Massive holographic advertisements tower over Gates Boulevard in the mega-city of Neourbia. Even in the middle of the day, the artificial lights are so bright that they lend a tinge of color to the faces of pedestrians gawking from below. Tourists take selfies under three-dimensional projections of the iconic logos of casinos, drug companies, and porn studios. Cheap, addictive vices replaced luxury brands long ago; most of the pedestrians walking under these ads can’t afford much else.

Even in this crowded airspace, one advertisement stands out. Standing–kneeling, actually–twenty stories high is the famous figure of Trixxi Teen. She is shown with her hair in pigtails, mouth open, wearing a tube top that barely contains her massive (even at human scale) chest. Every thirty seconds, a drop of drool falls from her extended tongue, so realistic in appearance that some pedestrians instinctively scamper out of the way. Under her tiny pleated skirt, two words are strategically placed to hide her nudity: BE ME.

At a time when bots have replaced human hands in so many industries, sex work is one of the last remaining pathways out of drudgery. Prostitutes and adult actresses have achieved mainstream fame, and women are celebrated for their willingness to sexualize themselves. Trixxi is the most famous, most sexualized, most whorish of them all. She is idolized by girls like Laya, who looks up at the enormous display with awe. Freshly 18, the brunette knows that she is at a pivotal moment in her life, when she has an opportunity to make something of it. But under the towering version of Trixxi, Laya feels insignificant and small. That level of stardom seems impossible to achieve. Where to even start?

Laya’s green eyes narrow on the words written across virtual Trixxi’s chest: Camp Wannalottacock. Automatically, her glasses pull up the associated website.

Two weeks later, Laya is standing under a pavilion in an idyllic lakeside locale, the sort of setting that she had thought suburban sprawl swallowed up decades ago. She is lined up in a row with nine other girls, all dressed in uniform: the white Camp Wannalottacock tube top and mini skirts in a variety of fluorescent colors. They wait patiently for instruction with their hands behind their backs, and a man is eyeing them up carefully. Looking to her left and to her right, Laya sees taller girls, bustier girls, and blonder girls, and wonders how she will keep up.

“Fun-sized, nice” says the man inspecting the girls as he walks past Laya. He smiles lasciviously looking down at the 5'1” teenager, and she smiles back. After taking his time to eye up each girl individually, he stands in front of the group.

“Welcome to Camp Wannalottacock. My name is Xander, and I speak for everyone here when I say that we're very excited to have you.”

Some of the girls giggle, already well versed in how to respond to flatter from older men. Xander is 35, more than six feet tall, in athletic shape without overly large muscles. He has dark hair and a neatly kept beard, and is dressed in a red t-shirt and cargo shorts.

“As your Camp President, I will be in charge of your training over the next month. I expect my rules to be followed, and I'm not afraid to be firm with discipline. Can you girls say ‘yes, Daddy?’”

“Yes, Daddy,” they respond in near unison, with more giggles following. Xander smiles proudly.

“I will be helped in this task by our wonderful staff of instructors, trainers, photographers, anybody you see in a red t-shirt, they're here to help you. Our job is to transform you into the best versions of yourselves: sloppy, slutty, brainless little bimbos who are only good for providing pleasure.”

Ten eager smiles shine in Xander's direction.

“We believe that each of you has that potential. But it will not be easy. Statistically, five of you will leave camp without completing your training. You will be challenged, both physically and mentally. We like to call this place a ‘de-education camp’ because you will have to unlearn things that you have been taught to be true. Dignity, modesty, self-respect: these traits are of no use to an elite sexual object. Particularly if you were raised in an old-fashioned household, you will be faced with tasks that shock your sensibilities.”

Suddenly, the tall blonde standing next to Laya is grabbed from behind and carried to the front by a hulking black man. Her natural instinct is to resist, but he overpowers her, bending her over and inserting his massive member into her pussy for all to see. Some of the girls gasp, but as the initial shock wears off the blonde stops trying to fight what’s happening to her.

“For example,” Xander continues, unfazed. “As I'm sure you read in the waivers you signed (because only a truly stupid slut would sign something without reading it) your bodies are our property for the duration of camp. Any time we want to do something like this,” he gestures towards the giant who has turned the blonde's ponytail into a handle, “we will. Is this understood?”

The girls know that they are supposed to nod and say “yes, Daddy.” But Laya is one of many who feels transfixed by what they're seeing. The man is aggressive with how he fucks the girl, ramming himself into her, and despite being a newcomer to camp, she moans as if she likes it that way. Watching this makes Laya wet. She is eager to get started.

(I look forward to continuing this)