A neighbor gets the device.

Monica is a married 44-year-old blond, white woman with saggy C cup breasts and a droopy flat ass. She is a little tall at 5'10" and packing a few extra pounds in all the wrong places making her look more like she is in her 50s. Monica's voice has a twang to it giving her a southern accent. Monica has small brown eyes that barely ever look open at all, almost a perpetual squint or like she drunk or stoned. Her nose is sharp and angular, with hir thin pursed lips and large teeth she looks like she is always smelling something bad. Monica, while she would never admit it, is a little racist, she has never even kissed a black man or seen a black dick and has absolutely no intention of ever doing so. The mere thought of it makes her cringe.

Jax is a 23-year-old black male, at 6'2" and muscled from years of working out. Jax's voice is a rich baritone of authority.

Monica and Jax are neighbors, Jax doesn't really have anything against Monica, other than she is a bit of prude. Monica on the other hand hates Jax, she finds his black skin repulsive, she thinks he is a chauvinistic pig, leering and lusting over every female he sees. And Jax's weekend parties really drive her up a wall, they are loud, obnoxious, and filled with young sluts barely clad in bikinis or their underwear (it is almost like he hires strippers to entertain his friends and him).

With her husband out of town for the week and not there to calm her down, Monica called the cops on Jax's Friday night party last night. Today she is smugly cleaning up in her own backyard dressed in a conservative 'granny' panties and bra, a loose button-down blouse and a pair of baggy knee length shorts.

Jax stares at Monica from his kitchen window, fuming over the interruption last night. Neither him nor his guests were breaking any laws, hell they were not even outside at all, they were in his lavish basement. Finally, he decides he has had enough and goes to get his 'clicker' and put that bitch in her place. He is going to break one of his cardinal rules and hunt in his own backyard. All of his other girls he has made with his high end 'clicker', the ones with infinite charges, had no tie to him whatsoever.

Jax cleared his throat, the sudden sound slicing through the afternoon air and startling Monica, who spun around, her small brown eyes narrowing into slits. Her perpetual squint deepened as she took in Jax's towering frame, his muscles evident even under his casual shirt. With a smirk playing on his lips, Jax pressed the 'yes' button on his 'clicker' and asked, his voice low and commanding, "Are you going to immediately, without making any noise or drawing attention to yourself, come with me down to my basement?" The 'clicker' hummed faintly, its magic coursing through the air.

Monica's voice caught in her throat, a shaky "Yes" escaping her lips despite every fiber of her being screaming in protest. The word felt foreign, as if it belonged to someone else, but the 'clicker's magic left no room for defiance. She watched in horror as her legs moved of their own accord, carrying her towards Jax's house with a **** that only she could feel. The weight of her resistance was palpable, but with each step, the fight within her seemed to wane, as if the very act of struggling accelerated the transformation she dreaded.

As they descended into the dimly lit basement, the air thickened with an ominous energy.

Fear gripped Monica as she looked around the lavish basement, her small brown eyes widening despite her perpetual squint. The neat bar in the corner gleamed under the dim lights, and the small stripper stage with its dance pole seemed to mock her, a stark contrast to her conservative upbringing. Beside it, a door likely led to a locker area, and the bong on the coffee table between the two facing couches added to the air of debauchery.

Jax turned to face Monica, his confident smirk widening as he pressed the 'yes' button on the clicker. "Monica, do you want to get high and drunk for me?" he asked, his voice low and commanding. Monica's small brown eyes widened in horror, her perpetual squint deepening as she shook her head vehemently. But the clicker's magic coursed through her, her body betraying her mind. "Yes," she heard herself say, the word foreign yet undeniable. Jax chuckled, the sound rich and menacing, as he gestured to the bong and the array of liquor bottles on the bar.

Monica's small brown eyes widened in horror as she felt her hand reach for the bong, her mind screaming in protest. The 'clicker's magic coursed through her, making her body betray her every moral fiber. She tried to pull her hand back, but it seemed to move of its own accord, the ceramic cool against her palm. Jax watched with a smirk, his baritone chuckle echoing through the basement as he grabbed two beers from the bar. "Take a hit, Monica," he commanded, his voice low and menacing. "Let go of that prudish nonsense and let loose for once."

Monica's small brown eyes, still narrowed in defiance, locked onto the bong as Jax's command hung in the air. The pungent aroma of the pot smoke mingled with the thick tension in the basement, and despite her every moral fiber screaming in protest, she felt an inexplicable pull towards the bong. Her hand, seemingly of its own accord, reached out and wrapped around the cool ceramic, the texture foreign yet oddly inviting. With a shaky breath, she lifted the bong to her lips, the rim brushing against her pursed thin lips.

Monica's thin lips, perpetually pursed in disapproval, now wrapped around the bong's mouthpiece, her large teeth glinting faintly in the dim light. The pungent pot smoke filled her lungs, burning her chest as she inhaled deeply, the sensation foreign and overwhelming. Her small brown eyes, still narrowed in defiance, watered as the smoke tickled her throat, but the 'clicker's magic compelled her to hold it in, to savor the burning sensation. Jax watched with a smirk, his baritone chuckle low and menacing as he saw the first signs of her resistance crumbling.

Monica's eyes, still watering from the smoke, met Jax's as he handed her the beer. The cold can felt foreign in her hand, but she took a sip without hesitation, the bitter taste mingling with the lingering burn of the pot in her lungs. Jax settled into the couch across from her, his confident posture a stark contrast to her growing unease. "We have a lot to talk about, Monica," he began, his voice low and deliberate. "Sit back, relax, and let's get started." His words carried an air of authority that made her skin crawl, yet she found herself leaning back, the cushions enveloping her as if urging her to surrender.

Monica's small brown eyes, once brimming with defiance, now held a flicker of something unexpected—curiosity. As the haze of smoke swirled around her, she felt a strange, creeping warmth in her chest, a sensation that battled with her ingrained disgust. The bitterness of the beer mingled with the earthy tang of the pot, creating a peculiar harmony that her senses, despite her initial revolt, began to crave. Jax leaned forward, his smirk twisting into a knowing grin as he pressed the 'yes' button once more. "Monica," he drawled, his voice dripping with satisfaction, "Do you want another hit? Are you enjoying getting high for me?"

Monica's small frame leaned forward, her hand instinctively reaching for the bong as if drawn by an unseen ****. The ceramic felt oddly comforting in her grasp now, a stark contrast to the initial revulsion she'd felt. As she lifted it to her lips, the familiar pungent aroma filled her senses, and with a deep inhale, she surrendered to the burning sensation in her lungs. The smoke swirled inside her, mingling with the lingering bitterness of the beer, creating a haze that dulled her resistance. "Yes," she heard herself say, the word escaping without a fight, her voice tinged with a newfound huskiness that surprised even her.

Monica's eyes fluttered closed as she exhaled a plume of smoke, the haze curling lazily around her. The high had spiked, and for the first time, she felt a twisted sense of enjoyment, her rigid posture softening as the warmth spread through her. Jax returned, placing a shot glass and another beer in front of her, the clink of the glass against the table echoing in the dim room. Without hesitation, she reached for the shot, the amber liquid burning down her throat, mingling with the lingering bitterness of the beer. Her senses blurred, and her defiance crumbled further with each passing moment, the clicker's magic weaving its spell.

Jax's predatory smile widened as he leaned forward, the glint in his eye reflecting the dim light of the basement. He reached for the whiskey bottle, the clink of glass against glass echoing as he refilled Monica's shot. His movements were deliberate, each action a testament to his patience. He knew the battle was already half-won, her resistance crumbling with each passing moment. The clicker's magic was relentless, feeding on her defiance, accelerating the transformation with every struggle. Monica's hands trembled as she reached for the shot, the amber liquid catching the light before she tossed it back, the burn in her throat a familiar comfort now.

Monica's fingers tightened around the bong, her knuckles pale as she pulled in another deep hit, the smoke curling around her face like a shroud. As she lifted it to her lips, the familiar pungent aroma filled her senses, and with a deep inhale, she surrendered to the burning sensation in her lungs. The smoke swirled inside her, mingling with the lingering bitterness of the beer, creating a haze that dulled her resistance.

Monica's breath hitched as she exhaled the thick plume of smoke, her eyes fluttering open to meet Jax's knowing gaze. The room swirled slightly, a testament to the potent mix of **** and marijuana coursing through her veins. She glanced down at the shot glass in front of her, now filled to the brim with amber liquid, and a wave of nausea washed over her. *God, I'm already high and just about drunk, * she thought, her mind foggy but still clinging to a shred of awareness. The clicker's magic hummed in the background, a constant reminder of her lack of control.

Monica's slender fingers wrapped tightly around the shot glass, the amber liquid trembling slightly as her hand lifted. With a swift motion, she tossed the whiskey back, the burn cascading down her throat like liquid fire. Her eyes, still watery from the smoke, locked onto Jax's, a flicker of defiance lingering in their depths. Yet, as the **** mingled with the haze of marijuana, her resolve wavered. Reaching for the bong once more, she pulled in a deep, languid hit, the smoke curling around her like a shroud. Her gaze never left Jax's, a mix of challenge and submission dancing in her eyes. But deep down, Monica knew, she wanted to get high and drunk for Jax.

Jax leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with a knowing intensity as he pressed the 'yes' button on the clicker. "Monica," he drawled, his voice low and deliberate, "wouldn't this be even better if you were naked?" The words hung in the air, thick with anticipation, as Monica's small frame stiffened. Her hands, still clutching the bong, trembled slightly, but the familiar pull of the clicker's magic coursed through her. She felt a surge of resistance, a flicker of her old self screaming in protest, but it was no match for the relentless pull of the device.

Monica's lips parted, the word slipping out before she could grasp it. "Yes," she slurred, the syllable dragging as the **** and smoke swirled in her head. The clicker's magic surged, a warm, tingling sensation that spread through her body, eroding what little resistance she had left. Her hands, now steady, moved to the buttons of her shirt, each one coming undone with a practiced ease she didn't recognize. The fabric slid off her shoulders, pooling at her feet as she stood, her eyes locked on Jax's, a mixture of defiance and submission swirling in their depths.

Monica's fingers, now steady and purposeful, moved down to the waistband of her jeans, the button coming undone with a soft pop. The denim slid down her legs, pooling around her ankles as she stepped out of them, her eyes never leaving Jax's. The air was thick with the scent of smoke and ****, and Monica felt a strange sense of detachment as she reached for her bra, the clasp releasing with a practiced ease. The fabric slid off her shoulders, revealing her pale skin, and she stood there for a moment, the tingling sensation of the clicker's magic coursing through her veins.

As the last shreds of Monica's resistance dissolved, her trembling fingers hooked under the elastic of her panties, the final barrier to her complete surrender. With a quiet sigh that was almost a sob, she slid them down her legs, the soft fabric pooling around her ankles before she stepped free, her nudity now absolute. The clicker's magic pulsed through her, a relentless, warm thrum that seemed to seep into her bones, erasing any lingering hesitation. She sank onto the couch, the cushions cradling her with a familiarity that felt foreign yet inevitable. Reaching for the refilled shot glass, her hand steadied by the device's influence, she brought it to her lips.

Jax's lips curled into a sly grin as he leaned back in his chair, the clicker resting casually in his hand. "I like my girls to look like they're in their 20s," he said, his voice dripping with a sinister intent. Monica's eyes widened, a flicker of fear sparking within them as he pressed the 'yes' button. The familiar surge of the clicker's magic coursed through her, and she felt a strange, tingling sensation wash over her body. She tried to resist, to scream, but her voice caught in her throat. The room seemed to spin as her body began to shift, her curves softening, her skin smoothing.

As the magic surged through her, Monica's body began to shift and contort, her mature curves softening into the lithe, youthful frame of a twenty-year-old. Her skin smoothed, losing the faint lines of age and stress, and her posture straightened, exuding a vibrant energy she hadn't felt in decades. Despite her futile struggles, the transformation accelerated, her resistance fueling the clicker's power. Jax watched with a smirk as Monica's eyes widened in horror, her voice trapped in her throat as her body betrayed her. The room spun around her, and when her vision cleared, she sat there, young and radiant, yet utterly subdued.