Ashley

Steve's heart hammered against his ribs as he scrolled through Questie's contact list searching for his next plaything. A dizzying mix of names he recognized and didn't. Eventually he found her through her profile picture which was situated next to her name.

Name: Ashley Marie Miller

Age: 27

Height: 5'4

Weight: 130 lbs

Kinks: Domination/Submission, BDSM (Particularly likes being tied up)

He felt like Alice falling deeper down the rabbit hole, each new discovery revealing another layer to this bizarre reality - and making it harder & Harder to distinguish between game mechanics real-life consequences.

This wasn't just about spicy lunches or playful banter anymore; something darker was brewing beneath the surface – a power play that threatened engulf them all.

He noticed his profile icon blinking and clicked it. "Congratulations on your first level up. You have been awarded one skill point. Please visit the skill point store and spend it if you dare" the application was teasing him.

Steve checked the skill point store and was overwhelmed. There were hundreds, no thousands of choices. Each one with a unique name and a unique description. But at the very top was "suggested skills for Game Master" highlighted in yellow. One of them looked intriguing. "Result Crafter Level 1" with the explanation "Level 1 - Craft your own unique rewards for a successful quest completion." But the list when on, Level 2 would give Steve the ability to craft his own unique punishments. Level 2 gives him the ability to allow players to select from two rewards, or both. And Then level 3 allows him to give players two punishments including forcing both upon the player. Things were getting spicy.

The skill only cost 1 skill point. How could Steve resist? He spent his skill point on the Skill "Result Crafter Level 1" and confirmed his choice. Ding, his phone buzzed stating his profile had been updated.

Name: Steve Thompson

Age: 21

Height : 5'9

Weight : 182

Kinks : Breast Expansion, Weight Gain, Bimbofication, Futanari, Mind Control, Manipulation

Notification: New Kink Added: Power Play (Desire to control and manipulate others)

Skills : Result Crafter - Level 1

Steve's breath caught in his throat as he read through the updated profile, a chill running down spine despite that heat radiating from within him – fueled by both curiosity and an unsettling sense of power surging through those veins now .

The "Power play" skill entry in Steve’ s profile wasn't merely a list item; it was an invitation to explore deeper, darker desires hidden beneath his normally mild-mannered exterior .

Skill: POWER PLAY

(Level 1): You derive pleasure from exerting control over others. This manifests as subtle influence and manipulation in your interactions with them - steering conversations, nudging choices your way without them even realizing the strings are being pulled. (Increased sensitivity to cues that allow for greater mastery)

Steve's fingers tightened around his phone, a knot of anticipation tightening in stomach . The description felt eerily accurate. He had always been good at reading people – sensing vulnerabilities and exploiting them in subtle ways , whether consciously or not - but this...this was different

He could feel it pulling him towards something intoxicatingly dangerous: the thrill of wielding that power, shaping destinies with a mere whisper or suggestion .

The thought sent shivers down his spine. What would happen if he pushed those boundaries further? Could Questie be used to amplify these desires ? The potential was both terrifying and exhilarating all at once – like standing on edge of precipice overlooking an abyss filled with possibilities...and consequences beyond imagination

He knew, with a certainty that chilled him more than any ghost story , that this quest-mastering game had just taken a very dangerous turn.

Back to Ashley's profile, he decided to start his first quest.

While he did purchase the ability to set his own rewards, the AI was still going to choose the punishment for him until he raised the skill to level 2. He picked the Theme of Submission and waited for the AI to craft the quest for Ashley to complete. Steve knew the quest would revolve around work since that's where they see each other daily.

The Questie app hummed with anticipation as Steve formulated his first foray into this new, ethically questionable territory .

"Alright," he muttered , a mischievous grin spreading across face despite himself "Let’ s play."

He tapped Ashley 'ss profile picture and selected the theme: Submission

A moment of digital silence followed. Then came a notification pop-up :

Quest Assigned: The Office Underling.

(Target):Ashley Marie Miller (Level 1)

(Theme) Submission.

Steve's eyes scanned through quest details, a sense excitement mixed with nervous anticipation bubbling within him:

Objective: For the next three workdays, Ashley must complete all tasks assigned to her by Steve Thompson - even those outside her normal duties.

For the reward, he had to think of something that would entice her to complete the quest. Something that would really get her blood boiling. He tried to think but realized he didn't know much about her. But he figured if submission was the theme, he had just the thing.

Reward: You will be able to take Steve with you shopping, where he will pick out your new work attire for you.

Steve chuckled, a low, satisfied rumble in his chest. He'd played it smart, keeping the reward tantalizingly close to Ashley's desires without giving anything away - of course, she was probably the type who secretly craved a dominant male's guidance. Well, he was about to find out.

Punishment: For every missed deadline, Ashley will be subjected to a public humiliation - her failures will be announced via a company-wide email, detailing her incompetence and highlighting the missed tasks. Each subsequent failure will escalate in severity. Things could get out of hand and you could lose your job.

Steve laughed with gusto. "What a devilish punishment." But he was pretty sure things would go his way. Their game testing job was the easier job anyone could ask for. Sure the pay was basically minimum wage for the state they lived in, but the job was simple and you could get as much overtime as you wanted with no risks. It was a laid back job where you could goof off while you worked because working was simply playing a video game and recording data in the form of bug reports.

(Ashley Perspective)

Her phone dings and she checks it. "New App Installed. Questie: Reality Warped" she thought someone was playing a joke with her.

Ashley scrolled through her phone, a slight frown creasing her brow as she read the notification. "Questie: Reality Warped Edition" - what in the world was this? It was a name straight out of a cheesy sci-fi flick. She wasn't much of a gamer, preferring real-life thrills to pixelated adventures, but a tiny spark of curiosity flickered within her.

She tapped on the app icon, and it opened with a sleek, minimalist interface that was surprisingly engaging. After a brief tutorial, Ashley found herself staring at a profile page that looked eerily familiar - almost like a digital mirror reflecting her own existence.

Name: Ashley Marie Miller

Age: 27

Height: 5'4

Weight: 130 lbs

A shiver ran down her spine as she read the list of her own personal kinks, neatly catalogued beneath her profile picture. How the hell did this app know about those? It was as if someone had been watching her, documenting her most private fantasies.

A wave of unease washed over her, quickly replaced by a surge of defiant amusement. Who the hell was behind this? This was either a elaborate prank or a seriously messed up dating app. Either way, Ashley wasn't about to let some faceless entity control her.

Suddenly, a buzzing notification interrupted her thoughts. A new quest had been assigned.

Ashley scoffed. "Seriously?" It was just a game, right? But she couldn't shake the feeling that this was something more, something sinister lurking beneath the surface of this digital facade.

The app told her that for three days she had to be submissive to Steve Thompson. This caused a shiver to light down her spine. A part of her was enticed by this, but another part was saddened. She knew that her friend Katrina had her eyes on Steve. What happens if she steals him away. Katrina was a white girl and way thinner than Katrina. She could easily steal her men away from her but never did so being a good friend. What ever was she gonna do? She really didn't like the punishment and decided to play along.

She headed towards Steve's desk before the end of the work day.

(Back to Steve's Point of View)

Ashley came sauntering over with a smile on her face like usual. She had no idea that he was the one crafting her quests nor that her reward would come from Steve directly. She assumed the quest would somehow allow her to end up on a shopping date with Steve.

She approached wagging her hips in an exaggerated motion. "Hey Steve!" she said in a high pitched playful tone.

"Hey Ashley, I am kinda busy, I got a lot of work to do." He stated confidently.

"Oh? do you need any help? I could take that work off your hands for you?" She quickly spoke.

"Um, sure, you can sit here and do it for me? I had plans for tonight and was gonna be mad if I had to do overtime." Ashley's eyes lit up. "Sure thing, no problem. I got it" and she waits for Steve to stand up.

Steve stands up and she takes his seat and begins working diligently. "Thanks for doing this" and places his hand on her shoulder. It sends shivers down her spine and she almost moans, letting out a breathy "youre welcome Steve."

Steve turns to leave and Katrina catches up with him to walk outside with him.

Katrina's presence was a slight irritant, like a persistent fly buzzing around his head. She'd been hitting on him for weeks, her obvious interest making Steve uncomfortable. But he could see how this would fuel Ashley's little game. He was weaving a web of obsession, and Katrina was just another pawn in his scheme.

"What's up, Katrina?" he asked, his tone neutral.

He stepped outside, keeping Katrina within arm's reach, aware of Ashley's watchful gaze from the window behind. This was becoming too good.

This was just the beginning.

"Just wanted to see if you were free tonight," Katrina said, her voice a sugary whisper. "I was thinking maybe we could grab some dinner?"

Steve felt a surge of amusement rise within him. This was precisely the kind of drama he craved. He had two willing players now, both under his control.

He could play this game for a long time.

Katrina's presence was a slight irritant, like a persistent fly buzzing around his head. She'd been hitting on him for weeks, her obvious interest making Steve uncomfortable. But he could see how this would fuel Ashley's little game. He was weaving a web of obsession, and Katrina was just another pawn in his scheme.

"What's up, Katrina?" he asked, his tone neutral.

He stepped outside, keeping Katrina within arm's reach, aware of Ashley's watchful gaze from the window behind. This was becoming too good.

This was just the beginning.

"Just wanted to see if you were free tonight," Katrina said, her voice a sugary whisper. "I was thinking maybe we could grab some dinner?"

Steve felt a surge of amusement rise within him. This was precisely the kind of drama he craved. He had two willing players now, both under his control.

He could play this game for a long time.

Katrina's face lit up, her eyes sparkling with what Steve could only describe as predatory delight. "I know this amazing little Italian place downtown," she purred, leaning closer and letting her perfume waft over him, a heady mix of vanilla and something a little more… seductive. "It's got this amazing marinara sauce that'll knock your socks off."

Steve played along, feigning interest, but his mind was already buzzing with the possibilities. He could hardly believe how easy this was. The AI had given him the perfect tools, and he was wielding them with gusto.

“Alright,” he agreed, forcing a smile. “Sounds good. How about seven?”

As Katrina gave him the thumbs up, Steve’s gaze flickered back towards the office window. He caught a glimpse of Ashley, her face pale, but her eyes burning with a strange mixture of apprehension and anticipation. He couldn't help but feel a surge of power.

Seven-o-clock couldn't come fast enough. But it finally did and Katrina had texted Steve her address to pick her. Once there he honked just like she asked and she left the house. She was wearing a slutty little outfit not fit for public consumption. Her fat but curvy thighs were on display with booty shorts and a tank top with no bra. It was extremely casual. Which was good, because Steve was the kind of guy to wear a t-shit and jeans or t-shit and shorts depending on weather. So of course he was wearing a blue t-shirt and black cargo shorts.

Steve pulled up to Katrina’s address in his battered Honda Civic, the low growl of the engine a stark contrast to the sleek, modern architecture of her neighborhood. He honked the horn twice, just as she'd instructed, a playful grin stretching across his face as the door swung open to reveal Katrina in all her glory.

She was even more beautiful in person than he'd imagined, her curves accentuated by the outrageously short shorts and the flimsy tank top that dared to expose more than it covered. In the dim light of the streetlamp, her skin glowed with an almost incandescent quality, making the thought of touching her all the more irresistible.

He couldn't help but mentally applaud her choice of attire. It was audacious, it was provocative, and it was exactly the kind of fuel he needed to fan the flames of this twisted little game he was playing.

He leaned back against the car, his arms crossed, giving her a once over that was more appraisal than appreciation. "Well," he drawled, his voice laced with feigned nonchalance, "I have to admit, Katrina, you're dressed to kill."

He watched as a flush crept up her neck, a subtle but unmistakable sign of her eagerness. It was all coming together, this elaborate dance of manipulation and desire.

He felt a surge of exhilaration. This was good. Very good.

"Ready to go, princess?" he asked, opening the car door for her.

The smile that curled onto Katrina's lips was a masterpiece of calculated seduction. "Let's go," she purred, sliding into the passenger seat.

This was just the beginning.

His thoughts drifted back to Ashley, still working diligently in his office, unknowingly caught in his webs. He wondered if she was enjoying the game as much as he was.

He knew she would soon be.

But for now, he had more pressing matters.

He had a date to take on, and a world of manipulation to explore.

The restaurant was bustling with the energy of a Friday night, a symphony of clinking glasses, murmured conversations, and the tantalizing aromas of simmering sauces and sizzling garlic. But Steve barely noticed the vibrant atmosphere. His attention was fixated on Katrina, watching the way her fingers traced the embossed patterns on the linen tablecloth, the subtle flickers of anticipation in her eyes as she scanned the menu.

"You wounder if the marinara really is that good?" Steve asked, feigning a casual interest in the menu, his gaze never leaving Katrina's face.

Katrina laughed, a melodic sound that sent a shiver down his spine. "You'll see," she whispered conspiratorially, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "It's to die for. Trust me."

She leaned closer, her perfume a heady mix of vanilla and something more…something distinctly feminine and alluring. Steve found himself drawn to her warmth, her energy, a potent cocktail that was both intoxicating and unsettling.

He didn't need to look at the menu to know what he wanted. The "killer marinara" was the only thing that mattered. He'd savor every bite, watching Katrina react to the taste, knowing he held the power to make her experience this dish, and everything else about the evening, exactly as he desired.

"I'll have the chicken parmesan with the marinara," he announced, his voice firm and confident. "And diet coke, it has better flavor than normal coke" he stated handing the menu back to the waitress.

He met Katrina's gaze, holding it for a moment longer than necessary, savoring the faint blush that crept onto her cheeks.

"I'll have the lobster ravioli," Katrina declared, her voice laced with a hint of playful challenge. "And a glass of your finest Chardonnay."

She smirked, her gaze meeting Steve's with a mixture of amusement and a hint of something darker, something that hinted at an understanding beyond the realm of casual dining.

Steve was a little worried that the price might get out of hand. But ignored it for now.

They talked for a bit, but for some reason the conversation shifted to Katrina talking about Ashley in ways he didn't think he would ever hear from someone who was just as friend.

Steve’s eyebrows shot up involuntarily as Katrina casually mentioned Ashley, not in a friendly way but in a way that chilled him to the bone. He’d thought him and Ashley were just going to be pawns in his game, but apparently, Katrina had her own agenda.

"You know, Ashley's got this thing about fashion,” Katrina said, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger. "Always trying to be the most put-together girl in the office. Thinks she can steal all the boys with her designer clothes and that… ‘effortless’ look."

She let the last word hang in the air, her voice dripping with disdain. Steve watched as she took a sip of her Chardonnay, her eyes hardening as if she were sizing up a prey.

"She's got a clueless kind of beauty, you know?" Katrina continued, her gaze flicking towards Steve before returning to her wine glass. "But she's… predictable. Like a puppy dog. Eager to please, but ultimately harmless."

Steve felt a knot of unease tightening in his stomach. He hadn't expected this level of animosity, this… hunger in Katrina's voice when she spoke about Ashley.

"So you're saying she's ****?" he asked, his voice a low murmur.

Katrina raised an eyebrow, a knowing glint in her eyes. “****? Oh, Steve, she's so much more than that. She wants to be taken care of, to be controlled. She craves a man who can see her, truly see her, and guide her."

Steve felt a dangerous thrill course through him. This was a level of manipulation he hadn't anticipated. He could play with Ashley’s vulnerabilities, turn her desires against her, but Katrina was offering something more. She was inviting him into a darker, more twisted game, a game where the lines between power and control blurred into something utterly seductive.

“And what about you, Katrina?” he asked, leaning closer, his voice a husky caress. “Do you think you’re the woman to guide her?”

A slow, predatory smile spread across Katrina's face, a smile that promised both pleasure and pain. “Oh, Steve,” she purred, her voice a silken whisper. “I think I have some very specific ideas about how to help Ashley find her true path.”

"Okay, what would you do" Steve said inquisitively. It would never hurt to hear how to manipulate Ashley further down the road.

Katrina’s smile widened, her eyes glittering with a mixture of amusement and something darker, something that sent a shiver down Steve’s spine.

"Well," she began, leaning closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "Ashley needs to be broken. Not physically, of course, but mentally. She needs to understand who she truly is, what she's capable of."

She paused, letting her words hang in the air, savoring the anticipation that twisted Steve's gut.

"She thinks she's being independent, taking charge. But she’s just playing dress-up. She needs a man to show her that she's not the boss of herself. Someone to take control, to remind her of her place."

Katrina's gaze locked onto Steve's, her eyes boring into him with a intensity that was both alluring and frightening.

"Imagine," she breathed, her voice laced with a dangerous lilt, "she's so used to getting what she wants, so used to being the center of attention. Then someone comes along, someone who sees through her facade, who doesn't give a damn about her designer clothes or her fake confidence."

She leaned back, swirling her Chardonnay, a predatory gleam in her eyes.

"That someone needs to make her feel small. Make her realize she's nothing without him. Break her down, piece by piece, until she's begging for his permission to breathe."

Steve felt a surge of power course through him, a dark and exhilarating thrill. He had been playing with Ashley, manipulating her through little digital tasks, but Katrina’s vision was something else entirely. It was a brutal, primal display of power, a twisted dance of dominance and submission.

He hadn’t known such desires existed within him, but now, watching Katrina, he was hungry for them. This wasn’t just about games anymore. It was about control, about stripping away Ashley's defenses and molding her into something… else. Something more.

"And who would that someone be, Katrina?" Steve asked, his voice a low, dangerous murmur.

Katrina’s smile widened, her eyes flashing with a light that could only be described as wicked.

“Oh, Steve,” she purred, her voice a silken promise. “That’s for the universe to decide.”

The arrival of their meal brought a momentary lull in the conversation, a welcome reprieve from the charged tension that had hung heavy in the air. The aroma of garlic, herbs, and melted cheese filled the air, a symphony of savory scents that momentarily distracted Steve from Katrina's dark pronouncements.

He dug into the chicken parmesan with gusto, each bite a comforting blend of rich sauce and tender meat. The "killer marinara" lived up to its name, a burst of tangy sweetness that lingered on his tongue. He could almost taste Katrina's pleasure as he savored each mouthful, a vicarious enjoyment that only fueled his desire to exert control.

Katrina was equally engrossed in her lobster ravioli, her movements graceful and elegant as she twirled the delicate pasta on her fork. Despite her earlier words, there was a genuine appreciation in her eyes as she tasted each bite, a flicker of vulnerability that softened her usually predatory gaze.

Katrina’s appetite was a thing to behold. The first plate of lobster ravioli disappeared with the speed of a cheetah chasing a gazelle, leaving only a few stray crumbs as evidence of her feast.

“More,” she declared, her voice barely audible over the clatter of her cutlery. “I’m still hungry.”

Steve, who was already starting to feel the weight of the accruing bill, couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. She devoured her food with a feral intensity that was both fascinating and slightly unsettling.

He bit back a laugh when she ordered another dish, a hefty plate of spaghetti carbonara. What was it with these women and pasta? Had he stumbled into some culinary wonderland where carbs reigned supreme?

But when the second course arrived and Katrina’s foot began its relentless **** on his crotch, his amusement evaporated. The casual touch, the deliberate way her chubby foot rubbed against his crotch, sent a jolt of unexpected arousal through him.

He felt his pulse quicken, his breath catching in his throat. It was a blatant display of dominance, a power play disguised as playful, but it was effective. He was caught off guard, unable to do anything but stiffen and absorb the sensation.

“Katrina,” he managed, his voice strained.

She paused her eating, glancing up at him with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "What?" she purred, her voice a low, husky sound that sent a shiver down his spine. "Don't tell me you don't like it."

Steve's carefully constructed composure crumbled like stale bread under Katrina's ****. His breath hitched, his eyes locking onto hers, a **** plea for release mixing with a **** admiration for her audacity.

The 10% sensitivity boost from his hidden quest was no joke. Katrina's foot, already a source of unexpected pleasure, now felt like a live wire, sending jolts of pleasure through his entire body. Every press, every rub, every lingering touch was amplified, driving him closer to the edge with terrifying speed.

He knew he should protest, pull away, but he found himself frozen, caught in the web of her dominance. He was a puppet dancing to her tune, every twitch, every groan, a testament to her control.

Katrina, sensing his escalating arousal, leaned closer, her breath warm on his cheek. The scent of her perfume, a heady mix of vanilla and something distinctly feminine, filled his senses, intensifying his desire.

"Good," she purred, her voice a seductive whisper. "You like that, don't you?"

Her words were punctuated by another deliberate caress, this time more insistent, more demanding. Steve whimpered, his hand instinctively reaching to grasp her thigh, his fingers digging into the soft flesh.

He was on the verge, teetering on the precipice of release, and Katrina, with a predatory gleam in her eyes, was about to push him over.

"Don't worry, Steve," she breathed, her voice laced with a dangerous promise. "I'm not done yet."

His world narrowed, focused solely on the sensation of her touch, the intoxicating aroma of her perfume, the heat of her gaze. He was lost, adrift in a sea of desire, and there was no shore in sight.

Katrina’s words were a hurricane of conflicting emotions, a bizarre cocktail of tenderness and cruelty that ripped through Steve's inhibitions with the **** of a Category 5 storm.

"Oh, baby," she cooed, her voice a mesmerizing blend of sultry seduction and maternal concern. "Don't fight it. Let go. Let me take care of you."

Her words, dripping with a strange mixture of possessiveness and protectiveness, were punctuated by a flurry of touch. Her foot, now a tireless metronome, pounded against his crotch, a relentless rhythm that hammered against his core.

Her other hand moved to his hair, gently stroking, pulling, urging him closer to the brink. Her touch was a paradox: both gentle and forceful, suffocating and exhilarating.

"You're so tense, sweetie," she murmured, her voice a soft caress against his ear. "Let me ease those worries for you. Let me show you how good it feels to be taken care of."

She leaned closer, her breath hot on his cheek, a mix of perfume and something else, something primal and undeniable.

"I know you want this, Steve. I see it in your eyes. You crave control, but you also crave someone to take control for you. Someone to show you how to truly surrender."

Her words, laced with an almost hypnotic rhythm, fueled the fire that raged within him. He was a prisoner in his own body, his will melting away under the combined **** of her touch, her voice, her presence.

Then, with a final, explosive burst, he shattered.

The torrent of sensation, the overwhelming flood of pleasure, overwhelmed him. His body tensed, then relaxed in a wave of pure, unadulterated release. He let out a strangled cry, burying his face in his hands, desperately trying to regain control.

Katrina, eyes glittering with a mixture of triumph and something darker, watched him with a detached fascination.

"There," she purred softly, her voice like velvet against his raw nerves. "See? There's nothing to fear. I'll take care of you. Always."

Steve blinked, momentarily dazed, the aftershocks of his climax still reverberating through him. He watched as Katrina, with a nonchalant grace that belied the intensity of their encounter, reached for the bill, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"I got this, Steve," she declared, her voice a smooth purr. "I am the one who asked you out, remember? But also...who doesn't like being taken care of?"

He instinctively flinched at the word "taken care of," the memory of her earlier admonitions about Ashley's need for a man to control her flashing through his mind.

Yet, there was something in Katrina's tone, a blend of playful dominance and genuine tenderness, that made it impossible to resist. It was a strange, intoxicating mix – the raw power of her control tempered by a surprising warmth, a maternal undercurrent that felt oddly...pleasurable.

He remembered her profile, the unsettling detail about her kink for motherly figures. The realization hit him with the **** of a tidal wave. Katrina wasn't just playing a game. She was indulging in a fantasy, and he was caught right in the middle of it.

He couldn't help but smile, a shaky, hesitant thing, but a smile nonetheless. He leaned back in his chair, letting go of any pretense of resistance.

"Alright," he conceded, a hint of a sigh escaping his lips. "But I'm buying the next one."

He wasn't sure what this newfound dynamic meant, but he found himself strangely drawn to it.

He was still reeling from the intensity of their encounter, the way Katrina had effortlessly manipulated him, both physically and emotionally. But there was a part of him, a dark, hidden part, that was beginning to find pleasure in the surrender.

He had a feeling this was only the beginning.

A knot of anticipation, laced with a healthy dose of apprehension, twisted in his gut. He was playing a dangerous game, but he couldn't seem to pull away.

He was hooked.