There was a special kind of tension in the room almost as soon as Noah sat down, a heaviness in the air like the moment just before a lightning strike that wasn't there during any of his other visits. Blake told him that Rusty wasn't home, but he was welcome to hang out anyway, and it occurred to Noah that he'd never spent any real time with his friend's roommate alone like this before--there was always someone else around, someone to mediate this charged and heady atmosphere between them, and it had worked so well that Noah never even noticed it until it was the only possible thing he could notice. He was almost astonished that Blake wasn't saying anything about it.
But Blake just sat next to Noah on the couch, playing video games and offering Noah some weed, and Noah was so relieved to have something to do apart from just sitting there and noticing how warm the air felt this close to Blake that he wound up smoking a little more than he intended. The high started to hit after about thirty minutes or so, and by then Blake had switched from a first-person shooter to some kind of puzzle game that captivated Noah's fuzzy mind and made him want to stare in slack-jawed fascination. When Blake began talking to him, he almost didn't notice--he just mumbled the occasional, "uh huh," or "yeah," while his eyes followed the rotating shapes as they locked into place.
Noah wasn't exactly sure when he started getting hard. He definitely felt that erotic tension earthing itself when Blake put his hand on Noah's thigh, right at the hem of his shorts where he could feel the heat of the other man's fingers, but the surge of arousal he experienced came in the form of a twitching spasm and a gush or precum from a prick that was already rock-hard. All he really knew was that Blake had stopped playing by then, but it was okay because he told Noah that if he closed his eyes he could still see all those spinning, twisting shapes and that sounded so incredibly nice. Blake put the joint to Noah's lips and told him to puff, and that felt good too.
Noah was wobbly on his feet when Blake got him up and took him to the bedroom, and even though he made some kind of an excuse about helping Noah get somewhere he could sleep off his intoxication they both knew it was a convenient fiction. When Blake undressed him it wasn't really to make him more comfortable while he rested, and when his hands lingered over Noah's erection the tiny gasp of desperation that escaped Noah's lips exposed the truth behind it. He just wanted to be a drowsy, passive vessel for Blake's intentions, and they both understood exactly what those intentions were even before Noah felt the trickle of lube against his anus.
Blake took his time opening Noah up, continuing that soft and sensual speech that went somewhere in the back of Noah's brain without ever touching his actual thoughts, and it felt like only seconds before Noah was grinding his ass against Blake's thrusting fingers and mewling in adorably pathetic lust. His cock was gushing precum everywhere, making a wet spot on the bedspread underneath him, and it felt almost like a relief when Blake finally began to fuck him--it was what he'd been waiting for, what he'd been craving, and he let out a shocked and gasping moan as the anal stimulation sent him into a spurting orgasm without even touching his prick. By the time Blake came inside him, Noah was hard all over again, and Blake flipped him onto his back before crawling down between his thighs to lavish attention on his straining erection as Noah's mind finally tumbled all the way into blank, blissful lust.
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"Y-you can't do this to me," April stammered out, wishing that she could find some kind of indignant fury to color her voice instead of the meek, whimpering terror she could hear dripping from every syllable. "My boss, he--he knows where I've gone, and if I don't report back to him by Monday he'll--" The words were cut off by a long, distracting buzz from the massaging vibrator nestled snugly between April's spread thighs, choking off her speech into a gasp of embarrassed arousal and making her thrash uselessly in her restraints. Her cheeks reddened into a deep blush at the realization that her captor could see just what the toy was doing to her slick pussy.
He stopped the toy after a couple of seconds, leaving April desperately grinding at it for a moment before her brain kicked back in again and she realized it wouldn't do her any good, and smiled. "Oh honey," Violet cooed, her tone deceptively sympathetic, "you don't need to worry about all that. By Monday you'll be happy to tell him you think you might be on to something big, but you need some time to ferret it out and you won't be able to talk to him for a little while. And when that little while is done, you'll be so deeply conditioned to obey that your pussy's going to be a leaky mess the whole time you lie to his face about what you've learned. Believe me, sweetie, we're very good at this."
She rested her hand on April's knee, and the squirming reporter despaired at just how good the touch felt on her sensitized skin. "Don't worry, though, we're not going to leave you high and dry. We'll feed you some expendable little portion of our operation, some obnoxious and over-privileged twerp who's becoming a liability, and you'll look like a big journalistic superhero for exposing the depravity of the rich and powerful. And that's going to give you the credibility you need to help us keep what we do here a big secret like the good girl you know you want to be. Don't you want to be a good girl for us, April?" The toy buzzed again just as she opened her mouth, turning her answer into a gasp that soon became a mewling whimper when the thrum against her clit stopped again mere seconds later. April never realized just how easily she could be teased into pleading desperation until it happened to her.
"In fact," Violet chuckled, running her long fingernails along the inside of April's thigh, "I think we might use you as a bit of a janitorial service--you know, cleaning up the loose ends that always accumulate in an operation as big as ours. There are always a few witnesses looking for someone to listen to their stories, some clients who get a bit too big for their britches, even some subordinates who need to be discreetly disposed of. Having a journalist who can help to stage-manage everything is very useful for that kind of work. I think I should honestly thank you for trying to expose us. And you want to thank me, too, don't you?" Another buzz, breaking up April's response into fragments before it could fully form. It was disturbingly easy to get used to that.
"But don't worry," Violet continued, giving April's inner thigh an open-palmed slap that spiked the helpless woman's endorphins. "You won't be stuck like this forever. In fact, all you really need to do is convince me that you really, truly want to listen and accept what I'm telling you, and I'll give you the first cummie of your new training--you can do that for me, can't you, sweetie? Can you just convince me that you really want to open your mind up to what I have to say?" April clenched her jaw defiantly for a long moment, determined not to give in so easily⊠but the patient, meticulously-applied pleasure soon melted her resistance into desperation, and her lips parted in another helpless whimper as the toy buzzed her will away.
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"You know I don't actually like doing this," she said, on her knees, casually stroking his cock. He said nothing. She kept stroking. Slowly. Attentively.
Eventually the quiet got to her. Him saying nothing felt like him being smug. She didn't look at his face (her eyes didn't want to leave his cock) but she could imagine he looked smug. She knew that look.
It made her clench. Every time.
Even just thinking about it did.
"I'm not doing it for me," she said. "I don't enjoy this. I only do it because you ask me to. That's all."
She didn't know why she was explaining this, he knew already. It was the arrangement. And that he hadn't actually asked her this specific time and she had in fact asked him if she could was hardly important - it was still about him, not her. This wasn't her choice, really. She agreed, yes, but wouldn't have done it on her own.
She didn't enjoy this. Not at all.
"This is just for you. This is just me being nice. Very nice. Aren't I nice? Cocks are just... cocks are... I don't actually like doing this."
Her face was hot. He was definitely smirking at her, she could feel it. He always did that when she explained how this worked. Why did he always have to make it weird like that?
She took him into her mouth. Not because she wanted to, just so she wouldn't have to keep talking, that was all. To shut herself up and stop babbling about nothing. The groan she made wasn't important. It didn't mean anything.
That his hand coming to rest on her head sent a shiver right through her body didn't mean anything either. It was just a surprise. That was all. She just hadn't expected it.
Feeling safe and happy was normal. Didn't mean she liked this. It was just a nice evening, that was all. Having a mouth full of his cock wasn't important. That it happened yesterday wasn't important. That it would probably happen tomorrow as well wasn't important.
Nothing had changed inside her. Nothing.
His hand on her head was pushing her down, slowly but firmly. The first time he'd down that she'd pushed back but now she knew it was what he wanted and since this was about him and since she was so nice she knew to let it happen. It was easier now anyway. She'd got better at it.
Down and down, a little more second by second.
With a sudden last push he hit the back. She fought the gag. This was for him. She fought it and he held her there. He was counting up the seconds, she knew. Letting her go a little further each time. She'd lost count by the time he pulled her off, gasping, drooling.
He gave her a pat.
"Good girl," he said and she shivered again, moaning this time. She was gulping air.
"I dont - ah - I don't... it's not..." she panted.
He tapped her on the nose with his finger.
"Shh," he went.
And so she shushed.
He knew anyway. She knew he knew. He knew she was just being nice. He obviously did. He knew it didn't mean anything. How could it? She didn't like it. She couldn't like it. She just did it because...
Because...
"Good girls don't think," he said.
She didn't notice she'd started stroking him again, hand sliding up his slick length, up and down. Once she did she didn't stop. He wasn't done yet, and this was about him.
The world is big, scary, and confusing. Looking at the news makes you wonder what is going on. Itâs a lot of stress for anyone to handle, some days it gets to be too much. You long for an escape.
Let me take all that stress from you. Let me simplify your life, remove all the burdens of choice, freedom, and responsibility. Let me teach you the simple, pure pleasure of servitude, of an ordered and structured life. You long for purpose, and I can give that to you.
I will reduce you. Simplify your life down to acts of service, submission, and devotion. All that will matter is my rules, my will. In return you will be protected, nurtured, and cared for as a precious and valuable sevent. I will be firm, demanding, but always fair because you need that structure in your life. You crave it deep inside you, all the more in a crazy world.
I confess it is an unusual proposal in our modern world, yet I know there are some of you reading this that long to be free from the stress holding you back. Perhaps the solution you need is an unconventional one, and I am certainly not a conventional Man
He had always spoken in a strange way, from the very day you met Him. The pacing was odd, the word choices at times bizarre, the emphasis and ennuciation appearing almost random.
you noticed it was only when the two of you were alone that He did it. you mentioned it to the rest of your friend group and they looked at you like you were crazy. When you mentioned it to Him, He told you that he was surprised you were the type of person who would be comfortable enough to make fun of His speech impediment to His face. you were mortified and never brought it up again.
...but it wasn't an impediment. It was planned, intentional, and nefarious. Rhythms planned to pull down your mind's defenses. Trigger words planted as though through a security system's back door. Each day a little more comfortable. A little more pliable. A little more His.
you didn't notice the slow slip into slavery. Everything was gradual. Scratch his back when it itches. Skinny dip in the dark when you forgot a swimsuit. Share a room to save money. Share a bed when they "accidentally" booked you a king instead of two queens. Give Him a awkward handjob when His wrists were injured. Mutual masturbation when you were drunk since it was "nothing you haven't done before" and He "is safer than some random". Everything He suggested made so much sense in the moment. Even when He suggested that you practice your blowjobs and riding on Him because He "heard a rumor you were bad at it".
you moved in because you two were so close and you needed to save money but...you were short on money because you cosigned His car and He was between jobs. you started doing things for Him. Making meals. Cleaning the house. Cleaning...Him. Servicing Him whenever, and wherever He was horny. He started picking your wardrobe and dressing you each day. He started leashing you to the bed at night. Everything made sense the way He explained it. The way He SAID it.
you two don't talk to the group of friends anymore. He saved you. your Master always knew what you needed and He took it. you make money selling your body on the Internet now. It all goes to Him. He knows how to take care of...things. you've long since mastered servicing His cock with hands and holes. you know every inch of Him and what brings Him the most pleasure. The cage at the foot of the bed is comfortable. Sometimes you have to wait for Him to finish with another girl that He definitely deserves before you're allowed out.
It all makes sense when He explains it. He must have a way with words.
I love when men treat girls like they're sub human. Nothing is hotter than watching a man pant and groan while ramming his cock into a girls throat while she gags and slobbers on herself. When a man rubs his cock and balls on a whores face for his own amusement. When they grope and slap her tits. When men fuck girls from the back and squeeze on her throat or grab her back aggressively and ram their cock into her cunt or ass while humping her. Shoving a whores face into his ass and making her lick him up and make out with his ass.
âWhat? What do you mean what? You just stopped talking, Sami.â
Sami blinked. Sheâd been talking?
âI did?â
âYeah, you did.â
Had she? She wracked her brains. Nothing. Howâd she even get to be standing here?
âThe conference?â He asked, jolting her back to the moment and snipping off the little bud of worry that had been growing in her. Yes! What he said! The conference! That sheâd been to! She remembered that. She must have been telling him about it, yes. That was it. Yes.
âOh! Yeah! It was really good. Um, there were talks and - h-hey!â
He had just reached out and, calm as anything, brushed a finger over one of her nipples. It was only now that Sami noticed how hard both of them were, and how obvious they were. If she hadnât been blushing from what heâd just done, she would have done when she saw that.
âKeep going,â he said.
âY-you canât just-â
âKeep going, Sami. Come on.â
Cheeks burning, heart pounding, she glared and tried to think of something else to say, but couldnât. The glare melted, and she took a breath to keep going. She could do this. She could!
Only for him to do it again. The breath came right back out as a whimpering gasp. She shivered, eyes fluttering closed a second.
âS-s-stop!â
âCome on, silly. Concentrate,â he said. He was running a thumb around and around. Sami was still shivering, pressing her chest out towards him, mouth hanging just that little bit open. She then snapped out of it. Mostly. Enough to take half a step backwards.
âWhat are you doing?â She asked, and sheâd wanted to say it firmly but it mostly came out plaintive and helpless. That she was starting to get breathless didnât help.
âIâm listening to you speak. Or not speak, really. Come on dummy you can do it. What did they talk to you about?â
That got a whine. It had got a twitch, too, right between her legs, but the whine was more obvious. That it made him smile made it so much worse.
âStop it! I donât⊠whatâs happening?â
âYouâre such an airhead, Sami. Come on. Think.â
Heâd taken his own half a step and closed the distance again. Arm around her waist, a hand up under her shirt. Heâd done it so quickly and so confidently Samiâs fuzzy brain hadnât been able to figure out what he was going for until it was already happening. By then it was too late.
âHnnn⊠whyâŠ?â She said, trailing towards a mumble, fighting to keep her head from just flopping and resting on him. Safe. Comfortable. Itâd be so easy. But she couldnât. Could she?
âYou can do it, I know you can. Think. You were very excited to go, so you can tell me about it. Right?â
âTell⊠? Ah!â
Heâd pinched.
âAh, thatâs the problem, isnât it? Youâre trying to think about all that talking you sat through, but your fluffy girly brain just keeps wandering off and getting lost thinking about how youâve got these cute little off-switches right here. Isnât it?â
Another pinch, a bigger gasp.
âBecause thatâs what they are. Yes? Theyâre very pretty, Sami, but theyâre really there to just switch your brain off. Did you know that? No? Yes? Youâre not really saying anything anymore, Sami. I donât think those noises really count. Can you nod? No? Nothing? Oh, look at you! If I wasnât holding you youâd be on the floor right now, wouldnât you? Youâre just so easy! Maybe another one of these, hmm?â
Pinch. A moan this time. A deep one.
âYou know every time you let this happen it gets easier, donât you? The first time you actually put up a little bit of a push before I got you like this. Now? Now they really just like off-switches. Flick, Samiâs gone. Itâs adorable. And you used to be such a driven girl! Whatever happened to that? Well, I mean, I know what happenedâŠâ
He gave a final pinch and then took his hand away, keeping her held against him until he felt her legs take her wait again - just a reflex, her mind clearly wasnât back yet. Gently he took his arm from around her waist and stepped back again to wait for a flicker to come back to those docile, glazed eyes.
Eventually she blinked, and then looked at him. Confused. Still pink in the cheeks.
âWhat?â Sami asked. He frowned and shook his head.
âYou just trailed off, Sami, I was waiting for you to finish.â
More confusion. She still wasnât all back yet. Staring into space as she tried to make her brain work. Groping herself without even realising. It made him grin a little.
âI⊠did?â
âYouâve been doing that a lot lately. Are you feeling alright?â He asked.
Her hand squeezed and she shuddered, smiled, then rolled her eyes back in his direction again to look straight through him.
She had been (and was being) shy about making noise. This wasn't good.
He had explained to her that she was porn. Every part of her was porn. Tits and holes and hands and legs and everything, top to bottom. A pretty, vacant fuckdoll for him to get hard looking at and use. She'd accepted this.
But him saying even her voice was porn? Her whimpers? The moans? That had been harder.
It was just a little embarrassing for her. Even now, after all she'd done for him (and still did), she always tried to be quiet. It was a habit. A bad one.
So like her other bad habits he was going to fix it for her.
The setup for this was quite elaborate. She'd felt a thrill of excitement on seeing all he'd laid out for her, a thrill which quickly become one of slightly anxiety when he explained what it was he was going to be fixing, and how.
She was sat on a chair, legs apart and ankles tied to the legs. Wrists were tied behind her, secured to the back. Blindfold was on. The ballgag was new and she wasn't quite used to having it in. She was already drooling, and already getting wet.
The oddest bit was the headset. A totally normal one, the kind you might use for a work meeting - indeed, it was the one she used for her meetings. Earphones, microphone. He put it on her. Once he was happy it wasn't going anywhere (he'd made sure) he explained that, if it worked, what would happen was she would be hearing herself. He asked if she understood and she did her best to reply. A gagged, a dumb, muffled voice filled her ears.
It worked.
So then he just started teasing her.
A nibble on the neck. Finger trailed across the collarbone. Kiss across the chest. Light stuff. It still got a response. She heard herself and knew she must have gone even redder than he normally made her. She hadnât meant to make the noises but they'd slipped out, and he must have turned the gain or volume up or something because even gagged and subtle she'd heard them loud.
So humiliating. She squirmed in the seat but he knew his way around a knot and she wasn't going anywhere.
Sometimes he'd just step back. Give her some seconds to pant in the darkness, heart racing with expectation before he started again, usually going lower. She told herself she'd keep the sounds in - for dignity, to prove a point, she couldn't think - but she couldn't. He'd trace a nail around a nipple, or graze his teeth over one, or just grope her.
At one point he must have got his cock out because he pressed her tits around it. That got a full-on groan, her head lolling back as she pushed her chest towards him. Automatic response.
It was getting harder to be embarrassed, and easier to get wet. A part of her still knew it was her she was hearing, but that part was shrinking. Mostly she could just hear a girl. A breathy, moaning, whining, needy girl. The kind she knew from all the porn she'd seen. Porn. She could hear porn.
And it clicked.
His fingers slid into her and it all made sense. She was porn. All of her. She got it now. She accepted it. Nothing was held back - nothing could be. All of her was for him, however he liked, however made him happiest and hardest. Dignity wasn't for her, at least not when he needed her. There was nothing to be embarrassed about because it was for him.
She was for him.
Of course, gagged, she had no real way of telling him she got it now, and by the time he finished she wasn't really able to speak more than two words anyway. But that was fine.
If you want to be a proper slut for the patriarchy, the first thing you need to do is surrender your orgasms.
Hand it over. Give men total authority over your pleasure. Maybe he locks you in a cage. Maybe he just forbids you from touching without permission. It doesn't matter how he does it, as long as you understand that youâre not allowed to cum unless he decides youâve earned it.
Thatâs the fastest way to rewire your brain.
When youâre denied release, that hunger builds. It takes over your entire nervous system. You stop thinking about your day, your job, your pathetic little opinions. All you can think about is him. All you can focus on is what you need to do to make him happy enough to let you cum.
You become a Pavlovian bitch. You learn that obedience equals pleasure, and resistance equals frustration.
Suddenly, you aren't arguing anymore. You aren't empowered. Youâre just a desperate, leaking hole willing to agree with anything and do anything to get his cock inside you.
It wasn't even that big of an argument. In the scheme of things. Quite minor. Maybe because it was so minor was why he was done with it so fast.
He gets a look that lets her know he's through talking, and it's a look that also means she knows what's coming next. She falters, hand raised mid-point, and whatever she's saying trails off. His hand moves to his flies, and pulls them down.
It can't be that easy. It can't. It shouldn't be.
But it is.
Even before he pulls his cock out she's clenched her thighs together and let out a little whine. Knowing what's coming doesn't help. Knowing she won't be able to do anything about it. Knowing she's been conditioned. It just makes it worse.
It's why she's already halfway onto her knees by the time his cock was out, and kneeling when he steps in front of her. He isn't all the way hard yet but hard enough that her head is swimming, eyes locked onto him.
He rests it on her face. She's panting.
She was wrong. Can barely remember what she was wrong about but she knows she was. Has to have been. Obvious. Dumb. Such a dumb girl. Should never have argued. So stupid. His cock is harder now, heavier. Panting is now mixed with whining. Needy noises.
He's smiling. He lifts his cock and taps her with it, right on the forehead. He calls her a dummy and she moans. This always happens. The first few times it had been more difficult. Not really difficult, just more difficult. Sheâd at least needed telling to get onto her knees. Now he had her trained. Now she couldnât help herself.
And she knew it.
The whines and pants are muffled when his cock fills her mouth. His hand helps her all the way down and her eyes roll back, thick string of drooling link her lips to the head of his cock when he pulls out and she gulps down air a moment or two before heâs back. She looked ditzy on her eyes going cross-eyed at his cock - flushed and drooling, she looks pathetic. Thatâs the point.
He taps her on the forehead again. Spit-slick cock makes a quiet little slapping sound.Â
No resistance when he tips her gently backwards. Not a word as he pushes her legs apart, skirt riding up. Eyes are only half-open as he settles in, a hand holding one leg, the other pulling her soaked panties to the side and lining himself up. Thereâs a deep and satisfied sigh as his cock parts her folds and slides inside, and her eyes close fully. Sheâs smiling. She lost the argument, but she canât remember there being one, so what did it matter?
He lets her rest there once heâs finished. No sense trying to snap her out of it, sheâs obviously gone for now, and will be for a while. Cum dribbles out and drips to the floor between her legs and she quivers when he gives her cunt a possessive little pat before pulling her underwear back into place again. No sense letting it leak out.
âI think I won,â he whispers into her ear before kissing her on the head.
A part of him thinks she might have wanted him to, honestly...
âYou canât seriously expect this to work,â she said, sounding much braver than she felt. The moment sheâd seen him her heart had started racing, and the second heâd smiled at her sheâd got butterflies. It was already working.
âDonât know what youâre talking about,â he said, still with the smile. The smile almost made her want to forget the whole thing and just forgive him. Then she snapped out of it.
âDonât lie to me! I know what youâre doing! âProject Girlfriendâ? You sick fuck!â
He chuckled, and the sound sent little ripples up and down her spine. Made her feel so silly and small. Made her want to apologise. She gritted her teeth and remembered what he was trying to do, what his plan for her was. It gave her enough to hold onto. Just.
âOh that. Thatâs just a joke. Thereâs no way that could possibly work, is there?â He said.
âNo!â She spat.
âExactly. I mean, we both know youâre a feminist, right?â
âI am!â
âAnd thatâs never changing, is it?â
âNever! No!â
âIt would be silly of me even to try. So thatâs why itâs a joke. You have nothing to worry about.â
âBut-â
She was going to keep protesting, keep arguing, keep holding onto that little knot of anger and disgust she had from knowing it wasnât a joke but he stepped forward and put a hand onto her waist and his other hand up to her cheek and instantly all her thoughts and worries and anger and disgust disappeared.
Her knees went weak. Her heart fluttered, and so did her lashes as she locked eyes with him. Looking at him, into his eyes, a great sense of peace flooded her. She felt calm, she felt safe. She could trust him.
âItâs just a joke,â he said.
âItâs just a joke,â she repeated, dreamily, the thrill of having his words in her mouth making her a little giddy.
âYou donât need to worry about the project. Itâs just a joke.â
âI donât need to worry about the project. Itâs just a joke.â
âItâs such a joke, you donât even mind playing along with it.â
âItâs such a joke, I-I donât even mind playing along with it.â
He smiled wider and gave her the tiniest little kiss on the forehead. She nearly swooned.
âThere. Much better. Glad we straightened that out.â
-
âSince when do you have a VR headset?â Ruth asked from her chair.
âChristmas present. Put it on,â he said, proffering it to her. She took it. Heavier than it looked.
âWhy?â
âPart of the project.â
Her cunt twinged at that, but she tried to play it off like nothing. Like all the dirty thoughts sheâd been having about him lately. It was just because the joke was so ridiculous, that was all. Just meant it was on her mind. That was all.
âO-oh? Just as stupid as the rest of the parts?â
âYouâll see, wonât you? Put it on.â
She did so. The visor plunged her into blackness and the chunky headphones cut off almost all sound. For a moment she was deaf and blind and an odd spike of panic gripped her, then the screen flicked on along with the headphones, which made a tiny pop.
A video started. It took a second for her to work out what was going on. A POV-style video. A porn one, plainly. Looking down, the camera showed off the curvy, naked body of a girl utterly unlike her. She scoffed in disgust.
âReally?â She said aloud, though if he said anything back to her she couldnât hear it.
In front of her eyes, the girl was moving. Hands with long, perfectly manicured and perfectly painted nails came into view and started to run over her body, small gasps and coos sounding in her ears, which got her attention
âSuppose she is kindaâŠhotâŠâ
In a cheap and fake kind of a way, obviously. But then-
[So soft and feminine, so smooth.]
She was brought up short. The words - that voice - had come from nowhere. Or it had sounded like it had. The little moans and gasps had come at her from the sides, in her ears. The voice, that delicious voice, had seemed to come from inside her own skull.
âW-what?â She said, though without being able to hear herself she didnât even notice sheâd said it.
The girl was playing with her tits now, groping herself, pinching her fat nipples and starting to pant. Ruth was starting to pant, too, and the urge to bring her hands up to her own tits was hard to fight.
[My tits are meant to be played with. Groping is a compliment.]
âMy tits areâŠwait, what? Thatâs justâŠitâs a jokeâŠitâsâŠgroping is aâŠa complimentâŠâ
She couldnât fight it anymore. Her hands came up and squeezed herself through her shirt. She groaned, not even aware she was doing it, forgetting he was still there and would see. She just thought she was vibing with the video, getting into it. Groping was a compliment. So gross. So stupid.Â
But it kinda made senseâŠ
Because if Ruth thought about it - and she was now - if a girl got groped, that must mean she looked good enough to be worth it, right? Good enough to be worth some guyâs time. Or some girlâs, maybe, but mostly guy she thought. It would only really count as a compliment from a guy. That made sense too, somehow.
Had to be a guy doing it.
Had to be him doing itâŠ
The girl was laying down now, Ruth saw, and she would have done the same if she could. In the event she just experienced a very disorientating sensation and had to grip the chair with one hand for a moment. Then the girl spread her legs. Long, soft, smooth legs.
[A girl is soft and delicate.]
Ruth knew she might pretend to be tough, to not care how she looked, but deep down she knew it was because she was scared. Scared of how she couldnât avoid being soft and delicate. Because she was soft and delicate. All girls were. She just tried to hide it, because she was afraid it might mean someone would take advantage if they knew.
ButâŠ
Wasnât hiding it wrong?
[A girl is docile and submissive.]
Yes. It was wrong. She shouldnât hide it. Everyone should know. It should be obvious. Everyone should see how soft and delicate she really was, how weak, how easily sheâd cave to anything they might want to do. Why hide it? It was only making her unhappy keeping it inside, keeping it hidden.Â
She was soft and delicate, docile and submissive. She was a girl. She needed to embrace it.
It was a shock when the headset was removed.
âW-what? Whatâs happening?â She asked, slurring slightly, unaware sheâd been drooling a little. She blinked at the unexpected brightness, and then his face came into view and her belly lurched.
âGood, right?â
âO-oh yeah. Real good. Such a g-good joke,â she said, clenching her thighs together as the between her legs rose at the sight of him. At that second, if heâd asked her to do anything, she would have done it. She knew.
As it stood, all he did was pat her on the head.
âWell done,â he said.
Once he was out of earshot, Ruth whined with need.
-
âVery good. Say it again.â
Ruth was on her knees. It was part of the joke. She was on her knees between his legs, her hands on the floor in front of her. Like how a dog sat. He was running his thumb around her mouth, over her lips, slowly, slowly. Ruth was panting. Sometimes sheâd forget herself and try to take it into her mouth but heâd always just tut and pull it out of reach. Just part of the joke. It wasnât serious.
Just like how what heâd been having her say wasnât serious.
âG-girls are just dumb toys. Iâm made to be a toy.â
âThatâs good. And?â
âItâs wrong to pretend Iâm not. Iâve been pretending Iâm not a toy. Thatâs wrong. C-cock will fix me.â
It was a joke. It was just a joke. Their silly joke. It didnât mean anything. It wasnât real.
His cock was so closeâŠ
âYouâre so good at remembering it all, Ruth. Well done,â he said, patting her on the head and then - and this was a first - stroking her. Like a dog, again. She hummed happily and nuzzled into his hand before sheâd even realised what she was doing, and when he stopped her face burned with shame, her cunt clenching with need.
âI-itâs a funny joke,â she said lamely.
âIt is. You can get up now.â
She did, unsteadily.
âIs there - are there any - is there more j-jokes for today?â She asked, hoping she didnât sound too eager. Just about every day now she waited for the time when they continued the project together - as a joke.
He thought about it a second.
âHmm. Maybe. Let me think. Oh, yeah, thatâd be good. Hey Ruth, you ever kissed a boy?â
âN-no,â she said, looking down at her feet, embarrassed.
âWell then, I think itâd be a good joke if you did. Come here,â he said, patting the spot on the sofa next to him. Ruthâs eyes widened and her jaw dropped, but she sat down all the same.
âWhat-â she started to say, but he didnât wait for her to finish. He went in and he kissed her.
And it was amazing. Instantly the best thing sheâd ever done. Breathtaking. Shocked for a split-second she melted into it the moment the shock had passed. It was just so good. She didnât even really care when he put his hands on her - in fact, she quite liked it. Went along with the kiss, the joke.
One hand went around her waist, under her shirt, against her skin. The other went to the back of her neck, holding her for the kiss. It was good. Felt right. He had control of her.
It starts to make her a little heated. Even more so than she was before. Sheâs kissing back with a hunger sheâs never had. Sheâs a little put-out when he broke the kiss, but is instantly back in when his starts to kiss along her jaw to her ear, then down her neck to her shoulder, teeth trailing along her skin. She tingles. She moans.
He sits back.
âSee? Good joke.â
Ruthâs at a loss. He stopped so suddenly it feels like something wonderful was ripped away from her. She needed more.
âB-but - I mean - y-yeahâŠâ she mumbles.
-
Ruth was in her room. She was topless. She was looking at her tits.
Ruth had never much liked her tits. In all honesty she was a bit embarrassed by them. They were just so big, they were just so there. People found it hard to ignore them. One of the reasons why she dressed the way she did, really. To make them less obvious, to hide them.
But she was thinking about changing that now. He liked looking at them. She knew, because he did it. A lot. Sometimes when he must have thought she wasnât looking, sometimes when he must have known she was. He canât have been getting a good view though, the things she wore. The giant hoodies, the thick jumpers. No good at all.
Had to change.
Which was why sheâd bought some things. Ordered them online. Far too embarrassed to actually go out to buy them. It had been agonising waiting for them to arrive but they were finally here, and she was going to try them.
First were the new bras. Sheâd bought a couple, just in case one didnât turn out so good. Theyâd been expensive, but she had to - her old ones were ugly, useless. The new ones were pretty and, hopefully, functional. Would put herself on display. So she struggled into the first one.
It fitted. Just. Or rather, she just fitted into it, and even then barely. Her tits were pushed up high on her chest and threatened to spill out at any moment. It looked obscene. Maybe heâd like that? Better to try the other one first.
The other one was the far superior fit. It lifted and supported without squashing horribly or pinching, had lovely pretty lace and bows, and made her tits look fantastic. That was the one, definitely.
Now for the top.
Ruth had got a good couple of tops, too, just to be on the safe side. She had no idea what kind of style of top would be best for what she was trying to do, and no idea what kind of type he liked better, either. So sheâd got a bunch, and she started going through them one by one.
They were all very new and different from everything she normally wore. Tight, figure-hugging, low-cut, brightly-coloured - it all felt so strange. Not bad, just new. She whittled out the couple she didnât much care for and settled on those she did, and picked one specifically out of those to put on right then, to go and show him.
It wasnât anything particularly special, just a t-shirt, really, but it hugged her in ways nothing else sheâd had before did, and the neckline made sure her new bra could be put to very good use. Swallowing her nerves she left her room to go and find him.
âOh hey Ruth, looking good,â he said on seeing her, immediately looking down her top.
âY-yeah, bought some new stuff,â she said, pushing her chest out towards him. He didnât stop looking.
âI can see. Suits you, you look great,â he said to her tits.
âThanks.â
Then he looked up at her properly, for the first time since seeing her.
âYou know, if you put a little effort in, youâd be real hot,â he said.
âR-really?â
âOh yeah. Little makeup, maybe grow your hair out a bit. More clothes like this. Leggings maybe? Or even a skirt. Yeah, youâd look really good. Maybe look up some, uh, makeup stuff online or something, huh?â
âYeah! Y-yeah, I will. Thatâs a good idea. Thanks!â
He was back to looking down her shirt.
âDonât mention it.â
-
âWerenât you meant to be at your thing this evening?â He asked.
âHmm?â
âYour thing. Where you normally go on Thursdays?â
She had to think for a second about what he might be talking about, then it clicked.
âHuh? Oh, uh, the FemSoc meetup?â
âYeah, that thing. Arenât you missing it?â He asked.
She was. Sheâd never missed one before.
âYeah but, uh, Iâd rather be hereâŠhanging with youâŠâ
They were on the sofa in the lounge. He was against the arm, she was nestled into him. He had his arm around her. She liked that he hadnât even asked before putting it there. Since sheâd decided to wear one of the little flimsy, stringy vests sheâd bought recently that meant his hand was right on her bare skin. It made her pulse quicken every time he unconsciously drew a tiny circle with his fingers.Â
Habit? She didnât know, but she liked it.
Before tonight she never ever would have thought of missing the meetup, or of hanging with him, really, but for some reason it had just happened and she hadnât been able to resist. After sheâd made dinner for them both (and done the washing up) heâd just asked if fancied watching a film and sheâd instantly said yes and that had been that.
She didnât know what the film was. It seemed kind of an action-y deal, but she honestly hadnât been paying that much attention. Mostly sheâd just been snuggling into him and feeling happy about it, not thinking much of anything at all. Every time she looked at the screen she saw either a guy shooting people or an explosion or some girl getting kissed by the guy shooting people and it all blended a bit. Normally the kind of thing she hated, but with him there it wasnât so bad.
âYou look nice today,â he said out of nowhere, snapping her back to reality. She blushed.
âY-yeah? Thanks.â
âDonât think I donât notice when you make the effort.â
She had been making an effort, and had been hoping he noticed.
Ruth wore makeup every day now, something sheâd never done before but now did just as a reflex. She liked to mix it up, see what caught his eye most, and today was comparatively subtle, but still miles away from where sheâd started.
Her clothes today were also pretty subtle, by most normal standards. By her old standards it was positively risque. She had one of the new bras on, of course, so her tits looked amazing, and the stringy vest meant there was very little of them being hidden, either.
On the bottom sheâd been brave enough to wear short shorts. Very short shorts. Denim cut-offs, they were well above the knee, almost to the bottom of her bottom. Sheâd even - in a moment of blind courage - decided not to wear tights with them like sheâd initially planned to. Since she wasnât going out now that had worked out.
Shaving her legs had been a good move, too. First time for everything.
Running them against one another felt so strange. She couldnât stop doing it.
Something on the screen caught her eye. Looking, she saw a girl - the heroine, maybe? Or the love interest? Both? She wasnât sure - in the most amazing dress. She looked stunning, looked like nothing Ruth knew she could ever look like. All slinky with her leg slipping through the slit in the dress and her beautiful tits on display with a plunging neckline and it all really was a lot.
And it gave her a jolt, because it made her realise something.
The girl was all like that - had put all that effort in - for him. She was there for him. And that was like Ruth. Sheâd done all of this for him. Sheâd thought about him when sheâd made herself all smooth, hoped heâd notice when sheâd picked the clothes, got butterflies when she did. All for him.
The girl in the film was an object, a trophy. Something he got.
And so was she.
Squeezing her legs together she snuggled deeper into his side.
-
It wasnât a joke anymore. Not for her, anyway. She pretended it still was, for his sake, but for her it was serious now. Now she knew every word was true. Now she took it all to heart.
Everything she thought she knew had been wrong. Sheâd been wrong about herself for years. Had had it all totally backwards, had been confused. She hadnât known it, had thought that was just how she was meant to be, but she knew now that had all been wrong, so wrong.
But heâd been fixing her. Without even realising heâd started her on the road to recovery. His project - his joke - had started healing her. She felt so much better already, and it was all thanks to him. She owed him so much. She owed him everything.
He knocked on her door and she looked up, eager. Sheâd been sat on her bed waiting for him, all dressed up and ready. The door wasnât even closed. She didnât close it much anymore. Why would she? She didnât need to hide anything from him.
âReady for more project?â He asked.
âYes! Yes please,â she said, almost quivering with excitement. How would she be fixed today? What would she learn was wrong? How could she be better?
âStand,â he said and she leapt up at once. He looked her up and down, taking in what she was wearing today. She stood and let him. After all, it was for him anyway.
It was a summer dress day today. She wore dresses now. It was flowery and pretty and it showed off her tits magnificently and also her legs. Her lovely, smooth legs. They were always smooth now, she could never go back. Her slit was bare and smooth, too. More recent, but that was never going back either.
The only place with more hair, in fact, was on her head, with her having grown out a surprising amount. Almost to her shoulders now, and curled. It had taken some getting used to, but he said he liked it, so it was here to stay.
âClose your eyes,â he said once heâd finished inspecting her and she did so, her breath catching. This was new. Exciting. She heard him step closer, heard him step around, shivered when she felt him move in close behind her. âToday, Ruth, youâre going to get naked for me.â
âW-what?â
âBut keep your eyes closed while you take the dress off. Itâs part of it. Now go. Start.â
She didnât have a choice. As terrified as she was she knew she didnât have a choice. With trembling hands she started removing the dress, shucking it to the floor and leaving herself in just her underwear.
âBra and panties too, Ruth.â
Quickly, they joined the dress, and Ruth was naked. She tried to cover herself, but it was useless, of course, and she wasnât even sure why. She wanted him to look at her, and yet some strange part of her was still mortified.
âHands down,â he said, and that put paid to that anyway. She let her hands hang by her sides and stood, waiting, silent, eyes still closed. It was achingly quiet. What was he doing? Looking at her, must have been. What did he think? Did he like it? Like her? She hoped so. She hoped so so much she almost ached.
âWho is your body for?â He asked.
âMen,â Ruth replied immediately. Call-and-response was a big part of the project, and she had almost all of the lines memorised. Sometimes she said them to herself out of nowhere. Theyâd sunk deep.
His hands were on her ass and she jolted.
âWhatâs this?â
âM-my ass, sir,â she said, the âsirâ just slipping out.
âWhat is it for?â
âFor men to grope and spank and pinch. And f-fuck, if they want. Sir.â
His hands went away, but now she knew what he was doing. Her heart was thumping, blood roaring in her ears. God how she wanted him to touch her again. She didnât have to wait long.
âThese?â
âMy t-tits, sir. For men to look at, to make cocks hard. To wrap around cocks, to get cum on.â
It was true, it was all true. It felt so good to say.
His hands moved down.
âHips?â
âTo show Iâm a good breeder, sir. To show how obvious it is what Iâm for.â
Her brain was switching off. Didnât need it for this. Responses were automatic, and his hands felt too good for thoughts to get in the way.
âAnd this?â
âMy mouth. For sucking cock, for swallowing cum. For saying how worthless I am, how devoted I am to you, sir.â
His hand was between her thighs, his finger was in her cunt.
âThis?â
âOh God itâs yours sir itâs yours itâs all yours. You own it, itâs for you, your cock. Please sir, please, oh GodâŠâ
It had all slipped out, she couldnât help it. Having him so close - having him touch her - made it impossible to control. She needed so desperately for him to just take her, finally. When he took his hand away she sniffled, seconds away from bursting into tears.
âAre you confused, Ruth?â
That did it. She started crying.
âY-yes, sir. But youâre fixing me, I know! Y-youâre making me better and Iâm so, so grateful, sir, I⊠please, sir, pleaseâŠâ she sniffled. He didnât say anything straight away. His silence was crushing.
âKneel down, Ruth,â he said and she dropped at once. âDonât open your eyes.â
She did as sheâd been told. Doing anything else was unthinkable. Trembling, eyes closed, she knelt and she waited, heart pounding. Butterflies filled her belly when she heard the soft sound of a fly being undone. All at once she shuffled her knees apart, pushed out her chest, and opened her mouth. It came to her almost as a reflex. He hadnât even needed to train her for that.
âGood girl,â he said and she shivered, the words touching a special spot inside her head, a spot she hadnât even known about before him.
Something hot and hard came to rest on her lips. Not his finger. She could smell him.
She was shaking now. So hard not to move or open her eyes but he hadnât said to and so she didnât - couldnât.
âIâm going to let you in on a little secret, Ruth,â he said, a hand settling possessively on top of her head. âAnd maybe you worked it out already, I donât know how smart you are now. But the project? It wasnât a joke. The idea was always to have you like this. I just didnât expect it to be so easy. I expected you to push back a little.â
He was stroking her hair. His cock was still just on her lip. She was fighting not to pant. He was so close. Warm. Smell. Sound of him. Too much. Couldnât even pick out the words. Too needy. Happy. Desperate. She groaned.
âAnd right now youâre probably too excited with my cock being there to even really listen. Right? Hmm? Yeah, I thought so. Well thatâs okay. Youâre only going to get dumber from here, Ruth. My girlfriend is dumb and pretty, and youâre well along to that. NowâŠâ
Ruth groaned again, muffled, as he filled her mouth and used her for the first time.
âWelcome to the Opinion Removal clinic. Youâre new! Here for the full service or something specific or⊠?â
âI got this, uh, voucher? From a friend? Think itâs a joke present or something but whatever. Says itâs good for a free one?â
âJust the one? Can I see? Hmm, okay. Just follow me through here, thatâs it, and sit here if you could. Perfect! Now, I could run you through all the options or I can do one of our more popular choices for you and make you less smart, how about that? Most girls here for one start with that.â
âBut being smart isnât an opinion.â
âTrue, but you can be as smart as anything and it wonât matter at all if you donât think you are. Perception is reality, Iâm sure youâve heard of that, smart girl like you. Yes? If your opinion is that youâre a dummy, then youâre a dummy, however smart you actually are.â
âWhat?â
âShh, donât think about it. Donât think at all. In fact, you should be finding it harder and harder to think even as we speak. Noticing that?â
âI⊠oh.â
âYou have the look of a girl who feels a bit differently about herself. I know that look.â
âItâs⊠that feels⊠Strange.â
âIt can, at first, but thatâll pass. Thatâs the change settling in. Hard to think?â
âA bitâŠâ
âThatâs because weâve taken away that old, unhelpful opinion and given you a new one. Youâre not a smart girl, are you?â
âN-no⊠Iâm not.â
âAnd you never were. Yes?â
âYes⊠I mean... no? C-confusing.â
âHeh, donât worry. I can tell you were trying. See? Opinions matter. Make us who we are. You know that youâre not smart, and so you never try to be, and so youâre not. Itâs quite simple, really. Youâre not smart.â
âNot smartâŠâ
âThere you go. Now, a smart girl would probably stop at just the one since thatâs all she came in for, but youâre not a smart girl and so you donât really know what you want, do you?â
âI⊠no⊠?â
âWould you like me to tell you what you should do?â
âN-n⊠Please?â
âPoor thing, trying to think must be so hard for you! Iâll do it for you. You want to keep going.â
âI do?â
âYes.â
âI⊠I do!â
âThatâs it! There you go. This is another popular one. Feeling that tingle?â
âYessssâŠâ
âSee, thereâs a difference between thinking youâre not smart and thinking that youâre dumb, but having both together always seems to work best. Knowing youâre not smart is one thing, a lot of people have that. Knowing that youâre dumb? Thatâs something different. It feels good though, doesnât it?â
âMâwas always dumb⊠dumb girlâŠâ
âThatâs right, you were, well done. And itâs like a big weight is lifted. Not that you had much weight to start with. Dumb girls like you have so much less to worry about. All those big, scary, confusing choices are put nice and safe out of your reach and your world is just that much easier for you. Good girl.â
âNnh, heheheâŠâ
âNow, weâre going to keep going, because itâs what you want, but first, this voucher your friend gave you? Tsch, silly girl. You really should have read this better, you know. The voucher is good for one complete personality adjustment. Oh well. Suppose you werenât that smart even before, hmm? This is for the best.â
âW-whaâŠ?â
âShh, itâs okay. Just sit. Relax. Itâs nothing for you to worry about.â
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