How To Save The World

CHAPTER 1

Ava was a member of the elite. There was rich, then there was very rich, and then there was her family. The level of rich where you never hear about any member of her family on TV. Old money and raised in England, her family was rich enough that the public never saw her. Raised in silence, if not secrecy, she was given every chance to excel, both natural and otherwise. Conditioned and medicated from infancy, she was the apex of deliberate perfection. Her hormones exactly monitored and 'adjusted', she was the picture of beauty, with a shapely, ridiculously generous body, and yet the physical conditioning of an Olympiad. She learned six languages fluently and a dozen more conversationally, played several instruments to performance level, and performed ballet and gymnastics, to a level that would get her a gold medal, if not for the public exposure. And did so easily, no less. Always searching for a form of stimulus, instigated by careful and secret manipulation of her reward hormones. Simply put, she thought everything was fun, and that made it all too easy to learn too quickly.

She received a trust fund endowed to the level of full financial autonomy the moment she was born. She never would have to work a day in her life. If she ever felt the need to work anyway, she earned multiple master's degrees in her teenage years that would cover a spectrum of career accommodations.

By the time she was twenty, she was just shy of six feet tall. She had large breasts and curvy hips, and yet a seemingly impossibly skinny waist, reflecting her father's over-embellished tastes. Her face was so beautiful, that when combined with the general visage of her entire figure might trigger the average person's uncanny valley response, in that she was too impractically beautiful. Her eyes were blue and her hair was blonde, but to natures and degrees seldom ever seen in nature. Her hair hung to her waist, and was pristine.

Such a thing was possible, with enough money. And those with enough money knew better than to let the smallest fraction of the public to learn what was going on behind the scenes, let alone flaunt its results.

And yet, humans were only merely human.

CHAPTER 2

By 21 years old, Ava was still the picture of perfection, with no temptation to party, sow her wild oats or otherwise act out at all. This was all part of her conditioning. She simply thought herself to be utterly elite, and that was simply how the elite were -- and technically she was correct -- but her physicality, mentality and every half of her independent thought was a careful orchestration of a team of scientists and doctors that she hadn't met since she was an infant. And she would stay docile, serene and perfect throughout her life, as she was introduced to a future husband raised in probably similar fashion by more of the secret world elite. If not for the divorce.

Her parents, despite everything they had, developed irreconcilable differences. They were old money, and yet without the technology that reared their daughter existing during their generation, they were all too vulnerable to regular human imperfection. Both her parents were young, when they had her. Now barely in their late thirties, they still had strong opinions that only grew over time. And their differences didn't even involve Ava, naturally, and yet each developed different ideas on what direction her life should take in this new development. Namely, she was a multi-billion dollar investment, beyond their daughter, and so neither parent was willing to give her up in custody. And shared custody was a rather... pedestrian thing. She was already an adult -- the custody they discussed was the sort of custody that royalty planned a thousand years before.

The thing about imperfection in those that perceive themselves to be perfect, is that it is all too often exponential. Before Ava could turn 22, her parents were derailing. Her father was knee deep in alcoholism within the span of months, and her mother was partying in the Caribbean.

Without any particular signal inside Ava, an anxiety grew inside of her. She had never felt such a thing. She was feeling an element of chaos being introduced to her life that she never felt before. And it was the sort of feeling that sheds light on her vantage point itself -- take away a person's guardrails, and it becomes easy to recognize where so many have always been. As if she were a rogue AI, Ava was becoming self-aware.

Her daily schedules become more and more bare, and gradually her teachers were dismissed, one by one, including the ones that were who she considered her 'anchors'; those she went to for wisdom (Parents provide wisdom by bringing it to you, not by just TELLING you themselves, of course). She had infinite credit and could buy anything without exception, but her placid personality prevented her from wanting. She simply played, her entire life, and never knew want as an experience. This situation, too, was at least somewhat accommodated. --If freed from her guiding paths, she would not easily feel any sense of 'adventure' or 'curiosity'. However, the technology, the program that orchestrated her development, her being the first generation produced, was ultimately new. The sentiment of controlling one's children, especially in the social elite, was ancient, yet this new iteration was too much of a sprint to cover all circumstances.

Ava disappeared.

CHAPTER 3

Ava had a multitude of free time, and this induced another anxiety in her. She never had 'free time' before. She ought to do something, and once her last teacher left for lack of being paid properly, and she was left with nothing but her mansion and her servants and maids, all who merely waited on her beck and call, she wondered what she ought to be doing. These anxieties were minor issues, easily corrected quickly enough - She would likely embrace control like a greatest comfort.

Thinking of what she ought to do, when she needed nothing, she only could assume that she could and so should make the world better. The flaw in knowing, being led your whole life to know you're perfect, is that you would believe you ought to behave perfectly. And benevolence was pretty perfect.

However, she was not stupid. She knew the world was carefully controlled, and it would not be easy to improve much without tipping the scales with unforeseen consequences.

She wasn't allowed access to the internet, so she studied in the library. The most up to date accounts of social development across the planet led her to believe that, by the numbers, Africa needed the most aid.

And so she went to Africa. She had a GPS tracker implanted in her neck, but the private satellite it reported to was derelict, as the family owners had been unresponsive to the company maintaining it. Her credit card usage flagged a notification on her father's phone, but he was currently passed out, and when he would awake he would, with blurry eyes, dismiss all the many, new waiting messages on his phone all at once.

And so she flew, first class, to the Congo. As her research showed it was the least developed. So she figured she should start from the bottom, and work her way up. And without anybody to advise her, she felt no reason to think she might be mistaken about any part of her plan. Besides, what could go wrong? She was perfection.

CHAPTER 4

Ava was no fool. Even thrust into the unknown, and naturally reality being different than her expectations or assumptions, she still hit the ground running. She was surprised, but quickly accepted the amount of attention she immediately started receiving. Within a day of her landing, she was unsuccessfully robbed twice, and sexually harassed a dozen times. Her extensive training in martial arts was more than enough to deter them each time, without so much as an increase in heart rate. She did not fault the country for such behavior, as it was undeveloped, of course. The infrastructure was rudimentary and dangerous. The power grid was spotty and sporadic, and turning on and off the lamp inside her 'hotel' room gave her a mild shock each time. Unknowingly frying the delicate GPS tracker implanted in her neck. Gradually she acquainted herself with the locals, and how the place was governed. Which was to say, it wasn't. So she sought to fix that. Eventually her presence was rebuked, as she was absolutely unnatural and out of place. And yet she took power of the small city she chose first, within days.

Over the coming weeks, she learned a lot. She learned disease was a very real concern in the area, even beyond her imaginations, and so she established supply lines to have hospitals built and medicine imported. She learned the land was unruly, so she established police forces, though they were shaky. Finding appropriate help was difficult. The people did not seem to want to be helped. Still, she learned sex appeal worked. It was rudimentary, and she was educated on it on merely a hypothetical basis, but she took to merely displaying a compliment of cleavage, and form-fitting pants, and most men were eager to comply with her wishes.

Finally, after arriving a month ago, she had established an entire city. Free food, free healthcare and absolute safety, it was a paradise, in comparison with any city on Earth, let alone anywhere nearby. The newly formed city council offered to rename the city however she pleased, but she gracefully declined. She instead requested more information about other places to be helped, and who needs it the worst. Even the finest she recruited to run this place did not understand the nature of her inquiry, the simpletons. So she researched herself, with the advent of the internet. She researched the Congo's history further, and while not a lot of it was new to her, she considered the unexplored jungles that comprised a huge percentage of the country, both halves of it. This was a huge opportunity for her, as sure enough she heard from the locals that there were likely completely undiscovered societies in those jungles. She liked the idea of discovering civilizations herself.

She had herself inoculated against a medley of diseases, unaware that she was actually rendered immune to most anything already. She plotted a course through the jungle, and after having a mild amount of supplies shipped in, she set out.

She was never seen again.

CHAPTER 5

-THREE YEARS LATER-

Ava walked, peacefully, through the village she discovered long ago. Her skin was still fair and pale, since the village lived under the cover of the jungle. And the ground was treaded so often that she could walk barefoot peacefully, without fear of rocks, though her feet were naturally muddy, for it. And the air was warm yet cool and comfortable, thanks to the rushing waterfall besides the village forming an interesting air vortex that seemed to banish most of the dangerous mosquitos that could be nearby. Maybe it was why the village was built there, however long ago. Either way, it made it so that she never minded being naked at all times. Though she still had goosebumps, often. For various reasons.

As she walked along, she smiled peacefully, with the smallest wobble in her step. It wasn't due to her stomach being hopelessly swollen with pregnancy. She was already used to that, since it was that way more often than not. No, it was because she was high.

As she walked along the path, an African, tribal man approached from the other way. He was quite tall, quite big. Everywhere. She smiled at him, and though he was going to just pass her, he took her hand, and she stopped. He laid on the ground, and she straddled him, and her perpetually bruised, red and gaping vagina slid around his engorging cock peacefully, as she slowly bobbed up and down on him. This was her job and purpose in life, after all.

Within moments he orgasmed inside her, with no reason to delay, flooding her insides, and she stood up, smiling, and continued walking, dripping down her thighs. Just another badge of pride for her to wear.

Arriving at the four mud huts that made up her whole life, now, two other women were crouched and weaving dried fiber to make roofing, since you can never have too much. Another man approached her, smiling, and she smiled back, even as he rubbed a red paste under her nose....Her eyes rolled up into her head, as the fumes flooded her nostrils. The goosebumps along her body grew again, as a lovely chill shot up her spine. It was done to all the women, and they all bore a stain on top of her upper lip because of it. Including her. It would work all day, making her feel wonderful. The only problem being that it killed an impressive amount of brain cells...

With that done, he peacefully bent her over and started to fuck her from behind. She didn't need to work like the other women, and they didn't fault her for it. She was meant for this, instead, after all. Her already large breasts were now stupidly swollen with perpetual pregnancy, as big as her head and with visibly throbbing veins, and it said to all that she was to breed. And she certainly didn't mind. His cock was just so huge..!

These days, she loved how strong and manly all her husbands were. She liked how dark their skin was. And she liked how big all of their penises were. It never occurred to her before. She used to worry about all sorts of things, but she eventually learned that none of that was really important.

Her beautiful hair was constantly matted and starting to dread up, forming thick strands of dirty hair. But that was fine. She had a thin layer of fat all over her body, which shouldn't have been possible, but she was gorging on food nightly. She clicked and moaned at her husband, about to request something with her slurred, intoxicated voice, when he took her into a hut. Instead she spent the next few hours staring at his cock as she sucked it. Regularly, he would orgasm all over her face, and she was ecstatic each time to see, though he would take turns fucking her perfect ass, as he pleased.

By the time she emerged from the hut again, most of her was dripping with cum. Another badge of pride. Her swollen breasts were capped with wide and dark nipples and areola, swollen and engorged with her near constant arousal. It wasn't long before she was used again. She loved all of her husbands. Even if she wasn't completely certain how many she had. She had long since forgotten ever wanting to leave.

CHAPTER 6

Three years prior, Ava happened across this tiny and obscure village, nestled in the middle of the Congo. While she documented the discovery, her journal didn't last much longer, and now sat, mostly rotted away, at the bottom of the nearby waterfall. The nearby natives were friendly, and all seemed to stride around completely nude, which seemed unique. However, they either had no language at all, or didn't speak in her presence. But, their nature was so kind and unassuming, that she did not question them as they showed her a red paste. To her surprise, they pushed it into her nose, like they were doing her a favor, with no particular violence. She coughed and sputtered, but grew dizzy and euphoric almost immediately. Scared and confused, she staggered about, but it only got worse by the second, as sights became sounds and sounds became colors. While she was dazed and staggering, they escorted her to the middle of the three huts and laid her down, peeling her clothes off....It wasn't quick or simple, as they never saw such elaborate tapestry, but before long she was ready, and was unceremoniously penetrated by one of the villagers. She felt no pain, and had an orgasm within half a minute. Not that it took away the innate fear. However, motivation hormones were a funny thing -- she was conditioned to embrace even trace amounts of them, and that conditioning was never... 'turned off', as her 'creators' could never predict her exposure to debauchery, let alone narcotics, so both the red paste and this experience quickly became a priority on a purely instinctual level.

Once she was effectively raped two or three times, by all the nearby males, she felt sick and threw up. But the intoxication was delivered via her lungs, so that didn't help. Instead, they purely exhausted her entirely, over the next day... to the point where she could barely get rest. She dimly felt like she experienced trying to leave, and getting terrible shakes and symptoms of withdrawal, (not that she understood in her delirious state), and was quick to return. She was pregnant within days.

It took her weeks to grow accustomed to the drug, enough to not be perpetually dizzy and sick. Enough to be able to stand, or walk. By the same accord, she grew more addicted. But by the time she could theoretically think straight, she was haunted by absurd, but loud thoughts and urges. These uncouth philistines lived in rudimentary carnality. She felt like she more understood the nature of racism and it's constant hindrance to society. But then, why did they seem so beautiful...

Ava never knew art. She knew it on an abstract basis, but was never engaged by what she witnessed, and it was few and far between. She never knew being outside of your comfort zone, let alone mentally or physically compromised in any way -- she was always at her prime, from diet to stress to sleep to hormones -- her incredible mind and body were actually too fine-tuned. So she was hopelessly vulnerable to the urges of her heart, ever chemically swayed. She was haunted by feelings of lust and irrational, fanatical love and affection, none of which she ever felt before, let alone understood. In fact, it was just how alarming the situation was that kept driving her subconsciously to want to leave, otherwise her heart was blooming with unwilling joy.

She knew of trees nearby that could be used as neutralizing antibodies to whatever drug was in her body, and she could desperately escape, if she could just harvest the bark. What did they look like, again..? She remembered, eventually, and was regularly left a few hours every day to rest in the middle of the day. She decided that would be her plan....But... she would do it tomorrow. She definitely didn't feel ready at the moment. She felt the least ready she ever felt. But tomorrow. Definitely.

CHAPTER 7

-FIVE YEARS LATER-

Ava bounced up and down, right between the five mud huts, being fucked once again in her thick, built up and swollen vulva. While she enthusiastically bounced, she also sucked a nearby cock, just to fill her mouth, even though her face was covered in cum as it was already. Because of the trees they took down to build the huts out of wood, the village now basked in the sun, and her skin was already a dark golden. Her nipples were as long as fingers, now, and dark brown and obscene, and her pussy lips matched the same color. Nearby, her five children nursed off the other two females, or played accordingly. She learned not to care about her children, and just enjoy making more. Her milk, always splattering around pointlessly, was likely too drugged for children, which is why they guided her so. Maybe.

By now she was too dumb to leave, having been chemically retarded before her body was able to adapt the drug. Her hair was grown down to her hips again, only entirely dreadlocked, and brown from filth. The top of her belly was the darkest part of her skin, being tanned the most often, while the bottom was the fairest. And it was once again swollen stupidly large.

When she was done fucking, (Or rather, her husbands were done fucking her), she stood up, wobbling and grinning stupidly, basted in cum, by now totally oblivious that she did not belong there and was a captive and was completely being used.

(More ofc more)

She never got sick. She never got stretchmarks. She was never deterred or depressed. All of her conditioning was fundamentally useless in helping her escape her situation -- it only, ironically, helped her stay comfortable all the while.