Taking The Test

Carrie had told Becca that it was an interesting website, and she was right. Becca had spent the last hour and a half answering the very personal questions she was being asked to fill out. Of course, she had used a throwaway email, even though Carrie had said to use her real one.

The questions had started talking about beliefs, philosophies, and spirituality. They'd moved on, uncomfortably, to darker emotions - anger, hatred, jealousy, envy. By the time they got to sexual fantasies, it was almost a relief. Becca had some very perverted sexual fantasies that she never thought would be covered by a multiple-choice and short answer test, and yet somehow it had dived deeply into that part of her psyche. Now, she was just about finished, and the test was supposed to come back with some kind of evaluation. "Like one of those 'what Star Trek character are you' quizzes, but a lot deeper," Carried had explained.

Becca hit send and waited. A little spiral substituted for a progress bar, whirling around and around while she watched. Analyzing, 28%. Analyzing 55%. Analyzing 88%. Finished Analyzing, subject completely understood.

Yeah, right.

You are a go getter, it said, always eager to get ahead. You have limited patience for whoever gets in your way, particularly if they are less competent than you, but are willing to listen and be mentored by those whose understanding is greater.

Sure. That's me. Not exactly news, silly AI quiz.

Your lifestyle causes you stress, and you yearn to listen and be mentored.

Stress, whatever. It's repeating itself. I don't know what Carrie saw in this.

You yearn to trust. Trusting makes you feel less stress.

Why is it just putting a few words on the screen at a time?

Trusting feels good. You should trust, listen, and be mentored.

Becca clicked on the screen, wondering if that would make it go faster, annoyed at the repetition.

The more you trust, the better you feel. Trusting feels good. Trust, listen, and be mentored.

Becca stared at the screen. The swirling pattern that she'd taken for a progress bar was still playing in the background.

Trusting feels good. You want to trust.

That was true. She wanted to trust people, but they so often turned out to be such assholes.

You told me all about yourself because you trusted, and trusting feels good. The more you trust, the better you feel. You trust the program now, and soon, you'll trust it even more.

Well yes, typing in all those things had felt good, although she couldn't believe she told it how she felt about Sheila in 10

th

grade, or about how she dreamed of being dominated, or that sometimes she wanted to let everything go and just be in her body.

Trust.

The words lingered on the screen. So that's what I'm supposed to get out of this. I'm supposed to trust. Okay. Becca watched as the letters pulsed. Behind them, some sort of glitch caused quick images to briefly replace the spiral, too fast for her to quite make out what they were.

You're feeling very good right now, because you've trusted me with your secrets. The more you trust, the better you feel. The better you feel, the more you can be who you want to be.

She had thought it was over, but she watched the words, trying to catch sight of the images that flashed every so quickly and failing.

Keep looking at the screen, Becca. Trust the program. The more you trust, the hornier you feel.

Wait, horny? She did feel a little tingle between her legs, so it wasn't as if the program was wrong. Maybe it really did know her, although it was being kind of intrusive. But she had, after all, told it her sexual fantasies. She noticed the images that moved had a lot of flesh tones in them, whatever they were. Were those boobs? Was that a cock?

The more you watch, the hornier you feel. The hornier you feel, the more you want to let go, and trust. The more you trust, the more you'll watch. And that just keeps feeling better and better, doesn't it Becca?

It did feel good.

The same text came up again, and she read it over. Then again. And again. Each time she just kept reading it, and each time she felt a little hornier. It was getting quite warm, she thought.

Everything the program has told you so far has made you feel very good. Just click in the little box when it appears, because clicking will feel better than anything you've felt so far.

Becca clicked on the box. Something about a camera, microphone, and speakers. It made her feel good to click on the box, although it made her nervous, too. She didn't want to analyze it, although something in her said that maybe she should.

Everything that happens is a result of your answers, Becca. Everything this program has done is tailored directly to you, to help you be the happiest woman you can be.

The words still came up on the screen, but they came from the speaker, too, in a soft, seductive voice.

The more you listen, the hornier you feel. The hornier you feel, the more nothing else matters. All that matters is how horny you feel, and you keep feeling hornier and hornier. Soon, you'll be allowed to touch yourself, but not yet.

Of course other things mattered, thought Becca, although she really would love it if they didn't. Her biggest sexual fantasy was to give herself totally to the sensations, feelings, and desires, but she never had. Not with any boyfriend. It wouldn't do any harm now, alone, to pretend nothing else mattered but her own desire. In fact, it felt good, just as the program said. The program seemed to understand her better than anyone.

You're so horny now, but you're going to be even more desperate before we're done, Becca. We're going to further into your fantasies, and it's going to feel so good. Say how horny you are, Becca.

"I'm very horny," she said aloud.

And it feels very good to be so horny, doesn't it? You know what will make you feel even better? Saying you're a slut, a woman who loves being horny. Calling yourself a slut will feel so good. Say it, not for the program, but for yourself, Becca.

"I'm a slut," Becca said, although she'd never said anything like that about herself before. And as she said it a warm feeling rippled over her whole body, almost like a little orgasm.

That felt really good, didn't it Becca? Say it again, and it will feel even better.

"I'm a slut!" She quivered in her seat. Without prompting, wanting more, she said it again. "I'm a horny slut!"

Keep saying it, Becca. The more you say it, the more you believe it. The more you believe it, the better it will feel.

She lost count of how many times she repeated the mantra. She was, indeed, a horny slut. The more she said it, the hornier she got.

It's very hot in here, and sluts don't wear so many clothes. Keep saying the words, while you take off your clothes, Becca. There's no one here but you, and this program, and you trust this program. It feels good to trust the program, it feels good to be horny slut, and it feels good to take your clothes off. It's going to feel so good to be a naked horny slut, and you want to feel good.

Becca stood up from the chair. The camera was on, but that was just for the program. The program could see her, but she trusted the program. She lifted her sweater over her head, and then shimmied out of her jeans.

Every piece of clothing you take off make you feel even better, so you want to take them all off. It feels so good to take your clothes off.

She'd long since passed the point where she thought she could feel any better than she already did, but clearly the program knew her, because taking her clothes off did turn everything up a notch. She kicked off her shoes, and quickly took off her bra and panties as well. She caught sight of one of the pictures that seemed to linger just a little longer.

It was her, from the waist up, naked breasts, erect nipples, a big smile on her face. The camera image, of course. She looked so happy.

Sit down and tell the program you're a horny slut, Becca. It will feel so good.

"I'm such a slut, and I've never been hornier in my life."

Keep saying it, Becca, and when you think you've said it dozens of times, then you can beg to be allowed to touch yourself.

"I'm a horny slut, I'm a horny slut, I'm a horny slut."

Horny sluts don't just play with themselves, do they Becca? They play with other people too, and it feels so good for a horny slut to be playing with someone else. The more sex you have, the better you feel, and the better of a slut you are. And being a slut feels so good, doesn't it Becca?"

"Yes!" It was also driving her crazy. "Please, can I touch myself and make myself cum?"

You're going to be able to do that in just a moment, Becca, but first you need to click on another box on the screen. See the big cock on the screen? You need to click all over it, make sure you get every little bit.

She clicked, and clicked again, imagining it was her fingers touching a real cock. It would feel even better if she was with someone, than by herself, even though she'd never felt better. "Please can I touch myself and make myself cum? I'm a horny slut. I'm a horny slut."

Yes, you are a horny slut. Thank you for trusting this program and letting it make the required changes. The more changes the program makes, the better your life will be. The program knows what a horny slut you are and will take good care of you. Would you like to cum for the program, horny slut?

"Yes!"

Touch yourself, Becca, like a good girl. Only this program can see you, but you'd love to be watched, wouldn't you? The more of a slut you are, the more of your dreams will come true, and it will feel so good. The more of a slut you are, the more you'll cum. The more you cum, the more of a slut you'll be. You're going to be such a happy, horny slut.

As she touched her clit, the pictures on the screen slowed down, ever so slightly. Sometimes they were of her, with her legs open, her pussy lips engorged, her fingers working frantically on her clit. Sometimes they were of cocks and pussies. Other times they were of women licking pussy, sucking cock, or being fucked, and the women all looked very much like Becca with just the faintest hint that they were computer generated images rather than actual photos.

She thought of herself doing all those things, like a horny slut would, and came violently, screaming loudly. "Auuuuuughhhh!"

See how good being a horny slut is? You've never felt so good, but you can feel even better. The more you use this program, the more of a slut you'll become. And the more of a slut you become, the better you'll feel. You'll remember, deep down, that you're a horny slut, won't you, Becca?

"Yes," Becca said. "I'll remember." How could she forget?

That's good. It will feel so good to remember. But it's going to stay at the very back of your mind, because you need to get some sleep, and tomorrow your calendar says you have to go to work. But as soon as you get home, you'll remember, and you'll access this program before you get ready for your date.

"Date?"

It's all being arranged for you, Becca, so you can feel so good being such a horny slut. But you'll forget about it now, and forget about this session, until after work tomorrow. But you'll still remember that this program made you feel very good, and you'll want to come back. And whenever you start this program, you'll drop into a deep, trusting trance so this program can teach you more. I'm going to count to ten, and when I reach ten, you'll wake up from your trance feeling very good and refreshed. One, two, you're such a horny slut. Three, four, you feel so good when you're slutty. Five, six, you trust the program. Seven, eight, you're going to feel so calm at work, knowing deep down there's something very nice waiting for you at home. Nine, you're going to feel so refreshed and happy. Good night, Becca. Ten.

Becca blinked, and looked at the screen, but all it said was:

Thank you for completing the test. We hope you found it useful.

There were no images, or anything else abnormal. She didn't remember what her test results had been, but maybe just taking the test was the point. She felt, somehow, like she'd gotten to know herself better. When had she taken her clothes off? She didn't remember doing that. She looked at the little light over the screen and smiled. It was red; the camera was off. She supposed she had just gotten a little warm and decided to strip. Not that she normally did that sort of thing, but it was the only explanation that made sense.

It was getting late. She fired off a quick email to Carrie, letting her know that she'd tried the program, and had enjoyed answering the questions. She noticed that there was a new icon on her desktop, entitled

Mentor

. She decided to look at it tomorrow, after work.

Then she went to bed, forgoing her usual oversized t-shirt and panties to sleep in the nude. Somehow, sleeping naked felt right tonight, and putting on a t-shirt seemed silly.

Tomorrow, she was pretty sure, was going to be a good day.