But as I was getting ready to go out the door, Annie emerged from Martin's room, all dressed and ready for the world. She breezed past me, all rosy cheeks and good cheer. She practically skipped down our stairs and out into the world. I didn't see a glimpse of Martin.

But as I walked down to the subway stop, a disturbing image kept passing through my head. As she had hurried past me, Annie had flashed me a big, warm smile. She seemed terribly happy, but she also seemed, well, different. Not quite the Annie Moore I recalled from before, from even the day before. Had she changed her hairdo? Had she put in extensions to make her hair longer? Was she wearing padding or something to make her breasts look bigger?

Annie Moore was a beautiful girl, but she had always struck me as small breasted, even petite. But this morning, it seemed to me that she had large breasts, the kind of rounded breasts that you mostly saw on TV or in magazines. And it was more than just her breasts - Annie was pretty enough before, but this morning she had seemed prettier. Well, perhaps not prettier, maybe "sexier" was a better word. It was an impression that stuck with me, lingering around me like perfume.

I didn't get a lot of work done that day.

When I got home, I could hear Martin in his room. I was kind of afraid to go talk to him, but some things you just cant walk away from. I had to know what was happening.

"Heya Lou!" he called out when I tapped at his door, and there he was, sitting at his computers. The room was dark, his face stenciled with haphazard, reverse images cast from the various screens before him. He looked up at me with a smile, and I was shocked to see that he was almost a stranger to me. Even hunched over his keyboards, his posture as bad as ever, but he looked a bigger somehow. It was as if he had suddenly gotten a lot healthier. Even his patchwork complexion seemed to have cleared up cleared up overnight. His arms and shoulders seemed more muscular, his hair darker and thinker. But his smile still had that weird cross of shame and sneer, and it was, without a doubt, my Martin. I couldn't help but wonder if was doing some kind drugs or steroids.

Or was he just exuding an awful lot of confidence suddenly? It seemed to me that a sudden change in his sex life might cause him to blossom just like that.

"S'up Martin," I said, "you've been a busy boy lately."

"Oh I have, I have indeed, indeed" he said, nodding, his movements were as awkward and jerky as ever. I found it terribly comforting. "And you're noticing the changes, aren't you Lou? But of course, you have no real idea what's going on."

I didn't like the way he said that. "Maybe you'd like to clue me in?"

"I will do that, I totally will do that," he said, his head bobbing. "Its all too good to be hush-hush about." As he spoke, he was typing furiously. I didn't recognize the program he was working in though.

"Lou, have you ever heard of Master PC?"

"Doesn't ring a bell."

"No, reason why should. No reason at all. But I've heard of it, you see, I read about it. It's this sort of urban legend - a magic computer program that lets you control people, it lets you control their minds and even their bodies. It's a sort of modern adolescent power fantasy. Beats Superman to hell. It shows up in a whole series of porn stories, you can read them on the net, if you look for mind control fetish stuff. But that's not really the way you bend, is it Lou?"

Our lifelong acquaintance meant that Martin and I knew entirely too much about each other. Or so we both imagined.

"Anyway, what matters is, no one really believes in Master PC, it's just a sort of open source porn seed. Everyone takes a turn and tries to right their own master PC story. Collect them all."

He turned to look right at me, and I was startled at how intense he was. "But its real Lou, it's real, and it's mine. I found a copy, a real copy, and I've started to learn to use it. It's a bit more complicated than it sounds in the stories, but it works, it really really works."

I was lost, but I tried to be encouraging. "And this Master PC software lets you do what, exactly?"

"Whatever I want, whatever," and then he smiled at me, but it was a new smile, not at all self effacing; it was all wolf and shark. Not my Martin at all. "Lou," he said, and now his voice took on a weird new gravity, "I want you to go open the door."

I shrugged and did as he asked. Annie Moore was just coming up the stairs and I let her in. She still looked ravishing, and she was dressed differently than before, with a very short skirt, high heels, and tight, low cut blouse under her coat. It was a sluttier, more obvious look for her, Annie was usually a very stylish dresser. The idea that she was dressing this way for Martin just piled the surreal on the surreal.

"Martin, Annie, come in here." Annie seemed eager to obey, trotting down the hallway to Martin's room. She literally threw herself at his feet, getting on her knees to kiss his hairy toes through his sandals, and then looking up at him with all the adoration of a happy cocker spaniel.

Her display of love and devotion was overpowering. Like too much sugar in your coffee, it was much to much of a beautiful thing, like a parody of love.

Martin smiled at her and reached down to stroke her hair, and I could see Annie shiver with delight. You could see the goose-bumps cross her skin in waves. He fondled her like she was a blow up doll, and I swear, she actually wept with gratitude. Tears dripped down her face. And then I saw other fluids run down her legs. Had I really just watched her wet herself with love and excitement?

Ok, I'm slow on the uptake, but not that slow. Whatever this "Master PC" thing was, Annie Moore really had been changed into some kind of sex kitten, the sort of character that a porn star would portray in a movie. A badly written movie. And Martin? Martin was something else altogether.

He saw me staring at him, and untangled himself from the eager Annie to stand up. With a grin, he pulled off his T-shirt.

His body was wonderful, a nicely shaped example of the male from. He was young and strong and vital. Abs by Michelangelo.

Then he pulled down his pants. He wasn't wearing underwear, but he was, to be blunt, rather well endowed. His penis filled with virility as we watched, until it was, as the pulp writers would say, a proud scepter. It was bit too big to be believed. But there it was, an erection like a steel bar.

I couldn't help but see how entranced Annie was, she stared at Martin and his cock with obvious worship. I rather thought she was going to pass out, she was so excited. Still on her knees, she moved forward, and Martin reached down with one powerful hand to guide her mouth to him. He was probably too big for to go down on him properly, but he seemed to enjoy the attention.

"Well Lou, well, what do you think?" Martin closed his eyes for a moment to enjoy the feel of Annie's tongue and lips on his cock.

"I think your cock is a bit too big to be practical" I said, and Martin laughed.

"You always think you're so smart, don't you Lou? Well, let's see how smart you are. Why don't you just stand there, OK? Stand there and watch us."

He pulled Annie's hair and she followed his lead obediently, surrendering her grip on his cock and turning around. Instinctively, on hands and knees, she lowered her head and braced herself as he lined himself up. I watched as he got on his own knees and pulled her up against him, his cock finding its way into her. I wasn't sure her pussy would take quite that much manhood, but it did, and her eyes glazed over like he was made of heroin. She began to cry out, over and over, a sort of sing-song that could be pain, or torment, or ecstasy, or all three.

He kept pulling her to him until he was deep inside her, and then he paused for a moment. He seemed to have forgotten me completely. Then he gently eased out, and not so gently, back in again. And then again, this time more violently. And suddenly he was fucking her like an earthquake fucks a small town, all jackhammer and crashing rocks.

He must have fucked her like that for five or ten minutes. Sweat poured off of them, and I could see deep bruises on her hips from the way his hands gripped her, but neither showed any sign of giving up. Did she cum? I couldn't tell. She might have been coming the whole time, from the looks on her face.

And I wondered at my own lack of volition. Why was I just standing here in the doorway, watching? Martin's display was impressive, but why did he need me? Was I the audience for his performance?

But for whatever reason, I did not move. I stood there and watched Martin and his superhuman coupling with the transformed Ms. Moore.

And then, finally, he was done. He pulled his huge organ out of Annie and sat back in his chair to relax. She dropped to the floor like she was comatose. I wondered if she was ok.