Master PC: The Artifact
Sequoia’s fingers touched the plastic bottom of the storage tote, striking out again. Two more similar totes sat in the middle of the floor, their contents strewn around her like an animal making a nest. A nest of cables, wires, half-assembled computer cases, and hard drives replaced long ago, yet saved ‘just in case.’
She pulled the last tote from the back of her office closet and found what she was looking for under her old laptop with the cracked screen. Holding the book-shaped object above her head triumphantly, Sequoia riffled through the cables and cords surrounding her until she found both dongles she’d need to make it work.
Sequoia scooted her chair closer to the desk and started plugging things in. She tried to keep her expectations low—the CD had been sitting in their basement for at least twenty years, after all. She’d found it while doing some demolition for her partner’s latest project—a home theater. Martin said it was for their regular movie night cuddling time, but she knew he would primarily use the room to watch “the game” in peace. She was halfway down the wall, busting open sheetrock with a hammer when she saw it. An old ‘jewel case,’ clear plastic, covered in sticky dust like a relic from a bygone era. It was a time of Blockbuster and landlines when the internet was brand new and so slow that people still used CDs and floppy disks to transfer software.
“Thank goodness it’s not a floppy disk,” Sequoia thought. “I’d have had to get that old Gateway running again.”
After nearly an hour of configuring drivers and pass-throughs, Sequoia got the emulator to read the disc. A pixelated logo flashed on the screen, matching the title written on the plastic disc in permanent marker: Master PC.
Sequoia leaned back in her chair. It was real. The application she’d read about years ago in fiction was much smuttier than the books Martin knew about. The kind of fiction you only find on internet forums and websites a wise person only visits in incognito mode. And it had been in their house all this time! A single text box appeared on the screen with the label “Subject.”
She typed in Martin’s full name and pressed enter. The screen flickered a few times, then showed a 3D rendering of her partner. To call the graphics “PS2 quality” would have been generous. The model of Martin stood with its legs apart and arms held out to the sides, rotating slowly. Along the side of the screen was a list of stats: Height, 5’9’, Hair, brown, Weight, 168lbs, and so on. Sequoia hoped the graphical interface would be interactive, but there were no sliders or buttons to adjust these numbers, just a flashing cursor at the bottom of the emulator window.
Sequoia’s mind raced with possibilities. She could make him a little taller or more muscular. For a split second, she considered giving Martin a nice little beer belly but pushed the thought away. The obvious ethical implications came crashing into her little fantasy, and she typed “exit” into the prompt.
The logo and “Subject” prompt reappeared, and she typed in her own name. Blonde, 5’1, 103lbs, 32-30-34. Once again, the options reeled in her mind. She tried a few small experiments. “Sequoia’s hair is one inch longer.” She jumped up from her chair to look in the mirror, and her blonde bob was indeed a little shaggier. Sequoia cleared her skin, made her lips a bit fuller, and gave herself perfectly threaded eyebrows. She was about to start adjusting her proportions but stopped herself. What would she tell Martin if he noticed? Surely, she couldn’t change herself from a skinny nerd into a big soft shortstack without answering some very awkward questions.
Maybe she could be a little more subtle about it. She thought about all the stories she’d read and what her partner might like. She knew from her mom and aunts that if she gained weight, it would mostly settle in her bottom half, leaving her a flat-chested pear with wide hips and a flabby ass. But Sequoia had the power to defy her own unfortunate genetics—and maybe bend the laws of physics while she was at it.
“Sequoia will gain three times as much weight as whatever she eats. She will gain seventy percent of the weight in her breasts, twenty percent in her ass, and the rest evenly distributed over her body.”
The program flashed a green success message. Sequoia concentrated on her body, but she felt exactly the same. A little hungry, maybe.
***
“Not that I’m complaining,” Martin said, “But you’ve gotten so… curvy… lately.”
It had taken Martin and Sequoia nearly six months to finish the theater room. They were cuddling together on the couch to watch Pride and Prejudice. Sequoia’s hip mashed into Martin’s side, her once-flat ass now grown into a cute pair of bubbles that jiggled when she walked. Her breasts had swelled from less than a handful each to big, full E-cups that got a lot of attention in their bedroom. Martin had his arm around her, and as he spoke, he let a finger trail the edge of Sequoia’s bra.
“Are you calling me fat?” She meant it as an accusation, but it came out as more of a taunt.
Martin’s brow creased, and his eyes pinched slightly. “No, no! Not at all. You look amazing, incredible!”
“I could go on a diet, go back to being your skinny little woman,” Sequoia shot back. Again, her tone sounded more teasing than she intended.
“Babe, you know I don’t care about that stuff. I love you for you, not your body. You could be fat, thin, tall, short—“
“Pretty sure I’m stuck being short.”
Martin sighed, “You know what I mean.”
“So what’s the problem?”
He was silent for several moments. She watched his face twist and fidget as he worked out what to say next.
“It’s just… weird. That’s the wrong word. It’s unusual. We don’t eat any different than we used to. And you’ve only grown up here.” He gently squeezed her left breast in his fingers.
Sequoia shrugged, “Lucky genes, I guess.”
“I mean, I’ve met most of your family,” Martin began. His eyebrows twitched up as if realizing the danger of whatever he was about to say. “Maybe it’s one of those ‘skip a generation’ things.”
“Meaning…?”
“Meaning you’re not gaining like them; your proportions are almost perfect.”
Sequoia looked back at the TV. “Just what every woman wants to hear.”
Martin made a few unintelligible noises, then started, “I didn’t—“
She’d just processed what he said, though, and interrupted. “What do you mean, almost perfect?”
“Oh… that’s just… I didn’t mean…”
“Are you… unhappy… with the way I gain weight?”
“Babe, I just said—“
“Answer the question.”
Martin sighed again, and Sequoia felt victory within her grasp. She had him backed into a corner.
“Fine. I love you, and I’ll always love you. But I wouldn’t mind if you were a little more… chubby.”
His last word came out in a whisper. He might as well have dumped a bucket of ice water over Sequoia’s head.
“Seriously?”
“Come on; you’ve seen pictures of my exes.”
Martin had only dated three women before they got together, all three of whom were major chubsters. Sequoia said, “I thought you just liked geek girls, and I was the first one you met who wasn’t a fatty.”
He winced at the word. “I guess that’s true… but it’s not like I liked you because you were—are thin. But more… in spite of that.”
Sequoia got ready to tear into him for ‘sacrificing’ his standards to be with her, but then the full implication of his words became clear to her. She pushed the blanket off her lap and stood, reaching for his hand. “Come here; I want to show you something.”
Martin stood over the computer chair while Sequoia got the app running again. “Is this some new game or something?”
“Just wait.”
The Master PC logo appeared on her screen, and Sequoia typed in her name. The model rendered, showing her new top-heavy hourglass physique in all its glory.
“Is that… you?”
Sequoia nodded, “Yep. This is how I did it. I can type anything in the prompt here, and it will happen in real life.”
Martin raised an eyebrow. “Come on. That’s impossible.”
Scowling, she put her hands on the keyboard. “Sequoia has G-cup breasts.”
She felt a tingle in her chest that was so intense it almost hurt; then, her flesh swelled several inches. The band and straps of her bra dug into her back and shoulders, and she could see the bugle of a faint “quad boob” through her top. Sequoia spun the chair around to face her partner. “See?”
“Holy shit,” Martin breathed. He squatted down in front of her, reaching a hand toward her chest. He looked at her for permission, and she nodded.
His fingers probed and squeezed, confirming that everything in Sequoia’s bra was Sequoia. “How…”
“I don’t really know,” she said, “All I know is that it works.”
When her breasts started growing, Sequoia fired up Master PC again to increase their sensitivity. Now Martin’s hands on them were making her blood heat, tingles of pleasure spreading from her nipples all the way to her toes. Gently, she pushed his hands away. When he stood, she got out of the chair and shoved him toward it. “Alright, your turn.”
Martin sat, looking confused. “What do you mean?”
“Just type in there,” She pointed to the prompt. “Describe your dream wife.”
He looked up at her, “You’re my dream wife.”
“Yeah, yeah; just do it.”
“I don’t know, babe. This feels wrong. Like ‘playing god’ or something.”
“For fuck’s sake, Martin. I’m giving you permission to make my body exactly how you want it. Most guys would jump at a chance like this.”
“Maybe I’m not most guys,” he shot back.
Sequoia folded her arms under her chest. “Just shut up and type something.”
Martin typed using the ‘hunt and peck’ method, “Sequoia is pleasantly plump.”
A red error message displayed on the screen, and she said, “You have to be more specific than that. Also, ‘pleasantly plump,’ seriously?”
Martin scowled up at her. “Do you want me to do this or not?”
She held up both hands. “Sorry, sorry. It works better when you’re precise. Use numbers if you can.”
“Can you, uh, not watch?”
Sequoia felt another thrill. What was he planning to do that he didn’t want her to see? And why did the thought excite her? She turned and walked toward the wall, facing away from the desk. “Alright, not watching.”
Click after click, with agonizing slowness; she waited while her partner typed. Finally, he said, “Okay, I think I’m done. Do you want to… check it?”
His voice was somewhat pained, and she knew he was letting her into a very private part of himself. She felt ashamed for not sharing her own fetishes with him. “No, I trust you.”
She heard the enter key clack with finality. She turned to face him as the intense tingles spread over her entire body. She stretched and swelled, her breasts pressing into her bra even tighter. Her legs and hips spread, and her ass plumped up until her baggy lounge pants became skin-tight. Her belly billowed out in front of her, growing round and soft as a ring of pudge spread around her sides into a chubby spare tire. Sequoia stepped in front of the mirror to examine herself. Even her face looked fat, with plump cheeks and a hint of double chin. He’d turned her into the prettiest, most perfect fat girl she’d ever seen.
Martin stepped up behind her, meeting her eyes in the reflection. She was smiling broadly.
“You’re not mad?”
“Mad? Babe, I look amazing!”
“You always look amazing.”
Sequoia spun and pressed herself against his body, luxuriating in the sensation of all her curves molding themselves to his slim frame. She grabbed his head in both hands and pulled him in for a kiss. “Shut up.”
His hands were on her then, squeezing and kneading and gripping. She pressed her tongue into his mouth, and they went to bed early.