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Never Enough	By : CorosiveFrog Category: +M through R > Reboot Views: 1832 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own ReBoot. I don't make money out of this and PLEASE don't take this too seriously, it's just for sexy fun. No disrespect intended.

Chapter List
- 1-Never Enough
- 2-Megabyte
- 1
- 2
The gloomy darkness of level 31 was broken by the “Al's” purple neon. Everything else was creepy, dangerous-looking where the never-well-to-do and disreputable drink their lives away. The only other light to be seen was the blue hue of And, walking on the sidewalk. After being kicked out of Al's, again, he still knocked at the door, too drunk to know when he's not wanted. After long milliseconds of the trouble-maker's pathetic begging, the waiter still faked not seeing him. There was no way he was getting back in and was he reduced to asking customers, like miss Sally and a few other pirates, to fetch him a drink.
-“Leave us alone!”
Level 31 was the only place in Mainframe not succumbing to total panic. There was even a certain unspoken happiness to hear that the former master was back, or even a certain pleasure to know that trouble was brewing around the too quiet, too clean, too rich, too-better-than-thou sectors.
Miss Sally looked around. Not many people, nothing much different. The usual bar flies; neo-virals at a table, Herr Doktor lamenting on his “digits” nearby while Bunnyfoot tried really hard to pretend to care. Seven was across the dining room eating some “delicacy” like mesquite-grilled null liver or web creature sirloin. Eight was upstairs, enjoying a good hologram strip show. She didn't notice the newcomer, that chrome-skinned sprite at the end of the bar, looking nonchalantly out across the room.
Time for another web slug.
Plasma was not eating slugs like the web riders. She smoked them. She blindly took another slug from a small, brown pouch on the table and dropped it on hot glowing coals at the base of the small hookah she carried around. Before the tiny creature's squeals of agony went out, she took a long puff and blew out the hallucinogenic smoke towards Al's waiter who looked at her with a low brow. If she had been a binome, she would be out on the sidewalk with And by now.
-“Oh, bite me, low life!”
She was Plasma. At just 111, she had seen things none of those pathetic little binomes would ever see if they lived to be a year. She had done enough things to be wanted by the guardians throughout the Net and took pride in it.
She met with the elite of the Supercomputer, she could have been one of them.
She had been many a guardian's fucktoy. She brought downfall to some, the others rejected her after a few night cycles and lots of trouble.
She had surfed the data storms of the web and tasted every addictive substance of cyberspace.
And she got used to it all.
It was all not enough anymore. Nothing was ever enough. The only thing she had yet to experience was a User's life. She had a tiny taste of it, though. She hadn't talked to Him or anything, nobody could, but she had peeked into His soul. Not all systems are like Mainframe, the electronic playground of gaming children. In other systems, the data is about anything but every time she made sense out of it, one obsession came back over and over again. Once, late into the night cycle, she opened an .avi file. It showed strange sprite-like creatures with pale, mate skin. A male and a female, naked and fucking. Furiously.
So the ancient ReadMe files were right; User DID made sprite in his image but they couldn't be more wrong when they said that sex was a sin in the face of the User. The Almighty User himself fucked. He loved it. His World revolved around it. Since we are made in the Almighty User's image, let's live like him!
That's when it became a quest. There is no metaphysical knowledge to gain in this World. No important Truth to find during one's runtime. No life after deletion. Just pleasure. Grab as much of it as you can before your cycles end. Her intellect knew it wasn't happiness, her body wasn't so sure. It was certainly as close as she would ever get. Lust was what she wanted and Mainframe wasn't the place to find it. There were no men in Mainframe, only binomes half her size she wouldn't dare to touch. Well, almost only binomes. Who else was there? The two Bobs, Ray Tracer and Matrix.
She knew Ray Tracer already. Maybe she would consider going to him again. She remembers every nanosecond of that weekend, in a hotel room of the Mountain and Cave system when they could barely keep their hands off each other. Both convicted and on the lam, both adrenaline junkies with no tomorrow. She rode him for hours, her hands on his slim swimmer's body while her hips were going up and down on his dick...
Good memories. But now there's Mouse. Yet maybe that game of hide and seek with Mouse was just the adrenaline she needed. Meh. No. She had played it often enough. She got tired of being caught, got tired of getting away.
Then there was Matrix. She had not slept with him, but she knew his type. Those men live through their gun, but you can't fuck through your gun. Matrix was probably useless in the sack, where his beloved gun can't be the answer to everything. She couldn't understand that AndrAIa stayed with him. Maybe she had been a virgin when they first fucked and didn't knew any better.
And then Bob...He had long, unkept hair and Web scales. He had been man enough to live through what she had seen. He might be her speed. She was getting wet just thinking about the steel-tough body he must be hiding under that white armor, not to mention that long rod...Nah. Too angelic. With his white Glitch suit, he looks like a messiah! Plasma had no need for another messiah. She wanted a man. Bob was too reasonable. Reasonable people are boring.
And then there's the other Bob...The one who was about to marry Dot? Maybe...Sure, he looks like a perfect hero, too, especially at the altar in his dress uniform.Beware of the looks. That Bob wasn't Glitch-Bob. Oh, no! Far from being angelic, he was hiding a devil inside. He was very well a man! She could see that just after an instant of looking into his eyes. After three minutes, maybe four, there will be another woman in his bed. Maybe it would be a good idea to stick around to be that second woman in there.
Maybe, but that meant sticking around Mainframe for a long time!
Time for yet another web slug. Plasma smoked another creature and let her mind take flight, listening to the sexy saxophone music that was always playing at Al's. Yet a nagging feeling lurked deep within her; depression, frustration. Some people are frustrated of not getting what they want, she was frustrated of not wanting anything anymore. She should want a sprite. She always wanted a sprite. But she realized it takes more than a sprite to satisfy her. It took more than surf on data storms and playing with web creatures like users play with dolphins. It took more than web slugs. It took more than gallons of I/O. It's all not enough anymore. She needed...Life. And whatever she was living didn't taste like life anymore. To feel alive, she needs to climb on top of the tallest building in Mainframe and dive straight into the great, blue energy sea.
A feeling. Ecstasy for a billionth of a nanosecond before complete deletion, but still a feeling, something!
A few tables up, Plasma could see Mike the TV picking a fight with neo-virals.
-“Respect? What does a neo-viral know about respect?”
Hearing Mike the TV, Plasma remembered And outside and wondered how could the waiter throw him out and yet tolerate Mike. He was even smaller and therefore easier to kick out. Then again, Mikes may get on everyone's nerves, but nobody really hates him.
-“Revolution, Ah, yeah, right! Together, you don't even have the CPU power to drive a calculator!”
-“That's it! I'm gonna change your channel, pal!”
-“Stay where you are.”
A voice bounced off the diner's walls that grabbed Plasma by the gut. Manliness had a voice, she had just heard it.
And then manliness had a body. Megabyte stretched out of Mike. Powerful legs made of pure muscle and alien-like feet stood where the annoying appliance used to be. Wide shoulders towered above. To say his torso and abdomen were well built was an understatement! It was joined to his legs by a tiny round butt. She knew each of those arms of his were much stronger than twenty sprites. He had the red and blue eyes of a virus, but gazing into them couldn't prepare her to the evil she saw when he extended pipes from his hand and plunged them deep into the poor little waiter's body to infect him.
She liked it.
His metal face was not wrinkled, but he was certainly older than her. His deep voice and the sophistication and the domination he had over those small binomes made him sound like he was 1010, or maybe 1011. Young ones may be good to look at, old ones are the best to fuck with. At that age, the endurance, that strength that withstood the test of time aroused her even more. And all over his muscular body were the scars of a man who has seen what few other beings in the Net have seen and live to tell about it; Web scars. Exactly what she liked about Bob except that man was no angel but deliciously evil. Tracer had no brawns. Bob was too reasonable to let his pulsions flow freely and Matrix lived by his gun. To all those three, there was such a thing as “enough”. Not for Megabyte.
She wanted him, she had to meet him!
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Never Enough