It all started with a pop-up add on Caleb's favorite porn site. "Today your dream girl, tomorrow your sex slave." Maybe it was because he hadn't nut yet, or maybe it was because he couldn't get that new barista at work out of his head, but his interest was piqued. Caleb clicked on the ad, praying it wasn't about to give his computer a million viruses. He was redirected to a website that looked surprisingly well-made and legit. The page he was looking at was entitled: "Try out our newest service -- turn your real-life dream girl into your personal slave. Results are permanent!"
The rest of the webpage explained how the process worked and the bottom of the page had a "Contact Us" form, with fields for his name, email address, and phone number. He briefly considered whether giving this website his real information was a good idea, still believing this was probably a scam. Whoever is running this website would probably sell his info to various advertisers and consumer research groups. But whatever, with all the porn websites he's signed up to over the years, he figured his info was already out there, so what was the harm?
Plus, on the off-chance this service really worked, he knew exactly who he wanted to use it on. Caleb worked at a small coffee shop for almost 5 years now. He'd seen plenty of baristas come and go, but recently a new hire has made going to work a lot more exciting. A few months ago, Emma moved to town in order to attend the local college and started working at the coffee shop to cover tuition. Caleb had never been an early riser and Emma had classes during the day, so they ended up working the closing shift most of the time. While mornings were slammed with people getting their first cup of the day, evenings and nights were less busy. This meant that often it was just the two of them at manning the shop.
Emma had a hippie vibe, with tanned skin and freckles that evidenced the hours she spent laying out in the sun. Her long blonde hair was always thrown up into a messy bun and she looked tired most of the time. "How can you be so tired at seven o'clock at night?" Caleb would say teasingly, though he knew the answer. Most nights when they finished closing up the shop, Emma would use the bathroom to change clothes and put on makeup to prepare for whatever escapade she had planned for the night. She'd emerge from the bathroom wearing a pair of bell-bottom jeans, a necklace holding whatever crystal was "speaking to" her that day, back platform flip-flops, and a matching black tube top that barely covered her C-cup tits. The fabric of whatever top she'd chosen was usually thin enough to faintly see her pierced nipples through it. Even going out she wore minimal makeup; but would always apply silver, glittery eyeshadow that made her deep blue eyes sparkle even more than tusual.
"Fit check?" she would pop out of the bathroom and yell across the shop to Caleb, who was mopping up or finishing stacking chairs.
"Ten out of ten!" he would always reply, causing a huge smile to spread across Emma's face that showed off the gap between her front two teeth.
Caleb thought that gap was adorable, so he took any opportunity to make her smile or laugh. Some might see their banter as flirting, and it sort-of was. But there were no sexual or romantic undertones on Emma's end. It was obvious that, to her, it was all in harmless fun.
Unfortunately, Emma was out of Caleb's league. Caleb wasn't ugly, he was simply unremarkable. Short brown hair, brown eyes, 5'10", and usually wore some sort of graphic tee with blue jeans outside of work. He'd had a few girlfriends before, but rarely made it past the first date with his dating-app matches. He certainly wasn't Emma's type, as evidenced by the guys who've picked her up after work on the way to the club. They always had some combination of long hair, impressive muscles, and a significant amount of tattoos and piercings. And they were never under 6 feet tall. So, that left Caleb firmly in the friendzone.
The next morning at nine o'clock Caleb's phone rang from an unknown caller ID. "Hello?" he spoke into the phone.
"Hello, is this Caleb Melrose?" a very peppy woman's voice replied.
"Yes, who is this?" Caleb was still groggy from waking up, and hadn't yet suspected it was a response to the contact form he'd submitted the night before.
"Hi Caleb, this is Allison with Hypno Slave! I'm reaching out in response to the form you submitted in regards to our new "Dream Girl" service. Are you still interested in that?"
Caleb was shocked that he'd actually received a call, in disbelief that this was the real deal. "Are you going to ask for my credit card number?" he sarcastically responded.
Allison giggled, "No, although I don't blame you for thinking this is all too good to be true. If you'd like we could send you a packet through the mail regarding our services, but I'm also more than happy to go through what we offer over the phone."
Now slightly less suspicious, Caleb was curious. "Okay, well, I'd like to hear about the "Dream Girl" service."
"Excellent!" Allison chirped, with an almost shrill cheeriness, "Our "Dream Girl" service is our most ambitious product yet! Before, Hypno Slave offered only our pre-programmed slaves for purchase. With this new product, we're offering customers a chance to turn somebody from their real life into a full-fledged sex slave! All the features we offer for our pre-programmed slaves are available in our dream girls as well: domestic servitude, fetish and kink programming, even surgical augmentation!"
Caleb was impressed by the sales pitch. "So, how does this work? It seems like it would be impossible to make somebody who has a whole life into a slave. What about their job? Their friends? Their family?"
Without a pause, Allison responded, "Legitimate questions. This product is still in its early days. Our product team is still working out the kinks when it comes to making someone disappear without a trace. Hypnotizing their friends and family, staging a fake death; we're not entirely sure what methods we'll end up using once the product is out of beta. For now, we're looking for good candidates to test out the programming process itself. This is the first product we're offering where our slaves don't begin as self-selected, willing participants and we need to make sure our programming is just as strong with these slaves. That's why we're screening potential customers to see if they're good fits and offering this product to them at a steeply discounted price."
Hearing this, Caleb realized he might be the perfect customer. With all the slow evenings Caleb and Emma spent together at the shop, he'd learned a fair bit about her life. Emma grew up in an incredibly religious household, and was disowned when she turned eighteen for coming out as bisexual. Having only been in town for a few months, she'd yet to make a solid friend group -- usually going out with the friends of whatever one night stand she'd chosen off of Tinder for that night. She was also a little directionless, she hadn't declared a major yet and wasn't doing particularly well in any of her classes. Caleb relayed all this information to Allison, and she confirmed that he was exactly what they were looking for. "I'll send a link to your email with a questionnaire to gather your Dream Girl's information and your programming preferences. Then we'll take it from there!" Caleb thanked Allison and just minutes later he got an email notification.
Caleb clicked the link in the email, opening an extensive questionnaire. Some questions were just basic information about Emma such as her address and phone number. Others were about his "Dream Girl" preferences. Did he want her to go by the same name? Did he want her programmed to be a dominatrix, or a masochist? He could even request a breast augmentation or a rhinoplasty. All these extra features were offered for an additional price, of course. For Caleb's Dream Girl, he wasn't looking for anything crazy. He liked Emma's body just the way it was and didn't have any particularly adventurous kinks or fetishes. Caleb submitted the form and the screen read, "Thank you. You will receive your specimen kit in the mail within three to five business days." Caleb had no idea what that meant, but couldn't wait to see Emma at work that night. His little secret about what was to come put an extra pep in his step.
Three days later, Caleb received a kit in the mail with a small test tube. The pamphlet instructed him to fill the tube with his saliva, explaining that his saliva would be used to program his Dream Girl specifically for him, and that he should plan to receive his Dream Girl in fourteen to twenty-one business days, but he would be contacted if any issues occurred during programming. Caleb mailed the test tube back to Hypno Slave in the included pre-paid envelope. Several days later, Caleb was informed by his manager that Emma had unexpectedly quit her job at the shop. Caleb played the disappointed coworker perfectly. That night, Caleb imagined himself fucking Emma in the ass, doggy-style, while she moaned loudly in ecstasy. He came harder than he had since his last hook-up over a year ago, excited that this fantasy would soon be his reality.
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Emma woke up in what looked like a sparsely furnished hotel room. There was a queen sized bed pushed up against one wall, a chair in the center of the room, and a television mounted to the wall right above it. There were also speakers attached to the ceiling in all four corners of the room. She realized she had no idea how she got there. Her memory of the last twenty-four hours was extremely fuzzy. The last thing she remembered was signing for a package in the doorway of her studio apartment. How long ago had that been? And what was that package anyway? She couldn't remember expecting a delivery. Wracking her brain to try and find answers to these questions made her more and more anxious, sending herself into a full-blown panic attack. Emma paced about the room, hyperventilating while tears streamed down her face.
Suddenly, she could hear static coming from the speakers. Then a voice came through, "Hello Emma. I understand your current situation might seem alarming. Upsetting, even. But rest assured there is nothing to be concerned about. Quite the opposite, you are being presented with an incredible job opportunity. In the next few weeks, thanks to one of our customers, you will be programmed to become someone's personal sex slave!"
