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!"
