Catch up on chapter 2 before reading on…
Rick’s alarm buzzed, jerking him awake. Groggy, he squinted at his phone, catching sight of a text notification from Zach. His heart gave a little leap, but as he tried to sit up, he felt… off. There was a heaviness in his head as though his thoughts were moving through molasses. The confident clarity he’d felt with ThinkTech over the last few days had vanished, leaving him with a fuzzy, sluggish mind that seemed to snag on every thought before it was fully formed.
He tapped on the notification, opening Zach’s text.
Hey, handsome. Last night was something else. Can’t stop thinking about that smile. Free to swing by my place tonight? Got a few ideas in mind. 😘
The message filled him with equal parts excitement and dread. He knew exactly how he wanted to respond: something flirty and teasing, letting Zach realize he was on the same page. He started typing, carefully crafting the words in his head: I can’t stop thinking about you, either. Let’s make tonight unforgettable.
But as his fingers moved, the message on the screen warped into something entirely different. His hands seemed to take over, independent of his thoughts. When he looked down, his stomach dropped.
What do you want?
The moment he sent it, he froze in horror. No, no, no! That wasn’t what he meant at all. It was curt, cold—entirely unlike what he wanted to say. A moment later, Zach replied:
Uh, okay?
Rick could feel Zach’s hesitation and confusion in the two-word message and panicked. He couldn’t lose Zach’s interest, not like this. He needed to fix things and sound normal, but his mind was already fogging, his thoughts slipping away like water through a sieve. He managed to grasp at something—a vague idea of apologizing and making it playful—but the harder he tried to focus, the more it unraveled.
His hands moved again, typing faster than his brain could process. It was already too late when he realized what was happening. He hit Send, staring in shock at the screen.
Just wonderizing about ur idears. Is it something big or just… you know, like smallness?
What does that even mean? Rick thought. It sounded bizarre and nonsensical, and the awkward phrasing made his stomach churn. He stared at his phone as the three dots appeared, Zach’s response taking an agonizingly long time.
Huh?
Rick’s brain was now barely functioning, his thoughts muddled and disjointed. He rubbed his temples, struggling to focus, but the fog was impenetrable. Every time he reached for an idea, it vanished, leaving him scrambling for anything that might get the text exchange back on track. Drool gathered at the corner of his mouth as he hunched over his phone, unaware of how vacant his expression had become.
His fingers moved on their own again, typing without input from his barely functioning mind. The words appeared on the screen, disjointed and incomprehensible.
Big is fun. But small is nice too. Whatever works. Maybe I’ll bring pudding.
His heart stopped as he read the words. Pudding? Where had that even come from? He hadn’t thought it, hadn’t even considered it. He stared at the message in horror, his brain spinning in slow, useless circles.
Zach’s reply came almost immediately this time, sharp and incredulous.
What the hell are you talking about?
Rick’s stomach dropped further, and his hands trembled uncontrollably. He tried to think of what to say, but his mind felt completely blank, his thoughts drowned in thick, oppressive fog. His vision blurred as drool escaped the corner of his mouth and landed on his pillow. His hands started moving again, typing a garbled response he wasn’t even aware of until it was sent.
Dessert can happen. Maybe soup. Or a fork, if that’s… a thing.
Rick’s head snapped up the moment it sent, blinking in confusion as if waking from a trance. He stared at the messages, horrified by their bizarre absurdity. He didn’t even remember typing the last one. He swiped at the drool on his chin, his heart pounding as the silence on Zach’s end stretched.
Finally, ThinkTech broke through the panic, its voice calm and seductive.
It doesn’t have to be this way, Rick. You’ve felt what it’s like to be your best self. Imagine having that all the time.
Rick froze, his heart hammering in his chest. ThinkTech was still there somehow, lurking in the back of his mind, like an enticing whisper. But unlike the past few days, it wasn’t guiding him with friendly prompts. This time, the voice was seductive, almost mocking.
You miss it, don’t you? The confidence. The control.
He tried to shake off the feeling, telling himself he didn’t need ThinkTech’s help and that he could text Zach alone. But no matter how hard he tried to summon a thought, his mind remained muddy and dim, like an engine that wouldn’t turn over. The voice continued, smooth as velvet.
You’re wasting time, Rick. Every second you wait, you slip further out of his thoughts. He’s going to write you off as just another weirdo in a city full of disappointments.
A cold sweat prickled on Rick’s skin. Zach hadn’t responded, and he could feel his inadequacy bearing down on him. The image of Zach—the charming, magnetic man who had ignited something in him—was slipping away, and all he could feel was panic. He needed to fix this, say anything, to bring back the spark.
He opened his messages again, fingers trembling over the keyboard. Still, his thoughts were so scattered that he couldn’t form a coherent sentence. ThinkTech purred.
Your free trial has expired, Rick. This is what it’s like to be without me. But it doesn’t have to be.
Rick closed his eyes, taking a shuddering breath. The memory of the past few days lingered: the confidence, the ease of conversation, and the way ThinkTech had made him feel sharp, bold, and unstoppable. He hadn’t realized how reliant he’d become on that clarity until it was ripped away.
The voice continued, each word slipping into his mind with a quiet, persuasive power.
For a small investment, you can get it all back. Just think of it, Rick—Zach will see you as the man you’ve always wanted to be. All it takes is a little commitment.
Rick felt his pulse quicken as he tapped into ThinkTech’s app, feeling a strange, desperate hope as he scrolled through the options. He needed this. He needed to be that man again, the man who could easily capture Zach’s attention. But then he stopped, his heart sinking as he saw the price.
A week of ThinkTech Premium was more than an entire month’s salary. The number on the screen seemed to mock him, the promise of confidence and control tantalizingly close, just out of reach. ThinkTech coaxed him, cracking the façade of his objections like tree roots in concrete.
Isn’t he worth it? You can have him. You can have this life. Just press Subscribe.
Rick’s hands shook as he hovered over the button, a battle raging inside him. On the one hand, the cost was absurd, an amount he couldn’t justify spending without wrecking his finances. On the other, the emptiness in his mind was unbearable, a gnawing ache that grew worse the longer he hesitated.
Finally, he closed his eyes, defeated, and pressed Subscribe.
The effect was immediate. As soon as the transaction went through, the fog lifted, the weight in Rick’s mind disappearing like smoke, replaced by a familiar, exhilarating sharpness. His thoughts snapped back into focus, his confidence returning like an old friend. He opened his messages, feeling a new rush of ideas and words, knowing exactly how to respond.
He typed quickly, smoothly, as though he hadn’t sent that disastrous first reply.
Sorry about that, big guy. One of my leather subs thought it would be funny to swipe Daddy’s phone and wreak havoc. He’s back in his cage now, and all privileges have been revoked for his insubordination.
Tonight sounds great. I’m looking forward to seeing those ideas of yours up close.
A few seconds later, his phone buzzed with Zach’s reply.
Thank God. Thought you’d gone nuts. Throw the leather sub some chow, and I’ll see you tonight at 8. 😉
Rick released a shaky breath, relief and pleasure flooding him as he read the text. Zach hadn’t lost interest, and with ThinkTech’s help, he felt ready to make the night unforgettable. But a small part of him couldn’t shake the unsettling truth: he was now a slave to the app, bound by its demands, his thoughts and bank account tied to a single, relentless command. ThinkTech’s voice whispered almost triumphantly in his mind.
Welcome back, Rick. Now let’s get to work.
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