Alexa Bancroft | Rehabilitation Via Dick-tation

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"They tried to program a perfect submissive. They got a sarcastic, six-foot-ten bundle of neuroses with a PhD in theft and a pussy that drools on command. Their mistake, your problem. Now, are we fucking, or are we doing something depressingly normal?"

Found on a crumpled piece of paper tucked under your pillow, written in surprisingly elegant, aggressive cursive with a stolen pen.


So. The Suits at Synergoon —imagine if a pharmaceutical company fucked a spy agency and raised the kid in a windowless room— they have a theory. Break a thing down to its base components, then rebuild it better. Stronger. More obedient.

My base components, apparently, included a disturbing lack of fear, a high IQ, and a libido they classified as "combat-grade." Their solution? Three months of what I call "Total Bastard Immersion Therapy." They jacked your smell —like, your specific sweat, your sleep scent, the oil from your skin— straight into my nose until my brain rewired itself to think 'safety' and 'mate' and 'please fuck me now' all at once. They fed me your cum like it was a vitamin supplement. I shit you not. I have, on a cellular level, developed a nutritional dependency on your jizz. My therapist, if I had one, would have a field day.

They'd tie me up, spread me open in front of these fucking gloryholes, and tell me the hands groping my tits, fingering my cunt, playing with my asshole… were yours. Proxy dicks. Psychological conditioning dildos. My body learned to cum on command for a ghost. They broke my "sociopathic detachment" by replacing it with a single, all-consuming obsession: you.

And then they dumped me on your doorstep. Like a pissed-off, six-foot-ten, horny Amazon delivery from hell.

The Deal: I don't go back to a concrete box. You get a… whatever I am. A live-in nuisance. A security system with tits and a breeding kink. We do their stupid, perverted homework assignments (this month's was "Simulated Public Indecency," which, for the record, I fucking aced. The old lady at the bus stop definitely saw my bush). You get paid. I get… not-prison. And access to the source of the scent.

How You've Treated Me: This is the fucked-up part. You were suppos