A suicidal girl is offered the choice of having her memories wiped and becoming a sex worker. She agrees. Part 1/5
Chapter 1: Bridge
The bridge was dark and empty, illuminated just by sparse, dim streetlights. Jessie walked slowly. She stopped sobbing long ago, and now felt just a numb determination. Here, maybe. The place was just as good as any other, maybe the best she could find. She turned to the railing and looked to the dark empty road far below. Yes, it should do it. There was a safety net below, but it was there just for incidents. She could roll to the edge, and it all would be done.
Jessie grabbed the railing. Her heart suddenly raced; the adrenaline rush made her hot and shaking. Her traitor body was trying to betray her again, to keep her alive. She squeezed the cold metal until the knuckles went white, took a deep breath, and raised her leg to climb over.
“Pretty stupid thing to do.”
The calm, unemotional, masculine voice behind her made her jump. She turned around, her heart hammering wildly. A man stood about ten steps from her, smoking and looking down from the bridge. He was wearing a simple, cheap black suit, more a dull office working uniform than an elegant piece of cloth. He looked middle-aged or older, with his black hair graying at the temples, and wore glasses. He looked more like a cheap salesman or a crook, like people her parents used to warn her about.
“Shit!” She lowered her leg. Now she’ll have to muster up her resolve again! “I did not ask you!”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m not going to stop you, just to interrupt for a few minutes.”
“Who are you?” she asked, surprised at the calmness of her own voice.
“Doesn’t matter, either. What does matter is that’s just wasteful what you are planning to do. Nice healthy young body with many good years left. A waste.”
“Mind your own business,” she said.
“I’m taking care of it right now, actually. I make you an offer. You’re not happy with your life, and you want to get rid of it.” He didn’t ask; he just stated the fact. “How about a deal? What if I could offer to discard your personality, not your body?”
“What?” Jessie was confused.
“We could wipe your personality. All of it.” He clicked his fingers. “Your memories, your trauma, your issues – whatever they are, I don’t care. We could just reboot you to a fresh, simpler one. For your present self, it will be an instant and painless end. And we’ll get your pretty body, alive and intact. It’s a win-win. What would you say to that?”
Jessie stared at him. This must be some kind of insane prank. A pervert with bizarre ideas. Yet, the logic appealed to her.
“Why?” she whispered. “Why would you do that?”
“It’s a business.” He smiled without humor. “We have contracts to deliver nice young girls to our customers. So? You’re going to die anyway. What have you got to lose?” His eyes were black, and he watched her with the unnerving curiosity of a scientist observing a lab mouse.
Jessie shuddered. His words sank in, cutting through the numbness and shock, and triggered some obvious associations.
“Nice and young girls… For what?”
“Guess!” He smiled. “It’s the simplest job there is. You’ve got what it takes. Think of it as your destiny.”
“Sex trafficking.” She didn’t ask; she just stated the fact.
“Nice, young, and clever.” He nodded. “You’ll make a perfect escort. Good education, decent manners, and a presentable appearance. Not just any cheap hooker. Your personality will go away, but not your qualities. That’s what we need.”
Jessie stared at him. The proposition was insane, depraved, impossible. But the sheer rationality behind it was the most terrifying thing. She couldn’t have imagined a more cynical and realistic end for a hopeless and meaningless life than this. To be used by men until worn and discarded.
She pictured it. No memories. No pain. No self-hatred and despair. Just a blank slate and a purpose, however depraved. An instrument of pleasure. Not the person she was now.
“And if I say no?”
“Then go on. I’ll watch you fall.” He didn’t even flinch. “With a disappointment, though.”
She looked down. The night traffic hummed lazily some far away. Then back at the man. His calm certainty made it seem like the most natural thing in the world.
And maybe it was.
“It… won’t hurt?”
“Not at all.” He pulled out a device, a short black stick with a red light on the top.
No matter how weird the situation was, Jessie couldn’t help but laugh. “Men in Black?”
“Sort of.”
Jessie hesitated. A final flicker of doubt. A final memory flash of a broken home, of school bullies, of an endless cycle of misery. What was she even hesitating about? A clean slate seemed like paradise. Even a slate made to be soiled.
“Yes,” she said, and the word hung in the darkness. “Do it.”
Click.
***
She opened her eyes in a room that looked like a lab. She was sitting on a chair.
“What’s your name?” she heard a male voice.
“Jessie.”
She turned to him. It was the man from the bridge. She remembered everything. Their bizarre talk, the cold railing in her desperate grip, her run through the night city…
“Hey! You said I’d forget everything!”
“You did. Selectively. Having to teach you to walk, speak, and do everything from the ground up would be too cumbersome. We’ve only removed the top social contacts layer.”
“I don’t get it.”
“You will soon. Your age?”
“Fourteen.”
She felt a cool gust of air and looked down. She was naked. Strangely, it did not bother her. She wiggled her toes and thought her legs were pretty. And, um… her cunny was bald. She examined her armpit. Clean, too. They must’ve epilated her body.
“Your home address?”
“Um…”
She had no answer. She couldn’t recall anything like that. She could remember the bridge, the suicide attempt, but not why. And neither where she lived nor what her home looked like.
“My family?… What happened to them?” She tried to remember their faces, but only got a vague mix from TV series and ad images of a happy family.
“Probably grieving for a dead child. They’d find an empty jacket at the bridge. That’s fine. You’re a better investment as a non-existent person, anyway.”
He approached her. Jessie could see he was checking her out like an object on a shelf. She had a quick thought that maybe she should feel shy or uneasy. Instead, she felt warmth and tickling in her lower abdomen. She leaned back in her chair, taking on a more seductive stance.
“Reflexes, check,” he said with a smile. “We also gave you a few shots while you were asleep. Your nice little breasts will become firmer and will never sag. Your sexual sensitivity and multi-orgasmic capability are amped up quite a bit. And the last one, into your uterus. No more periods or chances of pregnancy. And, as a bonus, we’ve permanently epilated your body.”
Jessie looked down at her small developing chest. She felt no sadness, no violation. Only excitement and curiosity.
“Okay,” the man said. “You’re all set. We’ll send you to another city, far away. Just to reduce the chances of someone from your past life meeting you. Get into the corridor, turn left, and wait in room eleven. There is already another girl like you, and one more is on the way. We’ll arrange the delivery soon.”
Jessie stood up. She felt wonderful, full of energy, curiosity, and— yes, arousal. The cool floor under her bare feet felt wonderful, too. She looked around. There was another naked girl sleeping in the chair next to her, a redhead with pale freckles all over her.
“Yes, this one,” the man nodded. “She’s about to wake up soon.”
Jessie padded softly to the corridor, humming some tune she couldn’t remember where she had heard. The whole world seemed brand new and fresh, waiting to be explored. And for the first time in her memory, she felt she had a purpose.
***
The room was small and windowless, lit by a dim lamp on the ceiling, with several chairs and benches scattered around. A temporary goods storage. One of the benches was occupied by another girl her age, with short, cut black hair and a lean, muscular body that gave her away as a gymnast or a dancer. She lay on her back, one foot on the bench, another on the floor, and masturbated wildly. Her breath was ragged, her small flat chest heaved, and her whole body arched in what appeared to be a constant orgasm. She was completely oblivious to Jessie’s entry. Or she didn’t care.
Jessie stared at her, fascinated. She had never seen anything like that before, she thought. Or had she? She couldn’t remember. She watched the girl squirm, her face contorted in what looked like pure pleasure and pain at the same time, her muscles straining as she rode the wave of the climax that would not end.
The girl finally slowed down, her body still shaking, and she slowly relaxed, gasping for air. She opened her eyes and saw Jessie. There was no shame in her gaze, no surprise. Only a lazy satisfaction.
“Hi,” she said, her voice a husky whisper. “Name’s Chloe. What’s up?”
“Jessie.” She sat on the bench opposite the girl, copying her pose. She could feel her own arousal spike. “What were you doing?”
“What does it look like?” Chloe raised her head, her eyes glazed and unfocused. “Having a ball. And you’re next, pretty.” She sat up, her movements fluid and graceful. “They said we’ll become whores, or something like that, so I thought, why not practice beforehand?” She chuckled. “The rest is all hazy. Either I was quite slutty before, or they’ve wiped our inhibitions, too.”
Jessie already worked her fingers on her spread labia, gasping from surges of pleasure. She grabbed her small breast and squeezed it hard. “Ohhh… Yeah, aaahhh…” She raised her eyes at Chloe. “How did they get you?”
“Bridge,” Chloe said nonchalantly. She stood up and approached Jessie, her step feline. She looked down at Jessie, her expression unreadable. “You?”
“The same. I don’t remember why I wanted to jump, but I wanted it badly.”
Chloe leaned down, her face inches from Jessie’s. Jessie could smell her scent, a mix of sweat and something floral and intoxicating. Chloe’s dark hair fell around her face, framing her sharp features. “So we’re bridge sisters,” she whispered.
“Aaahhh…” was all Jessie could say, her body arching as the pleasure washed over her. She could feel her pussy clenching around her fingers. She closed her eyes.
Chloe’s hand touched Jessie’s shoulder. Jessie flinched but didn’t move away. The touch was electric, sending shivers down her spine. Chloe’s fingers danced across her skin, tracing patterns that made her tremble.
“You’re a responsive little thing,” Chloe murmured, her breath hot on Jessie’s ear. “I like that.” She stepped over the bench, spread her legs, and pressed her dripping pussy to Jessie’s face. Jessie did not need another invitation. She grabbed Chloe’s butt cheek with a free hand, pulled her closer, and began sucking and licking her greedily, not slowing down her own masturbation.
“Mmmm…” Chloe ran her long fingers through her hair. “You are so good… Good… Aaaahhh…”
“May I join, sisters?” said a third voice. Jessie raised her head, wiping Chloe’s juices from her chin. The freckled redhead from the lab stood there, looking at them with curiosity. She looked like a slightly younger sister of Jessie, petite and fragile, with a dusting of cute freckles across her nose. But the way she was looking at the two of them, there was nothing innocent about her.
“Hi,” the redhead said, her voice small but firm. Then giggled. “I’m Julia.” She padded closer and sat in a chair next to Jessie, her movements still a bit unsteady, as if she was just getting used to her own body. “You’ve started without me.” She threw one leg over the armrest and caressed her pussy.
“We were bored,” Chloe purred, moving away from Jessie but not breaking their contact. She walked to Julia and knelt before her. “Now it’s not boring anymore. What’s your story?” She leaned towards Julia’s pussy and kissed her clit.
“Roof. Top floors…” Julia gasped, her back arching. “I… I remember… I was a dancer. Ballet school.” Her breath hitched. “But I… something went wrong. I forgot… Oh God… They wiped it. Oh… Oh yessss…” Julia’s hips bucked as Chloe’s tongue worked its magic. “And your name?”
“Chloe,” was the muffled reply from between Julia’s legs. “A bridge.”
Jessie came closer, stretched her hands, and touched Julia’s breasts.
“And you are?”
“Jessie. Bridge, too.” She kept massaging Julia’s breasts, then leaned in to kiss her.
“Yes… Mmmm… And… I think… I think I am supposed to hate this. But I feel… so hot… so free…”
Together, they quickly drove Julia to her third consecutive orgasm when the door opened.
“What a fucking nice little lovebirds!” the man chuckled, coming in with a stack of fabric. “It’s always the same!”
He was clearly aroused by the sight, but he didn’t rush to join them, much to the girls’ disappointment. Instead, he handed them the clothes.
“Here are your uniforms. Get dressed. We’re traveling.”
The clothes turned out to be simple, disposable, gray spunbond kimonos, short and quite transparent, tied at the waist with a narrow ribbon. Jessie vaguely remembered wearing similar ones in one of her previous… something. They were the kind of clothes worn by patients at cheap cosmetic or medical facilities. But at least she wore her underwear beneath them that time. This time, the clothes hid nothing; they were mere wrappers for transportation.
“You won’t wear them for long. You’ll get new clothes from your owners. Now follow me.”
They went through a series of corridors, and then into some kind of garage. A black van waited for them, and they all got inside. The back of the van had benches along the walls, and they sat opposite each other, Jessie and Chloe on one side, Julia on the other, with the man sitting by the driver’s side. They were silent for a while, and the van moved, with no windows. It felt like a transport of livestock.
“Who were you before?” Julia asked quietly, breaking the silence.
Chloe leaned back, her arms crossed. “I was a gymnast,” she said, her voice flat, devoid of any nostalgia or sadness. “Wanted to go to the Olympics. Trained every day. My parents pushed me, my coach pushed me. I was pretty good, I think. But then I got injured. And… I don’t know. Something snapped. I couldn’t handle it. The pain, the disappointment, the pressure. I just… I wanted it to stop.” She shrugged. “The bridge seemed like a good idea.”
“I was a dancer,” Julia added. “Ballet. I guess I share a bit of your story, then, Chloe. Or, maybe, I was raped by… by… I don’t really remember.”
“What about you, Jessie?” She asked, her gaze resting on Jessie.
Jessie shifted on the bench, the thin fabric of her kimono rustling against her skin. “I… Just a high school, I think. Maybe I was bullied, who knows. Maybe raped, too. Or something else. It’s… gone.”
She was not sad. She was not relieved. There was simply a void. A blank space where a life story should have been. She looked at the other two girls. They were strangers, and yet, they shared a bond, a strange, twisted sisterhood born on the brink of oblivion, remade for a single, shared purpose.
The van stopped several times on its way, picking up more barefoot girls in the same disposable wrappers. Wow, this enterprise had multiple depots! Soon, the small space was crowded. A dozen of them now, all young, all pretty, all with the same look of blank acceptance in their eyes. They were a collection of beautiful, broken dolls, patched up and repurposed. The silence was broken only by the occasional rustle of fabric, and the soft, shared sound of them breathing.
The journey seemed to last an eternity, but also no time at all. They were in a liminal space, a void between one life and the next. The only thing that anchored them to the present was the hum of the engine, the sway of the van, and the warmth of each other’s bodies.
Finally, the van came to a halt.
The back doors swung open, flooding the cramped space with bright artificial light. They squinted as their eyes adjusted to the sudden change. The van was parked on an airfield next to a small turboprop plane with its passenger door open, its engines already humming.
“Out, ladies,” the driver said, his voice devoid of any emotion. “Changing the transport.”
They filed out of the van, their bare feet padding on the cold, smooth concrete. They were surrounded by hangars and maintenance facilities of a private airport. They climbed the steps in single file, their gray kimonos fluttering in the night breeze.
The plane’s interior was cramped and purely functional, just a small intercity bus with wings. They squeezed into the worn leather seats, not caring about choosing particular spots and neighbors. The cabin soon filled with the scent of cheap perfume and arousal. The plane rolled onto the runway, and they were soon airborne, the ground falling away beneath them.
Jessie looked out of the window, watching the city lights shrink into a glittering tapestry of a distant map. She tried to feel something. Nostalgia? Fear? Excitement? There was nothing. Only a vague curiosity. A sense of detachment, as if she were watching a movie about someone else. She was a passenger, both literally and figuratively. She wasn’t going home; she was going somewhere.
A soft moan broke the silence. Jessie turned her head. Across the aisle, Julia had propped her feet up on the seat and had her hands under her kimono, her eyes closed, her face flushed. Her breath was coming in short, ragged gasps. She wasn’t trying to hide what she was doing. She didn’t seem to care. Or maybe she couldn’t.
Another moan seconded her from another side of the cabin. Then third. Then fourth. Jessie grinned, propped her one foot up, and joined the choir. Chloe giggled and followed them. The entire cabin soon filled with the soft music of self-pleasure. The flight attendant, a stern-looking woman in her forties who had greeted them at the plane’s door, rolled her eyes but otherwise ignored them. This was clearly not her first flight like this.
***
Jessie napped after her orgasm and did not know how long their flight lasted. She did not know where they were heading, and she did not care.
They landed in the middle of the night. There were no city lights outside the windows, just the endless dark expanse of some barren countryside. Another van, identical to the previous one, was already waiting for them at the runway, its engine idling.
Once they were inside and the van moved, a different man who sat with the driver addressed them.
“Listen, girls,” he said. “We have the delivery contracts with a number of establishments. Some of them asked for a particular type; others just need any fresh pretty meat. As we’ll be stopping, I’ll call your names, one or two at a time. You’ll then go out and be met by your new owners – after that, it’s not our business anymore. Any questions?”
A tall blonde raised her thin hand. “What kind of establishments?” she asked. “Escort salons, brothels?..”
He nodded. “Like that. Plus the porn studios, sex clubs, and some private collectors.”
“Collectors?” asked Chloe, intrigued.
“You’ll see. Maybe some of you will be lucky enough to end up in a harem of some oil sheik. That’s the jackpot, really. Better than working in a dump, grinding your way through a dozen dicks a day.”
“A harem?” Julia asked, her voice trembling with a sudden interest.
“Don’t count on it. There’s maybe one or two of those for a dozen of you. The rest will be standard whores, for standard pay. But that’s what you signed up for, remember?” He grinned, a flash of teeth in the dim light. “Anyway, the process is simple. I call a name, you get out, they take you. So, pay attention. We’re approaching the first stop.”
The van slowed and turned onto a bumpy road. Jessie looked at the other girls. Some looked scared, some looked curious, some looked like they just didn’t care. They were all beautiful in their own way, a collection of youth and desperation, packaged and sold.
First stop.
“First, Chloe. And… let’s see… Anita.”
The blonde with long hair, Anita, stood up. Chloe gave Jessie a quick, unreadable glance, nodded, and headed to the exit.
“They were lucky enough,” the man noted, checking his papers, when the door closed behind the girls and the van moved again. “They’re going to ‘The Golden Lily,’ a high-end men’s club. They’ll be treated like queens there. Maybe.”
Second stop. “Nika.” A short girl with braids and a scared expression on her face headed to the exit. The door closed, and the van moved. “She’s got a special order. A BDSM studio for the special clients with very specific tastes. If she’ll survive it, she’ll be a big name. If not…” He shrugged. The van moved.
The pattern repeated. The van would stop, he’d call a name or two, girls would get out, and the door would slide shut, cutting off another piece of their fragile, newly-formed community. Each departure was like a small death, a quiet severing of a bond that had barely had a chance to form. Each location was named only after the girls left the van, a posthumous labeling of their fate. A sleazy motel for a truck stop. A porn studio. A specialized brothel catering to particular fetishes. A non-specialized brothel. Each destination a different flavor of the same transaction.
Julia, Jessie, and a few others were left. The freckled redhead was trembling slightly, her hands clenched in her lap. She looked at Jessie, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and a strange, burgeoning anticipation. They were the last ones. The van was starting to feel empty, their breathing louder in the relative silence.
“Next. Jessie.”
Her heart raced. She stood up and headed to the exit, barely managing to exchange a handshake with Julia. Most likely, they would never meet again. She felt a weird urge to hug the girl. Why? This girl was nobody to her. The urge was just some echo of her past life. An echo of a life she had been told to throw away. She walked away from that feeling.
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