True Purpose Exam (Hypnosis, Corruption, Bimbofication, Dystopian)
(Fair warning, this one gets a little dark and dystopian! Think State-Mandated Bimbofication!)
It was a law instituted three decades ago to ensure the forward progress of society. On the first day of Summer, every citizen to turn eighteen over the past year took the True Purpose Exam. The results of the exam determined each citizen's career path so they could serve the nation to their fullest potential.
You entered your exam room confident in your abilities. Your parents paid for expensive tutors and fast tracked you with courses on politics and governance. You had a bright future ahead of you.
The exam took place in an individual testing room to ensure a controlled environment and no distractions. Each test taker could make two choices to customize their space for optimal testing: a wordless musical playlist and an incense. You never subscribed to the kind of new age thinking that would care about how a room smelled or what music played in the background, so you just requested the default options.
Before entering your testing room, your academic rival since childhood crossed your path in the hallway, grinning like a devil. "Good luck," she sang, dripping with sarcasm. The bitch. When you were president, maybe you could declare her an enemy of the state?
You settled into your exam room, and the proctor started your instrumental playlist, and lit your first incense. You took a deep breath in. It was a sweet scent, and you wondered what kind of benefit something so cloying might offer. As you took deep breaths in and out, you did feel lighter. The stress in your shoulders did melt away, even as the exam was passed out to you.
The music in the room was the same track you listened to during your studies. It was filled with soft synths, chiming bells, and a beat that started to fade into the background every time you listened. It became such a normal part of your practice, that you didn't think about it.
The stress you came into the exam with felt like such a far off thought. Your pencil hit the paper, and you weren't thinking much about what you were writing. Whatever you were putting down, it felt like it came easy to you. The exam felt so easy, your eyes started to wander to the proctor. They had an androgynous look, with nice exposed shoulders and a very kissable neck.
That was... not the kind of thing you'd normally think about during an exam. But things were going well, so maybe it was okay for your mind to wander? You were certainly filling the page.
The proctor lit another stick of incense, and a spicy scent joined the sweet smoke filling the room. You could feel your body getting hotter. Those thoughts about the proctor weren't stopping at their neck. You thought about their lips, their chest, and whatever they might have going on in their pants.
Speaking of, the hand you weren't writing with had moved between your legs, rubbing yourself as you felt the heat and arousal building in you. Was this normal for test taking behavior? No. But that thought was fleeting; you couldn't convince your eyes to look at your test as you kept writing on it. All your eyes cared about was the proctor's nice ass.
Something was definitely wrong. You were a smart young woman, and your sex drive wasn't this out of hand. Your body fought your concerns, but if you really focused, maybe you could break through and stop this. You could still salvage whatever—
You blinked, as the music track went silent and the smoke started to clear up, siphoning through the vents. How were you already out of time? Did you doze off? You pulled your hand away from between your legs and realized your fingers were covered with your wetness.
But when you finally regained the ability to look at your sheet, you felt the spike of horror. There, in your handwriting, you saw a page filled with lewd, disconnected words and phrases scrawled across every free section.
COCK. TITS. FUCK. PUSSY. FUCK. CUM CUM. CUM!
You felt your heart race. Should you destroy the test? Eat it? You couldn't hand it in.
But the proctor was too quick, snagging the paper from your desk. They looked at the "answers" you provided and grinned. "Your friend said you had great potential."
Your friend? Did they mean your academic rival? How was she involved in this? She must have colluded with the proctor! "H-hey, wait!" you object.
But it was too late. Your exam was already being fed into the True Purpose Assessment System. It only needed seconds to process the result that would be applied to your Citizenship ID.
Pleasure District Lust Servant
The proctor beamed as the doors opened. "Congratulations!" Two tall, well-built officers, a man and a woman, approached you from behind and held you by your arms, despite your attempts to squirm away. "I'm happy to see we've discovered your True Purpose."
It took time for you to accept your new life. They said that "you knew your true purpose, but your mind and body needed to catch up. They fixed your body first. A healthy dose of silicon, alongside some work on your lips and butt to really fill you out where it mattered. Diligent laser treatments also assured that you'd never see a strand of hair below your nose. They made you so soft and smooth, even you had a hard time not touching yourself.
Your body wasn't the only reason for that impulse. Your new bosses were instructed that you behaved better with the right music and incense. You tried to tune them out, but after weeks, they were as much a part of your life as your new skimpy state-mandated wardrobe. Even without the music, you were humming the rhythm to yourself. You were finally realizing that it was way more relaxing to feel dumb and horny than it was to feel smart and stressed.
You opened the door to your bedroom to your next clients. Apparently, this hot androgynous professor bought you as a gift for their girlfriend, who was celebrating a new job on the National Council. She could even be president one day!
She was laughing and grinning, but she wasn't very kind to you. She picked out a costume for you because you apparently went to school together. She said she always knew you were a dropout dummy, and now you were acting like it.
Not that you cared too much; you were ready to see if she would keep up the teasing once her clothes were off, and you were very curious about what kind of goodies you'd get to enjoy in her partner's pants.
With how much you enjoyed servicing guests and having them use your hot body, how could you ever deny that this was always your True Purpose?
I've had this idea on standby for months. It's a little on the dark and dystopian side, I'll admit, but sometimes the fantasy is to have the choices taken out of our hands, right?
Anyway, I was gonna leave it at the end of the test, but how could I leave you without a proper before and after?
