The Unexpected Solution

My jaw fell, the door to the strip club. Unless I really hadn't been paying attention earlier, I could have sworn my weathered and reliable Jeep – its two doors removed and sitting in my apartment – had not been parked in the gravel lot. Nervously, I walked up to my only vehicle, my canoe sitting across the roll cage strapped to the front and rear bumpers, and looked inside, blinking. Everything that I had had at the lake – including my fishing pole and tackle box that had fallen in with me – were inside, sitting in the trunkspace behind the seats. What was new was a note taped to the wheel. I snatched it and began to read.

Mr. John Doe,

I apologize for not thinking of your vehicle earlier when inserting you into the matrix as requested. Questions would have been raised had I not resolved the situation leading to inconstancies you would not have been able to resolve. So, as far as everyone else knows, were anyone to report on it, you would have been seen leaving town towards the lake, turning around at some point along the wake and driving to Santuario Uomo. Also, only you can see this note so no one can realize – or know about you unless you tell them, something I suggest you don't – the differences between the world you knew and the current matrix. Nor can I alter your experience at the lake, having occurred previous to insertion. I would not tell anyone about that either.

I would like to note that you seem to be taking a much different approach to the ‘mind control’ matrix than others have in past iterations. You seem to be more – cautious and lacking in impulse control. There’s nothing wrong with that – the Bureaucracy might begin to show more interest in this project – but feel free to continue as you wish in pursuit of your goals and your caprice. I will continue to observe and report; hopefully this will be the last I communicate with you inside the matrix. Further interaction could bias the results, leading your actions to be as I want. That would nullify the purpose of the experiment and I would need to start over – again. Your choices and actions need to be yours.

Until completion,

The Voice

Huh, I blinked at the note. It actually signed the letter as I had thought of It. Funky. I folded it up, slipping the note into my back pocket, and climbed into the driver’s seat. I buckled up, turned the key into the ignition, and backed my Jeep up enough to turn around and drive out onto the street. Heading back into town, maintaining within the speed limit – there were plenty of speed traps to catch the out-of-towners – I began to think, wondering. Yeah, the Voice had told me I had died and It was going to place me into the matrix, but – my plans for this power – well, I guess they were predicated on me acting as if I hadn’t died. Fuck. It shouldn’t have written me that second paragraph. I frowned. It wasn’t approval per se, but I did seem to impress the Voice a little. Hmmm, I nodded, thinking over what I should do. I hope the letter didn’t Tango Uniform this experiment and once I get it out of my mind I should think of everything as normal again. Yeah, that’s the way to go. Forget about it. There’s no letter in my pocket. I didn’t drive all the way to the lake. I forget why I turned around, deciding to go to the strip club instead. It’s of no importance.
What should I do now though? I still have a full day and evening ahead of me, a half-day tomorrow at the factory unless the boss asks me to work over again. I glanced at my small canoe, the bow hanging over the hood of my Jeep. I should clean up first. I could always go fishing later and, besides, I’ll need to get a fucking lifejacket first. I grinned. Home it is.

I opened the door to my apartment, my canoe and fishing gear locked away in my storage shed, one of the benefits of living in an apartment building next door to a self-storage facility, especially one owned by my landlord. I mulled that over for a moment, hanging my jacket on the coatrack by my front door. If I could have a partnership with the Mr. Balistrieri, why not with my landlord? Maybe. Maybe not. Additional income would be useful and free rent would be nice until I buy an actual house, but – if I started wishing people into partnerships all over town – people would ask for explanations that I don’t want to give. Hmmm. I sniffed at the air, my nose wrinkling. Guess I need a shower.

I undressed, tossing my dirty clothes – they smelled as if I had fallen in the lake – in the hamper outside my bathroom, and paused at the toilet, lifting the seat and relieving a pretty typical compulsion into the bowl. I smiled, pleased with the change the Voice had made. If I had to make a guess – I wasn’t going to find out at the immediate moment, not with what I was flowing – I’d wager I was now about one and a half, one and three-quarter hand lengths long, with a girth that would leave about three-quarters to an inch gap between thumb and index finger were I wrap my hand around my cock. Very nice indeed. Definitely not something to laugh at.

Twenty minutes later, feeling refreshed from the shower and smelling better, deodorant reapplied and teeth brushed, I finished dressing, ready to go and out do – something. I frowned. What was I going to do? Have fun with this power, certainly, but – I sighed, looking around my apartment, noting the tidying it could use, books I could read, TV I could watch. Fuck. I had to get out. If I didn’t, I’d be here, screwing around until it was time for bed. I shook my head and looked out my window. There was a city park across the street, bound to be filled with people who I could play with, and I could think there a lot easier than trapped inside with distractions. And – bonus, if I wanted to – the local County Community College campus was on the far side of the park. I smirked, heading out my door, locking my apartment behind me, and walked down the stairs to the front door. Stepping outside, I turned, making a beeline for the park across the street, checking to my right and left for traffic before crossing.