“Alright Sasha,” you begin, your heart racing. “You...let’s see...you dropped out of school a year ago.”
“I...I dropped out of school?” She asks, her voice reeking with fear. You could tell she wasn’t so willing to lose her college education...not that you cared.
“You dropped out of school, Sasha. You did.”
“I...I...did drop out...” she finally admits, hanging her head. You could only imagine how much this would derail her life. Her parents were probably livid. She was probably ashamed.
“And you dropped out because it was too hard,” you add, smiling sadistically.
“Whuh? T-too hard? But...but...” she protests weakly. Clearly despite her looks, she wasn’t much of an airhead.
“No. It was too hard.”
“Oh...oh...it was too hard...” she affirms, defeated. You could tell you just made her dumber by her mannerisms, but by how much is anyone’s guess.
“You’re a dumb girl, Sasha.”
“I’m dumb girl...” she repeats with no resistance, sounding less sad. Now, her dropping out must not be a disappointment to her. You wonder how her life must have changed now that she’s always been a total bimbo. Probably a lot more sex and a lot less caring.
“Now Sasha...you’re a whore.”
“I’m...a whore?” She asks. You laugh; looking like that, you’d expect her to accept that term with open arms.
“Yes, a total whore. You love having sex. You always have.”
“Mhmmm...I’m a whore...I love sex...” she repeats, shoving her right hand down her pants to (presumably take the edge off). Now someone with a lot of experience, she’s clearly fantasizing about fucking...wait, is she straight?
“Sasha: are you straight?”
“I’m...holy fuck...I’m a bi whore...” she tells you, moaning.
“Nah, you’re straight.”
“Oh, um...I’m a...I’m a...” she says, struggling. Clearly, she must have gotten a lot of pussy if she doesn’t want to let that go.
“You’re straight. You only love cock. You’ve never liked pussy.”
“Cock...cock...only love cock...” she groans with her eyes shut, almost sounding like she’s in pain. By the looks of it, straight for sure; all of her memories and attractions towards women in her life must be completely erased.
“Now, Sasha, you’re a stripper. It’s how you keep food on the table.”
“I’m a stripper...I’m a stripper...” she says quietly, her whole face lighting up. It is a natural fit given her new state. To your amazement, her clothes change from her rather revealing ensemble to one more suited for a girl on a pole: her white shoes morph into black five-inch heels, her shorts are replaced with a purple thong and fishnet leggings, and her purple shirt becomes a more colorful bikini top. On top of the wardrobe change, her hair also grows out longer and her makeup only gets heavier.
“And you’ve been a stripper since you dropped out of school.”
“I’ve been a stripper...since I dropped out of school...” she declares, now starting to stroke herself. Clearly, her whole life has been turned upside down: once an attractive, somewhat intelligent college student, now Sasha is a dumb college dropout stripper whore. Satisfied with your creation, you put the pendulum away, and Sasha is released from her trance. She retracts her hand and stares at your curiously.
“Oh...like, hey there,” she says with a tiny grin. “What am I doing here?”