Zero Day Exploited Ch. 01

Readers, there is no sex in this chapter, just a little coerced exposure.

Lindsey slowly woke to a strange beeping, bleary eyes squinting across her dorm room to her laptop. The screen was lit up, glowing in the darkness. She groaned, slipped out of bed and went to the laptop, sleepily trying to figure out what was going on. As she approached, she saw an unfamiliar window she had never seen before on the screen. Letters started to appear.

Hello, Lindsey.

"Um, hello?" she mumbled groggily, unable to find the cursor to close the window.

You are very pretty.

"Thanks? Who are you?"

All in good time. Sleep well.

With that, the window closed of its own accord and the screen saver activated. Lindsey shook her head, stumbled back across the room and flopped back on her bed.

***

Fresh from breakfast, Lindsey sat down at the desk and woke her computer. She had worked into the small hours finishing her term paper on the "Effects of the New Deal on Cinematography", due by noon. A quick re-read, hit 'send', and the rest of the day was hers. She caught a few errors but, just as she reached the end of the paper, the program stopped, saved, and closed. Lindsay had only a few seconds in which to register her surprise. A new window opened.

Hello, Lindsey.

A half-forgotten memory of the computer beeping at night surfaced. She looked askance at the computer, the cursor no longer responding to the trackpad.

Hello, Lindsey, the screen repeated.

"Uh ..., hello?" she answered, slightly distracted as her fingers feverishly worked the trackpad. It suddenly registered that she was talking to her computer. "What is wrong with my computer?"

Nothing is wrong with your computer. I have to chat with you first.

"What?"

You are very pretty.

"Thanks? Who are you?"

And your paper is quite good. I am sure it will get a good grade from Professor Adams.

"Yeah, well I worked really hard on it and I really need to send it out, so can you leave me alone? Why can't I control my computer?"

I control your computer right now.

"What? Go away, leave me alone!"

Lindsey, calm down. We have some things to take care of.

"What do you want from me?" she asked, exasperated.

A video chat window appeared and her webcam light glowed green. Lindsey's pretty blonde face suddenly loomed, looking back at her from the screen. A moment later, the window minimized.

Please take off your shirt.

"Screw you, pervert! Leave me alone!" she snapped. On reflex her hand moved and covered the webcam.

She watched in growing terror as the her computer's cursor dragged her term paper into the trash.

"NO!" she screamed.

Lindsey, remove your hand from the webcam.

She paused, her mind spinning, considering her options. The cursor hung ominously over the Empty Recycle Bin. She dropped her hand and stared at her computer.

"Please don't," she whispered.

Lindsey, remove your shirt.

In a sudden burst of inspiration, she slammed the laptop closed and jumped to her feet. She paced the room, her mind scrambling to find a way of this mess. She had spent hours on that paper, 20% of her grade, and it was due in less than 30 minutes.

The computer's beeping interrupted her thoughts. Lindsey stared at it in dread. It beeped again. She crept back to her desk and carefully re-opened the lid. The green webcam light was still on, and the chat window was still open. The cursor still hovered near the recycle bin.

I'm tiring of this game, Lindsey. I'm not asking for anything I haven't seen already.

"I won't take my shirt off," she said quietly.

The cursor selected Empty Recycle Bin. Lindsey covered her mouth, wide-eyed as the warning box asked for confirmation.

This is your last chance. Remove your shirt or I delete your paper."

Lindsey stared at the screen, her mind reeling. The cursor twitched, now positioned directly over the OK button. She was trapped. Before she could have second thoughts, she pulled her t-shirt over her head. She gripped it in both fists over her bra, but the blackmailer wouldn't allow it.

Put the shirt away, Lindsey.

She reluctantly complied, but quickly raised her arms again to cover herself.

Arms by your side.

Shame washed over her. Lindsey could feel the blush burning down her face as she averted her eyes. She slowly lowered her arm, exposing her simple white bra to her webcam, her fists clenched helplessly by her side in anger and embarrassment.

"Are you happy now?" she tried to demand, but even she could hear how pathetic she sounded.

Very nice.

She sat quietly for a few moments, head down, waiting, wondering if she would have to remove her bra also. Was the grade worth it? Why was her computer doing this to her?

Since you obeyed, you get rewarded.

Lindsey flinched a small smile and risked a glance at the webcam. She watched as the cursor hit Cancel, pulled her file out of the recycle bin, and put in back in place on her desktop.

What do you say, Lindsey?

"Thank you," she whispered.

You may now submit your paper.

It took a moment for the words to register, but she sprang into action, quickly bringing up the submission page and uploading her paper before her tormentor changed his mind. With a sigh of relief, she completed the upload. She looked up to see the green webcam light was still on and grabbed her shirt, twisted from her seat and moved out of view. When she glanced back, the light was off.

She sat back down and began timidly poking around, hoping to find a clue as to what was wrong with her computer. She was way out of her element and gave up almost immediately. She considered asking for help, but the only people she knew who were good with computers were boys and she didn't want to tell any of them what had happened. And anyway, as far as she could tell, her computer was behaving itself once again. She carefully closed the lid and backed away, half afraid that it would start beeping again. When it remained silent, she sighed with relief and fled her room.

Lindsey kept replaying the events of the morning over and over in her head and couldn't make any sense of it. Whom had she been was she chatting with on her computer? What if they had demanded that she take her bra off? She tried to come up with a way to tell someone, but what would she say? That someone made her display herself in her bra?

By the afternoon she had almost rationalized it into acceptance. After all, her bra covered about as much as a bikini top. It wasn't like she had a huge chest, she was actually kind of small in that department. Anyway, she hadn't removed her bra, so it wasn't that bad. She started to wonder who was on the other end of the chat box. Was it someone she knew? Maybe some nerdy guy in one of her classes stalking her. Well, if so then she hoped he had gotten his thrill and would leave her alone now.

Lindsey finally returned to her room that evening. Summoning her courage, she carefully opened her laptop. The webcam light remained off. She checked into Facebook and updated her status. She read her mail and listened to some music. Everything seemed normal.

Next she tried a few Google searches for anything about on laptops acting strangely, but only ended up with the suggestion to update her virus protection, something that she thought computers did automatically. She called it a night, stood up from her chair and stretched, and then started getting ready for bed. Just as she reached back to unhook her bra, she froze. She was standing directly in front of the laptop. There it was, sitting quietly, but she moved out of its vision to the side before taking off her bra. Rather than risk passing in front of her computer topless, she pulled a new sleep shirt out of the dresser drawer. Laying in the dark, she kept glancing over to her laptop, wondering if it was watching her.

Lindsey's alarm woke her the next morning. She stretched, thinking about getting up and working out. Or, on second thought...she always felt so horny in the mornings, when the weight of the day's tasks hadn't filled her mind enough to block out her young body's hormonal urges. She lazily slipped a hand under her tee and cupped her breasts, stroking and dreamily touching her nipples as her body came awake. Her other hand drifted down to her panties, pulling the elastic down below her hips, sliding her fingers along her folds to give a nice few strokes. She imagined some nameless male model, his hands on her as she kissed him. Male model...cameras...Lindsey's eyes snapped open and her head turned toward her computer. The green webcam light was on.

Instantly awake, she ripped her hands away from her body and jumped out of bed, running out of its sight to hide, quivering, by the doorway. Steeling herself, she lunged forward and slammed the lid shut, shaking in anger. How long had the camera been watching her? She always left it open on the desk across from her bed. Memories surfaced of her humping her pillows, of dancing naked in her room. What had the computer seen? She masturbated almost every morning! Lindsey covered her mouth in horror as she remembered other, more sordid things: giving a blowjob to that boy, Dan; the self-inflicted spanking with a ruler while bent over reading 50 Shades.

In desperation, she decided to throw the laptop away. Pulling on her sweats, she took it down to the dumpster. As she walked, she thought about what she was doing. She couldn't throw her computer out: her whole life was on it. Facebook, music, pictures, homework, everything. She would clearly need a new computer, but didn't have the time or the money to go buy one. She stood in front of the dumpster for long, indecisive minutes before finally accepting that she couldn't throw it away.

Lindsey returned to her room and plugged the laptop back in. She took a deep breath and carefully opened the lid. The webcam light was off. She started to once again attempt to figure out what was going on. She knew virtually nothing about computers other than how to use the applications she used. She knew that the computer had come with lots of programs she never opened. A futile half-hour later, she gave up and went for a shower to get ready for class. This time she made sure that the laptop was closed while she changed. She left the laptop in her room, resolving to take notes the old fashioned way. All day, the burden of not having her laptop with her was evident. Notes, videos, email were all missing from her routine.

In the afternoon, she returned and again probed the computer and came up empty. By the evening nothing odd had happened, and she was wondering if she had imagined that the computer had been watching her that morning. At best she had seen the green light for a millisecond. Doubt began to fester in her mind. Maybe the webcam hadn't been on and it was all in her head. That night, even though the computer was closed, she fought off the urge to masturbate.

As if to make penance for the previous day, she opted for a long jog the next morning rather than lie in bed and indulge her desires. This time, she took her laptop with her to classes. Sitting in her last class of the day, she was dutifully taking notes on her laptop when her application saved. Lindsey's eyes widened in horror as a chat window opened on her screen.

Hello, Lindsey.

She slammed the laptop closed so violently everyone noticed. Even Professor Gaines glanced up at her.

"Sorry," she mouthed to him as her heart rate soared. As Professor Gaines continued, her computer beeped. Eyes glanced at her as it beeped again.

"I...um...have to go," she blurted out.

Tossing the beeping laptop into her backpack, she raced from the lecture hall as quickly as she could. She could hear the laptop beeping in her back, like the beating of a telltale heart. She fled from the building, looking for a place to get away from people. English was her last class of the day, so she decided to simply go back to her dorm room. At some point, the beeping stopped. She summoned the courage to pull the laptop out of her bag and plugged it in. She paced for long minutes before taking a deep breath and opening it up. For a few minutes everything looked normal, but then the dreaded chat window opened again and the green webcam light glowed.

Hello, Lindsey.

"Leave me alone," she demanded.

Soon enough. Take off your shirt.

"No."

Lindsey, we've been through this all before. Take off your shirt.

"Listen, asshole," she snarled, "the only reason I took off my shirt was because I had a paper due. Screw you. I'm not taking off my shirt."

Silence hung in the air as her blackmailer pondered his options. Finally, it spoke again.

I'm going to show you some pictures.

Lindsey watched in amazement as her computer opened Photo Viewer. A picture appeared of her sitting in her bra from a few days ago when he had forced her to take off her shirt. Then a second picture opened. Lindsey's eyes widened: it was a picture of her in a different bra.

"How did you...?"

A third picture opened. This time, she her back was to the camera but she was clearly topless. Lindsey covered her mouth in shock, sinking into her chair. Photo Viewer minimized and the chat screen reappeared.

I've been watching you, and I have more pictures. You wouldn't want these getting out, would you? I'm not asking for anything I haven't already seen. Take off your shirt.

"Please leave me alone," she whimpered.

Remove your shirt.

"No," she whispered, trying to convince herself to stand firm.

The computer brought forward her email program and started a new email. The subject filled in as Question for you. Then came the message.

Hey babe, I was wondering which bra you prefer. I can't decide. Help! Miss u : - ) <3

In an instant she understood what was about to happen. She whipped off her shirt and clutched it to her chest.

"No, please don't."

Drop the shirt, Lindsey.

She winced as she put her shirt aside and dropped her arms, fighting back a wave of nausea.

Very nice. Do I need to attach a few pictures and send this email to everyone in the dorm?

"No, please don't," she begged.

Will you be a good girl?

"Yes." The computer paused for awhile, the email taunting her from her screen. Finally a new message appeared.

While you look very pretty, I want you to demonstrate you will be a good girl. Go put on a different bra.

Lindsey nodded and went to her dresser. She couldn't believe the predicament she was in. How many pictures did he have of her? She would die if everyone saw her in her bra. She quickly picked her least revealing bra, unfortunately in leopard print, and returned to the computer.

Very nice! The computer closed the email. I am going to save the draft just in case your behavior needs to be corrected in the future. If you try to do anything stupid like tell someone what is happening, I will send this email. Do you understand? Lindsey choked back the urge to tell him off and nodded mutely. Now, let's lay down some ground rules. First, though you may not be happy with your current situation, I require you to be civil at all times. Do you understand?

"Yes," she growled through clenched teeth.

Second, whenever you are in your room, you will have the laptop open and on this desk. Do you understand?

"Why? So you can spy on me all the time?" she spat, her anger boiling over.

Do I need to remind you what is at stake for you? The email program popped to the front again.

Lindsey frowned, cornered again. "Okay, I'm sorry," she conceded. The computer ignored her, opened the draft email and attached a few files. "Hey, I said I'm sorry! Please don't do that!"

Apologize.

"I'm sorry I got short with you. Please don't send it."

Not good enough.

"I...I'm really, really sorry I snapped at you. I'll be good, I promise."

What are the first two rules?

"I have to be civil at all times and keep the laptop open."

Get out some paper. Write each rule on a piece of paper. Lindsey nodded and dutifully wrote down the two rules, showing them to the computer. Now tape them on your wall. Good. Put on a different bra. She nodded and changed into a cute pink bra and returned to the computer.

Lovely! Now let's talk about you. Tell me about yourself.

Lindsey began to talk, prompted by the computer. She told him about her home, her family, her high school, her college career. She tried to stay focused and wary, knowing she was talking to a guy that had blackmailed her into taking her shirt off, but it was hard. She couldn't help but smile as she talked about her mom's apple pie, or get excited when she talked about her trip to Europe. She talked about her major, her classes, her friends, her hobbies. After awhile she almost forgot she was only wearing a bra while talking to her blackmailer. It felt really nice, in a weird way, talking to someone who was apparently listening to her. College happened at such a frantic rate, she rarely had time just to talk to someone. Then the conversation turned sexual.

How many boyfriends have you had?

She started answering the usual questions, embarrassed to be confessing so much to a stranger. The computer opened a webpage from a relationship site with a survey. She read each question and then answered them. She had only had sex with two boys, one in High School and one in college. She had broken up with her High School boyfriend when she left for college, and the other guy only used her for sex. The computer demanded details, wheedling out her feelings and memories. She pantomimed her blowjob techniques, admitted to masturbating almost daily, and disclosed that she had even kissed a girl.

Well, it's getting late. You should probably go to dinner and do your school work. Lindsey glanced at the clock, surprised to find she had been talking for over 2 hours. I had a really nice time talking with you.

"Yeah, me too," she replied, immediately regretting her response.

We'll do it again soon. A couple of more things before I go. I want to commit to your morning run. Every morning, you need to do your loop.

"Yeah, I know," she shrugged.

That wasn't a request. You will run every morning, no excuses. It's the next rule. Write it down and tape it to your wall. Lindsey frowned at him but complied. Good. Do you know what Snapchat is?

"Yeah, a lot of girls use it to send sexts to guys."

Do you have it installed?

"No, I don't..." she started, seeing where this was leading.

I want you to Snapchat me every morning, after your shower, wearing only your bra and knickers.

"Knickers?"

Panties.

"Oh, I...don't want to..." she winced in protest.

You do wear panties, don't you?

"Yeah but I don't..."

It's the fourth rule now. Snaps before 8 every morning. Write it down and tape it to your wall. She scowled at him, but saw no alternative: he could send that email at any time. Now read me the rules.

"Be civil at all times. Laptop stays open. Run everyday. Snaps before 8."

Good. Recite the rules every morning when you get up and before you go to sleep. I'll be in touch.

A moment later, the chat window closed. Lindsey studied the screen, wondering what she had gotten herself into, and more importantly, wondering how to get out of it. A glance at the clock got her moving to get to the dining hall before it closed. As she walked, she replayed the afternoon's events in her head. She had just spent over 2 hours video chatting to a stranger while wearing a bra. Despite the circumstances, after thinking about it she conceded it was the best conversation she had had in months. She wondered who was on the other end of the screen. Was he a boy she knew? She glanced over and caught some guy's eye, immediately looking down in embarrassment as she imagined he was the one. If that email got out, I would have to leave campus!