Porno Virus (Part 4) [Interactive]

Mr. Theodore Drake was having a pleasantly slow morning that Saturday, happy to be away from the office with his family. He was an older fellow, sliding into his mid fifties more or less gracefully. He exercised, but not as much as he could, he supposed, and while he enjoyed golfing a few times each week, it wasn’t enough to remove his paunch entirely. His balding had advanced in the last few years enough that he had decided to embrace it grudgingly, keeping it trimmed up in a neat horseshoe of grey, and a tight mustache accenting his lip below. He was a conservative fellow, with a conservative family–a loving wife, and a somewhat struggling son living at home while going to college, but he had hope his boy would find his way eventually.

He woke around eight, got up, took the dog for a walk, and when he got back, his wife was preparing breakfast for the three of them. He read the paper and enjoyed his family’s company, and then did a bit of yard work outside that his wife had been pestering him about for a week or so. His tee time with the fellows at the club wasn’t until the early afternoon, which gave him plenty of time to mow the lawn and fix one of the sprinklers that had been acting up lately–and which also worked up a bit of a sweat. While he was in the yard that morning, Steve–one of Mr. Drake’s subordinates at work–was arriving at the office, smoking a cigar, the virus inside him running rampant through the servers of the company. Steve…could sense that something was wrong, and so he did his best, as the urge to smoke overwhelmed him, to try and tell his boss that something was wrong at the company, with the servers. Of course, Terrance couldn’t allow something like that to escape its net.

And so, in transit, the email was corrupted by the same virus that was twisting and corrupting Steve, and the email ended up in Mr. Drake’s inbox, his phone alerting him to the email while he was in the bathroom, stripping out of his muddy clothes and getting ready to shower before going to the golf club for the afternoon. As a general rule, Theodore didn’t deal with work problems over the weekend if he could help it–but this was marked urgent, and Steve had mentioned more than once that something about the servers had seemed…strange. Theodore found some of Steve’s personal proclivities…distasteful, but he couldn’t deny that the man was good at his job, and as long as the gay could keep his hands to himself, Theodore could handle it for the most part. So he sat down on the toilet, opened up the email, and the virus embedded in the file entered Mr. Drake’s phone, and with a spark, jumped into Mr. Drake himself.

The virus trawled through Mr. Drake’s phone, looking for relevant pornography it could use against him, and found nothing–Theodore thought porn was incredibly distasteful, and while he had slowed down considerably over the last few years, he still had a very active sex life with his wife. So, finding nothing, it relied on what it did have–the porn it had taken from Steve’s sizable archive and varied tastes. Theodore saw his screen glitch and go dark for a second, and then a slideshow started, a rapid one, showing a cascade of naked men–almost all of them smoking, many of them chubby, and lots of them with…decidedly more lax hygiene than Mr. Drake did himself. At first he was disgusted, but he couldn’t do anything, as his hand gripped his cock and started stroking, masturbating and watching, helplessly, as the virus went to work, attacking his defenses, drilling deeper into his body, slowly taking over, until Theodore released a massive load of cum all over the floor of the bathroom, his phone returned to normal–the email now missing entirely–and Mr. Drake blinked back to himself, unsure of what had just happened.

He’d been planning to shower and shave, but he got up from the toilet, and did neither of those things–he didn’t even pay attention to the load of cum drying on the tile floor. He…didn’t want to be late for his golf game after all, and there was something else bugging him, all of a sudden. He went over to his small humidor that he kept stocked for the occasional cigar he enjoyed on the golf course or during a poker game, and pulled out five, putting them in his pocket after he got dressed. He…didn’t know why he needed one so bad, but he did, and feeling like he was ready, he went down to his car and climbed inside–forgetting to put his golf clubs in the trunk, but lighting up a cigar as soon as he was out and driving down the driveway.

The virus jumped from his phone, into the navigation system on the car and scrambled it. Theodore wasn’t paying attention to where he was going though, smoking one of his cigars just felt so good, it was hard keeping two hands on the wheel, and whenever he stopped at a light, he would reach down with one hand and grope himself, feeling the precum getting the crotch of his khakis a bit damp. He drove for a while, and pulled in somewhere, parked, and continued smoking his cigar,  now jacking off eagerly, confused as to why he was so horny all of a sudden, but not disappointed by any means. He came again, and then looked around at where he was–but it wasn’t the golf club. Instead, the virus had led him somewhere else entirely–but where?

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