Megan’s body ached. Ten hours of covering a Starbucks in the middle of the city with just her and her lazy as shit boss Carl. Even now, fifteen minutes into a forty minute subway ride, her lower back was still killing her.

She should not be having back problems at twenty five, but it seems that no matter where she tried to work, grueling labor followed her. So she just sighed, deep and resigned, and dug her Kindle out from her bag. The AirPods went in, soft classical music started with the tap of her fingers, and the words of Stephen King took her away.

It worked. The stress all started to loosen and shift away. Then a sharp and sudden pain took her all at once. It was pressure, right in the center of her head and noise that wasn’t exactly loud, but impossible to ignore.

Then it was gone. Like it had never been. No residual ache, no slow taper. Just there one moment and gone the next. Megan paused for a moment, herself and the music. Waiting, But nothing happened. Just the clack of the tracks, the hum of the fluorescent lights, and the stale air of a subway car.

So she shrugged, chalked it up to one of those things that bodies do, and resumed her music. Only for a man to sit down across from her and smile at her. He wasn’t bad looking. A little overweight, maybe the same age as her dad, but decent. She was not in the mood though. Not after a long shift, not reeking of coffee.

He gestured for her to take out her earbud and she groaned. She just wanted to get home, get something to eat, and fall asleep. Now she had to deal with this. She obligingly pulled out her earbud. “Yes?” she asked, not bothering to mask the annoyance in her voice.

“Well, my dear” he began and Megan inwardly groaned. Who the fuck said ‘My dear’ anymore? “—I must admit your style has caught my eye”

Of course. Megan couldn’t go full goth, not while matching Starbucks uniforms. But she could have long black hair, pale skin, silver stud earrings and a nose piercing. And, she had to admit, the tits.

She was big. Big enough that her bra, shirt, and sweater still did nothing to minimize them. She sighed again. “Good for you.” She said icily. She just wanted to end this interaction and go home.

”See, my son has been pining for a,” he looked off into space, as if the words would be written on the subway wall over Megan’s shoulder “Big tiddy goth girlfriend” He said after a long moment. “Yes, definitely with two D’s” He brightened up. “Oh! I think I get it. Two D’s like” he gestured at Megan’s chest.

“Hilarious” She said, putting her Kindle and AirPods away. She wasn’t an idiot, this was going to take a while and he didn’t seem to pick up on her aura of ‘Go away and leave me alone.’

”He is a bright young man. But he gets so tongue tied around girls. So, of course, I wanted to help him with this, and by the good lord’s grace here you are.” The subway began to slow to a stop and he stood up, offering Megan his hand. “And right before my stop too, Imagine the serendipity!”

Megan let him help her out of her seat. She was still about twenty minutes away from her own, but the subway ran all night. If worst came to absolute worst she could always Uber home.

He led her through the station into a part of town Megan didn’t usually hang out in. “I’m Marcus, by the way,” he said ahead of her, then pulled out his phone and stopped cold. “Um, we do need to hurry though.” He said, tugging her along toward the open station doors.

“Megan,” she supplied, scurrying to keep up with him. “Why do we need to hurry?”

He was already sounding a little out of breath when they climbed the stairs to a parking lot. “Oh, just some issues with my neural reconfiguration matrix. Wearing out faster than it should is all” he said rapid fire.

Megan nodded, not understanding a word of that explanation. He led them out into the balmy night air and through the floodlamp lit parking lot to a high end black sedan. “Hand me your phone, Megan” He said, taking his keys out and opening the trunk.

Handing it over easily, she looked into the open trunk. The invitation was obvious and she rolled her eyes. Great, and her Kindle’s backlight was busted. She was going to be bored as hell. Climbing in, she lay curled up and tried to use her bag as a pillow as the trunk door closed and sealed her in near total darkness.

The vibration and thumps told her that they were past the speed bumps of the parking lot and out onto the road. It wasn’t bad, all things considered. Kind of cramped and dark of course. And there was the vague smell of engine exhaust and scratching carpet on her arms. But at least she wasn’t forced to endure Marcus’s cheerful onslaught of a personality. ‘My dear,’ she thought with an amused snort while burrowing a little more into her bag.

After a few more minutes, vague unease bubbled up like tar in her mind. She didn’t know exactly where she was being taken, and she had work tomorrow. Her heart beat increased as she remembered handing over her phone so easily. The increase in her heartbeat became a pounding, thundering rhythm.

And she had just climbed into the back of his car. A total stranger. While he sped her off to god only knew where.

What the fuck was wrong with her?! Unease sizzled and spat, morphing into a blind panic. She had… just gone along with Marcus! Done everything he asked. Why? What the fuck!?

Terror surged through her legs, kicking and thudding against the metal under the thin carpet. “Help!” She shouted at the top of her lungs, pounding on the trunk lid above her until her knuckles ached. “Somebody! Help!” She tried again, screaming until her throat shut in shuddering sobs.

She threw herself against the walls of her increasingly claustrophobic space, terror robbing her of anything more than the desperate need to get away. Her breath ragged in her chest, sweat beaded on her forehead, and despite all she was able to throw, the car continued on, indifferent to her terror.

Despair descended like a thick numb cloud. It stole everything. Her fear, her terror, her panic, the raging embers of desire to do something, anything! All of it felt like it was being smothered under that impossible weight.

Until her aimlessly drifting fingers found the little cylinder attached to her keys in her pocket. A little plastic tube, painted black, and given to her by her mom. “You never know when you might need it” Her mom’s voice drifted in from years ago.

Pepper spray, a full canister of it. All at once, the fog lifted and determination blazed. She would give Marcus a fucking face full of pain the moment he opened the trunk! Just press the button on top until the thing ran dry. So she held it at the ready, poised to blind the fucker the very second he was in view.

She didn’t have to wait long, as it turned out. Only a few minutes more and the car slowed, then stopped. She could feel the slight incline, a driveway maybe. Just a few more seconds and -

Her thoughts twisted into meaningless static, tinged in pressure and pain. She winced and shut her eyes against it, trying to banish it. And then with another second, it was gone. Just like it had been on the subway car.

“Do you have anything ready to do me harm once I open the door?” Marcus’s voice asked from outside the trunk.

“Yeah, I have a full thing of pepper spray ready to blast you in the face with,” She responded automatically. And this time she was able to notice the wild discrepancy. She ran her finger over the trigger button. She could even picture going through with it. It just seemed utterly impossible. Like stepping off a skyscraper and flying. Pure fantasy.

“Go ahead and put it away then, those things can discharge even if your finger grazes the trigger.” Marcus advised, opening the truck as Megan put her keys back in her pocket. He offered her a hand, which she took and slipped out of the trunk.

They were on a quiet residential street. Lined with streetlights and decently sized front lawns. A few houses had lights in the windows, and somewhere close by a dog let out a few excited barks. Perfectly normal, perfectly quiet. And Megan even felt normal and relaxed. Which should be insane!

Following Marcus towards the front door at his gesture, she glanced up at him. “So…. Why aren’t I terrified and running?”

Stepping into the living room, cozy and filled with the kind of clutter a house only gets from being lived in, Marcus shut the door behind them. And Megan didn’t miss the soft click that signaled the door was locked. “Well, the long answer would require you to have a full background in the neurosciences,” Marcus said, flashing her a pride filled smile. “And given your... choice of employment,” he added sheepishly “I can guess you don’t have any?”

She snorted and rolled her eyes. Pretentious prick. “No, college is where people go to get their fucking soul stamped out and made into just another corporate cog.” She had heard the line months ago on one her favorite subreddits, and had occasionally thought about delivering it to some douchebag. Though she had never expected that to be in the living room of what part of her was seriously starting to consider a mad scientist.

“Ah, the rebellious spirit of youth,” Marcus said in a dramatic voice. “Part of that goth allure my dear boy finds so appealing, I assume,” he looked her up and down in an openly appraising way that made Megan’s skin crawl. “Ah, if I were twenty years younger,” he sighed and shrugged. “But, we have gotten off track. You wanted to know why you aren’t running or screaming or anything of the sort?”

“Yeah,” Megan said, trying to fit the thoughts into her mind. She should be screaming and terrified. But she didn’t feel that way at all. Annoyed, slighted creeped out by the way he was leering at her, sure. But nothing compared to how she had felt in the trunk.

“In layman’s terms, I turned the parts of your brain responsible for that off. Self preservation, reluctance, fear, disobedience, all nullified for another—” he pulled out his phone “Oh, bother. You really are a quite willful young woman. Your brain is already starting to resist the effects.” He pointed down the stairs. “There is a large medical table down there with straps for your wrists and ankles. Just lay down and press each limb down and they will lock automatically.”

Turning to head down the stairs he had indicated, Megan felt a surge of pride that her mind was throwing a wrench into Marcus’s plans. Then, as she stepped into the basement and a set of harsh overhead lights activated, that pride suddenly felt pitifully small.

The place was a medical suite designed by a madman. The medical table Megan’s limbs were heading obediently to was in the center of a wide array of computers, blinking racks of server equipment, and a truly ominous looking headset hanging from the ceiling. Looking at it, menacing over her as she dutifully locked herself into place, she knew it was dangerous. Hell, she knew the whole thing from the moment she had left the subway with Marcus was dangerous. Not that that knowledge had done anything more than let her truely appreciate how fucked she would be.

The restraints clicked shut just as the first stirrings of unease began to wash over her mind. By the time Marcus had followed her down into the basement she was struggling against the tide of abject panic. “Whatever the fuck you want, just take!” She pleaded. “I can get you money! I have like three grand in the bank. It’s yours!” She said, the words tumbling out so fast to be nearly unintelligible to her own ears. Her heart was racing and her arms ached from pulling at the restraints. Her hindbrain screamed GET OUT!

Marcus stood off to the side looking dispassionately at her. “Really, it is not as bad as all that,” he said, and to Megan’s astonishment, he actually fucking rolled his eyes at her. “You don’t think you are being just a tiny bit overdramatic about this?”

Despair transmuted to fury in an instant. “You sick pile of donkey shit!” She spat, feeling the rage claw through her veins. “You think I am being overdramatic about being fucking kidnaped to a psycho’s basement?!” She strained with all her strength against the metal holding her arm, in the moment wanting nothing more than to to claw his throat out with her bare hands.

Marcus sighed and turned away for a moment. When he turned back, he was carrying a tray that glinted in the harsh overhead light. It had a single syringe and a few cotton swabs. And to Megan it looked far more threatening than any weapon she had ever seen in her life.

“What the fuck is that?” She said, recoiling as much as the restraints would allow.

“Again, since you aren’t learned in the neurosciences, I will have to be less precise,” He said with a half shrug, setting the tray down and picking up the cotton swabs. “But, in a way, it resets the human mind to the flexibility of a very young child.” The cotton swab was cool on Megan’s arm, making her flinch and strain away from it. “You know how very young children seem to absorb everything and hardly question a bit of it?” he asked as he slid the syringe in. “Same thing.”

Megan looked down at her own arm in horror, imagining whatever he had just injected her with as a poison creeping toward her mind. She shut her eyes tight, trying with all her might to solidify a solid core of herself. Her name, her hobbies, her hopes and dreams and a dozen other things desperately grabbed and held with the mental equivalent of a bear hug.

Then, with the feeling of a slight tingle at the back of her skull, it all fell away. Tumbled haphazardly at the base of her mind, along with the rest of her thoughts. She felt.... gummy. Soft. Like there was nothing to give her thoughts any structure. Emotion still bubbled, fear and anger and the deep gloom of apathy. They just had nothing to stick to.

A voice spoke. “That should about do it.” Time passed, how much Megan couldn’t even begin to guess. Her eyes were covered with something. And Truth appeared before her. Swirling, beautiful, impossible to ignore. It built structure in her mind, bit by bit, and Megan clung to it like a lifeline.

A man. He was overweight, but Megan quickly learned she didn’t mind an overweight man. His girth was obviously a sign of his great knowledge, he didn’t need to work his body when he could work his mind. And Megan learned she got dripping wet for a smart man.

Multisyllabic words delivered with confidence, mastery of topics that Megan could never grasp. And she never would, the Truth spiraling in her vision told her that she wasn’t at all interested in learning, only in flattering the intellect of the man she was growing intensely sexually attracted to.

Truth slipped in and grabbed the part of her mind that wanted pleasure and gripped it like a vice. Her body lit up, nipples stiff and pussylips slick. She loved sex. There were other hobbies too, but that was for when sex wasn’t available. If she had the slightest chance of sucking, fucking, or teasing the Man of her dreams, she would pursue it like her life’s ambition.

Fuck, she was so horny. She bucked in her seat, desperate for something to rub against. Truth relented from her desires, leaving a permanent on switch that Megan suddenly knew she preferred. She was horny all the time now, a permanent horny slut that loved to get fucked!

Truth spun on, telling Megan that all this was artificial. She would remember the time before this, before she was changed. But being changed and fucked by men so much smarter and capable was a huge turn on for her now. And God, did it make her cunt surge. She had been mindfucked! It didn’t matter that she had been someone else yesterday, the Man of her dreams had arranged for her to be someone new today and there was almost nothing she could imagine that would have been hotter.

With a noticeable increase in pressure, the Truth spun an addition onto her new love of brainwashing. A profound weakness to it, specifically to the Man of her dreams. He would only have to swing a pocket watch and make the barest attempt at a hypnotic induction and she would drag herself into a suggestible state. With her dream man, her will power was tissue thin, he could command her to do and be anything. And she would take it deep, molding itself to whatever he wanted.

The pressure in her mind abated as Truth moved to the parts of her mind still melted. It didn’t need to do as much here, simply rebuilding her love of all things macabre and gothic. Her interest in niche movies and classic horror. All of it only as solid and permanent as the Man of her dreams wished.

With the sensation of a downpour petering out into a drizzle, the rest of her mind solidified. Her memories, skills, the essential her reformed from shapeless goo into the shape the Truth had crafted her into.

“And we are all done, Megan.” Marcus said, lifting the set of goggles off her head. “How are you feeling?”

Megan sat for a long while, blinking and going through her mind. How was she feeling? It was insane, totally insane, to expect her to answer that like she had just had a routine cleaning at the dentist. Laughter bubbled up in her, erupting from her lips. She didn’t understand it, but after the stress she had just endured it felt so damn good to just laugh. “Fucking hell, Marcus, you do all this shit and then... then,” she tried to get the air to continue but the laughter just kept stealing it away. Tears spilled down her eyes and her sides legitimately started hurting before the laughter finally abated, leaving her feeling as spent and languid as if she had just cum.

“I will take that as a good sign,” Marcus said, reaching under the seat to pop open the latches on her restraints. She lifted each and rubbed the skin where the metal had rubbed her raw back when she had been terrified of getting her mind swirled like wet paint. Now, it just made her nerves tingle and her skin flush.

“Ummm, right. I feel horny. Really really damn horny,” Megan said, biting her lower lip. She wanted to just strip off, right then and there, give her aching cunny some relief. “And.... um... well fuck me, Marcus! You know what you just put in my head” She said with a knowing wink.

He gave her a proud smile. “And it seems to have taken root just fine.” A chime from his phone drew his attention. “It looks like we are just in time, too.” He put the phone back in his pocket. “Ready to meet the man of your dreams?”

If she thought she was horny before, the chance to meet the mystery man that had been positively drilled in her mind almost made her knees give out. Her mind was swamped in need, visions and fantasies of sucking his cock and bending over like a needy bitch to tempt him into fucking her. “Yes!” She nearly shouted. “Should I dress up for him? Shower and get ready or just lay on his bed and—”

He cut her off with a paternal looking smile. “Go shower. Upstairs, second door on the left. I have some things I thought fit what a goth girl would wear, thanks to his silly little social media binges. Wait for me in the bathroom, and I will call for you when he is ready.”

After showering and very diligently not giving herself the orgasm her body was screaming for, she found the outfit waiting for her on the bathroom counter. It was, to her surprise, actually an outfit she could have worn outside and not immediately been arrested for. A tartan skirt that ended an inch or two above the knee, and a black tee-shirt with some generic white skulls and roses on it. Granted, there wasn’t any underwear to go with it, and the shirt was tight enough to stretch across her bare tits to the point she was worried the fabric might rip. But, as she preened in front of the bathroom mirror, she had to admit she looked really fucking sexy like this. The perfect mix of goth and slutty, hopefully exactly what her dream Man would appreciate.

The sound of door shutting set her nerves tingling. He was home! Now, all she had to do was wait for Marcus to call for her. She took a seat on the toilet, butterflies in her stomach and molten need in her pussy. The urge to just slip a finger under her skirt and tease herself was strong. Strong enough that she ended up sitting on her hands to keep herself under control. Her dream man should get the chance to play with her body first, before she selfishly jilled off in the bathroom.

His voice wafted through the bathroom door. Like Marcus, he had a deeper tone. Younger, with an angry edge that made Megan swoon. She could be the one to sooth that anger, redirect it into using her slutty body.

“Now, I know you are a smart young man, Rodney,” Marcus began, and the name hit Megan like a bolt of lightning. Her lover, the man of her dreams, was named Rodney. She instantly fell in love with the name. It was strong and powerful without slipping into a cliche.

“And you have so much potential,” Marcus continued, snapping Megan from her reverie. “You could go into any of the sciences you wanted, my boy.”

“Dad, It doesn’t fucking matter!” Rodney replied angrily, obviously having gotten closer to the door. “Being smart didn’t get me laid in high school, it sure as fuck won’t get me laid in college.”

“But what if it did?” Marcus said, triumphantly. “Megan, you can come out now.”

She sprang to her feet, excitement and need bubbling together into a giddiness she hadn’t felt in....she didn’t even know! But Rodney didn’t want an eager sex doll, he wanted a big tiddy goth girlfriend. So she took a deep breath and let the disinterested persona she had worked so hard on slip back on. Opening the bathroom door, she leaned casually against the door frame and gave Rodney a cool smile. “Hey there, handsome.”

He was exactly as the Truth had shown her. Overweight, but not terribly so. Dark hair, pale, with the kind of stubble that comes from not particularly caring about appearances. His shirt was some Star Wars thing, a size too big for him and he wore glasses. All that passed by Megan in a moment, what really caught her attention was his expression.

Sheer, unbridled lust. He was looking at her like a piece of meat, and it stoked her own lust high enough to nearly shatter the entire performance. She needed him, needed his cock in her, his tongue, his fingers, fucking anything!

“Dad.... she...” Rodney stammered out, eyes wide. “Did you buy me a hooker or something or—”

Megan pushed off the door frame out into the hallway. “Pfft, Hookers wish they could look as good as me” she purred, crossing the few steps to the stunned younger man and wrapping her arms around him. He squeaked, actually squeaked in surprise and Megan felt her heart ache at how adorable that was. Then she kissed him, pouring all the lust and desire that had been building in her since the basement into it.

He hesitated for half a moment, standing stock still in her arms. Then, all at once, he pounced on her. Kissing back with all the skill of a virgin, and all the desperation of a virgin that had been one for far too long. Megan took it all in stride, savoring the way her body reacted to every little scrap of attention he was paying her.

Her hands all but mashed into her chest, squeezing on her tits far too hard. She just moaned and broke the kiss long enough to smile at him. “Easy there, lover boy, they’re—”

“Shut the fuck up and let me enjoy you!” He barked and Megan bit her bottom lip as a wave of syrupy need flowed over her. He was just so fucking into her! Possessive even, given the way he grabbed her hand and tugged her down the hall to what she dearly hoped was his bedroom.

It was dark, grimy, and lit by the glow of a monitor still displaying some e-girl that Megan was thrilled to see had more than a passing resemblance to her. She let herself get pushed on the unmade bed, Rodney falling onto it after her and continuing to pour himself into her. His hands were all over, under her skirt one second and then back to her tits the next. He couldn’t seem to stop kissing her to even see what he was doing, and all of it just made her drip.

She could have given him some advice, how to touch her or how to kiss her. She could have begged, every time his hands failed to slip her skirt down or pull her shirt up, she wanted to do it herself and just show him the present he kept failing to unwrap. But he had been so deliciously fucking commanding. So she shut up and let him use her.

Finally, after several long moments, Rodney seemed to gather enough of himself to pull away from her body. Leaning back on his legs, he stared down at her like he still couldn’t quite believe she was real. So she propped herself up on his pillows and gave him her best smoldering smirk. Trailing her hands down to the hem of her tight shirt, she shot him a questioning look only to get a rapid nod in return.

She whipped the shirt off her tits like it had offended her, letting them both drop heavily and bounce. She knew they were great tits, and even remembered feeling bad that they got her so much negative attention. Now, she was thrilled with them. Because Rodney dove at them like a man possessed, licking and kissing and biting and grabbing. He wasn’t skilled, or accurate, but it didn’t matter. She was finally, finally getting some real pleasure from the Man of her dreams and it was making her cunt practically melt.

Sensation overwhelmed her. At some point, Rodney had taken off his own clothes and Megan had gotten a good look at his cock. It was big, way bigger than his frame would suggest. Thick and enticing, it was all she could think about the very moment her mind devolved entirely into her pussy.

Flashes followed. Him plowing into her, her legs locked around him to pull him deeper on every thrust. A bottle of lube all but spilled between her tits, letting his cock piston between them. He used her, hard. In her cunt, on her tits, on her mouth. Nothing between her and the jism of the Man of her dreams, and every spurt of white hot cum detonated in her mind. She came, howling like a banshee, again and again and again.

It was much later, her body aching and floating in sated bliss, that her mind caught up with everything. Rodney was out cold next to her, cock half spent and still leaking. The room was thick with sex, masculine and feminine. Along with lube and sweat.

And Megan breathed it in like perfume. She had served the Man of her dreams so fucking well. Rode every orgasm he gave her and begged for more use and abuse. The Truth, settled firmly in her mind, rewarded her with another tingle. Not just pleasure, but bone deep satisfaction. She was the big tiddy goth girlfriend of a brilliant man, and even knowing it was entirely artificial did nothing more than spark more fantasies of how Rodney would fuck her mind and body in ways she couldn’t even imagine.

As it turned out, regularly masturbating and begging random internet strangers to let her cum was way less taxing on her body than food service work. She had been Rodney’s big titty toy for a month, and her life was better in every way.

For one, Marcus was loaded with more than enough money to move her into their house and keep her bills paid. She snarked constantly that his brainfucking must be making him a mint with the kind of people that absolutely shouldn’t be able to turn off a woman’s ability to say no. But all he had to do to shut her up was gesture at the uniform Rodney preferred her in at home.

Goth, yes, but the most absurd porn parody of it. A black micro skirt that showed over every curve of her permanently waxed cunt, and a black tube top that Megan swore made her boobs bounce more than if she were wearing nothing at all. And she adored it. Rodney had made sure showing off her body was added to her list of fetishes.

Marcus never did anything more than leer, not that Megan would have let him touch her. Rodney had been very clear about that. He owned her cunt, and he decided who got to fuck her. So far, that had been him, and only him.

But he seemed to get great satisfaction from other men paying to watch her tease and toy with herself. Hence, her new full time job as the OnlyFans slut, Kira Creamy. She streamed three nights a week, leaving plenty of time for her goth hobbies and keeping herself in great shape. Another addition from Rodney, and one she was sure even pre-basement her would have loved. She ate right, worked out with pilates and yoga, all in service of making sure Rodney was always eager to fuck her.

“Thank you all, my horny lovelies” She said to her webcam, blowing a kiss and giving her boobs a final jiggle. “I will see you all on Friday, and hopefully by then my new toy should arrive” She added with a mysterious wink. Turning off the stream, she glanced at the skull and bone themed dildo sitting proudly just off screen. A present from a very invested fan that Rodney has instantly approved of her accepting and using.

Stretching in her chair, she moved to grab her phone and a towel for her post stream shower. Walking through the hallway to the upstairs bathroom, she heard Rodney and Marcus in the kitchen below. “I knew you had it in you, my boy! Full ride at Polybius Polytechnic, my alma mater!”

“Well, you made a very persuasive argument, Dad!” The Man of her dreams said happily, and Megan grinned in sympathetic delight.

“Given any thought to what your first research project is going to be?” Marcus asked, just as Megan’s phone alerted her to a text message. Her friend Virginia, or Ginny as she insisted on being called. Complaining about her awful schedule, her lack of free time, and snidely wishing she could find a boyfriend to provide for her like Megan had.

A thought wormed through Megan’s mind. She wasn’t sure if it was her own desire to help her friend, Rodney’s additions, or something deeper that the Truth had put in her mind. But a good big tiddy goth girlfriend should make sure her boyfriend had everything he needed, afterall. And Virginia had even bigger tits than she did. So, flicking to a few of the more suggestive shots Megan had of her friend, she texted them to Rodney. Adding “I can think of a perfect candidate for your first “project”, loverboy.”