O’Melissokomos
The Bee Keeper

Yippee??? (scifi celeb)

by hypnojon32

The year was 2105. Times were bleak.

The world was under the control of the all-powerful super media organization, YIPPEE. The past 100 years had been good for YIPPEE. Using the internet as a cash cow YIPPEE had milked it steadily, greedily, until it eventually caught up and bought out its longtime rival MuckySoft.

Now there was only YIPPEE. In North America, Mexico was the first to fall. YIPPEE promised everyone jobs and food and was quickly accepted into power. YIPPEE kept half its promises. Mexico had a 0% unemployment rate.

Several years later, YIPPEE entered the American political arena. They won by a landslide and never lost power. How is that possible, since no president is supposed to preside (rule) for more than 8 years, you ask? Well, YIPPEE‘s new CEO is elected to office, you guessed it, every 8 years.

Shortly after that, just like it does with everything else concerning the US, Canada followed suit.

The YIPPEE site was the biggest, most modern site in the world. It was more hit on than a Thai whore. A hundred years ago, in the good old days, YIPPEE monitored their groups, only weeding out the ones with obvious spammers. As their riches grew, however, so did their thirst for power. Morality Moniters were installed at first to lightly skim e-mails and groups checking for “questionable content”

A few groups disappeared. Then a few more. Since they were involving hard-core nudity, no-one really questioned it and the owners just re-made the groups over a bit softer.

After a hundred years, YIPPEE had complete and total control over its media. Everyone was required to have a Yippee mailbox and all mail was read, sanitized, and if YIPPEE felt like it, delivered. All groups were monitored and watched with a fanatical intensity that made Big Brother look like a dysfunctional Nanny-Cam. Any infraction of any and all of YIPPEE’s ridiculous rules resulted in total termination of the group and the complete banishment of the owner’s e-mail account. However, since the unfortunate person was therefore forced to sign up again, many people regularly re-started their groups and tried again. Besides, the group might actually thrive the next time, for YIPPEE’s rules fluctuated and reversed themselves daily on the whims of the executives who made them up. YIPPEE also had “goodwill promotionists” at every snail mail outlets and phone company. If you knew it, and wanted someone else to know it, YIPPEE knew it too.

Meanwhile, back in the real world, martial law was enforced, thanks to the YIPPEE Enforcement Service, or, YES. Like the website rules, the legal system was completely corrupted. Laws could be made up on the spot, and enforcers could act as judge, jury and executioner. Which was about all there was, since about 50 years ago, the first order of business for YES was to kill all the lawyers and make it illegal to become a judge. Justice had become a luxury.

* * *

It was into this world that Frank and Joe Hardy were born. Named after their great-great-great-great-great grandfather and uncle, Frank and Joe were very much like their namesakes. They were born within a year of each other. Frank had dark hair and was brooding and analytical. Joe was blond and blue-eyed and had a more cheery outlook on life. Unfortunately this made him impulsive and headstrong which got him into trouble.

The boys grew up. Like their ancestors, they grew up together and developed a deep and lasting brotherly bond. They both had an inquisitive, investigative nature that often led them to solving mysteries. More often than not, Joe would barrel off and get captured, often getting tied up and gagged. Frank would come along later after doing research and investigation. If they were lucky, they would make it home in one piece and the crook would get nabbed. Frank and Joe were very lucky.

When Frank was 18, he graduated from high school, the YIPPEE Educational and Employment Services, (or YEES) and joined the family business. Since Joe was only 17, he still had a year of YEES to go but he was allowed to work with Frank “part time”. Going to YEES was a waste of time anyway. Conventional education had been thrown out long ago. Education was now just a pointless, fascist activity, learning the rules, oppressive laws, and web design tactics of YIPPEE.

The Hardy Detective Agency was a low profile, yet booming business. With YES in control, people were more than happy to pay for real justice. Plus the fact that the Hardys charged on the basis of income and even did pro-bono work depending of the case. All this endeared them to their clients and their fame spread by word of mouth all the time.

In their spare time, the Hardy boys were techno freaks, inventors, and hackers of the highest class. Online they were the leaders of a massive organization dedicated to writing password programs and firewalls that would block out YIPPEE’s invasive spybots, censor worms, and morality viruses.

Using this technology, Frank and Joe had successfully started and kept a super secret, underground bondage/erotic hypnosis group on the YIPPEE network. It had been going for 6 months now, which had to be some sort of record. They posted stories, pictures and polls on the group and they had thousands of members who were drawn together by their mutual love of bondage and peril cliffhangers. They hid the group behind an extensive screening progress using firewall programs of their own design. One mistyped letter in any of the tricky passwords sent the unlucky individual to different hardcore porn sites and loaded a virus onto their computer. This virus would not harm the computer but just blocked that system from EVER trying to gain access to the Hardy’s group again. The Hardy’s also changed their URL address every few days, thereby keeping one more step ahead of the YIPPEE censers and Morality Moniters.

Lots of the pics posted were sent in by members but Frank and Joe posted many of the bondage photo stories themselves using themselves as models. Both dudes had grown up into major hotties with clear skin, handsome, defined faces and gymnastically muscular bodies. Both loved practicing bondage on each other and attempting to escape the ropes. It was sort of a family tradition, being in a family of detectives who got captured, tied up and gagged and threatened with death, generation after generation.

* * *

“Tighter, bro, tighter! I can still move my hand over here! Make it REAL!”

“Now Joe! You know how I hate being “directed”. I think someone needs a gag.” Frank chose a fresh, white bandanna and knotted it tightly behind Joe’s neck

Joe smiled to himself as he bit into the bandanna. He knew all right. He knew directing was a sure way to get gagged and Joe absolutely loved getting gagged. He groaned as he felt Frank cinch the rope tighter into a nearly immovable hog-tie.

“Move that hand now! If you can…” Frank said diabolically. He picked up the gun and pointed straight at Joe’s head.

Joe squirmed. “MMMMPPHHH!!! MMMMPPHHHH!!!! He struggled frantically.

“Hey, little bro,” Frank said, “You said to make it REAL! HA! HA! HA!” He cocked the gun.

The door banged open.

“Hey, I’ve been waiting – Geez Frank, what are you doing?”

“Paulo! Don’t move!”

Paulo raised his hands in surrender and stood very still.

Joe writhed and struggled in his bonds and moaned pitifully to a helpless Paulo as Frank came closer and closer with the gun, grinning insanely. He stroked Joe’s temple with the barrel of the gun. Joe’s baby blues widened, terrified.

Frank started the camera and started moving around Joe slowly who was still writhing on his belly. He pulled the trigger of the air gun a few times. The camera began flashing steadily for a 10 second burst. Frank moved out of the shot and let the camera take a few shots of Joe by himself in his bonds.

“Thanks, Paulo!” Frank said after the camera had stopped flashing. He draped an arm around the newcomer’s shoulders and drew him into the studio, “I didn’t want you walking into the shot. Didn’t you see the warning light?”

“I saw it. But I figured I’d be waiting for hours for you two crackers to finish! If you even decided to finish! I swear you guys only stop to sleep!”

“Mmmmph! Eeeemmmm! Oooooffff!” garbled Joe from the floor.

“Too right!” laughed Frank, “How are you doing buddy? What brings you by?”

“I have a case for you,” Paulo said the magic words.

Frank flicked one knot and guided Paulo out of the windowless studio into the outer office where the Hardy’s had their desks, files, and a couple of deep, plush, chairs for clients to sit. Off to one side was a staircase that led up to the Hardy’s apartment where they lived when they weren’t working or making bondage pictures or videos. Late morning sunlight was streaming through the front windows.

“Aren’t you going to help him?” Paulo asked, as they closed the door on Joe who was still wriggling on the floor.

“Nahhh. He gets cranky if he doesn’t get to struggle his way out. Don’t worry, that knot, I undid, will let him free himself. It’ll be a few minutes though. Have a seat.”

Paulo did, into one of the purple plush chairs. He was a handsome and pleasantly muscular olive skinned Italian with tight, curly, jet-black hair. Paulo was 18 as well and had gone through YEES with Frank. It was rumored that Paulo’s family had been friends with the Hardy’s ever since the times of their namesakes, but Paulo’s genealogy had not been as well kept as the Hardy Boys’ and he could not be sure of it.

Frank offered coffee. Paulo accepted.

“Fen-10! Fen-10! Coffee please!” Frank shouted.

Fen-10 came gliding down the stairs several feet in the air on its anti-grav pads that were on the bottom of each foot. Fen-10 glided gently over the floor. He landed and leg extensions lowered.

“Coffee for three please,” Frank said again.

“Arf! Arf!” Fen-10 agreed.

Fen-10 was the Hardy’s robotic dog they had designed, built, and been upgrading and enhancing all their lives. But Fen-10 was more than just a robot dog. His posotronic brain was a learning A.I. His robotic body could transform into any type of dog and even human form. His voice matrix could even be set to speech mode where he could speak any language. Thanks to his anti-grav pads, he could fly and carry heavy loads. This particular feature had saved Frank and Joe’s bacon quite a few times. He was companion, helper, protector, advisor, fellow sleuth, and surrogate parent to the Hardy Boys ever since the death of their parents 5 years ago.

Fen-10 stood up on his hind legs which extended further. His front legs transformed into arms. He walked over to the kitchen and removed three fat mugs from the cupboard. The front of his chest slid open. Fen-10 put the cups inside and three streams of java began filling the cups.

“Thank you, Fen-10,” Frank said as the robot served the coffee.

“You’re welcome, Frank,” Fen-10 answered in his slightly tinny voice, “And where is Joe today?”

“He’ll be along in a moment,” Frank said, We’ll be discussing business for the next little while but I’d appreciate it if you were close at hand.”

“Very well, Frank,” Fen-10 transformed into a beagle and trotted over to a corner. He turned around three times and lay down, and shut down his primary systems. A power cord extended out of his rear like a tail and plugged itself in. Although in standby mode, Fen-10 would hear and record every word of their conversation for future reference.

The young men sat back and relaxed with their coffee. Five minutes later, Joe emerged, still picking at the knot of the bandanna around his neck. He pulled it free, tossed it back into the studio and shut the door. Then he sat down next to Frank in the third, plush chair without a trace of embarrassment.

“So, what’s up, Paulo? What can we do for you?” Frank asked.

“It may be more like what can I do for you! Paulo said, “Or maybe it’s what we can do for each other…Well honestly, I think you’ll be doing most of the work but I…”

“Paulo!!” Frank and Joe said sharply in unison.

“Sorry, sorry! Guess I tend to ramble when I’m excited. But I mean you guys would be excited too if you were in my place. Well, I’m in your place, which is practically the same thing but it’s not quite the same is it? I mean, if you were over at my…”

“Paulo! What is it!?” shouted both the Boys.

Sorry! OK, here it is. Frank, Joe, how would you like to take down YIPPEE? I mean really take it down! Once and for all!!!”

Frank and Joe stared, speechless.

* * *

High on the top floor of the YIPPEE, in a corner office, in the BEST office, in fact, the YIPPEE CEO and president of the world, President Will I. (short for Ignatz) Cannem was ensconced in a enormous, Italian leather chair, with his initials hand embroidered in red on the back. He was sitting behind an enormous mahogany desk.

Suddenly there was a buzz from the intercom. The high, unpleasantly nasal voice of his administrative assistant, Mona Plentee interrupted his thoughts.

“Mr. Cannem? There’s an annoying little man here who says he works for you. His ID seems to check out but maybe I should call security anyway…”

“No, no,” Cannem said quickly, “Send him in.”

One of the large, heavy double doors opened and a very thin man squeezed through. His body was thin, his face was thin and his hair was thin. When he spoke, his voice was thin and reedy as if it was an effort to push the air out of his lungs.

“Good morning, President Cannem,” he wheezed, “I tried to show your assistant that my ID was in order but I don’t think…”

“The only reason you are even in here,” Cannem interrupted, “is because I’m fantastically bored. You’re boring me even more, if that’s even possible. Spit out whatever you’ve got to say, or get the hell out. You’ve got ten seconds. Go!”

“Yes sir. Uh well, where to begin? My name is…”

‘Inconsequential!” interrupted Cannem.

“Yes, well…I am a Morality Moniter, 8th class (the lowest there was), and I believe I have discovered something quite substantial that you’ll be very interested in.”

“Why don’t you tell me and let me be the judge of that,” said Cannem.

“My salary as an 8th class is pathetically meager, said the MM in his reedy voice, “as it is, I can barely afford food for me and my family. The hunger pangs are so strong that sometimes they affect my memory so that it comes and it goes. Ohhh, I feel faint! It’s going…going…”

“Well I must admit this is anything but boring,” Cannem said, munching on a bag of instant popcorn, “Get on with it. What can I do to make your memory return?”

“Information as sensitive as this – uh, which I have forgotten at the moment – would surely return with the promise of a promotion to Morality Moniter – level 6?”

“Depending on the nature of the information, that is acceptable,” agreed Cannem. “Hold out your mark.”

The MM held out his thin right hand. Embedded under the skin was a small microchip that held all the man’s personal information, bank account, and job status. Cannem took a white wand with a laser pointer on the tip and swiped the top of the MM’s hand. There was a beep.

“There,” Cannem said, “You’re level 6. Now spill.”

The MM pressed a spot in his wrist and took a moment to verify the change. He was indeed promoted.

“Oh, oh yes, I remember now. I have been going undercover tracking an illegal group for several months and just this morning I have had verification. Sir, there is an illegal bondage group in our system that has been in existence for over six months now.”

“WHHHAAATTT!!!!” screamed Cannem, jumping up and overturning his huge leather chair, “How did this breach of control happen? HOOOOOOW!!?” He pounded his desk like an infantile spoiled brat.

“Sir!!! I don’t – I don’t – I – I – I – I – I -…”

“Who!? Who dares defy me!? Who dares defy YIPPEE!?!?”

“Sir!

Mister President Sir! Their names are Frank and Joe Hardy. I have their address on file as we speak. I – I - I – I -…”

“WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE??!!” screamed Cannem, “You’re a level 6 now! Get over there! Capture them and bring them before me! Oh and one more thing! A few steps to the left please! A few more…”

“Is this all right, sir?” the MM asked nervously.

“Perfect,” Cannem said as he pressed a button on the underside of his desk.

A trapdoor opened from under the MM and he dropped out of sight.

His thin, reedy scream grew thinner and fainter as he fell down, down, down and away into a chute that ultimately would deposit him into a recycling dumpster. At least Cannem hoped it was a dumpster. But he was such a very important man with soooo many other things to think about, it was hard to remember. He hoped that particular trap did not lead to the bear pit or snake pit. Or was it alligators?

Cannem righted his chair and sat back. He lit a Venutian cigar and took a soothing drag.

Ah well! He thought, Time will tell! Time will tell!

* * *

“Paulo, how is that even possible?” Frank finally asked.

“Yeah! They’ve been in power since we were around. Plus they control everything! Everything!” Joe added.

“You’ve managed to keep them in the dark for quite a while,” Paulo said with a twinkle in his eye.

The Hardy Boys mused on that for a while.

“The only thing you lack,” Paulo continued, “is a way to keep YIPPEE out of everyone’s hair entirely. To banish it to its own section of the internet once and for all. And some leverage to keep them there and discredit them to the people so they’ll never be able to hold public office ever again.”

“But how could we ever accomplish this? Even our strongest firewalls are no match for their worms,” Frank protested.

“I have the answer,” Paulo said.

The front windows blew out into the office. Instinctively, all three boys tipped over and ducked behind the chairs for cover. The glass missed them by a hair.

Uniformed men poured into the room. A couple of them had flamethrowers. They systematically began to burn and trash the place.

“Oh no! YES MEN!!!” shouted Frank over the chaos, “Joe! Plan Alpha 1!”

The boys jumped up and bolted into action. They tried to fight their way out but were hopelessly outnumbered by the seemingly unending numbers of men coming in the windows. They wore yellow jumpsuits with YES printed in large black letters on the front and back. The Hardy’s punches were blocked expertly and in no time two men had each boy pinioned while a third gut punched him into submission.

Their arms were cruelly forced behind their backs and their wrists tied with laser ropes. Before they could recover from the gut punches, their ankles and calves were tied as well with concentrated beams of green light. They were dragged outside. The smoke was already getting pretty thick.

The Hardy Boys and Paulo were dragged/carried toward a black van parked just outside. Inside more men waited with laser rope makers.

Frank got his wind back and sucked in a huge breath. “Fen – UUUUMMMMPPPPHHHH!!!”

A rag was balled up and shoved into his mouth. Another white rag was wrapped around his mouth and tied tightly at the back of his neck. From the corner of his eye, Frank saw Joe and Paulo being similarly gagged. All three were thrown into the back of the van.

Cloth gags were still used because lasers were never able to be used properly as gags. As the mouth was forced open, the laser would force its way inside the body causing shocking, and/or death.

Inside the van, the three men used the rope makers to tie five circles of green light around the young men’s chests and upper arms, immobilizing them completely. They all struggled futilely.

One of the YES men unzipped a pocket and removed three hypodermic sprays. He advanced menacingly on the boys who sweated and struggled in fear.

“Not to worry, not to worry,” he soothed in a voice that reminded Joe of a jar full of shook up nails, “Just a bit o’ hibernation spray to keep you boys outta our hair until we get to where we’re goin” He pressed the first to Paulo’s neck and sprayed. The spray was absorbed through Paulo’s skin. Paulo’s eyes fluttered shut and his body stiffened and froze as he entered a state of suspended animation. Then Joe.

Frank struggled and kicked viciously but it was no good. He felt the cool nozzle on his neck. The hiss of the spray. His body felt like a thousand pounds. The YES man laughing above him grew blurry. His laugh grew deep and stretched out for a thousand miles. HAAAAAAAAAAAWWW! HAAAAAAAAAAAAAW! HAAAAAAAAAAAAAW!

And then everything went black.

Read Chapter 2

This story is Copyright © 4 March 2005 by hypnojon32. All rights reserved.
The author's permission is required to make a copy of this story for archiving purposes.
Any duplication of this file must include these copyright messages intact.

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