Bree's Date Preparations and a Concerning Revelation

Bree sat cross-legged on her bed, her heart still fluttering from her visit with Miranda. The invitation to the cabin felt like a lifeline—a chance to make things right and prove herself worthy. Her fingers trembled slightly as she folded clothes and carefully placed them inside the bag, her thoughts consumed by the upcoming trip.

The apartment was quiet, save for the soft hum of the playlist Miranda had sent her days ago. The music wrapped around Bree like a comforting embrace, each note subtly reinforcing her desire to please. She didn’t consciously register the messages embedded within, but the effects were undeniable. The more she listened, the more she felt compelled to serve, to prove her devotion.

“You want to please. You find joy in service. Miranda’s approval is your reward.”

The words echoed faintly in the melodies, seeping into Bree’s subconscious, shaping her thoughts and desires. She paused for a moment, her gaze drifting to her phone. Her fingers hovered over the screen, debating whether to text Miranda again. She craved that connection, that validation.

Instead, she opened the playlist app and adjusted the volume. The music swelled, filling the room with soothing tones that eased her nerves. Bree took a deep breath, her lips curling into a soft smile. She could do this. She would make Miranda proud.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. Bree jumped up, her heart skipping a beat. She wasn’t expecting anyone.

When she opened the door, Latoya stood there, holding a coffee in one hand and a curious expression on her face. “Thought I’d check in on you,” Latoya said with a grin. “You seemed a little... jittery today.”

Bree laughed nervously, stepping aside to let her friend in. “Yeah, it’s been a big day.”

Latoya took a seat on the couch, watching Bree buzz around the room, finishing her packing. “You’re in a good mood,” Latoya observed with a smirk. “What’s going on? You’re bouncing around like a kid at Christmas.”

Bree grinned, unable to hide her enthusiasm. “I’m going away for the weekend. When I come back Sunday night, I’ll be a taken woman.”

Latoya chuckled. “Taken, huh? Who’s the lucky lady?”

Bree blushed. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Latoya leaned back in her chair, smirking. “Try me.”

Bree hesitated for a moment, then whispered, “Miranda.”

Latoya’s eyes widened in surprise. “Dr. Wong? Seriously?”

Bree nodded, her smile growing. “She invited me to her friend’s cabin for the weekend. It’s going to be... special.”

Latoya studied Bree for a moment, then nodded approvingly. “Well, good for you. Just be careful. Miranda doesn’t seem like someone who does things halfway.”

“I don’t want her to,” Bree replied softly. “I want to give her everything.”

The next morning, Bree stood in front of her apartment’s full-length mirror, scrutinizing her outfit. She had chosen something simple yet elegant—a soft, flowy dress that made her feel both feminine and confident. But as she stared at her reflection, doubts crept in.

Is this what Miranda would want? Will she find me good enough?

The questions gnawed at her, and she found herself adjusting her dress, fussing over her hair, and reapplying her makeup. Each action was driven by the same underlying need: to be perfect for Miranda.

She reached for the small bag she had packed and slung it over her shoulder. With one last glance in the mirror, she whispered to herself, “You’ve got this. Just be what she needs.”

Miranda drove through the winding roads leading to the cabin, her mind restless despite the calming scenery. The trees lining the path seemed to loom over her like watchful eyes, as if judging her every thought. Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. There could be no more mistakes.

Garrett’s disappointment haunted her. The way he had looked at her the last time they met, his cold, piercing gaze cutting through her like a blade. She couldn’t endure that again. She had to make him happy. She had to prove her worth, show him that she was more than just a failed tool.

As the car hummed along the road, her mind wandered to the past—to the beginnings of the Cognitive Vision Interface (CVI) project. It had started with such high hopes. A revolutionary tool to unlock the human mind’s potential, to rewire thoughts and reshape desires. But as the research progressed, they realized the CVI’s power went far beyond rehabilitation. It could create obedience. Devotion. Absolute loyalty.

Miranda remembered the long nights in the lab, poring over data, refining the technology with a singular focus: control. But the ethical questions never left her mind, haunting her each time she stared at the growing data sets. When the time came to present their findings, she had been the one to manipulate the results, ensuring that the CVI would be deemed too dangerous and ultimately scrapped. It had been a relief back then—a way to bury her doubts and walk away from something she feared might spiral out of control.

After the project was shelved, the remaining research was quietly redirected to what would become the ATD. A less invasive, more subtle tool. Something that could shape behavior without fully rewriting a person's mind. Miranda had convinced herself that this was a safer path, a compromise that would keep the more **** ideas of the CVI locked away forever. It had been Amina Qureshi, one of Kathrin Stevenson’s adopted daughters, who first realized what they had created. Amina shared her mother’s worldview with unwavering conviction—a deep disdain for white men and an unshakable belief that they should be kept in their place. She saw the CVI as a revolutionary tool to ensure that future. Where Kathrin used politics and influence, Amina preferred science and technology to achieve control. A tool that could fundamentally alter a person’s identity, reduce them to a blank slate ready to be programmed.

At the time, Miranda had hesitated. She had agreed with many of Amina’s and Kathrin’s fundamental ideas, but she couldn’t embrace their extremism. The hatred toward white men had seemed too consuming, too reductive. But now, years later, her perspective had shifted. She no longer saw white men as the enemy—she saw them as rulers. Or rather, one white man. Her white Master.

The thought of Garrett ruling everything sent a shiver through her, heat blooming low in her belly. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel, pressing her thighs together as the vision of Garrett’s absolute dominion filled her mind. A world where he commanded everyone, and she stood at his side, ensuring his every need was met.

Back then, she had manipulated the data to shut down the Cognitive Vision Interface project. The funding for the project had come from Kathrin Stevenson, who had seen its potential as a tool for societal control. At the time, the project was led by Laura, who wasn’t yet the mayor but was already a prominent figure as the chief psychologist overseeing the research. When Laura transitioned into politics, the project's leadership passed to Miranda, who initially sought to distance herself from the more **** aspects of its goals. Now, she would do anything to resurrect it—for him. But Laura had been unwavering, pushing forward with relentless ambition.

“People are tools,” Laura had said once, her voice cold and pragmatic. “We shape them to serve our purposes. The CVI is simply the next evolution of that idea.”

Miranda had walked away from the project back then, unable to reconcile her doubts. But now, years later, she found herself reaching for the same forbidden tool. Because Garrett’s approval meant everything. And if the CVI could ensure his happiness, she would use it.

The ATD device sat in the passenger seat beside her, its case carefully closed. Her gaze drifted toward a sleek, black device tucked away in her bag—the CVI, a tool she hadn’t used in years. It was a last resort, something that could push Bree beyond any limits. It might break her. It might fry her mind. But if it came to that, what did it matter? Bree would still serve. Even if she became nothing more than a puppet—Master’s puppet—that would be enough.

“That’s all we are anyway,” Miranda murmured to herself. “Tools to be used. Servants to please him.”

She thought about Bree’s transformation, the progress she had made. The playlist had been effective, guiding Bree’s thoughts without her even realizing it. But Miranda knew that the weekend at the cabin would be crucial. Bree needed to be shaped further, her devotion solidified.

The cabin came into view, nestled in a secluded clearing surrounded by towering trees that stood like silent guardians. Miranda parked the car and stepped out, inhaling the crisp, fresh air. Everything was prepared. The stage was set.

As Bree's car approached the gravel driveway, her heart pounded with a mix of anticipation and nerves. She pulled up beside Miranda's vehicle and took a moment to steady her breathing before stepping out. The playlist was still playing softly in the background, wrapping her in comforting melodies that reinforced her resolve.

Miranda stood on the porch, watching Bree with a serene expression that masked the intense calculations running through her mind.

"Welcome, Bree," Miranda said softly, her voice warm and inviting. "Are you ready to begin?"

Bree nodded eagerly, her eyes wide with excitement. "Yes. I’m ready."

Miranda’s gaze lingered on Bree for a moment, assessing her composure. "Good. Come inside. There’s much to prepare."

Bree followed Miranda into the cabin, taking in the rustic furniture, the warm glow of the fireplace, and the faint scent of pine that hung in the air. It felt like stepping into another world—a world where she could shed her insecurities and become whatever Miranda needed her to be.

"Sit," Miranda instructed, motioning to a plush armchair by the fire. Bree obeyed without hesitation, her heart racing as Miranda disappeared into another room. When she returned, she carried a small tray with two cups of tea.

They sipped in silence for a few moments, the tension between them palpable.

"I’ve been watching you, Bree," Miranda said finally, her voice low and steady. "You’ve come so far already. But this weekend... this weekend is about pushing further."

Bree nodded eagerly. "I want to. I want to give you everything."

Miranda’s lips curved into a faint smile. "I know you do. And you will. But first, we need to break down those last walls you’re holding onto."

Bree swallowed hard, her pulse quickening. "I trust you. Whatever it takes."

Miranda leaned in, her gaze intense. "Good. Because after this weekend, you won’t just belong to me. You’ll belong to Master."

The words sent a shiver down Bree’s spine, both thrilling and terrifying. She didn’t fully understand what Miranda meant, but she knew one thing for certain: she would do whatever it took to please.

Miranda stood, offering her hand to Bree. "Come. Let’s begin."

As Bree took her hand, she felt a sense of calm wash over her. This was her purpose. Her place. Her belonging.

The door closed softly behind them, sealing them inside the cabin, away from the world. The weekend stretched ahead like a blank canvas, waiting to be filled with new experiences, new bonds, new revelations.

And Bree couldn’t wait to see what Miranda had planned.

————

Hey everyone,

I wanted to take a moment to thank you all for your amazing participation in the kink polls! The feedback has been overwhelming, and I truly appreciate how invested you are in this story. I'll be closing the current polls within the next 24 hours, so if you haven't voted yet, now's your chance to have your say!

This week, I'll be wrapping up the first phase of the "Anstalts Arc", which I like to call "Foothold" (I’ve already got some chapters prepped ). Alongside that, I'll be releasing a new chapter that will dive into the detailed structure of the institution and introduce all the side characters in more depth.

In this chapter, I'll also publish new polls with questions like:

What do you imagine Garrett's backstory to be?

Who should be oppressed in Garrett's world?

What will the institution evolve into?

And, of course, the fun question: Who gets to ride the BWC? Only the ladies—or do the sissies, feminized cucks, and transformed boys get their turn too?

These are some of the questions I’ve been asking myself as I prepare for Phase 2 of this arc. The story will continue to build until around Chapters 150-200, where I plan to conclude the arc.

I can't promise I'll follow every single poll result exactly, as I do have a certain direction in mind, but your feedback means the world to me, and I’m eager to see your thoughts. So keep an eye out for that upcoming chapter and new polls!

Phew, that was a lot of input! I have to say, though, I’m enjoying writing this story way more than I expected. I’ve been a fan of this platform for a long time and have always loved BNWO stories and mind control stories. But I wanted to try something different—something that flips the script a bit and puts the BWC front and center.

Your feedback has been absolutely amazing, and I can't thank you enough for the support and enthusiasm.

Now I'll shut up for a bit.

Stay Kinky,

Gerx