Trashy Party Slut

David already had a good number of "good girls" at hand, so for this one he requested a girl with loose morals and very little shame; A girl that wouldn't mind being passed around to David's business partners.

His instructions asked for the implementation of the following characteristics:

• Exhibitionist
• Low Standards
• Low Inhibition
• Gullible
• Pansexual
• Audiophile

The average-looking girl slowly transformed under the scientists' gaze, taking the toned body of a fit outdoorsy gal. Her brown hair turned red and her facial features were remodeled to fit David's preferences. She was, all and all, quite an attractive young lady

Once her body had been perfected, it was time to take care of her mind. As soon as the helmet was put in place, images of muddy tents, neon lights and semi-naked crowds filled Alex's memories. She had always loved music, and she had always loved sharing that love with other people. Loud raves, outdoor festivals and live concerts were her preferred hang-out spots. Big events jam-packed with hundreds of slutty eligible bachelors, handsome studs and gorgeous sluts to grope and be groped by.

Each new memorie filled her brain with amazing lewd experiences, slowly erasing Alex's real past in favor of a new life story: Ashleigh's. Ashleigh, a rebellious, sex-positive upper-middle-class party girl, who quit university when she was nineteen to spite her parents, and found herself a sugar daddy to mooch off of. Working was for losers; Ashleigh only wanted to party and fuck.

She didn't need much. Annual tickets to Coachella and Burning Man, some skimpy outfits, a LOT of glitter, some hallucinogenics and booze; mostly cheap stuff that wouldn't make a dent in the wallet of her sugar daddy, Mr. Summers.

She woke up in some kind of weird medical contraption, but she didn't quite remember how she had gotten there. She saw the OBMIB logo, which she recognized as the company where her sugar daddy worked. Or did he own the company? She wasn't quite sure; She didn't really care what he did, as long as it brought back money.

A doctor came to pick her up and lead her out of the room. She followed him willingly; If that man worked with (or for?) her Mister, then he could be trusted.

She was led to Mr. Summers' office, where he was in the process of finishing a phone call. He dismissed the doctor with a simple flick of his hand, which showed off the expensive shiny watch on his wrist. Watching the doctor retreat silently and with his head down filled Ashleigh's stomach with butterflies. Mr. Summers was a powerful man, which was part of the reason she was so attracted to him.

She waited patiently until he finished his phone call before stepping up to him and giving him a smooch on the cheek. "Hi Mister Summers. It's me, Ashleigh."

She did a double-take. He knew her name, right? Then why had she felt some strange compulsion to tell him that, as if he was meeting her for the first time; As if there had been an indication in her head to tell him her name once they met. This was strange, but she didn't deem it that important, and promptly forgot about it.

"I'm glad to see you, Ashleigh," he responded with a wicked smile and a smack on her butt. "It's good that you are here. One of my business associate is in town for the night, and I was hoping you'd keep them company."

"I can do that," she told him with absolutely no hesitation.

"They wanted to see what the party scene looked like in this city, so I was thinking you could take them some place..." he trailed off, as if looking for the right word.

"Some place that's trashy, filthy, and filled with bright lights, loud music, sweaty people and ****?"

He flashed her a devilish grin. "Exactly, my dear Ashleigh."

"No problems, Mister Summers. I just need to get... dressed, for the occasion."