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Handscan
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Handscan
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by Ellison Bay
As usual, Mike planned to spend the better part of the
weekend at his computer. He belonged to a couple of
electronic bulletin boards and enjoyed chatting with several
people he had gotten to know but had never met, and trading
files. But since his luck with girls was less than staggering,
his computer occupied much of his Saturdays and Sundays.
It's not that he didn't like women: his extensive library
of adult .gif and .gl files were graphic evidence of his
interest. And he was constantly adding to his collection (and
to the local boards') using his color hand-scanner and his
best friend Lloyd's magazine collection. Lloyd was kind of
weird and had quite a variety of publications, so Mike had
quite a variety of gif's: women, men, bestiality, sex toys,
etc.
Out of boredom and frustration, Mike had even thought
about taking some close-up Polaroids of his own erect cock and
scanning them into .gif's for anonymous circulation on the
boards (Mike had actually done this, but lacked the guts to
actually send them out, so he destroyed the photos and just
left one of the .gifs on his computer as a joke to himself).
Those thoughts mainly entered his head after spending long
nights at the terminal reviewing his girly-.gifs and reading
adult text files in his shorts; feeling and watching his
erection stretching the cotton material on and off for hours
on end until he could stand it no more and lay on his bed
masturbating to relieve the ball-pressure.
That Friday night, he logged on as usual and reviewed the
new files that had been added during the past week, looking
for anything interesting. He then "spoke" with the sysop
briefly and played a favorite on-line game for a few minutes.
After a while, he looked again at his listings and was trying
to decide which of the new .gif's to download. As he was
getting ready to check his upload/download ratio, he saw
script begin to appear on his screen.
"Hi Mike," it said.
"Hi, whoever you are," Mike typed back.
"Mike, my name's Roxy and your name was given to me by a
friend who told me that I would find you on this BBS on the
weekends."
Roxy, eh?, Mike thought and wondered who the friend was.
"Roxy, what can I do for you?," Mike responded.
"Well, I need to have some work done and figured maybe
you could help. I heard that you have a color scanner."
"Yea, that's right, I do have one -- decent rez too,"
Mike sent back.
"Great," Roxy answered, "I have some pictures that I need
converted to graphic files and I don't have access to the
necessary hardware."
"Speaking of hardware," Mike queried, "what are you
running now?"
"I've got a Pentium with 16 megs of RAM, a CD and a
couple of hard disks. It gives me 450 megs of storage."
"Wow," he typed back, "I'm only running a '486/33, but I
do have about a gig and a half of hard storage."
Mike was impressed with the fact that this 'Roxy' had
some serious shit to pound on, though he wasn't surprised that
she needed a scanner. In his experience most users didn't
spend their money on them first. There were other, more
desirable accessories they ended up buying first -- like
multimedia. He had, in the past, received requests for
scanning work to be done for various members on the boards he
belonged to once they found he had the device. Most of this
was for school projects or small business apps, but
occasionally there was an adult photograph that somebody
especially liked and wanted on the computer. In those cases,
he waived any fee and simply kept a copy of the completed
file.
"Don't kid yourself," typed Roxy, "a '486 will never
screw up CAD equations like mine can. I wish I had as much
storage as you, and from what I hear, you have quite a
collection of software -- or should I say 'hardware'."
Mike began to really wonder who this girl had been
talking to. And what, exactly, she had been told about him.
He thought a minute and typed:
"If you want, I can give you my address and you can
send the documents and some blank diskettes to my place.
I'll convert them and mail the whole thing back to you."
"Actually I thought that I might bring them over to you
when you have some free time and you could do it for me while
I waited," Roxy suggested.
Mike immediately thought he'd like to "do it" for her
alright. He wished there were a way he could find out more
about Roxy first. Like how old she was, whether she had a
boyfriend, and if she was anywhere near cute. Or built.
He figured that if he said yes, he'd find out -- one way or
the other.
"OK. Sounds good to me. I'm free all day tomorrow if
that's good for you."
"Shit," Roxy sent back, "I've got to work all day
Saturdays but I'm free tomorrow night if you don't have a date
or anything."
"It just so happens that I'm free then too," he
bullshitted smoothly. " Why don't we make it for 8PM, if
that's good for you."
"Great, just give me your address and I'll see you then."
Mike sent her his home address and logged off, forgetting
all about downloading anything. His mind was now occupied with
the possibilities of "Roxy" actually being a decent-looking
babe.
`Bah,' he thought to himself, `who am I kidding. She's
probably about two hundred pounds . . . and a Mormon.' Of
course, given his level of sexual activity, he'd probably fuck
a 200lbs. Mormon. But thinking about it wasn't going to make
it happen any sooner or better, so he decided to call it a
night.
His curiosity made the next day seemed to drag by, but he
did his best to keep busy. He cleaned his apartment thoroughly
and even changed his sheets, in case. He checked his beer and
soda supplies and decided he'd better run out and get some
more. Pleasantly surprised to find the liquor store running a
special running on French Champagne, he quickly said a mental
what the hell and picked up two bottles. Fifteen minutes
later, at the grocery store, he also picked up the ingredients
for his "killer" hors d'oeurves.
Back at home, he prepared the appetizers and popped them
in the fridge along with the wine and started the shower water
while he picked out some jeans and a sweater to wear. In the
shower, he paid particular attention to his crotch. Watching
foamy soap lather travel the length of and drip off his
thickening organ, he fleetingly imagined a somewhat similar
scene being enacted later that evening.
"Fat chance," he heard his own voice say aloud.
Still, he remembered to use his best cologne and even
dabbed a little in his pubic hair as he dressed.
By 8:30, he decided that he had been stood up and was
going to his PC to send out a general message about a bitch
named Roxy, when his doorbell rang. He opened the door and got
a pleasant surprise. In front of him was a young lady a few
years older than his own age, and while she would never be
featured in Playboy, she immediately appealed to him. She was
tall, about 5'10", and had long brown hair that reached to
what looked to be a healthy bust.
Smiling, she said: "Hi, I'm Roxy, are you Mike?"
"Hi Rox, yes I am. Please come in."
He opened the door wider and she entered with a package
that Mike assumed was the diskettes and photos. He took her
coat from her and admired the dress she wore. It was a tight,
turtlenecked little miniskirt without sleeves, made from a
knit material that showed her shape clearly. She plainly was
NOT two hundred pounds, though she did have a good sized rear
end -- something Mike found very sexy.
The dress was clingy enough that he could just make out
the cleft between her ass-cheeks. He invited her to sit down
and watched the cheeks roll and sway as she walked away from
him toward the easy chair. He did not notice any panty lines,
and since she didn't seem to be wearing any pantyhose, his
imagination led him to wonder if she had a thong on.
"Nice place you have here. I know that sounds a little
tired but you really do" she said as she sat and crossed her
long, meaty-but-muscular legs.
"Thanks," Mike gulped. "How, ahem, How did you get my
name?"
"Oh, that. Well, my baby sister happens to be
best-friends with your buddy Lloyd's little sister. She saw a
picture of you and Lloyd over at their house and told me about
some cute guy she saw. I knew it couldn't be Lloyd - even you
have to admit he's not what even a kid would call cute - so I
made sure to pick her up the next time she played over there,
and took a look for myself."
Mike flushed slightly at being referred to as "cute" by
this overtly ripe woman, and quickly offered her a beer.
"No thanks. I really don't like beer very much," she
said, "do you have anything carbonated?"
"Sure. I have Pepsi or Champagne or Alka-Seltzer," he
joked.
Her laugh was deep and full. "I'll take a pass on the
Alka-Seltzer, but were you serious about the Champagne?"
"Oui, mademoiselle, it should even be chilled by now.
Let me get some glasses. Look around . . . and put a CD on
if you want to," he called stepping into the kitchen.
He heard her wandering about the apartment and then music
coming from the living room. As he came out of the kitchen, he
found her walking back in from his bedroom. He had only
assumed when she came in that she had been wearing a bra. The
two pebbles clearly visible on the front of her tight knit
dress now told him otherwise.
"I love that nude you have hanging over your bed. Manet,
isn't it?"
"Why, yes," Mike answered in a somewhat surprised tone,
"do you enjoy fine art?"
"Just certain kinds," she answered cryptically, as she
slowly started examining the books on one of the many
bookcases lining one side of the room.
He handed her a glass of cold Champagne and went over to
his computer to boot it up. As he was finishing, he suddenly
felt her warm breath on his ear, sweet with the wine, as she
softly said: "Now, let's see your equipment."
His head jerked around quickly with surprise at the
double-entendre and promptly swatted her plump right breast
with the side of his face.
"Oops, sorry," he mumbled, his face deeply reddening
by the inadvertent contact.
"Easy, Mike," she giggled, "I only wanted to see if you
lied about the size of your hardware. Your COMPUTING
hardware."
Mike felt really embarrassed now, nevertheless
remembering the soft heft of contact and its resultant meaty
sway. He punched up a display of his sub-directory structure
and went into several of them briefly, showing her first his
selection of games and utilities, and then his collection of
"regular" graphic images.
"Gee, I'm kind of disappointed. I had heard you had much
better gifs than that!" she teased.
He smiled and quickly punched in the password that gave
him access to the adult graphics directory. The initial VPIC
menu screen appeared and he got up.
"There they are. Do you know how to use VPIC?"
"Sure," Roxy said, "I use it on my machine at home"
"Feel free to take a look, I'm going to get us something
to munch on."
He turned and walked toward the kitchen, stopping as he
got to the doorway to watch her wander through his .gifs. She
examined each one carefully, spending more time on those which
featured couples instead of just a female. He got the
appetizers out of the fridge and heated them up for a few
seconds in the microwave. As he brought them into the
livingroom he got the shock of his life. She was staring at
the terminal which was displaying the photo he had taken of
his own erect penis. She turned as he approached and indicated
toward the screen.
"This one doesn't look like a professional shot, it looks
like a Polaroid somebody just took at home. I mean I'm not
complaining! Whoever it is has...some 'nice' features...too
bad the quality is so-so, I'd love to see a better view."
He quickly leaned over and clicked off the .gif, thankful
that he had not named it anything personal that might give
away its origin.
"I just downloaded that one by accident from a BBS," he
stammered, and offered her an hors d'oeurve.
"Wow, you can cook, too? These look great!"
"Well, now that you've seen my hardware, you can see I
didn't lie," he said, "and here is the scanner," showing her
the T-shaped device and fully conscious of the irony of his
statement. "Where are those photos?"
"Yes, well, about the job we discussed. I'm afraid that
there is a slight problem in that regard."
"What do you mean Roxy?", Mike asked.
"Well..., I seem to have lost the original pictures that
I wanted you to convert. I was hoping that I could replace
them, with your help."
"I don't understand," he replied, truly confused.
Now it seemed to be Roxy's turn to be embarassed. Her
face flushed and she was obviously hesitant to speak. She
walked over to the coffee table where she had left the package
she had brought. Mike marveled at the body he now had in his
own livingroom. Her shape under the tightly clinging red dress
constantly filled his mind with visions of what she would look
like without it.
"I know it's kind of weird, but I recently got a couple
of tattoos and had taken a few Polaroids of them to give to my
boyfriend. He's away at school and I thought he'd like to have
them on his computer."
Mike's heart sank at the news. Her boyfriend. Shit! Oh
well, he didn't actually believe he'd have the sort of evening
that one later writes a letter to Penthouse about. He figured
that he'd end up not only not getting anywhere with Roxy, now
he'd not even make any money since there didn't seem to be any
conversion job either.
"And then, when I told him about it," Roxy continued, "he
shit a brick! He said that only a whore gets tattoos and he
'didn't want anything to do with any whore!'"
She added quickly: "I mean, it's not like I had anything gross
put on, but he just didn't want to hear about it, and I
figured 'Fuck the prude'. I don't need some fucking two-hundred
pound Mormon. I got so mad that I tore up the pictures."
Mike smiled at the coincidence of her description (taking
it as a good omen), and at the WONDERFUL news about her
boyfriend.
"So, if you don't mind me asking, what are you doing
here?" he asked
"Well, I had already called you on the PC and made these
arrangements and it didn't seem right that you should get
stood up too," -- here Mike smiled again -- "so I thought
maybe you'd like to take some more shots of my 'tats' and scan
them for me anyway. I brought my own camera and some film."
Mike didn't know much about tattoos, but he knew when he
heard a good idea.
"Sure," he piped up immediately, "I'd love to. Where are
they?"
"That's the hard part. I know that getting tattoos sounds
pretty risque for a woman, but I'm really shy and they're in
pretty private places. If we do this, it's going to have to be
my way," she said, her soft green eyes looking straight into
his.
"Agreed. Now, what do we need and what you want me to
do?"
"First, we'll need a good lighting source, then something
like a sheet."
Mike looked at her grinning and said, "Ummmmmmmmmmm, how
about a sheet?"
He noticed her boobs bounce gently when her shoulders
shook with that same laugh he had heard earlier. He felt his
trouser snake start to thicken and grow slightly. He didn't
think that it was noticable but wondered as he saw Roxy glance
at his crotch when he went to get the sheet.
When he reentered the room with a dark sheet from the
linen closet she was unplugging a clamp-on photographic flood
light that had been affixed to a bookshelf. The wall outlet
was behind an end table and she had had to bend over it
straight-legged to reach the plug. The breath froze in his
chest as he saw that her short dress had ridden high enough
for the very bottoms of her buns to peek into view. He had to
force his legs to work, knowing the closer he got -- the
better the look he was going to get.
She must be wearing a thong, he thought. There were no
panties he could see and he knew better than to think that she
was 'au natural'.
"Let me help you with that," he said as he was halfway
across the room. Staying in her provocative pose, she looked
up at him flashing him an upside-down smile.
"No thanks, I've almost got it!"
Mike, feeling a sudden rush of heat in his groin, watched
her high-heels highlight her leg muscles as she struggled
briefly to disconnect the lamp. She had the one feature that
invariably thrilled him: her inner thighs flared in the middle
with muscle, then narrowed slightly at the top where they
join, leaving that characteristic diamond-shaped darkness that
held her labia. He could swear that he could almost see a
little coppery-brown glint of pubic hair standing out in the
now half-light of the room.
That thong must have sort of climbed up her crack, he
thought and almost shivered. His dick was really starting to
get hard, so he sat down to hide the bulging now visible in
the front of his pants. She stood up and brought the lamp over
to the couch and arranged it the way she thought would work
and came over to Mike in the chair.
"Oh. A dark sheet. That will work great. Why don't you
load my camera, and pour some more Champagne for me," she
said, "But if I try to dance on your coffee table naked,
you'll have to cut me off. Champagne goes straight to my head
sometimes."
She took the sheet from him, and he saw again that she
did not fail to observe his growing erection. She turned
quickly, but not quickly enough for Mike to miss the smile she
had on her face. She dropped the sheet on the sofa and started
clamping the floodlight to a chair she had pulled up. Mike, of
course, poured some more wine and was happy to find she had
the same model camera that he used, so he loaded it quickly
and brought it back to the sofa.
"The flower tattoo is on my left boob so you have to turn
your back while I get things arranged," Roxy told him
innocently.
Mike couldn't believe his ears -- or his luck. He turned
around and walked over to the bookcase and listened to the
snapping static electricity of her knit dress being pulled
off. He realized that in order for them to photograph her
"flower tattoo", she would have to completely remove her
dress! He now cursed to himself. If only he'd been thinking,
he could have given her a white sheet. Then, maybe he could've
seen something through it in the bright light.
"OK. You can look now," she announced behind him.
He turned and saw that she had wound the sheet around her
midsection, effectively covering the lower half of her body.
The rest of the sheet she had draped over her right shoulder,
the result looking very much like one of those toga-party
costumes. Her left breast was only partially covered by sheet
and he tried not to stare at what wasn't.
"Don't worry. You can look, but you won't see it yet.
It's a little lower. Get the light angled right and I'll try
to get into the right position."
Mike adjusted the light and got on the floor facing the
sofa, as Roxy arranged herself on the couch. With sweaty hands
he checked the settings on the camera and tightened it down on
a small tripod he had brought out. His shaking assured him it
had been a good idea. He peered through the viewfinder to
center the shot as she adjusted the bottom of the sheet, not
paying attention to what this was doing to the top of the
sheet. As he watched her a maroon nipple, looking like a
cherry tomato, started to peek out from under her sarong. He
started breathing rapidly as he watched it wiggle while she
fought with her makeshift covering. He had seen such nipples
before in magazines. Usually nipples were fairly flat with a
little button in the center. This was one of those that had no
button at all. This was like a small plum growing on the front
of a field of firm white flesh.
"There!", she said, sitting up again. "Are you ready?"
The understatement of the year, Mike thought. "All set,
Rox," he replied, clearing his throat.
She reached inside the top of her covering and took ahold
of her breast, lifting it out and holding it up as high as it
would go. There was a long flowering vine tattooed all the way
across the underside of her breast in a semi-circle. She kept
the nipple covered with her hand, but he could just make out
its crimson color between her splayed fingers.
"Well, what do you think?", she asked tentatively.
"It's beautiful, Roxy," he said, and meant it.
It was artfully done, and being new, its colors were
bright and seemed to jump out at you. His voice must have
carried some of his sincerity, because she suddenly let go of
her boob and reached over to tenderly kiss Mike. He felt it
swing against his chest as she leaned toward him and, as they
hugged, its twin also pressed its fullness against his body.
"You don't know how much that means Mike. I really like
my tattoos, but after the reaction of my ex-boyfriend I had
begun to wonder if every man I would be interested in would
feel the same way," Roxy confessed.
Mike held her a moment longer and then she sat up, her
eyes a little teary. He was really starting to like this girl,
and as much as he wanted to caress her exposed tit, he didn't.
He was starting to feel closer to this stranger and he didn't
want her to think that he was solely interested in groping
her. Hopefully, there WOULD be time for that later.
. . . continued in part two . . .
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That's all I have of this story, alt.sex.stories seemed to have lost te rest
of the story.
Lasher.
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