#f2f corruption

[misseviehyde]

GHOST BUSTY

Katie groaned as she massaged her sore aching breasts. They were so big now... so full and firm. She needed them to be groped. She needed a man to grab them whilst he fingered her dripping wet pussy and got her tight pink hole ready to fuck.

Her eyes fell hungrily onto her best-friend Joe sitting in the corner who was massaging his engorged and ridiculously large cock. He gasped and groaned in frustration too, his dick getting bigger by the second even as her boobs grew. He couldn't take his eyes off her.

Katie's boyfriend Matt sat in the corner sobbing and trying to fix something in front of him. Katie ignored him, her hungry eyes locked onto Joe's delicious cock. It was what she wanted now... not that loser.

"Mmmmh... come fuck me Joe. I fucking need it. Take me right here. I know you want it to. Become who you are destined to be."

She felt a feral grin appear on her face, she had never felt so fucking horny. She had never felt so fucking EVIL. She needed that cock inside her... pounding her tight virgin holes and making her into a slut. She wasn't a nice girl anymore, she was a fucking cumslut and she wanted it badly. She needed to lock in this transformation permanently.

She wanted his cock, but Joe's body was nice too. He had muscles now and he'd grown in height and width. He could probably snap Matt like a twig and the thought excited her.

To think, only 30 minutes ago they'd entered this house as very different people...

How had this even happened?

***

Matt grinned as Katie and her friendzoned bestie Joe rolled their eyes at his latest invention. It looked like a hoover with loads of weird wires and gadgets on the side.

"What is it meant to do?" asked Joe in puzzlement as Matt tinkered with the buttons.

"It's a ghost catching device. It can suck ethereal bodies out of the air and safely contain them within the cylinder. With this... I can finally prove that ghosts are real and we'll be rich."

"Is that why you brought us here? To the old frat house?"

"Yeah," grinned Matt excitedly gesturing to the boarded up windows of the old frat house. Ten years ago some sort of gas leak had killed everyone inside it. It had been a terrible disaster and all the Frat boys and their hot sorority girlfriends had sadly been killed. There were rumours that the place was haunted as a result. Full of the bratty spirits of the vengeful dead.

"Let's go inside and give it a go."

***

The air inside the creepy old mansion was cold and sinister. They had prised a wooden board away from a window and snuck inside. The insides were dark but they had torches.

Powering up his invention from a powerpack he'd created, Matt grinned as he held up the nozzle of his device and switched it on. Katie watched unimpressed as her dumb boyfriend literally held a hoover tube up in the air like it was going to do anything.

Then her scepticism faded. She gasped as she began to see vague shapes in the air. Ghostly outlines of girls, swirling and dancing in the air drawn by the hoover. Pulled into reality by Matt's invention the ghostly spirits took on form and substance. Katie drew back in fear as she saw wicked envious eyes looking down at her and coveting her flesh.

"Hmmm weird. The invention seems to be energising the ghosts and drawing them into our world more fully - it's making them more powerful but I can't seem to attract them into the device."

Suddenly one of the female spirits lunged towards them and Matt gasped as it flowed into Katie with a pop. She groaned.

"Ughhh what the fuck? That thing just went inside me."

Suddenly more spirits were darting down and Katie moaned as more and more of them flowed into her body. She shook and groaned, her eyes rolling back in her head as the ghosts got inside her body.

"Ohhh myyyy Godddd it feels soooo mmmmmpphhh good," she gurgled as the spirits melded into her and their unearthly energies flowed through her.

As each ghost entered her, Katie changed. Her nerdy outfit became a tight black corset. Her short hair lengthened and her body became more feminine. Her tiny breasts began to grow. Bigger and bigger. Swelling up to become enermous ripe boobs. She threw back her head and laughed in glee - stretching her curvy body and exulting as she became even sexier. "Fuck yes. Fill me up girls."

The remaining female spirits surged down and Katie welcomed them, screaming in pleasure as they flowed into her body and she absorbed their toxic energies.

"Ohhhhh fuck yesssss," hissed Katie. "I can feel it. I can feel all their combined bitchiness becoming mine. These girls were evil sluts and they want to live again. My body is the perfect host for their essence. I'm becoming a fucking Goddess."

With a giggle she snatched the hoover decice from Matt and making an adjustment switched it on. "You should try this baby."

More ghosts began to form, but this time male ones. The spirits of the frat boys gathering round ready to have their turn.

"No, we have to get those ghosts out of you," gasped Matt and he and Katie began to fight over the hoover.

A ghost surged down and Matt ducked. Katie snarled and grabbing him held his arms behind his back.

"Hurry up boys. Get inside this loser and make him worthy of the new me."

"No!" screamed Matt as the ghosts surged down. Katie's eyes shone with excitement. "Don't fight it Matt. Soon you'll understand how good this feels."

With a superhuman effort Matt broke free and dove to the ground crushing the hoover and causing it to break. The ghosts wailed- their energies beginning to disapate.

"NO!" screamed Katie in rage. "Joe. Come here baby. I need your help."

Joe had been watching from the corner of the room and now he gasped as Katie turned her new sexy gaze on him. "Come here. Come to me."

The male ghosts flowed around Katie, sustaining themselves in her energies. Joe gulped as she walked towards him.

"That's it baby. Just hold still."

Joe screamed as Katie leapt forward and pinning him against the wall kissed him hard. The male ghosts around her surged forward and he thrashed and moaned... jerking as each one entered him. Clothes ripped, muscles swelled and Katie moaned in pleasure.

Meanwhile a sobbing Matt desperately tried to repair the broken invention - he had to suck the ghosts out of Joe and Katie before it was too late.

Katie groaned as her breasts got even bigger and she felt the energies within her corrupting every inch of her hot perfect body. She shivered in glee as the ghosts burned out all her innocence and warped her mind to make her a perfect vessel for their evil.

But they weren't fully part of her yet. Only sex could do that. Once she got fucked, the orgasm would lock everything into place. Just as it would for Joe.

The once nerdy Joe was now an Adonis and Katie laughed as she walked over and grabbing his throbbing barely contained cock began to pump it.

"Yesssss don't fight it Joe. Let the evil corrupt you. Together we will be unstoppable. The power inside us will keep us young and strong forever. All you have to do is fuck me right now. I'm wet and ready for you."

Katie slid down her black panties to reveal her tight dripping slit. She spread her stockinged legs enticingly and stood over Joe. Slowly she began to lower herself.

"Ugggh noo if we fuck we'll become permanently corrupted," groaned Joe. "We have to resist."

"Why resist Joe when it feels so fucking good?" laughed Katie as her pussy lips teased Joe's massive cock.

"Embrace your new role as an Alpha and take me big boy."

Joe growled in lust and grabbing Katie's hips pulled her tight cunt down onto his giant cock. She sighed in pleasure and satisfaction as he filled every millimetre of her pussy up and she began to slowly slide up and down his shaft, her massive tits bouncing up and down as she rode him.

Matt watched through wet eyes as Katie rolled her hips and began to bounce faster and faster on Joe's cock.

With a grunt he suddenly picked her up and she screamed in pleasure as he effortlessly held her up in his strong arms and began to hammer her harder and harder.

"Hahah see loser. See how powerful I have become?"

Joe and Katie laughed together as they fucked. "Hahah he can't stop it baby, make me cum them pump your seed deep inside me and let's make this a permanent arrangement."

The corrupted couple moaned and gasped. Dark energies crackled around them as the ghosts that had invaded their bodies merged and melted into them. A gestalt awareness becoming one with their own. Wet slaps and moans of pleasure filled the air and the scent of hot sex.

"Yessss. Fuck yessss baby. I'm gonna cum and I'm gonna be an evil bitch forever. Oh yesssss I need it so badly. Fuck meee!"

Katie screamed and wet squirt erupted from her pussy raining down over Matt and his invention. Moments later with a shuddering moan Joe cummed deep inside Katie too and as he drew out of her with a wet pop his own cum dripped down and landed on Matt too.

The couple laughed and Katie squeezed more cum out enjoying how it looked on her former boyfriends crying face.

Sitting amongst the broken wreckage of his invention Matt whimpered as Joe and Katie used him as their personal cum rag and cleaned up. Then laughing the new evil power couple left ready to start their new life.

Matt lay weeping amongst his broken dreams. The house was no longer haunted at least... he was the only ghost here now and he would never see Katie or Joe again.

[shadow211e]

Kelly had just gotten off work, she worked in a retail store in the mall, the place over recent months had become more dead, though it was frustrating to watch the decline of the store, she knew the money was decent and she only had a few more classes to finish her degree. She talked to her boyfriend Seth as she walked to the food court to grab a quick sandwich, she ate it quick and went to the bathroom to wash her hands before heading home. She told Seth she would talk to him when she got home.

As she walked out of the bathroom she didn’t see the tall man in black step out of the shadows and walk up behind her. She felt a small prick in her neck and the world started to go black.

30 mins later she started to come to, she was strapped down on what looked like a gurney in the back of a van, she looked around, it was fuzzy, she wasn’t wearing her glasses, she mumbled, “where am” was all she could say her voice was slurred.

The man in the back of the van with her, looked down, “wake huh, let’s give you the next dose.” He pulled out a needle and looked at her, tapping it, the needle had the number 2 on it. She felt the prick in her arm, and then blackness started to rapidly come for her again.

Kelly woke up again, she looked around the room, she could see the room looked like a lab of some sorts, there was tables, and machines, monitors as well as a large mirror across from her. She couldn’t see in it because the angle of the mirror was tilted from where she was. She did notice something she was standing, she tried to move but found herself locked in place, she thought maybe it was a drug or something or her being restrained still. She also realized after a few minutes of trying to look around, she couldn’t move her neck but her eyesight was normal, she wasn’t wearing glasses but could see clearly now.

A man walked in, he was in his late 40s maybe early 50s, he looked like a doctor. He smiled at her “good morning,” he said in a pleasant tone. “Name?”

She wanted to tell him to go fuck himself and to let her out of here but she heard herself “Model 25.”

“Good, previous name?”

“Kelly Armstrong.”

“Excellent, you are starting off beautifully” he said starting to walk around her. “Arms up.”

Without hesitation her arms went up into the air, then she heard him say down and her arms went down. She realized she wasn’t restrained, but if that was the case she could run, she could leave but she was finding it impossible.

He looked at her “I am sure you have questions, so go ahead you are allowed to ask, I will answer what I can.”

“Where am I?”

“In a conversion lab.”

“What is happening to me?”

“You are being converted into our newest model.”

“You can’t do this, I have friends, I have a boyfriend, they will come for me.”

He looked at her and a small chuckle came from him, “Of course, don’t worry in time you won’t be bothered by that.” He walked over and pulled the mirror slightly to the side, she could see herself now. She looked the same, but she was naked, she blushed at the fact she was standing naked in front of a man and it wasn’t even bothering her. She noticed her skin around her neck and down her arms was looking slightly shiny, and that her body hair, well her trimmed bush was gone. Before she could say anything else, “Shutdown 25.” Her mind started to go black.

*****

It had been 3 days since Kelly went missing, Seth had made calls to her friends, to her work, to her parents, no one had seen her. He went to the cops after the first day she was missing and they filed a report. On day 3 he went to her apartment, the detective had called him, they had gotten access to her apartment, when Seth showed up, he was stunned to find the apartment cleared out, completely empty of everything. There was nothing left, even the walls looked like they had been painted over. The detective told Seth that this happens all the time, girlfriends up and leave, disappear to get away from something bad. Seth tried to explain she was happy, was in school, loved her family, she would have never just left. The detective shrugged saying maybe he didn’t know her that well.

*****

Kelly woke up again, in the same room, the man appearing from around the room behind her again.

“Name?”

“Model 25, if you are the owner, you can designate a Name for the unit.” She was shocked to hear herself answer like that, so coldly.

“Former name?”

“Kelly.”

“No surname?”

She was silent, she had a surname right, she knew what it was, she had to know what it was. But she stayed silent as she watched the smile on the man walking around her.

He told her to do things, move around, raise and lower arms and legs, rotate neck, open mouth. Then when she was back in the same position, he moved the mirror and she was stunned to see her body. Her skin was slightly darker, like if she had a constant tan, her skin was also looking more glossy. She noticed her hips looked wider and her stomach was tighter looking. She wanted to yell, wanted to ask him to save her get her out of here but she couldn’t seem to move. Then he said “Shutdown 25,” and her world went black again.

*****

It had been almost 10 days since she was missing, the news did a report it was a 2 minute segment that was quickly forgotten in the constantly insane world news cycle. No one was really going to care about one missing woman. Even the detective called him to say that even though they weren’t closing the case, that it was becoming an inactive file with no leads. They would keep in touch if they heard anything about her from anyone across the country.

*****

She opened her eyes, the man smiling at her “Name”

“Model 25.”

“Former name?”

“Model 25.”

“Excellent, your mental progress has come along nicely, percentage of conversion?”

“57.62%”

“Perfect.”

She moved around under orders, feeling more sway in her hips, jiggle in her ass and even more bounce in her tits. She couldn’t seem to look down at herself. The man moved the mirror again and she was shocked how different she looked. Her breasts which she vaguely remembered as B cups seemed to be nearing DD range, her ass was huge. What was happening to her, how was this possible?

“Subroutine Club dancing,” she heard him say.

It was like something clicked into her head, she started swaying to music in her head, she looked at him, he was a man, she started to move to him dancing, being seductive, feeling herself becoming aroused around him. She wanted to fuck him, her whole body wanted him.

“Reposition to start.”

She stopped dancing and moved back to the spot she woke up at, she realized how nice it felt to move, it felt so natural to move her hips to music, to grind and show off her body.

“Shutdown 25,” and her thoughts left as she went black.

*****

It had been 3 weeks since Kelly had gone missing, Seth was struggling, her family was pissed at him, and when they had a “funeral” for her, he was asked not to attend the funeral. He was drinking a bit more, and struggling mentally.

*****

She opened her eyes, the man in the coat smiled at her “Good morning, name?”

“Model 25.”

“Good, now today I need you to follow me, down the hall to a room, we are going to be filming you today. So I am activating your human subroutine so you can act like a human.”

“Acknowledged,” as she started to blink feeling good, feeling different. She looked at him “I feel good,” she said her voice now even more sultry and seductive sounding.

“I’m glad, let’s go.”

She started to follow him out of the room and down the halls. Left, right, right, left again, she barely focused but was sure she could easily remember where she was going. He walked her into a room that was set up with cameras and different things, she smiled as people waved at her, she waved back. The man in the coat smiled “you are going to end up dancing and trying to look good for the camera, please listen and adapt to what they want.”

She walked farther in, greeting people, no one seemed to act like she wasn’t human it was nice. There was a small part of her in her mind screaming but soon she was able to ignore it. She was told they wanted her to dance and act out some things and she did it. After about an hour, feeling more human than ever the man with coat came over, “ok return to start and shut down.”

She nodded and headed off, back down the halls, she started to notice numbers on all the rooms, 100s of numbers. She passed one door that was open, she looked inside, seeing a girl struggling and yelling, she was standing there in front of a man with a coat, screaming that her name was Stacy.

She finally got back to her room, number 25 on the door. The door was shut, she leaned into an eye scanner, it scanned her eye and the door opened for her. She walked into the room, the room was completely dark but she had no issue finding the exact spot to stand, then she went dark again.

******

Seth was about to lose everything, he barely went to work, he wasn’t paying his bills, all he did was sit and drink and think about Kelly. It was about 2am and he was getting up from a drunken stupor to go pee when the show he was watching from the 80s went to commercial. He barely was listening to the announcer, but stopped cold in his tracks, staring at the image on the screen. It was of a girl dancing.

Seth stared at the screen, Kelly was so different. Her body, her moves, she was like a walking porn star. He was stunned but he couldn’t stop staring he knew no matter what she looked like, her eyes were the same. This was his girlfriend, the love of his life. He stared watching the screen, then it said Model 25 was available for purchase. He had no clue what it meant but he had to find out about whatever company was selling this model and he would find his Kelly there.

*****

2 weeks later her eyes opened to see the man in the coat again “Good morning, name?”

“Model 25.”

“Excellent, please look at me in the eyes and tell me your state of conversion.”

She leaned in and he saw what he was hoping to see, her eyes had fully changed, she was another one of the Bim-bots they were selling, then her sultry voice “100%”

“Good good, I’ve got better news, you have been sold, you have an owner now.”

A warm feeling flooded through her, she was going to be owned, it was her purpose.

“He wants you to be his flirty tease and a very sexually needy trophy girlfriend, he wants to to tease other men, only want you and be clingy that it makes it seem you want him to fuck you constantly. We will be updating your profile and your name he requested is Jasmine.”

“Acknowledged.”

“Name?”

“Jasmine” she purred.

“Perfect, now shutdown, we will do the finer adjustments and you will be at his house in days.”

Her world went black again.

*****

No one believed Seth, but he had to figure this out, he found the company’s website and was sure that they would have information on her. But then after a week he found out her profile was greyed out and she was “sold”, and he was devastated but he knew she was alive and that was driving him.

He reaffirmed himself at work, making sure to get his life around and make the money he needed, he was going to find her and if he had to buy her, he hoped.

He was at work doing some med level tasks but he was also surfing the dark web to talk to people who might have information on her. He didn’t notice that movement in the office, the managers starting to look nicer as the owner of the company, the big boss was showing up. The man owned buildings and businesses all over the world and today he was coming to their little office building.

The elevator dinged and two people were met, the men were chatting and bragging to the owner about all their growth and achievements while the younger guys in the cubicles around the office could only talk about one thing, her. The woman cuddling up against the 53 year old man. She was a fucking bombshell. She walked next to him in a skin tight dress and heels. One guy looked at Seth, “dude check her out, fuck whatever her name was she left you, check out this piece of ass.”

Seth looked up and then looked back down at the computer, it took him seconds and he stood up in shock. “Kelly!” He screamed

Some people turned to look at the man who had been such a hermit as of late as he bounded over desks and chairs, grabbing the woman by the arm “Kelly, it’s me Seth.”

She looked at him, looking down at him like he was trash, “my name is Jasmine,” she said as she tugged her arm away.

The owner looked at him, giving him a look of death and destruction. Seth’s boss moved him back, warning him that this guy paid his salary. He called out to Kelly one more time, breaking into sobs.

The woman was back in the arms of her man. Back into his safe grasp. She looked back to the poor fool starting to cry. And for one second, Seth and her locked eyes, he had hope that his love was there, but then her stare turned to wicked hate and the flipped her hair back no longer paying the boy attention.

[hotdonnafox]

Virtually Becki

Victoria Walker had always kept her head down. As a shy, introverted student with a passion for coding and technology, she spent more time with her laptop than with people. Her grades were flawless, and her intelligence outshone most of her peers, but none of that mattered to Becki Carter.

Becki was everything Victoria wasn’t: loud, attention seeking, effortlessly beautiful, and, worst of all, cruel. She was the queen of their school’s social scene, a party girl who flaunted her looks and seemed utterly disinterested in academics. For Becki, her reflection and her popularity were all that mattered. She bullied Victoria at every chance mocking her clothes, her interests, and the fact that Victoria never seemed to fit in.

Victoria never understood why Becki targeted her. She tried to rationalize it maybe it was insecurity, maybe jealousy but the constant ridicule was wearing her down. She had to understand Becki, figure out what made her so cruel, and maybe just maybe find a way to make her stop.

That’s when she had an idea.

Victoria had been working on a virtual reality project for months. It was a personal venture, a highly advanced program that could simulate entire environments based on a person’s thoughts and memories. She decided to take it further. What if she could create a virtual replica of Becki’s world? If she could live as Becki in this VR space, perhaps she could understand her bully from the inside out.

She spent weeks coding, analyzing every detail she could find about Becki her social media posts, the way she walked, talked, dressed. Victoria meticulously programmed every aspect of Becki’s life into the simulation: her lavish parties, her shallow friendships, her careless attitude. The final touch was Becki herself a digital clone so accurate that it was almost eerie.

When the program was finally complete, Victoria hesitated. It was one thing to create this world, but another to step into it. Yet her curiosity pushed her forward. She strapped on the VR headset and entered the simulation.

Immediately, she became Becki.

The first time in Becki’s world was overwhelming. Victoria felt herself swaying in unfamiliar heels, her body clad in tight, revealing clothes. The mirror in front of her reflected Becki’s perfect face plump lips, long lashes, a flawless tan. She felt powerful, commanding attention as she walked through a crowded virtual party. It was intoxicating. For a moment, she reveled in it, but she quickly reminded herself why she was there. She wasn’t Becki. She was Victoria, just here to understand.

The first few sessions were just that explorations. Victoria tried to pick apart Becki’s life, to see if there was some hidden reason for her cruelty. But as the days passed, something strange began to happen. Every time she logged into the simulation, it became harder to remember that she wasn’t actually Becki. She found herself slipping into character effortlessly, responding with the same carelessness, the same vapid remarks that Becki would make.

Soon, Victoria wasn’t just observing Becki’s life she was living it. She started going to virtual parties, enjoying the attention, flirting with the virtual versions of Becki’s friends. The more she acted like Becki in the simulation, the more she started to enjoy it. She had built the world so meticulously that every detail was perfect: the music, the flashing lights, the intoxicating energy of being the center of attention. In Becki’s world, she wasn’t the quiet, overlooked nerd; she was the one everyone wanted to be around.

At first, it was just an escape, a chance to experience something so far removed from her real life. But slowly, subtly, the lines between the virtual world and reality began to blur.

In the real world, Victoria found herself changing. It started small. After one session, she was brushing her hair and caught herself hesitating. She stared at her reflection, noticing her plain clothes and simple ponytail. That wasn’t Becki. The thought rattled her, but she couldn’t shake it. Becki wouldn’t be caught dead in baggy sweaters and jeans. Without fully understanding why, Victoria reached into her closet, pulling out a tighter shirt she rarely wore. It fit differently than she remembered. It felt different like she was stepping into someone else’s skin.

The next time she logged into the simulation, the transformation was easier. She didn’t just slip into Becki’s world; she embraced it. Her virtual body moved with confidence, her voice carried a flirtatious lilt, and her presence commanded attention. Every time she played Becki in the virtual world, it felt more natural, more addictive. It wasn’t just fun anymore it was becoming who she wanted to be.

The changes in Victoria’s real life escalated. She started spending hours in front of the mirror, fixing her hair, experimenting with makeup, mimicking the style Becki wore in the VR world. She bought new clothes tighter, more revealing outfits that she never would’ve dared to wear before. The girl who used to shy away from crowds was now shopping for mini skirts and low cut tops.

Her behavior at school began to shift, too. The studious, reserved Victoria started skipping classes, spending more time with her laptop, fine tuning the virtual world. Every session lasted longer than the last. But it wasn’t just the virtual Becki she was fine tuning it was herself. She caught herself laughing louder, flipping her hair more, and enjoying the glances she received from classmates, even from people like Becki’s real world friends who barely noticed her before.

But as she spent more time inside Becki’s life, her mind changed in ways she couldn’t control. Victoria used to care about her coding projects, her studies, her future. But those ambitions were fading, drowned out by thoughts of popularity and appearances. Why should she stress about grades when she could be the most desired girl in school? Her obsession with Becki’s shallow, glamorous life consumed her.

One day, while shopping for a new outfit that Becki would’ve approved of, Victoria caught her reflection in a store window. She stopped, startled by what she saw. Her once bare face was now caked in makeup plump, glossy lips, smoky eyes, and perfectly styled hair. Her clothes, far from the modest jeans and sweaters she used to wear, clung to her body, designed to attract attention. She stood there, in a mini skirt and a crop top, looking nothing like the girl who once prided herself on her intelligence.

But instead of fear, she felt a rush of excitement. The reflection wasn’t Victoria anymore it was Vicki.

Her transformation grew more dramatic. At parties real ones now, not just the VR simulations she was no longer the awkward girl in the corner. She became the life of the event, just like Becki. Guys who never gave her a second glance were suddenly wrapped around her finger. She flirted effortlessly, enjoying the power she held over them. Her studies fell by the wayside. She didn’t need to be the smartest girl in the room anymore she had other ways of getting what she wanted.

Weeks passed, and the two worlds the virtual and the real merged even more. She started correcting people when they called her Victoria. She wasn’t just pretending to be Vicki like anymore she was her. Her thoughts shifted, too. She found herself daydreaming about boys, about parties, about the superficial things she used to mock Becki for. The coding genius who had once lived for intellectual challenges was now obsessed with her looks, her social status, and her power over others.

The final stage of her transformation came without her even realizing it. One night, after spending hours in the VR world, she took the headset off and looked at herself in the mirror. But this time, she didn’t see the old Victoria trying to play a part. She saw Vicki. Her lips parted in a smile sultry, shallow, perfect.

She didn’t miss the old her. In fact, she could barely remember what that Victoria was like. She wanted to forget. Being Vicki was easier, more fun, more exciting. She liked the attention, the freedom, the power that came with being desired. The things she used to care about grades, knowledge, her future less important some how.

Victoria.. no, Vicki had finally completed the transformation. She was no longer the shy, nerdy girl who tried to understand her bully. She had become her.

[rylem33]

Kaylee's Bully

Melissa Carter was tired.

Forty-eight years of stress and worry had worn grooves into her features like the bags under her eyes. Her shoulder-length honey blonde hair had faded from its once richer shade.

She glanced down at her phone again. Kaylee hadn’t answered her last two texts. Of course not. She never does when she’s hiding in her room. 

Melissa knew what was happening. And she knew who was behind it.

Brittney Dalton, a spoiled, venomous little snake of a girl who seemed to thrive on tearing other girls down. The queen bee of Ashbury High. She was popular, rich, and seemingly untouchable. 

Melissa knew that Kaylee was with Paul. He was her best friend and rock. Supporting Kaylee through all the bullying. She left her daughter in safe hands and went to confront Brittney.

The bell above the door jingled as Melissa pushed into the café. She spotted Brittney right away, sitting alone near the back.  She was lazily scrolling through her phone, sipping some overpriced pink concoction with whipped cream.

Brittney Dalton looked like trouble wrapped in a pleated skirt. She sat at the café table with her legs crossed, midriff exposed beneath a too-tight crop top, her blonde hair in pigtails tied off with bows that made her look younger than she was, but only in the most manipulative way. 

Melissa hated confrontation and almost got cold feet.But then she pictured Kaylee crying while admitting she hated going to school now. That was enough to steel her nerves.

Melissa marched across the room, planting herself at the edge of Brittney’s table.

“Excuse me.” Her voice came out weaker than she intended.

Brittney barely glanced up. “Yeah?” 

Melissa felt her jaw clench. “We need to talk. About my daughter.”

Brittney’s lips curled into a smug little smile as she leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “Ohhh… Kaylee.” She dragged the name out like it was a joke. “What about her?”

“Cut the act, Brittney. I know what you’ve been doing to her. The way you’ve turned her life into a damn nightmare.”

Brittney tilted her head, pretending to think. “Sounds like a her problem, not a me problem.”

Melissa’s growing rage gave her courage. “Enough. This stops now. You leave her alone, or I swear—”

Brittney leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “Or what, Mommy? You gonna ground me?” She let out a breathy little laugh, twirling a strange, dark little pendant shaped like a twisting vine that was hanging from her neck.

Without thinking, Melissa reached out and grabbed Brittney by the necklace, jerking her slightly forward. The pendant swung wildly, catching Brittney’s skin just below her collarbone.

“Ow!” Brittney gasped, recoiling with wide eyes. She slapped Melissa’s hand away, her other hand flying up to cover the fresh scratch.

“The hell is wrong with you?” she snapped, voice louder now, drawing glances from other tables.  A thin, angry red line appeared on her where blood welled up instantly.

Britney stood up fast, knocking over her drink. Liquid splattered across the table and floor as Brittney pressed a napkin to the scratch, inspecting the tiny smear of blood on the white paper.

“You’re a freaking psycho,” she hissed, clutching her phone like she was ready to call someone.

Melissa was instantly regretful. She could already feel every set of eyes locking onto her. 

“Brittney, wait—” Melissa tried to lower her voice, reaching out, palms open, desperate to deescalate. “I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t touch me!” Brittney barked, stepping back another pace, holding the napkin tighter to her skin like she was about to dial 911.

This was getting dangerous fast. “Brittney, just calm down—”

Brittney swayed on her feet, blinking rapidly. Her smug expression cracked for the first time.

“…whoa…” she muttered under her breath, gripping the edge of the table for balance. Her phone slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor.

Melissa’s panic surged. “Are you okay?“

Brittney didn’t answer. Instead, her knees buckled, her body tipping sideways.

“Oh my god!” Melissa lunged forward, catching her just before she hit the ground. Brittney’s body was limp, unnaturally warm, like she was burning up.

Melissa could hear the voices murmuring around the café.

“I’ve got her—she’s fine, she just… fainted,” Melissa lied, plastering a weak smile on her face as she carefully hoisted Brittney to her feet. “She’s a friend of my daughter’s.”

Someone was definitely filming.

Melissa quickly grabbed Brittney’s bag, stuffed the fallen phone into it, and practically dragged the girl toward the door, forcing another brittle smile at the gawking customers.

“It’s okay, she just needs air. She’s fine. Really. She’s fine.”

Melissa half-carried Brittney to her car parked right at the curb. She fumbled with the door, managing to ease Brittney into the passenger seat. The girl groaned faintly, head lolling toward the window, eyes fluttering half-open, dazed and glassy.

Melissa hurried around to the driver’s side, slamming the door shut behind her. Melissa leaned across the console, gently shaking Brittney’s shoulder.

“Hey… hey, can you hear me? Brittney?”

Brittney’s lips moved, but no sound came out. Her face had gone pale… no, not pale—grayish. Her skin looked off, like something under the surface was crawling just beneath it.

Melissa swallowed the lump rising in her throat. She reached for her phone, fumbling with the lock screen.

“Jesus, I… I’m calling an ambulance, just hang on—”

A wet, gurgling sound cut her off. The girl’s body had started to tremble. Her arms jerked once… then again. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, her glassy eyes rolling back into her head.

“Brittney?!”

Melissa grabbed her again, trying to steady her, but Brittney’s skin felt damp and sticky.

Then, right before Melissa’s horrified eyes, Brittney sank.

It started at her jawline, skin collapsing inward like it was losing structure, bones softening and melting. Her lips slurred into a shapeless smear as her cheeks caved.

Melissa yanked her hands back as Brittney’s body slumped like overcooked pasta.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. What the fuck—what the fuck?”

Brittney’s head split open like a popped blister, releasing a thick, shiny black ooze that immediately started pooling in the seat. The rest of her followed—skin, clothes, everything—collapsing into that growing, writhing puddle.

Melissa screamed, scrambling back against her door, clawing for the handle.

“No! No, no, NO!”

The ooze shifted, moving unnaturally, as if alive. It pulsed once… then stretched toward her.

She kicked at the dashboard in terror, frantically twisting the door handle but the black slime leapt toward her, a snake of liquid lashing out, splattering across her neck and chest before she could even scream again.

“Ahh—!”

Melissa’s back slammed into the window as she clawed at the sludge, but it clung to her skin like tar, crawling up her throat, slipping under the collar of her sweatshirt.

“No! Get it off—”

It seeped into her mouth, forcing its way past her lips and down her throat.

Melissa gagged and thrashed, tears streaming down her face as the last of the ooze disappeared inside her. Her body spasmed once, twice… and then everything went still as she passed out.

----------------------------------------------------

Melissa didn’t even remember driving home.

The streets, the lights, the turns… all of it blurred together into a sickening fog. She felt cold and hot all at once, the weight of her clothes suffocating against her skin. Her throat still burned from where the slime had forced its way inside her.

Her fingers trembled as she unlocked the front door.

She stepped inside on numb legs, kicking the door shut behind her. The faint sound of the television drifted from the living room.

“Hey, hon”, her husband Mark’s voice carried toward her from the couch, casual, oblivious.

Melissa opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out at first. She swallowed thickly.

“…I’m not… feeling well,” she rasped, her voice sounding strange even to her own ears.

Mark sat up a little straighter, concerned.  “You okay? Do you need—”

Melissa didn’t answer. She couldn’t. She just shook her head slowly and started toward the stairs like she was moving underwater.

Her body felt wrong. Everything felt wrong.

One step at a time, she dragged herself upward, gripping the banister with white knuckles.

The light was on in Kaylee’s room.

Melissa paused at the top of the stairs, staring at the thin slice of warm light spilling into the hallway. She could hear her daughter pacing softly inside, probably on her phone, unaware of anything that had just happened.

Melissa pressed her lips together, fighting the lump swelling in her throat.

I should check on her… I should tell her…

But the weight of everything crashed down on her at once. The fear. The horror. The way her skin still crawled like something was inside her.

Melissa gripped the doorframe to her bedroom, pushed inside, and collapsed face-first onto the bed without even kicking off her shoes.

She curled into herself, clutching her pillow as the tears finally came.

----------------------------------------------------

Melissa blinked up at the ceiling, expecting to feel like death, but she didn’t. She actually felt fine.

She sat up slowly as the room filled with soft morning light. She looked down at herself. Her sweatshirt was twisted from sleep. Her hands trembled faintly as she touched her throat, expecting… something.

But there was nothing. No burn. No stain. No black slime. Melissa exhaled a long breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

Okay… okay. Maybe it didn’t happen. Maybe it was just a dream. A really vivid… terrifying dream.

She slid out of bed and padded barefoot into the hallway, pulling her cardigan tighter around her. Everything felt normal. The scent of brewing coffee drifted up from the kitchen. The faint clinking of dishes. Mark was up.

She smiled as she descended the stairs.

“Morning,” he said, already pouring her a mug, his robe tied loosely at the waist.

“Thanks,” she murmured, wrapping her fingers around the warm ceramic. “God, I needed this.”

Mark gave her a curious look. “Rough night?”

Melissa hesitated, then shook her head with a faint smile. “No… not really. I just… didn’t sleep great, that’s all.”

“Well, you look better than you sounded last night,” he said, stepping in to give her a light kiss on the cheek. “Thought you were coming down with something.”

“Me too,” she said quietly. “But I feel fine now. Honestly. Better than fine.”

And it was true. She hadn’t felt this energized in years.

They stood in the kitchen together in silence for a moment, sipping coffee and enjoying the calm. Melissa leaned against the counter, letting herself believe that everything was back to normal.

Then the stairs creaked and Kaylee appeared at the edge of the room.

“Morning,” she mumbled.

Melissa looked up and something twisted inside her. She couldn’t explain it. It wasn’t anger. It was… revulsion.

The sight of Kaylee’s slouched posture. The way she didn’t meet anyone’s eye. Her soft voice. Her sloppiness. She was so weak. So fragile.

The word pathetic bloomed in Melissa’s mind like a rot.

Melissa’s hand tightened around her coffee mug. Where the hell had that come from?

Kaylee shuffled to the fridge, oblivious. Melissa tried to look away, fighting to keep the sneer from breaking across her face.

God, look at her.

The thought wasn’t hers. It slithered through her mind like smoke.

Slouched over like a wet rag. No wonder they pick her apart—she walks around like she’s begging for it.

Melissa’s mind fought with itself. She gripped the edge of the counter tightly.

Pathetic little nothing, the voice cooed. You didn’t raise a daughter. You raised a doormat with a pulse.

Her nails dug into her palm, leaving crescents in the skin.

“Did you sleep okay?” she blurted. It didn’t sound like her. Not really.

Kaylee shrugged without looking. “Yeah, I guess.”

Of course you did. Nothing rattles a girl who’s too dumb to notice everyone hates her.

Melissa took a long, slow breath through her nose as she watched Kaylee grab a yogurt from the fridge.

“I’m going back upstairs,” Kaylee mumbled.

What a surprise. Can’t even finish a conversation without retreating like the sad little wretch.

Melissa nodded quickly, keeping her mouth shut. She didn’t trust herself to say anything. She didn’t trust what might come out.

Kaylee’s steps disappeared upstairs and Melissa relaxed. It felt like unclenching a fist she hadn’t realized was tight. Her shoulders slumped. Her jaw loosened. The burning heat behind her eyes cooled.

The bile of cruel thoughts lifted immediately and she felt energized.

Mark returned, walking in with the newspaper under one arm, coffee in hand.

“She heading back to bed already?” he asked with a raised brow.

Melissa turned toward him, voice steady. “Looks like it. She’s… tired, I guess.”

Mark snorted. “When is she not?” He leaned against the counter and took a sip. “Teenagers. It’s like their natural state is horizontal.”

“Honestly, I envy her,” she said. “If I could stay in bed and shut out the world some mornings…”

“You’d lose your mind after two hours,” Mark said. “You’d be organizing the junk drawer and emailing the PTA by lunch.”

Melissa smiled into her cup. “You’re not wrong.”

Mark kissed her on the temple and moved to grab the toast from the toaster.

----------------------------------------------------

The front door clicked shut behind Mark, and Melissa stood in the hallway, sipping the last of her coffee. She let out a slow breath and turned toward the stairs.

Shower. Reset. Maybe this’ll finally get whatever the hell is wrong with me out of my system.

Her foot hit the first step when she heard it.

“Mom?” Kaylee’s voice, faint but distinct, drifted from her bedroom.

Melissa stopped. For just a second, her muscles tensed like her own daughter’s voice was a trigger. 

“Yeah?” she called back.

“I can’t find my charger. Did you maybe see it?”

Melissa’s hand released the banister and she moved down the hall, each step slower than the last. Her pulse picked up. She nudged Kaylee’s door open.

Kaylee was on the floor beside her bed, hair a mess, hoodie three sizes too big, surrounded by open notebooks, cords, and half-eaten wrappers. She looked up with those same tired, watery eyes.

“Never mind,” she said. “I think I—”

“Jesus Christ,” Melissa snapped, voice slicing through the air. “Do you ever not look like a fucking disaster?”

Kaylee froze. “…What?”

Melissa’s heart jumped in her chest—but it wasn’t fear. It was something hungry.

The words had slipped out fast, too fast. No filter. No hesitation. And something hot and sweet slid up the back of her throat like venom.

God, look at her. The voice purred now. You sure she’s not feral? Hoodie, rat’s nest hair, trash everywhere? What guy would even touch that?

“Did you actually eat breakfast?” Melissa said, her tone suddenly light, fake sweet. “Or did you just crawl out of this hoarder pile and start crying again?”

Kaylee’s jaw tensed. “What the hell is your problem?”

Melissa stepped fully into the room, arms crossing under her chest. The smirk blooming on her lips didn’t even feel forced anymore.

“My problem?” she said, head tilting. “My problem is watching you wallow in your own filth like you’re waiting for someone to rescue you. Newsflash, Kaylee—no one’s coming.”

Kaylee flinched, her face twisting. “Why are you acting like this?”

“Maybe if you didn’t dress like a fucking meme and carry yourself like a kicked dog, people wouldn’t treat you like trash.”

Kaylee’s mouth fell open, but nothing came out. Her eyes shimmered with instant tears.

Melissa blinked. Something inside her blinked too.  What did I just say? What did I just—

Kaylee stood up, slow and stiff. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she whispered, voice cracking.

Melissa turned on her heel, suddenly nauseous, suddenly thrilled, gripping the doorknob.

“Forget it,” she snapped, tossing it off like the whole moment bored her. “Just… clean your fucking room.”

She shut the door on Kaylee.

Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. Her skin buzzed. Her jaw ached from the grin she was still fighting to bury.

God, it had felt so good.

----------------------------------------------------

Melissa stood frozen on the other side of Kaylee’s door, one hand still clenched around the knob. Her pulse hammered in her ears.

What the hell is wrong with me?

She had to force her fingers to let go. She backed away slowly, numb, stomach churning with guilt… and something else. Something dark and addictive still thrumming under her skin.

She had made her daughter cry.

And part of her liked it.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

She needed to hear it, the voice whispered. And you needed to say it.

“No,” she said aloud, pressing her fingers to her temples. “That’s not me. That’s not who I am.”

Melissa closed the bathroom door behind her and locked it.

She turned on the shower, hot as it would go. The bathroom filled with steam almost immediately. She peeled her clothes off slowly and stood naked in the growing cloud of steam. 

She stepped under the spray and let the heat wash over her. For a while, she just stood there, breathing, head tilted back, eyes closed. The heat soaked into her muscles. Her chest loosened. The rising panic of the morning began to slip away.

Her thoughts drifted, spiraling back to the moment in Kaylee’s room. The look on her daughter’s face. That edge of betrayal in her voice.

She looked like she was going to cry again. Like she always does.

The thought slipped out of her lips.

“She always does…”

Her eyes opened. Had she said that?

She blinked at the tiles in front of her. Her lips parted again.

“She’s so weak. God, she can’t even look people in the eye without flinching—”

The words tumbled out, faster now.

“Always hunched, always mumbling. Like she wants people to walk all over her. Maybe she likes it. Maybe that’s all she’s good for—”

“Stop,” Melissa gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth.

The voice was hers, but the words weren’t. They came slick and full of poison. And when she pulled her hand away, there was black slime on her palm.

She looked down and the bottom of the shower was coated in it. A spreading pool of glistening black ooze, leaking from her mouth like a faucet she couldn’t shut off.

“Oh my god…” she whispered, voice trembling.

The memory slammed into her like a truck.

Brittney. The café. The car. The melting. It had all been real.

She staggered back into the wall, one hand braced against the tile, the other shaking as the slime continued to trickle from her lips in thick, choking ropes.

It’s inside me. 

The black pool pulsed. Moved. Almost… breathed.

Melissa’s chest heaved. She tried to scream, but her mouth opened and something else came out entirely.

“She’s pathetic.”

The words spilled from her lips like vomit. 

“Always whining. Always looking for someone to fix her.”

“No—” she croaked, trying to cover her mouth, but her hand slipped, soaked in slime.

“God, no wonder she’s a target. You can smell the weakness on her.”

“Stop—” she gasped, chest seizing.

“She’s not a daughter. She’s a burden.”

The words weren’t thoughts anymore. They were truths, pressed into her lungs by something dark and sentient.

“She doesn’t need protection. She needs to be broken.”

Melissa dropped to her knees with a wet slap, her hands sinking into the black pool now circling her thighs.

The ooze began to crawl up her legs.

“Make her fear you,” she heard herself say, voice slipping into something younger, richer, more vicious. “That’s how you teach respect.”

She clamped her lips shut, but it didn’t matter. The words still poured out—wet, wicked, unstoppable.

“She was never going to be anything. But you—” the voice purred, sliding off her tongue like silk, “you still can.”

The slime surged upward, wrapping around her thighs like latex come to life. Her skin tingled, then tightened, smoothing beneath it. Cellulite erased. Flesh lifted. Her thighs plumped with sensual, toned definition. Her knees reshaped, girlish and firm.

Melissa gasped as the ooze encased her hips, squeezing until they flared, pushing outward into a perfect hourglass. Her ass lifted in seconds, swelling behind her, bouncy and sharp beneath the slick layer now coating her skin like second skin.

“Stop—please—” she whimpered, but her voice cracked, betraying something new inside her: excitement.

The ooze kept climbing.

Her stomach flattened in an instant, muscles drawing taut beneath the shifting black. Her waist shrank smaller and smaller until it looked impossibly sculpted.

Melissa arched back with a strangled moan as the slime flowed up over her breasts, which swelled under its grip. They grew rounder, fuller, almost pornographic. Her nipples stiffened beneath the living sheen now dressing her body in something between ink and desire.

Her back straightened. Her posture shifted. Her shoulders drew back like she belonged on a stage, or a throne.

And all the while, the words kept coming:

“She’s weak. A crybaby. Always so needy.”

“You spent years nurturing a worm.”

“She’s nothing to you.”

The slime wrapped around her throat and jaw. She convulsed once as her skin flushed with new color. Her lips plumped even more, glossy and kissable, her cheeks sharpening to high, symmetrical angles. Her nose tilted upward slightly, perkier. Her lashes darkened. Her brows arched with a built-in sneer.

She tilted her head, watching her reflection twist into something else.

Her hair lengthened, thick and styled effortlessly even wet, the dull blonde gone—replaced with a brighter, sexier shade that shimmered like spun gold in the mist.

When it reached her eyes—her irises lit up like fire behind glass. A new brightness. A new hunger.

“I’m not her mother,” she purred, rising from the floor as the last of the slime sealed over her toes like heels painted into flesh. “I’m her better.”

Melissa stood fully now. Not the woman who’d begged herself to stop. Not the tired, anxious mother who whispered apologies and swallowed her rage.

This woman was all tits and venom. A cruel goddess sculpted in dripping black sheen and deliberate beauty. Every curve designed to dominate. Every breath soaked in poison and power.

And she was smiling.

----------------------------------------------------

The door slammed open without warning.

Kaylee flinched hard, nearly dropping her phone.

Beside her on the bed, Paul looked up from his spot on the floor, where he’d been leaning back against her dresser, scrolling through memes. His broad shoulders tensed, eyes narrowing.

There was a woman in the doorway. She was tall and terrifying, wrapped in glistening black that clung to her like skin. Her body was impossibly sculpted. Her long, blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, face framed perfectly, lips full and glossy, eyes sharp and lined like daggers.

“Who the hell are you?” Paul said, standing now, instinctively stepping between the woman and Kaylee.

The woman’s face contorted into a wicked smile.

“You don’t recognize me?” she said, voice rich with honeyed poison. “Aww. That’s disappointing.”

She stepped into the room, each click of her heels deliberate, predatory.

“Back off,” Paul said, squaring his shoulders. “You need to leave.”

“Oh, Paul,” she purred, eyes raking over him like she already owned him. “You always were the loyal one, weren’t you? Big, gentle, devoted. Playing the role of protector like some kind of golden retriever.”

His brows pulled together. “How do you know my name?”

She walked right up to him now, close enough for her scent to fill his nose.

“Oh, I know all sorts of things,” she whispered, reaching up to trail a finger down the center of his chest. “I know how you’ve supported Kaylee while Brittney bullied her.  I know how you’ve been there through thick and thin. I know how you’ve secretly wanted her.  Lusted for her.  And how she’s been oblivious to it.”

Paul stepped back a half-inch, but his eyes didn’t leave hers. There was something… wrong. Something electric in the air.

“Get away from her,” Kaylee said from behind him, voice cracking. “Whoever you are, get the hell away from him!”

Melissa didn’t even look at her. She kept her eyes locked on Paul’s, voice syrupy and smooth.

“You’ve always wondered what it would be like to have someone want you, haven’t you?” she whispered. “Not just the sweet one. Not just the friend. Someone who actually wants you…”

Her hand pressed to his chest, and he didn’t move.

“You’ve thought about it,” she cooed. “Don’t lie. All those times she cried to you, leaned on you. All that touching. You felt something. And you hated yourself for it. Didn’t you?”

Paul swallowed hard, jaw clenched.

Kaylee stepped forward, panicked now. “Paul, don’t listen to her!”

But he didn’t move.

“I could give you what she never will,” she whispered. “You’d never have to be her safety blanket again. You’d be mine.”

Paul’s shoulders loosened just slightly.

“No…” Kaylee stepped between them now, voice desperate. “Paul. Please.”

He blinked once, slowly, and looked down at Kaylee. Something in his eyes shifted and she seemed smaller now. Lesser.

Melissa’s voice oozed with satisfaction. “Go ahead, Kaylee. Say goodbye.”

“Paul?” Kaylee whispered, voice trembling. “Don’t.”

But Paul didn’t move.

Melissa turned to him fully, dragging one glossy red fingernail down his chest. “You’ve been such a good boy,” she purred, “loyal, patient. Always waiting your turn. Well…” She leaned in, her lips brushing against his. “Now it’s your turn.”

And she kissed him.

Kaylee gasped. “Stop it!”

Paul didn’t pull away. His shoulders sagged, like he surrendered. His hands gripped Melissa’s waist without thinking.

When Melissa broke the kiss, her lips curled into a wicked grin. “That’s more like it.”

She turned slightly, hooking her fingers in the collar of his shirt and tugging upward. “Take it off.”

Kaylee stood frozen, horrified, as Paul peeled away his shirt, then let his pants fall to the floor. He was left standing in nothing but his tight black briefs. His face was slack, entranced.

Melissa ran her palms over his chest, slow and possessive. “God, look at you,” she cooed. “All that strength, all that loyalty, wasted on her.”

Kaylee stepped backward, eyes wide, heart hammering. “Paul… please… you don’t want this.”

But Melissa spoke over her, never breaking eye contact with Kaylee. “Oh, he wants it. Every inch of him wants to forget you ever existed. Isn’t that right, baby?”

Paul dropped to his knees at Melissa’s feet.

Kaylee couldn’t breathe. Her legs gave out beneath her and she sank to the floor, hands over her mouth, eyes unblinking.

Melissa looked down at her, towering in all her perfect, corrupted glory.

“This is what power looks like,” she said softly. “And you’ll never have it.”

She pushed Paul up against the wall and pulled down his underwear. 

“Well,” she said, voice like silk over something wicked, “you have been hiding a secret.”

She grabbed his cock with her hand and looked up at him.

“You’re going to be so much more fun than I thought. Now, use this monster and show me a good time.”

Kaylee couldn’t look away.

She was still curled on the floor, her breath shallow, body locked in place as Paul leaned into Melissa’s touch like he’d forgotten anything else existed. Like he wasn’t Paul anymore.

She forced herself upright, hands trembling, knees unsteady. Somehow, she made it to her feet.

And then she ran.

“Mom!?” she shouted, voice cracking as she stumbled into the hall. “Where are you!?”

From behind her came the first sounds. They were soft at first, then louder. Pleasure twisted into something commanding, raw. Kaylee slapped her hands over her ears.

“Stop it!” she cried. “Mom—please—where are you?”

She threw open her parents’ bedroom door. It was empty.

She ran to the guest room. Empty.

The sounds followed her—echoing from behind, from the room she couldn’t go back to. Laughs, gasps, screams.

She checked every room, but her mother wasn’t there.

Kaylee collapsed in the hallway outside her own room, tears blurring her vision, heart hammering against her ribs like it was trying to escape.

And then, finally, she whispered it. “…Mom?”

But there was no answer.

Only those sounds.

And the quiet, crushing truth that whatever was behind that door—wasn’t her mother anymore.

[cantraps]

The Corruption Method

You are not prepared! We're back into a fantasy world for more corruption. A princess kidnapped, what will be her fate, and is that all there is to it...?

Read the first chunk here, and hold on to your butts for next month's shocking twist!

[corruptedcaps]

Cocksure

Alex pressed herself against the closet wall, her breath shallow, heart pounding so loud she feared it might betray her. The slatted door let in thin slivers of light allowing her to peer in. The apartment was dark, but the faint musk of cologne, protein powder, and something primal lingered, twisting her stomach.

She was trapped, hiding in the bedroom closet of the place she once called hers, waiting for the man she loved, or more accurately the monster he’d become, to fall asleep. How had it come to this? Her mind spiraled back, piecing together the nightmare that had led her here.

It started three weeks ago, in their new apartment, a dusty haven where she and Zack had laughed over thrift store furniture and tangled cords, dreaming of their final college year together. They were assembling a lopsided bookcase when Zack tugged at a loose floorboard. He cracked it open, revealing a hidden object.

When he unveiled it, Alex recoiled with equal parts disgust and laughter. It was a large, flesh toned rubber dildo, grotesque and out of place. She laughed as Zack waved it around, dubbing it “Excalibur.” But her amusement turned to horror when he jokingly slid it into his pants.

His eyes widened, then rolled back. He collapsed, convulsing, as his body transformed before her eyes, muscles bulging, jaw sharpening, height stretching. The dildo melted, merging with him, enveloping his own modest dick, becoming real.

When he stood, he was no longer the same nerdy Zack she loved. His soft features were gone, replaced by a chiseled, godlike face with piercing green eyes. And his voice, now cruel and cold, called her an “ugly loser,” a “zero not worthy of him.” He threw her out, slamming the door on her pleas.

Since then, Zack had become a campus legend. A six foot something quarterback, worshipped by the football team and adored by fans. He strutted around with head cheerleader Madison, once a kind, approachable girl who’d organized charity drives and remembered everyone’s name.

Now, Madison was different, vain, cold, her social media filled with smirks and tight outfits, her warmth replaced by a queen bee edge. When once she used to actively defy the mean bitch stereotype of a cheerleader, she now embraced it, embodied it with pleasure.

Alex didn't know how but she knew Madison's new attitude was solely because of Zack's corrupted cock. It had turned him into an arrogant bastard who thought he was god's gift to the world so it stood to reason that he had rubbed off on her. Or more accuracy, entered her. The thought made Alex shudder.

That's why Alex was hiding in the closet now. She had to stop him before he infected anyone else with his darkness. Sure he was with Madison now but what would happen when he moved on to other innocent good natured women. She had to get that thing off of Zack before he made an army of Madisons.

However as she listened to Zack on speaker phone as he emerged from the bathroom after freshly showering her assumption that his new anatomy had corrupted Madison was put into question.

“Baaaaaaabe. Where are you? I want that cock of yours.” Said Madison from down the line clearly tipsy with the sound of a celebration in the background.

Zach smirked. “I just need to change and then I'll be over, everyone knows the party doesn't start until I get there.” He said making Alex's eyes roll.

“Oooookay, but when you get here you're fucking me first! You've promised for weeks you'd bang my brains out. I want the power you promised me! I deserve it don't I?” Madison whined.

Alex’s mind reeled. If they hadn’t had sex, how had Madison changed? And what would happen when they did?

“Yeah, yeah I will. Gotta go.” He said in reply, not even waiting for her to say anything back before hanging up. He threw his phone onto the bed and flexed in the mirror, marvelling at himself. “You're not deserving of my cock. Not yet.”

As he continued to pose and flex, his towel slipped from his hips to display his full godlike body. Despite Alex's new revulsion to his attitude she felt herself get momentarily weak at the sight of him. There was no denying his beauty, his raw power. She shook her head, trying to focus on the task at hand.

“Only I'm worthy of my cock right now.” He growled as he wrapped his right hand around his impressive member. Alex’s cheeks burned, and she averted her eyes, but the sound of skin on skin kept her attention pinned.

He let out a low, self satisfied chuckle, his hand moving with slow, deliberate intent. Alex’s stomach churned as she realized what he was doing. The air felt thicker, heavier, like the room itself was holding its breath. Zack’s breathing grew ragged, his movements more rhythmic, and Alex tried to close her eyes but she was drawn to watching it like a moth to the flame.

Zack’s moans grew louder, more primal. His hand moved faster, but more precise. It was like watching a musician at the top of his game play his instrument. Alex couldn't stop herself from getting a little turned on by what she was seeing. She was transfixed by it. She didn't know how long she was watching before Zach arched his body, a guttural sound tearing from his throat.

“I'm a king! I'm a fucking god!” He yelled as cum erupted from his cock and shot onto the mirror. His grip loosed and his speed eased as he smirked self satisfied at himself. He collapsed back onto the mattress, panting, a lazy grin spreading across his face.

“Goddamn.” He muttered, wiping his brow. “Better every time.” He sprawled naked across the sheets, his limbs heavy with the arrogance of someone who owned the world. His phone buzzed once, twice, but he ignored it, his breathing slowing as the sapped energy became too much and sleep claimed him.

She counted his breaths, waiting until they deepened, steady and slow. Minutes dragged by, ten, maybe fifteen. Finally, she eased the closet door open, wincing at the faint creak. Zack didn’t stir.

She crept toward the bed, her bare feet silent on the carpet. Her hands trembled as she approached. Up close, Zack was even more imposing, his chest rising and falling, muscles taut even in sleep, his face a perfect mask of beauty and menace. And there, exposed, was the source of it all. His cursed cock, resting against his thigh, unnaturally flawless even in its now flaccid state.

Alex’s throat tightened. She had to try. She knelt beside the bed, her breath hitching as she reached out. Her fingers hovered, hesitating, then wrapped gently around it, her touch feather light.

It was warm, like it had a pulse of its own. She gave a small tug, expecting resistance, but hoping it might somehow detach. But it didn’t budge. She tried again, a little harder, her grip tightening. Still nothing.

Zack’s breathing remained steady, his face untroubled. Emboldened, Alex tugged again, then again, her movements slow and careful at first, almost clinical. On the third tug, a single drop of cum emerged, glistening at the tip before sliding down, dripping over her fingers.

She froze, her stomach lurching with disgust, but the sensation was fleeting, replaced by a strange tingling. Her nails began to grow, lengthening into perfect, glossy manicures, their edges sharpening with an eerie precision.

Alex’s eyes widened as she lifted her hand, the drop of cum still warm on her skin, and turned her fingers in the dim light. The manicure was flawless, long, sleek, with a high gloss finish that caught the faint glow. A thought slipped into her mind, unbidden, “This looks hawt.”

She bit her lip, admiring the way the nails made her hand look elegant, feminine, sexy even. She tried to push the thought aside, shaking her head slightly. Focus, she told herself. This is to save him. But the allure was undeniable, a small thrill sparking in her chest.

She swapped hands, wrapping her other hand around Zack’s cock, assuring herself that it was to try a different position but deep down a part of her hoped another drop would spill out to give her hands a matching set of nails.

To the delight of that part of her psyche another drop of cum popped out. It glistened as it dripped over her hand, and she felt the now familiar tingling ripple through her skin. Her nails began to grow, matching the first, long, glossy, and perfect.

The pride swelled, her mind warping further as she admired her hands. “I deserve to look this good.” She thought, the idea feeling foreign yet intoxicating. She shook off the intrusive thought, she was here to save him after all not get a new set of claws.

“Does he need saving?” Said a new thought that slithered into her mind. “This Zack is powerful, beautiful, commanding. Why would I change that?” It continued. Alex felt her mind at war with itself and as she would usually do in stressful situations she raised her hand to bite at her nails.

However in that moment she forgot, or maybe deep down chose not to remember, that cum was still on her fingers. A small amount coated her lips and a tiny drop slipped into her mouth. She swallowed it absentmindedly, the taste sharp and warm, sending a shiver down her spine.

Her pupils dilated and her lips plumped up in an instance. They become fuller, softer, a perfect, glossy pout that seemed designed to seduce. The sensation was immediate, her arousal spiked, a wave of heat flooding her body. Her nipples hardened, her thighs clenched, and her mind fogged with a raw, primal need.

Her thoughts twisted further, the subtle corruption sinking deeper. She stared at Zack’s cock, her mouth watering as the taste lingered on her tongue. “He’s mine.” She thought, the possessiveness startling her.

She tried to shake it off, to focus on her original goal, her hand returning, wrapping around his cock. However her tugs became slower, more rhythmic, almost sensual, as she imagined what it would be like to walk alongside him as who he is now, rather than the nerd he once was

To be the kind of woman who could match his perfection. The good, nerdy Alex who cared about others, who valued kindness and humility, was starting to fell like a distant memory, a weak shadow she was leaving behind with every passing second.

The longer she tugged at his cock the more it began to harden. A strange sense of pride flickered within her, uninvited. She was doing this to him, even in his sleep. She, Alex, the shy girl who always played it safe, was making this godlike man horny. The thought sent a shiver through her.

The desire pulsing through Alex became too much to resist, a relentless tide that drowned her fading resolve. Her mouth watered as she stared at Zack’s cock.

She tried to justify it, her mind scrambling for a rational excuse. “My hands are working, sort of, but I need more leverage.” She told herself. “So maybe if my mouth tries, it could loosen whatever’s holding it to him.” Deep down, she knew it was a flimsy plan, a dumb excuse that wasn’t supposed to work, that couldn’t possibly work.

But the corruption had taken root, her thoughts warping further with every heartbeat. The idea of saving Zack, of restoring the nerdy boy she once knew, felt increasingly irrelevant, almost laughable. Why would she want to undo this perfection? This powerful, beautiful man beneath her hands could be hers, no! Should be hers! The thought sent a thrill through her, her nipples hardening further as a wicked smile tugged at her lips.

Alex’s restraint shattered completely, the hunger consuming her entirely. She couldn’t resist any longer, she needed to taste him fully. Her hands trembled as she leaned in, her enhanced lips parting, and she wrapped them around Zack’s cock, the warmth and texture overwhelming her senses.

The taste exploded on her tongue, rich and intoxicating, sending a shiver of pleasure through her body. Her eyes rolled back, a muffled moan vibrating in her throat as she surrendered to the sensation, her mind spiralling deeper into its subtle corruption.

The act itself fuelled the transformation within her. The good, cautious Alex faded further, her thoughts warping with every bob of her head. She wasn’t just doing this to save him anymore, she was doing this out of pure selfish pleasure for herself.

Her mind painted vivid images, herself strutting through campus, head held high, her flawless body a testament to her new dominance. The old Alex, with her nerdy insecurities and selfless heart, felt like a distant ghost, one she was eager to bury.

She imagined crushing that weak version of herself, her glossy nails tearing through that fragile spirit, and the thought sent a jolt of wet heat through her. Her movements grew more confident, her tongue swirling with a newfound skill she never had before, her lips sliding with a rhythm that felt almost instinctive.

Drops of precum flower down her throat, tightening her body as it entered stomach. Her waist cinched leaving her hips wider, her ass more pronounced as a result. Fuzzy hair all over her body retracted in giving her smooth velvety skin. Her skin took on a golden tan replacing the ghost like paleness she had cultivated to now.

Her mind whispered dark promises. “Make him yours. Become a bitch. Take your throne.” The idea was intoxicating, drowning out the last remnants of her original intent. She wasn't here to save him, she was here to claim him.

Zack stirred, a low groan rumbling from his throat as his body registered the intense pleasure coursing through him. His eyes fluttered open, confusion flickering across his face as the haze of sleep lifted and he realized, despite her changes, that his ex girlfriend’s lips were wrapped around his cock. “Alex?” He rasped, his voice thick with sleep and shock.

She paused, her lips glistening as she pulled back just enough, her eyes locking onto his with a sultry, commanding gaze.

She pulled her lips slowly off of his cock and with a wicked smile she ran her tongue slowly up his shaft, the tip of her tongue grazing the tip of his cock. She savoured the resulting shudder. “Sorry to wake you baby. Want me to stop?” She purred, her voice low and dripping with a new, seductive authority.

Zack’s breath hitched, his eyes widening as he took in her slightly transformed appearance. Her flawless skin, her slimmer body, her glossy nails, the slutty look in her eyes. He managed to shake his head, the motion desperate, eager. “Fuck no!” He groaned.

“Right answer.” Alex murmured, her smile widening with triumph. She dove back in, her mouth working him with renewed fervor. Zack’s head fell back, a moan of ecstasy coming from his throat as she took him deeper, her hands gripping his thighs, nails leaving faint red trails.

Alex felt Zack tense beneath her, his breathing growing ragged, his thighs quivering as he teetered on the edge of release. The sensation of his impending climax sent a thrill through her, but she wasn’t ready to let it end, not yet. With a wicked smirk, she pulled back, leaving his cock throbbing in the cool air. “Not so fast.” She purred, her voice a velvet command, her eyes glinting with intent.

Zack gasped, his hands clutching the sheets, his eyes pleading as he looked up at her, desperate for more. But Alex had other plans. She stood, her flawless skin radiating power, and peeled off her clothes with a slow, deliberate motion, revealing her modest body that was soon to change.

Balling up saliva into her mouth, swirling around the bits of precum still remaining, she let it drool out of her mouth and onto her meagre A cup breasts, rubbing the liquid into them. She moaned in wanton lust as they grew bigger and bigger, becoming flawless C cups, perky and round. An improvement but she wanted more. She desired more.

Her tight pussy glistened with arousal as she climbed onto the bed, straddling him, hovering just above his aching cock. The heat between them was unbearable, a taut string ready to snap.

“Do you want me, baby?” She asked, her voice a sultry whisper, leaning closer so her hair brushed his chest, her nails grazing his skin.

Zack nodded frantically, his voice hoarse with need. “Yes, fuck yes!” He gasped. “More than anything.”

Her smile turned predatory as she positioned herself, her mind fully warped into this new, dominant persona. She wanted more. More proof.

“Tell me I’m a queen, a goddess. Tell me you’ll do anything for me. Tell me you’ll dump that pathetic Madison.” She purred, her voice a sultry command rather than a request.

Zack’s breath hitched, his body trembling with need as he gazed up at her, captivated by her transformed beauty. “You’re a queen.” He rasped, his voice thick with desperation. “A goddess. I’ll do anything for you. Anything! Madison is nothing compared to you, just… please.”

Her smile widened, a cruel satisfaction settling into her features as she savored his words, her mind fully warped into this new, commanding identity that still wasn’t happy.

She cupped his chin and leaned into his ear, her voice barely over a whisper. “Pledge your soul to me, tell me I’m your first, your last, your everything. That this evil cock of yours belongs to me. Then this pussy is all yours.”

She pulled back and for a moment was afraid he might pull a muscle from holding back so much. “Take it! You have it! It’s always been you!” He groaned loudly.

Satisfied, she shifted her hips, lowering herself slowly, deliberately, until her pussy sank onto his cock, slotting together like perfect puzzle pieces. They both moaned, the sound raw and primal, filling the room as the connection ignited.

The sensation of Zack’s cock filling her was overwhelming, a tidal wave of pleasure that crashed through Alex’s transformed body. She groaned deeply, her lips parting as moans spilled from her throat, raw and unrestrained. Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment before locking onto his, a wicked glint shining through. “Fuck me, Daddy!” She gasped, her voice thick with lust. “Fuck me until I’m a blonde alpha bitch, baby! Corrupt me fully with that evil cock!”

Zack responded with a growl, his hands gripping her hips as he thrust harder, matching the rhythm of her dirty pleas. The intensity of their union triggered further changes in her body. Her breasts swelled larger, becoming fuller and more voluptuous, straining against her skin with each movement. Her waist cinched tighter, sculpting an even more pronounced hourglass figure that accentuated her dominance. Her hair, shimmered and thickened, cascading in glossy waves of platinum blonde that framed her face like a crown, the transformation completing her into the alpha bitch she craved to be.

She arched her back, moaning loudly, her hands groping at her new big tits as she rode the waves of pleasure, her words growing more fervent. “Yes, Daddy, harder! Turn me into your perfect wicked queen! Destroy the loser Alex and make me into the slutty Lexi!” The room pulsed with their heat, her body and mind fully embracing the power and pleasure of her new identity.

The rhythm between Alex and Zack built to a fever pitch, their bodies moving in perfect sync as the pleasure reached its peak. With a shared, primal cry, they climaxed together, the orgasm crashing over them like a tidal wave. Alex’s moans mingled with Zack’s groans, her body trembling as the intensity consumed her.

As the waves of ecstasy pulsed through her, she felt the last fragile remnants of the timid, nerdy girl who once sought to save him be wiped away entirely. The final traces of that weak, caring self dissolved, erased by the flood of power and pleasure, leaving only Lexi, the blonde alpha bitch, reigning supreme in her new, untainted form. Her kind brown eyes melted away and formed into cold, icy blue eyes, her lips curling into a wicked smile as she reveled in the completeness of her transformation.

Her joy was interrupted moments later when Madison burst through the apartment door, her heels clicking with purpose, getting sick of waiting for Zack to come to her. She expected to find him alone but instead her eyes widened in horror as she stumbled upon Lexi laying astride her man like a slutty cowgirl, the air thick with the aftermath of their explosive climax.

Lexi’s platinum blonde hair cascaded wildly over her shoulders, her brilliant blue eyes gleaming with a sadistic edge as she savored the last shudders of her orgasm, her transformed body on full, arrogant display.

“You cheating bastard!” Madison shrieked, her voice quaking with fury as she pointed at Zack. “Cheating on me with this filthy whore?!” Her rage turned venomous as she glared at Lexi.

Lexi rolled her eyes, her patience obliterated by Madison’s insolence. With a predator’s grace, she slid off Zack, her flawless skin radiating a menacing allure as she rose, unfazed. She strode toward Madison with deliberate calm, her glossy nails glinting like weapons, her hips swaying with a cruel confidence that promised retribution.

Madison’s tirade continued, her insults growing more frantic. “Who do you think you are? I’m going to make sure you’re black listed across all of—”. Madison’s venom was cut short by a swift hand from Lexi, delivering a vicious slap across her face.

Zack, still sprawled on the bed, watched with rapt attention, his cock hardening visibly, a dark thrill coursing through him at Lexi’s brutality. His breath quickened, his eyes burning with arousal as he took in her commanding cruelty.

Lexi loomed over Madison, her lips curling into a sneer so cold it could freeze fire. “Let me guess, after you first hooked up you saw what the power of his cock could do when you gave him a simple handjob. It brought out the bitch in you, but you wanted more.” Lexi said as she circled Madison like a vulture.

“You ached for the power his cock could give you. That's why you came over here, why you're dressed so slutty. Well tough shit bitch, it's mine now. You’re a pathetic wannabe queen.” She hissed, her voice a blade of ice and venom. “A worthless placeholder, a little toy keeping my man entertained until his true queen returned to claim him. Why do you think he never had sex with you? He knew there was better waiting out there for him.” She smirked as she looked over to Zack who's cock was standing at full attention, unable to hide his animalistic attraction to Lexi.

“But now that I’m back, we and this campus, have no use for your existence, Madison.” She leaned in, her tone dripping with sadistic delight. “Zack is mine again, your friends will soon beg me to lead them, your status as queen bee will fit me like a glove. I’m going to strip you of everything you have... including your designer clothes.”

Madison’s eyes widened, terror creeping into her expression as Lexi’s stalked up to her, her gaze fixed on her outfit, a scandalously sexy, black latex two piece that hugged her curves, the top barely hiding her tits and at the same time exposing her navel, paired with thigh-high stiletto boots that screamed dominance. “Take it off.” Lexi commanded, her voice a whip crack of authority. “My man and I have a party to dominate, and I want that slutty little outfit.”

Madison’s hands shook, her defiance crumbling under Lexi’s merciless stare. She hesitated, tears welling, but the threat in Lexi’s eyes was undeniable. With a choked sob, she peeled off the two pieces and kicked off the boots, the revealing latex falling to the floor as she stood naked, her dignity shattered.

Lexi snatched the outfit with a triumphant, cruel laugh and slipped into it, the fabric stretching obscenely tight over her transformed body. The pieces clung to her like a second skin, the top straining to contain her larger breasts, pushing them up into a breathtaking display of cleavage, the hem riding so high it exposed the curve of her ass.

She adjusted the stiletto boots, the heels elongating her legs into a vision of lethal elegance. She ran her hands over her hips, admiring the tightness, the way it accentuated her bigger breasts and tighter waist, her platinum hair and blue eyes completing the image of a ruthless, irresistible queen.

Zack’s gaze was riveted, his arousal palpable as he groaned, “Holy fuck, Lexi, you’re a goddamn goddess in that.” Lexi turned to him, her smirk widening with sadistic pride, then cast a final, withering glance at Madison. “You can stay here loser and sniff our sheets, me and my man have a party to rule over.” She spat, her voice dripping with contempt. “But if you're still here when we're back later you're going to wish you weren't. Come on babe.”

Lexi strode out without another glance at Madison who was shivering in her underwear. Zack quickly threw on a shirt and raced after his new old paramour. His cock now twitched when he even thought of her. It felt as though it were a homing missile that would always find her. Little did either of them know that the magic cock wasn't a King maker, in reality it was a Queen maker and Lexi's reign was just beginning.

[beautification-tales]

Co-Dependent

"You're just so... different, you know?" said Kara, eyeing Grace's lunch with a mix of amusement and disgust. She took a bite of her own burger, the mayo oozing out and staining the white bun.

Grace looked up from her salad bowl, a hint of irritation flickering in her eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

“Like I heard you were popular back in high school. I mean all the boys from my class wanted to drive an hour to visit your school. Then I meet you… and you’re…” Kara gestured to the salad and then to Billie’s lanky frame, dressed in a vintage band t-shirt.

“Ordinary? Is that what you’re trying to say?” Billie spoke up, her voice a little sharper than she’d intended. The cafeteria buzzed around them, but it was as if the table had become an island of tension.

“I just don’t understand the hype.” Kara smirked, her friends snickering in agreement. Grace's cheeks flushed with a silent anger. “We decided being bitches wasn’t worth it. But how’s it working for you Kara?”

Kara’s smug expression faltered, and the room grew quieter as everyone leaned in to catch the impending drama. The smell of greasy fries and the sound of soda cans opening seemed to fade away. Grace's words had been like a pin prick to the bubble of tension. Billie felt a swell of pride for her friend, who had always been the calmer, more diplomatic one of the two.

“Sorry just asking. C’mon girls we’re leaving.” Kara stood up, tossing her half-eaten burger onto her tray. Her friends followed suit, their laughter trailing behind them as they strutted away, leaving Grace and Billie at the table.

“Is it really worth it Grace?” Billie whispered after the trio had disappeared into the crowd, her eyes scanning the room, expecting more glares or snickers. But the other students had already moved on, their attention grabbed by something else, leaving Grace and Billie in a pocket of relative quiet.

Grace looked through her eyeglasses. “You know why we agreed to stop.” She spoke so softly, Billie had to lean closer to hear. “But maybe we should show them who we really are, who we’ve become since high school. They can’t define us with their petty judgments. Besides, we’re not here to impress them or anyone else for that matter. We’re here to get our degrees and move on with our lives.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry” Billie replied. Grace took a deep breath, pushing her glasses up her nose, her eyes scanning the room for any signs of lingering malice. “You don’t have to agree so easily Billie. I’m not that bitch anymore.. I’m your friend and I care what you think ok?”

Billie nodded and went back to eating. "You know I don't care what they think, Grace. We've got each other." The two girls finished eating and attended class. They both took notes as Kara and her friends laughed and joked in the back. The class came to an end as Kara approached them. “You actually paid attention? How cute!” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Kara walked to the professor to flirt and fuck for her grade. Grace shook her head in disgust as Billie looked on in jealousy. “Let’s go Billie. We need to study for the test anyway.” Grace grabbed her books and stood up, her chair scraping against the floor.

Billie nodded, following her friend out of the classroom. They decided to hit the library early to avoid the after-class rush. The heavy oak doors of the library swung open, revealing the cool, quiet space filled with the scent of old books and the faint hum of the air conditioner. They found a table near the back, surrounded by towering bookshelves that offered them a bit of privacy.

They sat and opened their books. “I do miss how it was in high school. We should be running this place.” Billie said determined. Grace looked up from her book and sighed. “You’re talking like an addict. We agreed that.”

“You agreed! I just followed along like usual but I’m sick of bitches like Kara enjoying the lives we should be living!” Billie’s voice grew a little louder, echoing through the hushed library.

“Lower your voice you idiot!” Grace hissed, glancing around nervously. Billie bit her lip as her eyes rolled in the back of her head. “Mmm there she is! Now call me a pathetic slut and make eat your pussy as you plan to put Kara in her place.”

Billie put her hand on Grace’s arm, her eyes pleading. “No! I refuse to be that evil bitch again!” Grace’s eyes searched Billie’s, finding a mix of anger and fear. She took a deep breath, her grip on the textbook tightening. “Okay, Billie. We’re not going back to that. We threw the rings away remember?”

“Wrong!” Billie pulled out a ring an placed it on her finger. “Ungh … I missed this! I love being sexy!” Billie’s voice had changed, it had become more seductive and alluring. Her breasts, which were once small and unnoticeable, began to swell, pushing against the fabric of her shirt. Grace’s eyes widened in shock as she watched Billie transform.

“Don’t do this Billie! You’re a good person” Grace whispered urgently, her voice barely audible above the library’s white noise. But Billie’s transformation was already underway. Her once flat ass grew, the buttons of her jeans straining to contain the newfound volume. Grace felt a strange mix of horror and fascination, her mind racing with unanswered questions and a building dread of what was to come.

“Don’t you remember when we stole them from the Alpha bitches our Sophomore year? How fucking good it felt?” Billie caressed her new curves savoring her transformation. Grace put her head down trying to fight her arousal.

“Please Grace! I want this! I want you to be that legendary bitch again.”

Billie smirked, her eyes gleaming with a mischievous light. “Remember how we used to make those sluts beg for mercy? That’s power, Grace. That’s what we gave up, and now we can have it back!”

Without warning, Billie’s hand shot out and grabbed Grace’s chin, tilting her head up. Their eyes met, and for a brief moment, Grace could see the flicker of doubt in Billie’s gaze. But it was quickly swallowed by the seductive power that seemed to be consuming her. Before she could react, Billie’s other hand began to wander, gliding over the soft fabric of Grace’s shirt and teasingly grazing her nipples. Grace’s breath hitched, and she felt her body respond despite her mind’s protests. The warmth from Billie’s touch spread through her, igniting a fire in her core that she thought she’d left behind in their high school days.

“Don’t you miss making me please you as your slave?” Billie’s voice was a sultry whisper, her eyes dancing with a mischief that sent a shiver down Grace’s spine. She felt Billie’s hand squeeze her chin, guiding her face closer to those heaving breasts that had suddenly filled her shirt. “We were unstoppable, remember?”

Grace’s resolve wavered. She couldn’t deny the allure of their past power. The way they had strutted through the halls of their high school, feared and desired by all. But she had worked hard to shed that image, to become someone better, someone kinder. “Billie, we can’t... we can’t go back to that.”

“Last chance or I’m finding a new mistress. Kara seems promising.” Billie’s voice was playful yet had a hint of seriousness. Grace’s heart pounded in her chest as she stared at the ring on Billie’s finger. “I’m ten times the bitch Kara is!”

Her thoughts raced, the memories of their high school reign coming back in a flood. The power, the fear they had instilled in everyone, the rush of it all. "My ring give it to me." Grace's voice was firm, a command that Billie had not heard from her in a very long time. She felt a jolt of excitement, but also a hint of trepidation.

Billie pulled out another ring and slipped it onto Grace's bare ring finger. It fit perfectly, as if it had been waiting for this moment. The second the metal touched her skin, Grace felt the change begin. Her hair grew out, transforming from her mousy brown bob to a cascade of golden waves that fell over her shoulders. Her eyes, once a plain brown, turned a piercing blue that seemed to see right through people. Her glasses fell off, no longer needed, as her vision sharpened. Her cheekbones became more pronounced, her skin glowing with a newfound confidence.

“Fuck! The power…. I did miss it. I want it back!” Grace exclaimed, her voice laced with both excitement and trepidation. Billie's eyes widened as she watched the transformation take hold of her friend.

Grace’s body began to morph, her breasts swelling beneath her blouse, straining the fabric until buttons popped open, revealing the pale, creamy skin of her rapidly growing cleavage. The sight was mesmerizing, and Billie couldn’t help but let her gaze linger, remembering all the times she’d envied Grace’s ability to command attention. Grace’s ass grew too, filling out her pants until they hugged her curves so tightly that it was a wonder they didn’t split at the seams. The room around them seemed to shrink as the power of their former selves began to pulse through them.

Billie’s hand didn’t leave Grace’s chin, instead it slid down her neck, her fingertips tracing the line of her collarbone and making their way to her exposed chest. Grace’s breath grew shallow and quick, her moans of pleasure echoing through the library. Billie leaned in, her breath hot on Grace’s neck as she whispered sweet nothings that were anything but innocent.

Grace looked at her companion and partner. Dark thoughts filled her mind as she thought of how to rule.

“Mmmm we’re back bitch.”

[kelykorruption]

Factory Default

Val was your typical goth girl for most of her young life, being drawn to the style at a young age and embracing the lifestyle. In high school Val discovered her sexuality and realized she just wasn't attracted to men. Even though she wasn't your stereotypical popular girl, everyone at school was drawn to Val, boys thought they could change her, and girls wanted to be her, or be with her. Despite this Val kept most people at arms length, she knew nobody wanted her for who she was on the inside, they all just wanted the hot goth girl for her looks.

Going into university Val was sure not much would change but was hopeful she might find at least one other like-minded person at such a massive school. Luckily it didn't take long for Val to meet someone that actually understood her, someone who looked and thought like her, not to copy or impress her, but to express their own personality. Before long they introduced her to others who shared her lifestyle and for the first time in a long time Val was surrounded by people who understood and respected her, this was the happiest she had ever been.

One day after class Val was heading home to get ready for her first day at her new job, she was going to bartend at a new alternative bar that opened up just outside campus grounds. The new bar was kinda tacky, feeling more like Hot Topic without children than an actual bar, but the vibes were good and the pay was alright so Val was pretty excited to get started.

Before she could make it home though Val was stopped on the street by a stranger, she didn't recognize him from any of her classes and he didn't really seem like a student at all. The man asked Val if she wanted to see a magic trick, Val rolled her eyes and told the man she had no time for a silly card trick before he cut her off and closed the gap between the two of them. Before she has a chance to react the man leans in and whispers into her ear "Factory Default", her vision goes blank as Val falls unconscious on the ground.

Hours later Valarie woke up in her room at the sorority house, her head was spinning and everything felt off but she just couldn't figure out what it was. There was a knock at the door and one of her sorority sister pocked their heads in "Are you still not ready babe? We're leaving in 20 minutes to hit the clubs, hurry up or there won't be any studs left to buy you drinks". The thought horrified Valarie and she immediately got right to applying her makeup, she wouldn't be caught dead buying her own drinks, that's what boys were for, and she learned long ago how to get whatever she wanted from them.

END.

[sexyslut033]

Employee Relations

I'd been at the company of my dreams for 18 months before everything fell apart.

I'd grown up with a strongly misogynistic father who wouldn't let my mother work, and tried to stop me from going to college. That's why when I found the feminist magazine, my life changed. I was able to find strong role models for a striving, intellectual life. Once I got to college I majored in women's studies, and managed to secure a dream job at the magazine that changed my life after graduation.

They had a small staff, so I was brought on as the executive assistant for the company's trailblazing founder, Cate Farmer. It wasn't writing yet, but it gave me firsthand involvement in a project which I valued more than anything else, and she quickly became mentor and friend. I felt more than ever that I had finally escaped the oppressive ideology of my father. Then the collapse.

I walked into work on the worst day of my life ready for a new day of striving to make the world better, though the presence of more cars in the parking lot than ever before did confuse me. When I entered, the office was in chaos. I found one of the copy editors, Natasha, and only subconsciously noticed the normally-icy girl was wearing a bit of makeup before she gave me the news. Cate had been ousted by the board of directors after having been found to have embezzled a fortune from our investors.

I barely had time to process the betrayal and mourn the loss of my mentor before Natasha lowered her voice conspiratorially.

"The board have put in one of their own. I only saw him for a second, but he was ~really cute~."

The comment was completely out of left field. I'd been fairly certain Natasha was a lesbian, if not out of natural attraction then out of sheer refusal to engage with the masculine sex. Yet here she was, gossiping about our new boss' looks, and giggling like a schoolgirl about it? Before I could interrogate the strange behavior, however, a handsome young man in a pressed suit put his hand on my arm. "You're Sammy, right?"

I flinched at his touch, and said poisonously, "I'm Sam, yeah, why?"

The young man merely smiled bemusedly, frustratingly handsome. "Well, you are the assistant to the CEO, aren't you?"

I looked at him, bewildered. "Yeah, obviously."

"Well then I think you're about 20 minutes late, so you should probably cut it with the indignation and go make an appearance. Rick is waiting for you in his office."

Everything about the interaction was off putting. Under Cate, we'd never been worried about petty details like the time the workday started. The way that the man spoke so possessively, though, about our space and our time, in this holy temple of feminist self-actualization, nearly made me sick. He snapped me out of my shock and back into fury, if at least more functional fury, by tapping his watch condescendingly. Even as I stalked away angrily, though, I thought about how annoyingly handsome he was. -Its always been maddening, my weakness for alpha corporate types.-

This thought once more stopped me in my tracks. I didn't have a weakness for corporate alpha types. The only boyfriend I'd ever had was a shy poet. I found men like that revolting. And yet I couldn't deny it. My heart (and something) else was fluttering, I noted in indignation, as I thought about his easy confidence, his natural condescension for my weak female mind. Before I could interrogate this even more concerning thought, however, I found myself stepping into 'Rick's' office.

"Uh, Rick?" I said, awkwardly. His chair was turned away from the door, though I could smell his cologne already. Inconsequentially I noted the room had already been redesigned. A commanding, earthen, overwhelmingly masculine voice issued "Mr. Harding to you. You are 23 minutes late." The voice crashed over me in waves, reducing me nearly to a puddle immediately. Every smart comment I had thought up to cut down his male arrogance melted, and I said, nearly in tears, "I'm so sorry Mr. Harding, it wont happen again."

"Sir."

This made my knees buckle from its force, and I whimpered "I'm so sorry Mr. Harding sir, I wont disappoint you again." The sheer authority in his voice seemed to work its way not only into the control center of my brain but to drift south, pulling aside my plain panties and tickling my cunt. -I've never called it a cunt before- I thought, blankly.

"Sit." Mr. Harding turned around and I was captivated. He was the pinnacle of pure masculinity. Strong lines defined his face, his eyes betrayed immediate contempt for me and everything I believed in. "So you are my absent secretary," he said, dismissively.

"Personal assistant," I choked out against the force of his disdain.

"You are my office girl. You answer my phones and complete my commands. You are a secretary. Personal assistants, like Jared who you met earlier, require decisive independence, competence. I wouldn't trust an air headed girl like you to do that job." Something deep inside me tried in vain to rebel against his assessment. However, his voice and looks seemed to clear the virgin land of my brain, throwing up new buildings and roads with ease, generating new pathways and ideas in an instant. I was an airhead. I knew it. That's why I worked as a secretary. Real jobs were for organized, ambitious types. -Men- I thought, quietly. The force of realization left me dazed on the chair, head back, legs open for him to see my -boring- panties.

"Lucky for you, being my secretary is a very important position." I stirred at the comment, trying and failing to meet those jet black eyes. "You help keep morale up by looking sexy and being helpful. You may be a vapid party girl who can't handle serious office work, but you're great at filling coffee, prancing around the office in those skyscraper heels and miniskirts. Everyone loves it when you lean over their desks, revealing that hot cunt you wouldn't dare to cover up. You know your pussy and your body are your value. But as long as you look hot, we're happy to keep you around."

At that point, the identity shattering force of the speech made me black out. When I came to, I was in a fashionable bar somewhere. Mr. Harding sat across from me, eyes roving hungrily over the low-cut dress I discovered I was wearing. Everywhere his eyes fell tingled pleasurably. I smiled vapidly, and he nodded to the goblet of champagne before me. "Drink up slut, that's worth more than you are." I giggled thoughtlessly.

These days going to work is always a blast. I love it when Mr. Harding fucks me over the desk first thing in the morning. The office always has cute boys around to give me attention throughout the day, even if I have to complete with the rest of my slut squad. That's ok though, any girl who gets fucked over a desk is doing their part to keep the office running. These days the office mostly creates tiktok content promoting right wing politics. We model in the videos, and get to show off our hot bodies for men all over the world. I also keep up my personal tiktok page when we're not recording for the company, which totally blew up a couple months ago, though these days I'm focusing more on my onlyfans. I have a special deal on there for any young girls who wants to learn how to be better sluts. I know my dad has my mom on that plan. She's looking super hot and fuckable these days!

I love my life.

[shadow211e]

Bitch Swap

Melissa was walking to her locker, it was the first day of senior year, she had turned 18 over the summer and no one was going to make her feel less than who she was. She felt empowered for the first time. All the seniors were called into school's gym, today's assembly was to find out who would be swapping. The town had a little magic, it went back generations but it was centered at the school. About 20 years ago the principal at the time decided to make things more fair, and used the powers to swap the personalities of two students. He called it "Grass is Greener," but everyone else called it Bitch Swap. Over the summer names were submitted and 5 were posted to the two main groups of the school, the more nerdy kids and the kids that well are huge bitches and sluts. One name was picked from each side for each sex, so one guy and girl, and those people would be changed to conform and fit with the other side. Something that Melissa wasn't aware of, that if your name was submitted and chosen they were given the opposite sides names to vote but not given the same group. So when the nominees were announced and she heard her name she was shocked. "What the fuck?" She looked at her boyfriend, "how the fuck did I get nominated?" He looked at her "We did it, we were putting up names, and we got together and voted in our group and submitted your name, we figured you would never get chosen so you would be safe." "Are you out of your fucking mind?" "Babe, come on, there are 5 girls and 5 boys picked from each side, that's not a huge chance for you to be picked." "That's 20% dipshit." Melissa's friend Stephanie looked at her "whoa chill out Mel, we all put some names in, you are always overlooked by people in our friends so what makes you think they would ever decide on you." "This is so fucked up, and Stephanie if you were so sure why didn't you put your name in?" "You don't think I did?" "So you put my name in and now I could be picked and changed. This is fucking great." "It won't happen babe." "You don't want to talk to me right now." "Sorry," he said feeling like he wronged the one girl who saw something in him. The principal started to speak, in a more serious tone starts to say some words before opening an envelope, "The chosen few who will be swapping, Morgan Donald," he said talking about one of the larger bullies in school, "and Kevin Jackson," who was a nice guy, for now at least. There were some claps and boos. "For the girls, "Tiffany Baker," as the name was read, oohs went out from the crowd as everyone turned to one of the hottest blondes in school, she was rumored to be fucking at least two guys other than her boyfriend and even a couple teachers. "And Melissa Stout." Her stomach dropped, she was picked, she didn't hear the whispers, the words of students asking who it was. She was known by seniors but not closely known and even when they heard her name they weren't actually sure who it was. Her friends all turned to face her with horror on their faces. Her boyfriend looked "Melissa," she snapped, bringing her hand up and slapping him across the face. "FUCK YOU!!" she screamed, the scream echoing in the gym. She stood up and stormed out of the gym, one of the teachers was there to talk to her. She needed to be spoken to about what was going to happen. She was also going to be given newer classes because the school seemed to notice any one who was changed ended up unable to keep up in their classes. She got a new schedule and went to her locker, she opened it with a bang, some people were taking these aggressive attitudes as her already changing. She was so mad now. Getting to her first class, a remedial English class, she slumped back opening the letter, explaining that no only would she be going through this but everyone else would start to become affected by the magic, by the end of the week no one who knew her would remember who she was unless they truly cared about her. She laughed, "no one I know truly cares about me, otherwise they wouldn't have put my name into that fucking thing."

Tiffany was laughing as she was walking home from school, she heard her named called in the stupid thing and laughed as she knew she would finally be able to get out of this life. She was a slut because her mom was a slut, she went back years ago and found out her mom was picked. Her mom became one of biggest sluts in town, growing up it was all that Tiffany had known and she was walking down the path that her mom ended up walking. Now with the swap she wouldn't be looked at like the biggest slut in school, but would have a chance at college, getting out of this town and moving away so her kids wouldn't have to deal with anything like that. She felt bad for Melissa, she had known her since they were girls, Melissa was a sweetheart. But nothing was going to stop what was about to happen and it would sound like hollow words if she tried to talk to her about it. So she would enjoy the last week of her being this way.

Magic on the body worked quickly, in a few days Melissa's body had swelled and grown, her desires for sex grew as well. She tried to hold onto things with her boyfriend, that first night she practically jumped him when he came over to make her feel better. But he was one of the people who submitted her name, and that made her angry, she also was starting to see him as a nice guy, a kind boy, and that just dried her up. Her needs were becoming that of a wanton slut and her morals were shrinking as she was becoming wicked. Soon Melissa was taking naked selfies, sending them to all the bad boys she knew, even some of the teachers who up until this week were on good terms with her. Now after being cussed out by several of the staff, though more than a couple started hitting on her too, she was starting to enjoy this new life. She had wanted to be empowered this year, wanted to show herself in a new light. Well she got her wish even if it wasn't in the way she had imagined it.

TIffany by the end of the week was enjoying herself. She would wear clothes that didn't show off her body but still made her feel beautiful. Words like beautiful were used to describe her instead of words like slut, town bike, whore. She felt shy for the first time, but she was also noticing the attention from guys had changed, she wasn't being viewed as a piece of meat or as a sexual toy, but being seen for something more. Tiffany soon was soon finding out how nice nice guys can be and felt ashamed for all the guys she teased and tormented, all the ones she led on to get work done. And when she started to date this nice guy, she felt loved for the first time.

Melissa by the end of the week had embraced the change, she would walk down the hall knowing guys were staring at her, trying to eye fuck her, some guys would approach her thinking they had a chance and she would mock them, degrade them and humiliate them in front of the rest of the school. She had a list of boys in school that she could call to fuck her, ones she knew had girlfriends who would still come to her at a call. There were even a few teachers on the list as well, all married men of course, single guys were so easy she got bored of them. She loved making a man cum in her or cum on her face or tits, watching their cocks shrivel back down and then scamper off to their waiting wives or girlfriends. Her favorite tease was her ex boyfriend, funny enough he was the only one to remember who she was. Anytime he got a new girlfriend, she would find out, and call him, send pictures, or meet him at his locker act all lovey dovey to the point were whatever girl he was with would end it because they wouldn't believe he wasn't fucking the biggest slut in school. It helped that Melissa knew everything about him, including the small birthmark by his cock, which was always the breaking point for the girls, because really how would she know if she wasn't fucking him.

[ravensolo77]

The Shutter of Lust

Seacrest Hollow was a devout coastal refuge, perched precariously on rugged cliffs where the Atlantic murmured sacred hymns. Its 1,200 inhabitants resided in 200 weathered buildings: quaint shingle cottages, a main avenue lined with 10 brick shops—a bakery, a bookstore, a candle shop—and a boardwalk featuring 12 stalls selling rosaries, Bibles, and driftwood crosses. At the heart of the town stood the pier, the sacred nucleus, home to a church with a gray steeple, a garden for hymns, and a lighthouse serving as a beacon for prayer vigils. The waves crashed relentlessly, the air was infused with salt and beeswax, and the cliffs, adorned with sea lavender, attracted couples for pure-hearted weddings and youths for retreats focused on chastity. Seacrest Hollow was a stronghold of faith, where its residents renounced sin in favor of scripture, their existence tethered by repression, yet beneath their pious facade lay a deep-seated yearning for liberation.

At 65 years old, Desmond Holt found himself a widower, his body ravaged by lung cancer, with hands that once held steady now trembling with a fervor for photography that overshadowed his failing health. With medical treatments proving ineffective, he faced months left to live, his aspirations of sketching rugged cliffs and teaching Sunday school slowly slipping away. During a church rummage sale in a nearby town—a windy lot filled with the sounds of gospel music—he stumbled upon a battered Nikon F3. Despite its scratched lens, it sparkled with an enigmatic charm. The seller, an elderly man with piercing eyes, offered it for $8, softly saying, 'It reveals the secrets of the soul.' Captivated by its vintage weight, Desmond made the purchase, placing it on his shelf where it remained untouched. Meanwhile, Seacrest Hollow, in need of a photographer for church functions, welcomed him with open arms, scheduling him for weddings and community directories. The Nikon, brimming with an intoxicating promise, lay in wait to unveil the sacred moments of the town.

The journey of change began at the Salazar wedding. Lucia Salazar, 28, was a marine biologist whose passion for the ocean’s secrets inspired her work at the lighthouse lab in Seacrest Hollow. Her hidden dreams of swimming freely like a mythical creature were expressed through her sketches. Dressed in a simple white gown, her olive skin, dark curls, and hazel eyes radiated beauty as she wed Mateo Torres, 30, a woodworker dedicated to crafting altar rails. His warm brown eyes, shy smile, and calloused hands spoke of his gentle faith. They posed on the cliffs at twilight, surrounded by swaying lavender and the sound of crashing waves. Desmond, leaning on his cane, steadied the Nikon—his first attempt—its weight providing stability against his trembling hands. Click. The sound of the shutter ignited a tingling sensation in his fingers.

Inside his darkroom—a rustic shed infused with the scent of pine—the photographs developed under the warm glow of amber light. Two striking images appeared. The first captured Lucia, 22, transformed into a captivating mermaid reclining gracefully on the rugged rocks of Siren's Cove, her olive-hued skin glistening, dark curls dripping, hazel eyes exuding seduction, while her shimmering teal tail and seashell top radiated an intoxicating allure, inviting sailors with her enchanting siren’s call. The second depicted Mateo, reimagined as Marina another ethereal mermaid positioned on the same rocky outcrop, her deep brown eyes ablaze with passion, Mateo's features softened into femininity, her pearlescent pink tail and coral top drawing the gaze, her siren song amplifying the cove's irresistible charm. Desmond coughed, his heart pounding. He examined the negatives—identical shots, divided into two tantalizing frames. No mistake here.

He found himself unable to part with the photographs. Their magnetism held him captive, murmuring tales of existence. He secured them within a leather-bound scrapbook, inscribing 'Lucia Vane, Siren' and 'Marina Vale, Siren' in uneven handwriting, concealed beneath his floorboards. The following day, Lucia and Mateo disappeared from Seacrest Hollow. Church records wiped them from history. Their X profiles vanished without a trace. The wedding faded from memory. Only Desmond remembered Lucia's findings and Mateo's endeavors. Soon, chatter erupted on tabloid sites: Lucia and Marina, were seen as mermaids in Siren's Cove, their enchanting songs attracting throngs, their beauty transforming the town. Both had been reborn, youthful and captivating, their previous identities forgotten by everyone except Desmond.

He grasped the Nikon, its lens glistening with allure. A devout man—praying each day, giving generously—he felt its call, a temptation to challenge mortality. He placed it on a tripod in his studio, which was a garage adorned with velvet curtains, amber lights, and a chaise longue—to adjust its focus for an upcoming church project. The camera buzzed, its lens repositioning. Desmond tweaked it, clearing his throat, when the shutter clicked unexpectedly. Snap.

trembling hands smoothed, his frail frame curved into elegance. His gray hair flowed into jet-black waves, his gaunt face bloomed into porcelain. In the mirror, Desmond was gone. Desmona, 22, stood, with crimson lips, a body radiating desire, and eyes blazing with ambition. In a leather corset and silk skirt, the Nikon around her neck, she was no echo of Desmond—she was Desmona, her mind a furnace of seduction. His memories—his cancer, his faith—were dust. The scrapbook was hers, its secrets igniting her hunger. She knew the camera’s power to unleash forbidden lusts, her role its eternal seductress. Each shot would preserve her youth, her beauty a timeless flame.

Desmona’s lips curled into a wicked smile. “Let’s set this town ablaze,” she purred, the Nikon warm against her skin.

Desmona roamed Seacrest Hollow, her presence igniting curiosity, her Nikon held like a regal scepter. At a church picnic, she captured Anna Wells, 32, a seamstress with enchanting blonde braids, sparkling blue eyes, and sun-kissed freckles, diligently stitching vestments, while her secret sketches of daring gowns stayed hidden. Click. The photograph unveiled Anya Rose, 22, clad in a delicate lace bodysuit, creatively crafting provocative lingerie in a trendy boardwalk boutique, her blue eyes alluring, freckles aglow, and blonde hair cascading freely, radiating an irresistible charm. Anna's past faded away—her vestments disappeared, her name fading into obscurity—but Anya Rose sprang to life in Seacrest Hollow, her boutique alluring the faithful, her X posts flaunting intricate lace thongs. Desmona added her photo to her scrapbook, titled “Anya Rose, Designer,” her own youthful spirit rekindled.

During a retreat, Clara Hayes, 25, with striking auburn hair and captivating green eyes, and Sophie Lane, 27, sporting brunette curls and deep brown eyes, led a Bible study session, their laughter hinting at hidden dreams. Click. The image captured Clara and Sophie, now 22, as they embraced their identities as lesbian cam models in transparent lingerie, broadcasting steamy shows from a luxurious cliffside penthouse, their fiery gazes intense, with radiant auburn and brunette tresses, showcasing palpable chemistry. Their previous identities were erased—retreat records deleted, X chats vanished—but Clara and Sophie reemerged in Seacrest Hollow, their X streams reaching billions. Desmona's scrapbook featured their photo, labeled 'Clara Hayes & Sophie Lane, Cam Girls,' accentuating her enchanting beauty.", "At a youth retreat, Clara Hayes, 25, with her auburn locks and vibrant green eyes, and Sophie Lane, 27, with her dark curls and warm brown eyes, facilitated a Bible study, their giggles hinting at unspoken desires. Click. The picture revealed both Clara and Sophie, now aged 22, as lesbian cam performers in see-through lingerie, broadcasting provocative shows from a cliffside penthouse, their smoldering gazes captivating, the red and brown of their hair glowing, their connection electric. Their former selves faded away—retreat journals erased, X chats deleted—but Clara and Sophie reemerged in Seacrest Hollow, their X streams amassing billions of views. Desmona's scrapbook included their snapshot, labeled 'Clara Hayes & Sophie Lane, Cam Girls,' enhancing her striking allure.

At a high school graduation, she shot Elizabeth Anderson, 18, a valedictorian with blonde ponytail, blue eyes, and freckled cheeks, her speech praising purity, her diary hiding erotic stories. Click. The photo showed Eliza Thorn, 18, a porn star in a satin robe, filming explicit scenes in a pier studio, her blue eyes sultry, freckles stark, blonde hair flowing, her presence magnetic. Elizabeth’s old life was erased—her transcript vanished, her TikTok gone—but Eliza Thorn appeared in Seacrest Hollow, her X clips viral, her films redefining desire. Desmona’s scrapbook gained her photo, labeled “Eliza Thorn, Star,” her allure deepening.

At a church directory shoot, she shot Mary Grace, 50, a church matron with gray bun, gray eyes, and wrinkled skin, leading women’s prayer, her secret romance novels stashed under her bed. Click. The photo showed Maris Grace, 22, a Playboy model, nude, posing in a cliffside mansion, her gray eyes seductive, gray hair now platinum waves, her youthful body radiant. Mary’s old life was erased—her prayer group forgot her, her hymnals gone—but Maris Grace surfaced in Seacrest Hollow, her X spreads iconic. Desmona’s scrapbook added her photo, labeled “Maris Grace, Model,” her charm blazing.

At a pier festival, she shot Finn Carver, 29, a dockworker with sandy hair and gray eyes, hauling nets, his journals full of forbidden fantasies. Click. The photo showed Fiona Lux, 22, a high-end escort in a silk gown, hosting elite clients in a seaside villa, her gray eyes smoldering, sandy hair gleaming, her allure irresistible. Finn’s old life was erased—his bunkhouse empty, his name forgotten—but Fiona Lux moved into Seacrest Hollow, her X teasing tycoons. Desmona’s scrapbook gained her photo, labeled “Fiona Lux, Escort,” her youth eternal.

Each transformation was raw, each soul reborn younger, their repressed lusts unleashed, their allure reshaping Seacrest Hollow. Lucia Vane and Marina Vale, mermaids of Siren’s Cove, lured sailors and tourists with their siren songs from jagged rocks, their olive and pearlescent skin shimmering, their teal and pink tails and sultry eyes hypnotic, their presence a mythic beacon. Anya Rose’s lingerie boutique, its crotchless panties and bras, corrupted the pious, her freckles and blue eyes alluring. Clara Hayes and Sophie Lane’s cam shows, streamed live, inspired orgies, their auburn and brunette hair glowing, their passion electric. Eliza Thorn’s porn films, shot on the pier, streamed millions, her freckles and blue eyes iconic, her scenes raw. Maris Grace’s nude Playboy shoots, posed on cliffs, redefined beauty, her platinum hair and gray eyes captivating. Fiona Lux’s elite galas, held in her villa, fueled scandals, her sandy hair and gray eyes magnetic.

Their old lives were erased, but they reappeared in Seacrest Hollow, younger and insatiable, their photos feeding Desmona’s ageless allure. Each click amplified her beauty—crimson lips plumper, jet-black hair glossier, eyes fiercer, her presence a siren’s call. She was the Nikon’s queen, her youth a mirror of her power.

The scrapbook swelled, a chronicle of vice. Desmona alone remembered their old names—Lucia Salazar, Mateo Torres, Anna Wells, Clara Hayes, Sophie Lane, Elizabeth Anderson, Mary Grace, Finn Carver—but their new selves ruled Seacrest Hollow’s sultry streets, their names—Lucia Vane, Marina Vale, Anya Rose, Clara Hayes, Sophie Lane, Eliza Thorn, Maris Grace, Fiona Lux—whispered in its lustful haze.

Desmona scoured X and vintage forums for the Nikon’s origins. A post on a photography site intrigued her: the camera, called “The Shutter of Lust,” appeared in 1955 at a Havana nightclub. A photographer shot a dancer; the photo showed her as a burlesque queen, younger and radiant. She vanished, her troupe forgetting her, but reappeared nearby, her allure infamous. The camera resurfaced in 1970s Rio, then 1990s Vegas, always erasing subjects, always rebirthing them younger, their lusts unleashed. A user claimed it was forged by a libertine’s pact, a lens to “free the flesh.” Desmona smirked, cradling the Nikon, its heat her lover. She was its eternal vixen, her ambition insatiable.

Her hunger raged. She opened Desmona’s Photo Studio in the lighthouse, its neon sign flashing “Unleash Your Vice.” Locals, drawn by rumors of her “life-changing” lens, paid in crypto, signed blood-oath NDAs, and begged for the Nikon’s touch. Click. A pastor became a stripper, his club on the pier. A librarian became an erotic novelist, her books sold in the bookshop. Each vanished from memory, resurfacing younger, their lives swelling Seacrest Hollow’s debauched heart, their photos fueling Desmona’s timeless beauty—lips fuller, curves sharper, eyes hypnotic.

Seacrest Hollow succumbed to debauchery. The boardwalk’s twelve stalls transformed into adult shops and fetish emporiums, their neon lights illuminating the night. The church began hosting burlesque evenings, while the hymn garden turned into a clandestine lover’s retreat. The lighthouse at the pier was rebranded as Desmona’s Lust Studio, casting its glow as a beacon of hedonism. The population surged, enticed by a wicked allure, with newcomers filling the vacant spaces. By 2027, Desmona’s creations—now the heartbeat of the town—had led to its renaming as Siren’s Cove, a title sharp as a whip, echoing the cliffs where the siren songs of Lucia and Marina first resonated. Only Desmona remembered Seacrest Hollow, her scrapbook a testament to 250 lost souls.

Siren’s Cove pulsed with indulgence, its avenues brimming with youthful passion. Lucia and Marina , mermaids perched upon rocky ledges, lured crowds with their enchanting melodies, their glimmering tails and alluring gazes beckoning lovers to the cove, their X posts legendary. Anya Rose’s lingerie shop, showcasing daring leather harnesses, ignited fantasies, her freckles radiant. Clara Hayes and Sophie Lane’s cam performances, broadcasted from their upscale penthouse, garnered billions of views, their auburn and brunette locks glistening. Eliza Thorn’s adult film enterprise, shot along the pier, ruled X, her striking blue eyes unforgettable. Maris Grace’s nude Playboy features, captured on breathtaking cliffs, captivated millions, her platinum hair shimmering. Fiona Lux’s extravagant villa gatherings, overflowing with luxury, shocked the elite, her gray eyes enchanting. The town expanded—sex clubs, lofts, and studios sprawling along the cliffs—nourished by the rebirth of the Nikon, its neons glowing, the atmosphere thick with desire.

Desmona swore she would gather 50 more souls, her scrapbook yearning for 300, the tally needed to elevate Siren’s Cove as the ultimate hub of decadence. She pressed the shutter again, the camera’s whisper echoing like a lover’s promise: "More." Click. The capture revealed her on a cliffside stage, Siren’s Cove ablaze with neon light below, her followers—Lucia Vane, Marina Vale, Anya Rose, Clara Hayes, Sophie Lane, Eliza Thorn, Maris Grace, Fiona Lux—revering her, vibrant and dazzling, adorned in daring outfits. Her scarlet lips shimmered, ebony hair cascaded down, eyes ignited with passion, her beauty everlasting. "The world," the camera breathed. Desmona chuckled, her heart ignited, her Nikon her unwavering weapon.

[hotdonnafox]

The Charity Ring

Jenna had always loved exploring charity shops. There was something magical about sifting through forgotten trinkets, each with a story of its own. One rainy afternoon, she found herself in a little store on the corner of Oak Street, the scent of old books and vintage clothes filling the air.

Among the dusty jewelry on the counter, a ring caught her eye. It was a delicate gold band, adorned with a gleaming sapphire, intricate carvings snaking around its surface. It looked out of place among the other worn items, as if it had a history that stretched far beyond the dusty shelves.

“How much for this?” Jenna asked the elderly shopkeeper.

The woman’s eyes twinkled, a cryptic smile curling her lips. “That ring belonged to someone very… unforgettable. Be careful what you wish for when you wear it.”

Jenna chuckled, slipping the ring onto her finger without a second thought. It fit perfectly, almost as if it had been made for her. The sapphire glimmered in the dim light, casting strange reflections onto her skin.

That night, she noticed the changes.

It started subtly. As she glanced in the mirror before bed, her reflection seemed different. Her lips looked fuller, her cheekbones sharper, her eyes more enticing. She brushed it off as a trick of the light, but the following morning, the transformation was undeniable.

Jenna’s hair fell in perfect waves, her skin radiated a flawless glow. Her wardrobe, once filled with modest, casual clothes, suddenly seemed inadequate. She found herself gravitating toward tight skirts, low-cut tops, and high heels she’d never had the confidence to wear before.

Her thoughts shifted, too. She used to be quiet, reserved now, all she could think about was how others looked at her. She craved their attention, needed it. At work, she noticed the way her colleagues stared, how the men fumbled over their words, how the women looked at her with envy. And she loved it.

With every passing day, the changes grew more intense. Her walk became a strut, her voice a seductive purr. She flirted with anyone who crossed her path, basking in their desire. Her thoughts grew darker, more selfish. She found herself lying, manipulating people with ease, using her beauty as a weapon. What was once a faint glimmer of vanity had become an all-consuming obsession.

Then came the memories. Late one night, as she gazed at herself in the mirror, a strange sensation washed over her a flood of foreign thoughts and desires. She saw flashes of a woman in extravagant gowns, draped in jewels, standing at the center of attention. She felt the woman’s arrogance, her cruelty, her insatiable hunger for power and luxury.

Jenna gasped, stepping back from the mirror. It wasn’t just the ring’s influence. It was the woman who had worn it before the vain, spoiled woman whose essence still lingered within the sapphire. Slowly, surely, Jenna was becoming her.

But instead of fear, Jenna felt a thrill rush through her veins. The old Jenna would have resisted, would have fought to stay the person she was. But now? She wanted it. She wanted the luxury, the adoration, the power that came with being that woman. The ring had unlocked something inside her, something darker and more thrilling than she had ever imagined.

By the time the final changes settled in, Jenna was unrecognizable. She stood in front of the mirror, a smirk on her lips, a gleam in her eyes. The ring had completed its work. She had become the woman who had worn it before vain, spoiled, and utterly unapologetic.

She would never take it off.

[rylem33]

A Good Person

Hey everyone. This is something new for me as I'm looking for your help with the ending. I'm really curious how this works, but that all depends on you. Enjoy! ------------------------------------------------------------ Maggie shifted through the stack of bills on the kitchen table, her fingers trembling slightly as she set each one aside. The FINAL NOTICE stamps glared up at her like scarlet letters, each one louder than the last.

Behind her, the soft hum of the oxygen concentrator in the living room was a constant reminder of Scott’s condition. She glanced toward the worn couch where he was stretched out, one arm draped across his eyes. His chest rose and fell in slow, labored breaths, his other hand resting on his inhaler.

“You’re staring at me again,” Scott said, his voice muffled but amused.

Maggie smiled faintly, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “How do you always know?”

“Married six years, Maggie. I can feel it.” He sat up slowly, wincing as he moved, and offered her a small smile. “What’s the damage this time?”

“Nothing we can’t handle,” she lied, sliding the bills into a neat pile and slipping them into a drawer.

“Right,” he said, his tone flat. “Because handling things has been going so great lately.”

“Scott—”

“No, I’m serious,” he interrupted gently, leaning back against the couch. “Let’s hear your plan. Are we robbing a bank this week, or have you started looking up lottery hacks?”

Maggie chuckled despite herself, shaking her head as she moved to sit beside him. She rested her hand on his knee, squeezing it lightly.

“We’ll figure it out,” she said softly. “We always do.”

Scott placed his hand over hers, his thumb brushing her knuckles. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“Don’t,” she said, her voice sharper than intended. She caught herself and softened. “Don’t apologize for being sick, Scott. It’s not your fault.”

“I just…” He exhaled heavily, the weight of his guilt evident. “I hate that you’re carrying this alone. That you’re working so hard while I sit here, being a burden.”

“You’re not a burden,” Maggie said firmly, her gaze locking with his. “You’re my husband. We’re in this together. Always.”

His lips twitched into a faint smile. “You’re too good to me.”

“And don’t you forget it,” she teased, leaning forward to kiss his forehead. “Now, go rest. Doctor’s orders.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, mock saluting as he settled back into the couch.

Maggie lingered for a moment, watching him. His color was better today, but the strain of his illness was always present, always hanging over their lives.

When the doorbell rang, she frowned. It was late, and they weren’t expecting anyone.

“I’ll get it,” she said, rising quickly. Scott didn’t stir, already drifting toward sleep.

Maggie opened the door to find a man standing there, his tailored gray coat pristine despite the damp evening air. His expression was pleasant and his dark eyes seemed to take in everything about her in an instant.

“Good evening, Maggie,” he said, his voice smooth and oddly soothing.

Her brow furrowed. “Do I know you?”

“Not yet,” he replied, his smile widening just slightly. “But I believe we can help each other.”

The man smiled warmly as if her confusion was exactly what he’d expected. His dark eyes gleamed, and he stepped closer, but not enough to be intrusive.

“Forgive me for dropping in unannounced,” he said, his tone calm and reassuring. “But I have a knack for knowing when people need… assistance.”

Maggie crossed her arms, leaning on the doorframe. “Assistance?” she repeated skeptically. “I’m sorry, but we’re not interested in whatever you’re selling.”

“I’m not selling anything,” he replied smoothly. “Consider me more of a problem-solver. And, Maggie, you have a problem, don’t you?”

Her chest tightened at the sound of her name, but she forced herself to keep her voice steady. “I don’t know who you are, but I think you’ve got the wrong house.”

“I don’t think so,” he said, a faint trace of amusement flickering across his face. “Scott, your husband—he’s been struggling. Can’t work. His medical bills are crushing you both, and let’s not even get started on the overdue rent.”

Maggie stiffened, her hand tightening on the edge of the door. “How do you know about my husband?”

“I know a lot of things,” the man said lightly. “Enough to know you’ve been praying for a miracle. I’m here to answer those prayers.”

Her instincts screamed at her to slam the door, but her hand wouldn’t move. It wasn’t fear, exactly—it was more like a strange, magnetic pull. She frowned, her jaw tightening.

“Listen,” she said, lowering her voice. “I don’t know what kind of scam you’re running, but you need to leave. Now.”

The man held up his hands in a placating gesture. “No scam, Maggie. Just an offer. I can take away all your financial troubles. I can even fix Scott’s health. No hospitals. No prescriptions. Just… gone.”

She stared at him, torn between laughter and alarm. “You’re insane,” she muttered, shaking her head.

“I get that a lot,” he said, unbothered. “But I never force anyone to believe me. I just give them a choice.”

“I’m not interested,” she said firmly, gripping the door as if preparing to close it. But her hand still wouldn’t move.

The man tilted his head, his gaze steady but kind. “I’ll make it easy for you, then. I’ll come back tomorrow. You can think about my offer. And to prove I’m serious…”

He gestured subtly toward the living room. “Scott will feel better tomorrow. Stronger. Healthier. You’ll see for yourself.”

Maggie froze, her heart pounding. “What are you talking about?”

“You’ll see,” he said simply. “Until then, take care, Maggie.”

Before she could respond, he tipped his hat, turned on his heel, and walked off into the evening.

Maggie stood in the doorway for a long moment, staring after him as the chill of the night seeped into her skin. Finally, she managed to close the door, her thoughts racing.

------------------------------------------------------------

Maggie stood at the sink, rinsing out the coffee pot for the second time in five minutes. Her mind was too preoccupied to focus on anything. She kept glancing at the kitchen clock and then toward the front door, her stomach twisting with every passing minute.

Scott sat at the small kitchen table behind her, sorting through a stack of bills. He tapped his pen against the table.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” he said, not looking up.

“I’m just tired,” Maggie replied quickly, setting the pot down. “Long day.”

He nodded, still scribbling notes in the margins of a bill. “You’re always tired. I don’t blame you.”

“Scott…” She turned, leaning back against the sink.

“I know, I know,” he said, holding up a hand before she could finish. “You don’t want me to feel bad about this, but how can I not?” He gestured at the bills. “You’re working yourself to death, and it’s still not enough. I should be out there too, doing my part.”

“You’re doing everything you can,” she said firmly.

Scott dropped the pen and rubbed his temples. “I feel useless, Maggie. All I do is sit around while you shoulder everything.”

“Stop,” she said, moving closer. “You’re not useless. You’re sick. You’re recovering.” She rested a hand on his shoulder, her touch gentle but firm. “I’m handling it. We’ll get through this.”

Scott sighed, his eyes meeting hers. “I don’t want you handling it alone anymore. It’s not fair.”

“I’m fine,” she said, forcing a smile. “You let me worry about the bills, okay?”

He hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. “Okay. But if there’s anything—anything—I can do…”

Maggie squeezed his shoulder. “I know. But right now, you need to rest.”

“Rest,” he muttered, his voice tinged with bitterness. “That’s all I ever do.”

The knock at the front door startled them both. Maggie flinched, her pulse quickening as she straightened.

“Who’s that?” Scott asked, glancing toward the hallway.

“I’ll check,” she said quickly, already moving toward the door. “It’s probably nothing. Just sit tight.”

“Maggie…”

She turned back, forcing a lightness into her tone. “I’ve got it, Scott. Relax.”

Scott watched her for a moment, then nodded, leaning back in his chair.

Maggie walked down the hallway, her heart pounding harder with every step. When she reached the door, she paused, her hand hovering over the doorknob. She took a deep breath, steeling herself, then pulled it open.

There he was, the man from the night before. 

“Good evening, Maggie,” he said warmly.

Maggie’s grip tightened on the door. “What do you want?” she asked, her voice sharp but quiet. She glanced down the hallway, listening for any signs that Scott might come looking for her.

“I just came to check in,” the man said smoothly. “How’s Scott feeling today?”

Her chest tightened. “He’s… better,” she admitted reluctantly. “How do you know about him?”

The man’s smile widened slightly. “He’s your husband. I know you love him. And I know he’s been struggling for a long time now.” He tilted his head. “Breathing easier, isn’t he? Moving around more? Even joking with you a little?”

Maggie stared at him, her heart pounding. “What are you saying? That you did something?”

“Of course,” he replied simply, his hands folding in front of him. “I told you last night I’d prove I was serious. Consider this a… demonstration.”

Her stomach churned as her mind replayed the events of the day. Scott had woken up without a cough for the first time in months. He’d been more alert, even energized. The improvement was undeniable.

“I don’t understand,” she said, shaking her head. “How could you—why would you—”

He raised a hand to stop her, his voice calm. “Let me make it simple. I can make this permanent. Scott won’t just feel better—he’ll be better. Completely. No more sickness. No more doctors. And your financial troubles?” He gave her a knowing look. “Gone.”

Maggie’s breath hitched. The weight she’d been carrying for so long—the endless strain of juggling bills, late-night worries, and helplessness—pressed even harder against her chest. She wanted to laugh, to call him insane, but Scott’s voice echoed in her mind: I hate that you’re carrying this alone.

“How?” she managed, her voice barely above a whisper.

The man smiled warmly, like a teacher with a promising student. “It doesn’t matter how. What matters is that I can.”

“Why us?” she asked, her throat dry. “Why me? Why Scott?”

“Because you’re good people, Maggie,” he said simply. “You care about others. You try to do the right thing, even when it’s hard. That’s exactly the kind of person I like to help.”

Maggie narrowed her eyes, the unease creeping deeper into her chest. “What do you want?”

“It’s simple. For seven days, you have to be good. Truly good. No lying, no snapping, no selfishness. Any time you slip up, you’ll see it reflected… here.” He gestured toward her body.

Maggie frowned. “What do you mean, reflected?”

“A physical sign,” he said cryptically. “One you can’t ignore. But here’s the good news: I’m feeling generous. Out of the seven days, you can fail four times and still win.”

Her stomach twisted. “And if I fail more than that?”

“Then you lose,” he said evenly. 

What happens if I lose?” Maggie asked, her voice unsteady.

The man’s smile didn’t falter. “That’s not important right now,” he said gently. “You’re a good person, Maggie. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t believe you’d succeed.”

Her stomach twisted. “You’re avoiding the question,” she said, but the heat had left her voice.

“Perhaps,” he replied, his tone calm and confident. “But this is just a test, one you’re more than capable of passing.”

Maggie hesitated, her mind racing through the possibilities. The idea of losing terrified her, but the alternative was too tempting to ignore.

“But I need your answer now,” the man continued, his voice soothing but firm. “I’m offering you a chance to make things right. To give Scott the life he deserves. To give yourself some peace.”

Her hands trembled as she gripped the edge of the door. She glanced down the hallway toward the kitchen, hearing the faint clatter of dishes as Scott tidied up.

“You’ll come back in a week?” she asked.

The man nodded. “One week. Seven days. That’s all.”

Maggie drew in a shaky breath, her chest tight with equal parts fear and determination. She thought of Scott’s laugh that morning, the light in his eyes she hadn’t seen in so long.

“Okay,” she said finally, her voice soft but resolute. “I’ll do it.”

The man’s smile widened, warm and encouraging. “Excellent.” He reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a small, silver watch, glancing at it briefly before tucking it away again. 

“One final condition. You can’t tell anyone about this arrangement. I wish you the best of luck, Maggie,” he said, tipping his hat. “I’ll see you in a week.”

Without another word, he turned and walked off.

Maggie closed the door slowly, leaning against it. From the kitchen, Scott’s voice broke through her thoughts. “Who was it?”

She pushed herself off the door and walked back toward the kitchen, forcing a neutral expression onto her face. “Nobody important,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt.

But as she sat down across from Scott, watching him smile faintly as he sorted the last of the mail, her gaze drifted to her hands. Seven days. That was all.

------------------------------------------------------------

The first day dawned bright and clear. Maggie woke with a nervous knot in her stomach but forced herself to move through the motions of the morning as though nothing had changed.

“Coffee’s ready,” she called from the kitchen, glancing toward the living room where Scott was stretched out on the couch.

“Smells great,” he said, sitting up with a smile. He still looked a little tired, but there was a spark in his eyes that hadn’t been there in months.

Maggie brought him a steaming mug and sat down beside him, cradling her own cup. “How are you feeling today?” she asked, keeping her tone light.

“Better,” he said, taking a sip. “Actually, a lot better. I’m not sure why, but I’m not going to question it.”

Maggie nodded, forcing herself to smile. “That’s great.”

They spent the morning together, Maggie tidying up around the house while Scott sorted through more of the bills. She felt a growing sense of calm as the hours passed without incident. Every time she caught herself feeling frustrated or annoyed, she took a deep breath and reminded herself of the stakes.

Just be good, she thought. I can do this.

By mid-afternoon, Scott was sitting at the kitchen table, a stack of papers spread out before him. Maggie had been folding laundry in the next room when he called her in.

“You’re not going to believe this,” he said, his voice tinged with disbelief.

“What is it?” she asked, feigning casual interest as she approached.

He held up a letter, the kind she dreaded seeing. But instead of the usual red PAST DUE notice, this one bore the words BALANCE FORGIVEN.

“They’re waiving the bill,” Scott said, shaking his head. “Just like that. I don’t know why, but… Maggie, this is huge.”

Her breath caught, a flicker of relief mingling with a creeping sense of unease. She glanced at the other letters on the table, her eyes widening as she saw more notices marked with similar phrases.

“It must be some kind of… program,” she said, forcing her voice to stay steady. “Maybe they’re helping out people in need.”

Scott laughed, the sound light and genuine. “Well, whatever it is, it’s a miracle.”

Maggie’s stomach twisted at the word, but she nodded, managing a smile. “Yeah. A miracle.”

The rest of the day passed in a similar vein. Maggie and Scott worked together to reorganize their finances, the newfound breathing room lifting some of the tension that had weighed on them both. That evening, they shared a simple dinner at the table and even spent time watching a movie before bed.

As Scott laughed at a joke on the screen, Maggie glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He looked… happy. Really happy. And for the first time in a long time, so did she.

But as she lay in bed that night, staring up at the ceiling, her mind raced. The day had gone perfectly, but the man’s words echoed in her ears.

“It’s just a test.”

She looked at  herself in the mirror, everything looked fine.  She smiled and drifted off to sleep.

------------------------------------------------------------

The scent of roasted chicken filled the kitchen as Maggie set the table. Scott carried over a bowl of mashed potatoes, moving more easily than he had in a long time.

“This looks great,” he said, sitting down across from her.

“Not bad for a Tuesday, huh?” Maggie replied with a smile.

They ate quietly at first, the sounds of clinking silverware filling the room. Scott eventually broke the silence. “Work go okay today?”

“Surprisingly smooth,” Maggie said, taking a sip of water. “Nothing out of the ordinary. No fires to put out.”

Scott chuckled. “That’s a win. Must be the universe throwing us a bone.”

Maggie’s fork paused mid-air, but she quickly recovered. “Must be,” she echoed, keeping her tone light. “What about you? How’d you feel today?”

“Better,” he said, nodding. “Actually, I haven’t felt this good in years. It’s weird, but I’ll take it.”

She smiled, but her mind wandered. What if this is real?

After dinner, Scott kissed her cheek as she loaded the dishwasher. “Thanks for everything, Maggie. I mean it.”

She waved him off with a smile, though his words warmed her.

In bed that night, Maggie stared at the ceiling, her mind buzzing. Two days down, and everything was going perfectly. Scott was improving. The bills were lightening.

Again, she examined herself in the mirror and nothing had changed.

“Maybe it’s not real,” she whispered to herself, letting the thought comfort her as she drifted to sleep.

------------------------------------------------------------

The sun was setting as Maggie drove home from work. She’d had an easy day at work and she was feeling good.

The radio blared one of her favorite songs, and Maggie sang along, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. For the first time in years, she felt light, almost carefree.

Then, it happened.

A car veered into her lane without signaling, forcing her to slam on the brakes.

“Seriously?!” she shouted, her frustration boiling over. Without thinking, she raised her hand and flipped the driver off, holding the gesture until the car sped ahead.

It wasn’t until she heard the faint gasp of a child in the backseat of the minivan beside her that the weight of what she’d done hit her. Her heart sank, her stomach knotting with guilt as she glanced at the kid’s wide eyes, his tiny face frozen in surprise.

Before she could process it, a sharp, sudden pain shot through her hand. Maggie gasped, her gaze snapping down to her raised middle finger.

Her nail was no longer short and polished. It had grown into a long, razor-sharp talon, gleaming an unnaturally deep red.  Shortly after, all of her fingernails exploded into matching talons.

Her breath quickened, and she yanked her hand back to the steering wheel, gripping it tightly to stop the trembling. Her heart pounded as the truth slammed into her.

It’s real. It’s all real.

Her mind raced as she navigated the familiar streets toward home. It was so small, she thought. Just a stupid gesture. But it counted.

She pulled into the driveway, cutting the engine as she sat in stunned silence. Maybe it was all in her head, but the talon on her hand felt heavy..

“Okay,” she whispered to herself, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. “You can still do this. Four days left. You just need to succeed one more time.”

Maggie rushed inside, keeping her hands stuffed deep into her coat pockets.

“Hey! Dinner’s almost ready,” Scott called from the kitchen.

“Great! I’ll just… wash up first,” she said, her voice strained. She didn’t wait for a response, hurrying down the hallway to the bathroom.

She locked the door behind her and turned to the mirror, pulling out her hands. The talons glinted menacingly under the fluorescent light. Maggie grabbed a pair of nail clippers from the cabinet, setting them against her thumb.

Snap!

The clippers shattered in her hand.

Her heart sank. She tried again with another pair, pressing harder this time. They broke just as easily.

She grabbed a nail file, furiously rubbing it against one of the talons, but it was like trying to file down steel. The surface didn’t even scratch.

“Damn it!” she hissed, tossing the broken tools into the sink. She stared at her hands, panic rising.

How was she supposed to explain this to Scott?

At dinner, Maggie tried to keep her hands hidden under the table, but it was impossible to cut her food or drink her water without exposing them. Scott was bound to notice.

“Everything okay?” he asked, glancing at her untouched plate.

“Yeah,” she said quickly. “I’m just… not that hungry.”

Scott frowned. “You’ve been off lately. Are you sure you’re okay?”

She hesitated, then forced a laugh, holding up her hands. “Okay, fine. You got me. I was going to try and keep this a surprise, but… look!”

Scott’s eyes widened as she splayed her hands on the table.

“I, uh, decided to try those press-on nails everyone’s been raving about,” she lied, forcing a nervous grin. “You know, just for fun.”

Scott blinked, his confusion melting into a small smile. “Wow. That’s… dramatic. They look sharp.”

“Yeah, a little sharper than I expected,” Maggie said, laughing nervously. “I thought they’d be fun, but they’re kind of a hassle.”

“Well, they’re… different. But if you like them, that’s what matters,” Scott said, giving her an encouraging smile.

Maggie exhaled softly, relief washing over her. He bought it.

That night, as Scott slept soundly beside her, Maggie lay wide awake, staring at her hands..

“Four more days,” she whispered to herself. “Just four more.”

------------------------------------------------------------

Maggie walked into work feeling cautiously optimistic. She told herself she could do this. Three days down, four to go. She’d already proven she could make it through a day without slipping up… twice.

At her desk, she focused on her tasks, keeping her head down and avoiding unnecessary conversations. By lunchtime, she even allowed herself a small smile as she refilled her coffee in the break room.

I’ve got this, she thought.

The trouble began mid-afternoon.

“Maggie!” her boss, Bill, barked from across the office.

Her stomach clenched as she stood and walked to his desk. He was holding a printed report, his expression tight with irritation.

“This is incomplete,” he said, shaking the paper slightly. “Where’s the data for the Madison account?”

Maggie froze. The Madison account. She’d completely forgotten about it, buried under the mountain of tasks she’d been juggling.

“I—” she began, scrambling for an explanation.

“You were supposed to include this for today’s presentation,” Bill interrupted. “It’s not in the shared drive, either. What happened?”

Her mind raced. I can’t lose this job, she thought desperately. Not now. Not when Scott’s finally doing better. I need this.

Without thinking, she blurted, “Diane said she’d handle that part.”

The lie burned in her throat, but it was out, and there was no taking it back.

Bill frowned. “I’ll talk to Diane, then. This kind of thing is unacceptable.” He tossed the paper onto his desk.

Maggie hesitated, then added with a nervous laugh, “You know Diane. Classic blonde move, right?”

Bill didn’t respond, his irritation clear, and she quickly retreated to her desk.

Maggie barely had time to feel the sting of guilt before it happened.

A sharp, tingling sensation erupted across her scalp, like a thousand needles pricking her skin. Her head burned, her hair feeling impossibly heavy.

Her hands flew to her head. She gasped as her fingers tangled in thick, silken strands of hair far longer than they had been that morning. Her heart pounded as she grabbed a compact mirror from her bag and opened it.

Her hair, once a modest brunette, was now a striking platinum blonde, cascading past her shoulders. It gleamed unnaturally, catching even the faintest light and shimmering like spun gold.

“No,” she whispered, her pulse racing. “This can’t be happening.”

She tried tying it back into a bun, but the volume made it impossible to hide. Panicked, she grabbed her scarf from her bag and wrapped it tightly around her head, tucking every strand of hair out of sight.

The rest of the day passed in a haze. Maggie avoided everyone, keeping her head down and her hands busy. She didn’t dare look at Diane, guilt twisting in her stomach every time she thought about her offhanded comment.

When the workday ended, she practically ran to her car, her scarf still firmly in place.

At dinner, Maggie avoided Scott’s gaze, her nerves fraying with every passing minute.

“What’s with the scarf?,” Scott said, raising an eyebrow. “It’s not cold in here.”

“Oh, this?” Maggie laughed nervously, adjusting the knot at the back of her head. “I just… thought I’d try something new. You know, accessorize a little.”

Scott studied her for a moment before shrugging. “Okay. Looks nice.”

She forced a smile and continued with dinner.

Later that night, Maggie sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for Scott to fall asleep. She could hear his breathing slow, his body relaxing beside her.

Carefully, she untied the scarf, letting the blonde waves spill over her shoulders. They felt impossibly soft and heavy, cascading over her back.

“Unbelievable,” she whispered to herself, staring at her reflection in the darkened window.

A soft rustle behind her made her freeze.

“Maggie?” Scott’s voice was quiet, barely above a whisper.

Her heart dropped. She turned slowly, clutching the scarf in her hands.

Scott was propped up on one elbow, his eyes adjusting to the dim light. He said nothing for a moment, just looking at her hair.

Finally, he spoke. “When were you going to tell me you dyed your hair?”

Maggie exhaled sharply, relief and panic mixing in her chest. “I wasn’t sure how you’d react,” she lied.

Scott smiled faintly, his voice soft. “It’s… different. But it’s beautiful.”

She managed a weak smile, nodding as she tied the scarf back around her head. “Thanks.”

Scott lay back down, his breathing evening out again as he drifted off.

Maggie sat in the dark, staring at her reflection.

“I just have to be good for one more day,” she whispered to herself. 

But deep down, she knew this wasn’t going to get any easier.

------------------------------------------------------------

The morning of the next day passed uneventfully. Maggie kept her head down, her scarf tied firmly around her head to hide her golden hair. She moved through her tasks quietly, avoiding interactions with coworkers.

By lunchtime, she was feeling cautiously optimistic again.

Maggie sat alone in the corner of the restaurant, picking at her sandwich.  She leaned back, letting her mind wander.

That’s when she saw them.

Two women sat at a nearby table, leaning close to each other. They whispered, laughed, and then kissed. At first it was a quick peck that turned into something more passionate. One of them giggled, brushing the other’s cheek.

Maggie stiffened, her gaze locking on them. Her thoughts turned sharp and unkind. Seriously? In public? Can’t they keep that to themselves?

The judgment felt immediate and visceral, and she had to stop herself from scowling outright.

As soon as the thought crossed her mind, the now-familiar tingling sensation returned. But this time, it wasn’t her hands or her scalp.

It was her lips.

The tingling intensified, spreading through her mouth as a strange warmth bloomed in her cheeks. She reached up, her fingers brushing against her lips…and froze.

They were swelling.

Her heart raced as the sensation grew. Her lips puffed up, becoming full and plush, the skin soft and hypersensitive. Every movement of her mouth sent faint, pleasurable shocks rippling through her.

Maggie bolted to the bathroom, avoiding eye contact with anyone. She slammed the stall door shut and stared at her reflection in the mirror.

Her lips were enormous, gleaming as though coated in gloss. She touched them hesitantly, and a wave of unexpected pleasure shivered down her spine. She gasped, pulling her hand away.

“No,” she whispered. “Not again.”

Her mind raced, trying to come up with a way to hide the change. She grabbed a tissue from the counter and dabbed at her lips, but nothing helped.

Back at her desk, Maggie sat stiffly, keeping her face turned toward her computer screen. It wasn’t long before someone noticed.

“Whoa,” Diane said, stopping by Maggie’s desk. “When did you get those done?”

Maggie blinked at her, confused. “What?”

“The lip fillers,” Diane said, gesturing toward her mouth. “They’re so… dramatic.”

Maggie forced a laugh. “Oh, yeah. Just… wanted to try something new,” she lied, the words awkward as they left her swollen lips.

Diane smiled. “They look amazing. Totally worth it.”

“Thanks,” Maggie mumbled, turning back to her screen.

The rest of the day was a blur of awkward conversations and attempts to avoid being noticed. Every smile, every word she spoke, sent faint shocks of pleasure coursing through her, making it impossible to focus.

When she finally got home, Maggie barely managed to fake her way through small talk with Scott. Her lips tingled incessantly, and her scarf felt suffocating.

“You okay?” Scott asked, giving her a curious look.

“Yeah,” she said quickly. “Just tired. I’m going to shower.”

She fled to the bathroom, locking the door behind her. Pulling off her scarf, she stared at her reflection. Sharp, red nails with long bright-blonde hair and puffy lips.

“This has to stop,” she whispered, gripping the edge of the sink.

But when she stepped out of the bathroom, Scott was waiting for her in the hallway.

“You’re acting weird again,” he said softly. “What’s going on, Maggie?”

She opened her mouth to brush him off, but the sight of him standing there made her chest ache. Before she could stop herself, she stepped forward and kissed him.

The sensation was electric. Her swollen lips tingled with pleasure, sending a rush of heat through her body. She pulled away quickly, her cheeks burning.

Scott blinked, clearly surprised, but he smiled. “Not that I’m complaining, but what was that for?”

“Just… because,” Maggie said, her voice shaky.

She smiled faintly, though her heart was racing. As Scott walked back to the living room, she ran into the bathroom.  The lingering sensation of the kiss still made her shiver and she needed release.  She started the shower and stripped herself naked.

Her fingers found their way to her needy clit.  She started frantically rubbing, trying to satisfy the hunger she felt growing all day.  She nicked herself a couple of times with her sharp nails but quickly brought herself to climax.

------------------------------------------------------------

Maggie stood in front of the mirror the next morning, staring at her reflection. She sighed, tugging at a strand of hair. Why bother hiding it anymore? She hadn’t managed to keep her lips unnoticed, and sooner or later, people would notice the rest.

At work, Maggie’s confidence crumbled quickly.

Her nails clicked against the keyboard as she tried to type, the long, sharp talons making it nearly impossible to press the right keys. Each mistake grated on her nerves.

Her lips were no better, tingling with sensitivity that made speaking uncomfortable. Every word sent faint, pleasurable ripples through her, leaving her flustered and distracted.

She shifted in her chair, tapping her nails absently against the desk as she stared at the screen. The rhythmic click, click, click gave her a brief sense of calm. until she noticed the faint scratches left behind.

Her eyes widened as she ran her nails over the surface again. Tiny flakes of wood chipped away under the pressure.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered, pulling her hands back.

By mid-morning, Maggie knew she wasn’t getting anything done. The frustration of trying to work with her transformed body was too much.

She approached her boss’s office, her heart pounding. Bill was in the middle of a phone call when she knocked on the doorframe.

He waved her in, covering the receiver. “What is it, Maggie?”

She hesitated, clutching the edge of the door she faked a cough. “I… I’m not feeling well,” she said finally. “I think I need to go home.”

Bill frowned, glancing at her hair and lips, but didn’t comment. “Fine. Just make sure you log your hours.”

“Thank you,” she said quickly, turning to leave.

Maggie had barely made it halfway down the hall when it hit her.

A sharp, intense pressure swelled in her chest, forcing her to clutch at the wall for support. The fabric of her blouse pulled tight across her chest, and her bra straps bit into her shoulders as her breasts grew larger, rounder, and impossibly heavy.

Her breathing quickened as the transformation completed. She glanced down, her cheeks burning as she saw the buttons of her blouse straining to hold together. The outline of her swollen chest was impossible to ignore.

“No,” she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. “No, no, no…”

Realization struck like a blow: she had lied. She wasn’t sick. She just wanted to escape.

Her heels clicked against the tile as she rushed toward the exit, her arms crossed tightly over her chest to shield herself from curious eyes.

Once she reached her car, Maggie slammed the door shut and broke down, tears streaming down her face.

She looked ridiculous. Between her golden hair, swollen lips, and now her overly large chest, she felt like a caricature of herself.

“I can’t do this,” she sobbed, leaning her forehead against the steering wheel. “I can’t.”

But deep down, she knew she didn’t have a choice. The deal was binding, and she had one more day to get it right or to fail completely.

She wiped at her eyes. What am I going to tell Scott?

She decided to text Scott that she’d be home very late, swamped at work and for him not to wait up for her.  She killed time driving around aimlessly until she knew Scott would be asleep.

She snuck into the bedroom and fell into a worried rest.

------------------------------------------------------------

Maggie woke early the next day. Beside her, Scott was still fast asleep, his face peaceful. She smiled faintly at the sight of him but quickly turned away, her resolve hardening. I just need to get through today, she thought.

On the kitchen counter, she left a handwritten note:

Gone for a hike. Needed some air. Be back later. Love you.

Grabbing a bottle of water and her hiking boots, she slipped out the door before Scott woke up.

The trail was secluded, winding through a forest thick with pine trees. Maggie hadn’t seen another soul since parking her car, and she was relieved by the solitude. The cool morning air smelled of earth and dew, and the crunch of gravel under her boots was the only sound she heard.

She walked for hours, letting her mind wander. For the first time in days, she felt like herself again. No one was watching her. No one was judging her. She didn’t have to lie, hide, or explain anything to anyone.

She stopped at a clearing, sitting on a large rock overlooking a small stream. The sunlight danced on the water’s surface, and Maggie found herself smiling.

This is what I’ve been missing, she thought. Peace.

As the sun began to set, Maggie made her way back down the trail. She’d spent the entire day without seeing a single person, without saying a single word. She’d been careful, thoughtful, and good.

When she pulled into the driveway, relief flooded her. She’d done it. I made it through the day.

Stepping inside, Maggie called out, “Scott? I’m home!”

“In the living room,” he answered.

Her heart lifted slightly at the sound of his voice, calm and familiar. But when she stepped into the room, she was met with a surprise.

Scott was sitting on the couch, looking at her curiously. Next to him, perched casually with his hands folded, was the mysterious man. His dark eyes gleamed as they roved over her, lingering on her blonde hair, swollen lips, and curvier figure.

“You’ve been busy, Maggie,” the man said warmly, his smile almost kind.

Maggie froze in place, her pulse hammering. Her hiking outfit did nothing to hide her new breasts. Her golden hair spilled over her shoulders, and her full lips glistened in the light. But it was the tightness of the tank top across her now-large chest that drew Scott’s attention first.

Scott’s expression shifted from confusion to shock. His eyes darted to her chest, widening as he registered the dramatic change.

“What the hell?” he said, standing abruptly. “Maggie… what is this?” His gaze swept over her, taking in her impossibly blonde hair, her plumped lips, and now her noticeably larger breasts.

Maggie winced, crossing her arms over her chest, but it did little to disguise the size. “Scott, I…”

“You haven’t been very good,” the man continued, his tone light, as though discussing the weather.

Scott’s head whipped toward him. “Who are you?” he demanded, his voice sharp. He turned back to Maggie, his confusion mingling with anger. “Maggie, what is going on? What happened to you?”

Her lips parted, a rush of heat flooding her cheeks. “I—”

“I mean,” he said, tilting his head as though considering, “you’ve certainly had your moments. But goodness? True goodness? That’s been in short supply, hasn’t it?”

Maggie swallowed hard, her shoulders slumping. “I know,” she admitted softly, her voice trembling. “I wasn’t as good as I wanted to be. But today…today I was good. All day.”

She straightened, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “That makes three days out of seven. I passed.”

The man’s smile widened slightly, a glint of amusement in his dark eyes. He inclined his head politely, as if acknowledging a fair point.

“Well,” he said, his tone almost playful, “she has done the math.”

“What the hell is going on?” Scott interjected, his voice sharp with confusion. He looked between them, his brow furrowed. “Who is this? And what is he talking about?”

Maggie opened her mouth, her mind racing for an explanation.

“He’s…” she began, her voice faltering. She glanced at the man, who raised a curious eyebrow, waiting patiently as though this were all part of a game.

Scott leaned forward, his expression tense and demanding. “Maggie, who is he?”

She hesitated, forcing a nervous laugh. “He’s… someone who’s been helping us. Helping me.”

Scott frowned deeply. “Helping? What does that mean? Helping with what?”

The man’s smile returned, slow and sharp. “Yes, Maggie,” he said softly, his voice laced with amusement. “Why don’t you tell him exactly how I’ve been helping?”

Her breath caught. She stared at Scott, then at the man, and back again. The truth hovered on the edge of her tongue, impossible to say without breaking the deal.

She glanced at the man again, her lips trembling. His expression was calm, expectant, like a predator watching prey corner itself.

“I…I can’t,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

The man’s eyes glinted with triumph. “Can’t you?”

Maggie’s heart raced, her pulse loud in her ears. The rules of the deal echoed in her mind: You can’t tell anyone about this arrangement.

Scott’s voice broke through her spiraling thoughts. “Maggie. Tell me the truth. What is this? What’s going on?”

Her hands shook as she looked between them, her husband and the man who held her fate. She could feel the trap closing around her.

Her lips parted, and she spoke the only words that mattered. “Scott… I made a deal.”

Scott stared at Maggie, his healthy face pale as confusion twisted his features. “What do you mean, a deal?” he asked, his voice trembling.

Maggie swallowed hard, her entire body trembling under the weight of her confession. “I… I made a deal with him,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I wanted to help you, Scott. To make you better, to fix everything. He promised he could cure you and take away all of our financial problems.”

Scott’s eyes darted to the man, sitting serenely on the couch with an air of polite detachment. “And you believed him?”

“I didn’t at first,” Maggie said, her voice cracking. “But then you started getting better. And the bills—they started disappearing. I thought… I thought I could handle it. Seven days. I just had to be good for seven days.”

“Good?” Scott echoed, his confusion giving way to horror. “What does that even mean?”

Maggie turned away, tears streaming down her face. “No lying. No snapping. No selfishness. Every time I messed up, he said it would show. And it did.”

Scott sat back, his hand running through his hair. “So all of this—your hair, your lips… everything—you didn’t tell me because you couldn’t.”

“I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone,” Maggie said, her voice breaking. “It was part of the deal. If I broke the rules…”

The man smiled faintly. “The consequences were clear, weren’t they, Maggie?”

Scott’s expression darkened, his fists clenching. “And now what? You’ve done all this to help me, and what, you’re here to rub it in?” He glared at the man. “What do you want? What’s your ‘due?’”

The man chuckled softly, leaning forward as his sharp gaze locked on Scott. “Ah, Scott. You misunderstand. I’ve already kept my end of the bargain. You’re healthy. The bills are gone. Everything is as Maggie wished it to be.”

Scott’s jaw tightened. “So you’re saying you’ve won.”

The man tilted his head slightly, his smile turning sharp. “Precisely. And now I collect.” ------------------------------------------------------------ I have an ending that I'll post, but I really want you all to help me out. What do you think happens to Maggie? I'll write multiple endings based on your input. Just reply to this story with your ideas.

[beautification-tales]

The Gift

A possession tale

Gladys had always loved the quiet. It was in the quiet moments that she found peace, a respite from the endless to-do lists and the clamor of suburban life. But today, the quiet was suffocating. She sat at her kitchen table, the only sound the ticking of the old clock hanging above the stove, each second echoing through the empty room like a mournful ghost. She stared at the wall, her mind racing with thoughts she didn't dare speak aloud. Her coffee grew cold, the steam dissipating into the chilly morning air.

Her husband, Charles, had been acting strange for weeks. Secretive phone calls, late nights at the office, and a sudden lack of interest in their life together. It was as if he was living a second life, one that didn't include her. The truth had come out like a storm she never saw coming – a text message, a name she didn't know, a string of lies that unraveled their marriage. She felt a mix of anger and sadness, a storm of emotions that seemed to shake the very foundation of her world.

The necklace was a surprise, something he had bought at an auction. It was said to have been worn by the legendary film star, Michelle Madison. The diamonds sparkled like stars against the velvet backdrop of the jewelry box. It was beautiful, but it felt like a slap in the face. A symbol of his infidelity, wrapped in glamour and deceit. He had presented it to her with a sheepish smile, as if the necklace could somehow make up for his betrayal. It hung around her neck now, a cold weight that only served as a constant reminder of what she had lost.

Gladys' eyes drifted to the small photo of her and Charles from their wedding day. His smile was so earnest, so full of promise. They had been so young, so in love. She felt a pang in her chest as she wondered where that love had gone. Her hand trembled as she traced the outline of his face in the photo. Was it all a lie? Had he ever truly loved her, or had he been waiting for something more?

Her phone buzzed on the table, jolting her out of her thoughts. It was a text from Charles, telling her he would be out late again. The same excuse as last night. Her eyes narrowed as she read the message, her heart sinking. The quiet of the house seemed to amplify the betrayal, turning it into a deafening roar. She couldn't bear the thought of another lonely evening with just the hum of the refrigerator for company.

With a tremble in her hand, Gladys reached for the bottle of wine she had been saving for a special occasion. There was no better time than now to indulge. She poured a generous glass, the deep red liquid swirling and catching the light, a silent taunt to the diamonds around her neck. She took a deep breath, the scent of oak and berries filling her nose, and took a large gulp. It burned down her throat, but she didn't care. She needed the warmth, the escape it promised.

As the wine took hold, her thoughts grew fuzzy around the edges. She stumbled through the house, touching the familiar objects that had become so foreign to her. The couch where they had watched movies, the bed where they had made love, the kitchen table where they had shared countless meals – it was all just a sad, empty stage set now. The room spun slightly as she sat back down, the necklace glinting in the lamplight. It felt like a mockery, a cruel joke played by fate.

And then she saw her.

Michelle Madison, was right before her. The smile she had explained her fame. Gladys stared in awe at the vision of beauty before her. Michelle had captivated millions on the silver screen. Women wanted to ber her as men dreamed of her. “Hey there toots” the legend spoke, her voice as smooth as silk. Gladys blinked, her hand still shaking. Was she dreaming? Had the wine gone to her head? But no, there was no mistaking it. The necklace grew warm around her neck, as if alive with the very essence of the woman it had once adorned.

“That’s what they call me honey.” The ghostly figure of Michelle Madison leaned against the counter, her spectral form flickering like an old film reel. “But you can call me Mickie. No, you’re not dreaming, darling. I’ve been waiting for someone to wear this necklace. I haven’t had anyone to talk to for decades now.”

Gladys’ eyes widened in shock, the wine glass slipping from her grasp and shattering on the floor. She stared at the shimmering specter, her mind racing with questions. How? Why? But the words remained trapped in her throat, replaced by a sudden, overwhelming sense of fear.

Mickie winked, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Don’t be scared, toots. I’m not here to haunt you, just to talk. You’ve got a bit of fire in you, I like that. Now, tell me, what’s a pretty little thing like you doing letting her man have an affair?"

Gladys felt a flush of anger at the ghost’s audacity. "It’s none of your business," she spat out, her voice shaking. But Mickie just chuckled, the sound echoing through the room like a phantom's laugh track. “You know how many times he’s wanked his pecker to my photos while holding my necklace? You’re lucky I’m not appearing to him. He’d never leave his room darling.” She laughed again, and Gladys gulped knowing it to be true.

“I can help you… help you get him back” Mickie said, her smile fading to a knowing smirk. “But it’ll cost ya. You see, this necklace has a bit of magic to it. It brings me to you, and it’s got a way of stirring things up. You want to teach him a lesson he’ll never forget, make him regret ever looking at another woman?”

Gladys felt a flicker of hope, a spark in the ashes of her heart. "What do I have to do?" she asked, desperation lacing her words.

Mickie leaned in closer, her form becoming more solid, more real. "You gotta keep wearing this necklace, darling. Let it do its thing. But remember, it's not just a pretty piece of jewelry. It's got power. And with great power comes great responsibility." Her tone grew serious. "You gotta be willing to play the game. You gotta be willing to get a little messy."

Gladys swallowed hard, the weight of the necklace suddenly heavier on her neck. "What do you mean?" she whispered, her eyes never leaving the ghostly woman.

Michelle Madison's smile grew sly. "Well, for starters, you need to wear this necklace whenever he's around. It'll stir up his feelings, make him see you differently. And who knows, maybe it'll stir up some jealousy in his little floozy too." She winked, and Gladys felt a cold thrill run through her. "But remember, the necklace isn't a magic wand. You gotta play your part."

Gladys nodded, her thoughts racing. What was she getting herself into? But the pain of the betrayal was too raw, too deep. She'd do anything to save her marriage, even if it meant making a deal with a ghost. "Okay," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Ooh what fun baby! We should start by reigniting that fire within you.” With a snap of her fingers, Mickie conjured an image of Gladys, dressed in lingerie that left little to the imagination, her body transformed into a younger, more voluptuous version of herself. Gladys felt a flush of heat spread across her cheeks as she looked down at her transformed figure.

Her body responded to the image, the necklace warming further, sending waves of desire through her veins. It was as if she had been hit with a potent aphrodisiac. Her skin grew sensitive, every fabric brushing against her feeling like a caress. The ache between her legs grew intense, a need she hadn’t felt in years. She shifted in her chair, trying to find some semblance of comfort from the sudden and overwhelming sensation.

Mickie noticed Gladys’ discomfort and laughed. "You're feeling it, aren't you? That's the necklace at work. It's got a way of bringing out the passion in people." Gladys overwhelmed began rubbing her pussy. She moaned as if finally feeling relief. "You've got to channel that, darling. Make him want you like he's never wanted anyone before."

Gladys took a deep, unsteady breath, trying to focus through the haze of desire. "Why does this feel so good?" she murmured, her hand moving of its own accord to her swollen breasts.

Mickie chuckled. "It's a bit of my essence, darling. Just enough to get you going. Now, let's get you ready for the main event." With a flick of her wrist the changes came like a flood upon Gladys’ body. The wrinkles stretched and faded as her face became younger and healthier. She could feel her ass cheeks firm up as they gained more mass as well. She looked back and grasped a cheek eliciting a sensual moan from her lips. Her lips grew more pronounced as they became plump. Her abdomen tightened as her hips flared out. The breasts were the last to change as they became perky and larger, the nipples became hard like erasers.

“Ungh what did you do to me? I feel like a girl.”

"You look like a goddess," Mickie said with an approving nod. "Now, don’t fight it. Give in.” Gladys obeyed as she put her hand into her pussy rubbing and moaning as she caressed her sensitive tits. The necklace pulsed with warmth, and she could feel Mickie's energy flowing through her, guiding her movements. She had never felt so alive, so wanted. It was intoxicating.

Her eyes rolled back as she leaned against the chair, her breath coming in short gasps. The sensations grew stronger, more intense, until she could feel the beginnings of an orgasm building within her. She had never experienced pleasure like this, not even in the throes of passion with Charles. It was as if every nerve in her body had been electrified, and the necklace was the switch that controlled the current.

The room grew hazy, the edges of her vision blurring as the climax approached. Her hips bucked, her hand moving faster and faster. She could hear Mickie's laughter, a distant sound that seemed to be coming from somewhere deep inside her. The necklace grew hotter, the diamonds burning into her skin like miniature suns, but she didn't care. The pleasure was all that mattered.

The orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, crashing over her body in a deluge of sensation. Her muscles tightened, her back arched, and a scream of ecstasy ripped from her throat. It was like nothing she had ever felt before, a crescendo of pleasure that seemed to shake the very core of her being. The room spun, the floor disappearing beneath her, and for a brief, blissful moment, she was floating in a sea of pure, unadulterated bliss.

“Babe you fell asleep on the couch.”

The voice was Charles’. Gladys’ eyes snapped open. She was lying on the couch, the necklace still around her neck. The room was dark, the TV flickered with some old black and white movie playing. The glass of wine she had dropped was shattered on the floor, the rug soaking it up. Her hand was between her legs, sticky with her own juices.

“I told you not to wait up for me honey.” Charles said with a yawn, walking into the living room. His eyes widened when he saw her. “What happened here?” He knelt down to the shattered glass, avoiding stepping on it. “I… I was pretending I was Michelle Madison watching her films.” Gladys said, her voice still breathless. She sat up and noticed the necklace still warm around her neck.

Charles laughed, looking up at her with a mixture of confusion and concern. "Michelle Madison, huh? I didn't know you’d like my gift that much." He began to clean up the broken glass, his back to her. Gladys felt the heat from the necklace pulse through her, and she knew that Mickie was still with her, watching.

“That’s right toots. Diamonds are a girl’s best friend.” Mickie’s voice was a sultry whisper that came out of Gladys mouth. Charles froze as Gladys saw his back arch a tiny bit. He then resumed picking the glass and faced his wife. “Whoa did you practice that? You sound just like her.” He was smiling, but his eyes were filled with a mix of confusion and excitement.

“I told you he wants me. Can you believe his mistress looks just like me?” Mickie’s voice echoed in Gladys’ head, filled with glee. Gladys felt a thrill of excitement mixed with a hint of embarrassment. She had never been one to play games, but the power that surged through her was impossible to ignore.

Gladys stood up, the necklace feeling like a second skin, the warmth of its power emanating through her veins. She felt alive, a woman reborn in the shell of her younger self. She walked over to Charles, her hips swaying with a newfound confidence that made him look up at her with surprise. "I've missed you," she purred, her voice laced with the sultry tones of Mickie Madison.

“I’m sorry… I’ve been neglecting you for work.” He said, his eyes roving over her new, sexier figure. “You look incredible. Did you do something different?” Charles looked her up and down. “I took the substance.” Gladys joked, trying to ease the tension she hadn’t noticed she was holding.

Charles laughed at her joke in a way he hadn’t since when they dated. His eyes lingered on her, his gaze lingering on her curves, her fuller breasts, and her youthful face. Gladys felt a thrill of power, knowing she had his attention. She leaned down, her new larger breasts pressing against his back, and whispered in his ear, "I want you."

Charles hesitated for only a moment before standing up and turning to face her. His eyes searched hers, a spark of something unfamiliar flickering within them. "Gladys, what's gotten into you?" He whispered, his voice thick with lust.

“Mmmm darling. I hoped it was going to be you.” Gladys replied in a voice that was eerily similar to Mickie’s. She leaned in closer, her breath hot against his ear. Charles took a step back, his eyes searching hers for some sign of sanity. But Gladys only stepped forward, closing the gap between them. She placed her hand on his chest, feeling his heart race beneath her palm.

“I’ve missed this.” She said, her voice a mix of Mickie’s and her own. Her hand slid down his chest to his waist, pulling him closer. He didn’t resist. The warmth from the necklace grew stronger, and she could feel it pushing her forward, urging her to claim what was rightfully hers. She stood on her tiptoe and kissed him, her lips parting to let her tongue dance with his. The kiss was filled with passion, with longing, with the fiery desire that had been building in her all evening.

The taste of him was like a drug, a potent cocktail of want and need. She could feel the necklace pulsing with every beat of her heart, sending waves of lust through her body. It was as if she had been starved of love for so long that she had forgotten what it tasted like. But now, it was all she could crave.

The kiss grew deeper, more urgent. Gladys felt herself taking control, her hands wandering over his body with a hunger that was not her own. She could feel the heat of his arousal pressing against her, the necklace whispering to her, telling her to take what she wanted. And she did.

With surprising strength, she pushed him back onto the couch, her body moving with a grace she hadn’t known she had. She straddled him, her newfound confidence and sexuality taking over. The necklace was alive, the diamonds glinting in the soft light, casting a seductive glow across her skin.

Her hands moved to his belt, fumbling with the buckle. She hadn’t done this in years, but the necklace’s power guided her, making every movement feel natural and purposeful. She could feel Mickie’s presence, urging her on, feeding her the words and actions she needed to win Charles back.

"Gladys, what are you doing?" he gasped, his voice strained with both surprise and arousal.

"I'm showing you what you've been missing," she murmured, her eyes dark with a passion that had been dormant for too long. The necklace grew hotter with every touch, every whispered word. It was as if Mickie's spirit was urging her on, guiding her to reclaim what was rightfully hers.

Her hands trembled as she unbuckled his belt, the sound echoing through the room like a gunshot in the quiet. She pulled down his pants, revealing his erection that was already straining against his boxers. Gladys felt a surge of power as she realized she could make him want her again, make him crave her like he never had before.

Her hand wrapped around his cock, her grip firm and confident. She stroked him slowly, watching as his eyes rolled back in his head. The necklace pulsed with every beat of his heart, feeding her the energy she needed to keep going. "You're so beautiful, Charles," she murmured, her voice low and husky.

He groaned, his hands reaching up to cup her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her erect nipples. She gasped at the sensation, arching her back to give him better access. The necklace grew warmer, the heat spreading from her neck to her core, making her wetter, making her want him more.

Gladys leaned down, her mouth hovering just above his cock. She took a deep breath, inhaling his scent, feeling his desire. Then she took him into her mouth, her teeth grazing his sensitive skin. He moaned, his hips bucking upward, his hands tangling in her hair. It had been so long since she had felt this powerful, this desired. The necklace whispered sweet nothings in her ear, guiding her movements, urging her on.

Her mouth grew more eager, her tongue flicking against the head of his cock, tasting the precum that had gathered there. She felt a strange sense of satisfaction, a feeling of control that she hadn’t experienced in years. The necklace grew even warmer, the heat spreading through her body like a wildfire, igniting every inch of her skin.

Mickie’s presence grew stronger in her mind, guiding her, whispering ancient secrets of seduction that had been lost to time. Gladys moaned around Charles's cock, feeling the power surging through her, making her want to please him, to show him what he had been missing all these years.

Her hand slid down to her own pussy, her fingers slipping easily into her wetness. She stroked herself in time with her mouth’s movements, her own pleasure building alongside his. She could feel Mickie’s spirit, wild and free, pushing her to take more, to demand more. The necklace was a living thing now, a conduit for passion and desire.

As Gladys continued her ministrations, her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. She had never been like this, never felt such raw, unbridled lust. It was as if she was watching someone else, but it was her body moving, her mouth working his cock, her hand playing with her clit. The power of the necklace was intoxicating, and she couldn’t help but give in to it.

“Oh, baby, yes. Just like that.” Charles’s voice was strained, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he watched his wife of thirty years transform into a sex goddess before his very eyes. His hands clutched her hair, his hips thrusting upward to meet her mouth. The sight of him, lost in pleasure, only spurred her on. She wanted him to feel the same intensity she was experiencing, to know that she could still be the woman he needed.

“Say my name Charles!” Gladys demanded, the power of the necklace pulsing through her like a live wire. She pulled away from his cock, her eyes blazing with a fiery passion that seemed to ignite the room. Charles, overwhelmed with desire, removed his pants and his wife’s to insert his hard cock. She felt the necklace tighten around her neck as she straddled him, his erection sliding into her wet pussy. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and power that made her feel like a queen reclaiming her throne.

“Ungh Gladys! You’re… you’re so tight!” Charles exclaimed as Gladys took him in. It had been years since he had felt this alive, this desired. His eyes searched hers, finding a fiery passion that seemed almost alien in the woman he had known for so long. Gladys frowned yet still moaned as he thrust deep inside of her. “No, call me Mickie darling.” The voice was Gladys’s yet not. It was sexier, more commanding, and it sent a shiver down Charles’s spine.

Charles looked confused for a moment but felt his cock throb at the thought of living his fantasy. He moaned as he imagined fucking the woman he had fantasized about since he was a teenager. “Ohh Mickie! You’re gonna make me cum Mickie!” He said, his voice strained with passion. Gladys felt a strange mix of confusion at her actions. Yet she knew it was the necklace speaking through her, using his desires to bring him back to her.

Gladys began to ride him with renewed vigor, her hips moving in a way she never knew they could. The necklace whispered sweet nothings in her ear, guiding her, pushing her to be the woman Charles had always wanted. She threw her head back, her hair cascading down her back like a waterfall of gold. The room spun around her, the only thing grounding her to reality was the feeling of her husband’s cock inside her, and the warmth of the necklace around her neck.

The orgasm hit her like a meteor shower, lighting up every nerve in her body. She screamed her husband’s name as her pussy clenched around Charles’s cock, her body trembling with the intensity of the climax. The necklace grew hotter, the diamonds seeming to pulse with every spasm of pleasure. She felt as if she was being reborn in that moment, a phoenix rising from the ashes of a forgotten love.

Charles’ eyes widened, his own orgasm ripping through him like a tornado. He had never seen Gladys like this, never felt such power from her touch. He grabbed her hips, holding her down as he thrust into her, their bodies moving together in a symphony of passion. The necklace glowed, the heat from their shared pleasure making it pulse with an otherworldly light.

As they both caught their breath, Gladys collapsed onto Charles, her body a sweaty mess of passion and power. The necklace grew cooler, its job done for now. Yet the warmth remained, a lingering ember in the aftermath of the fiery passion that had consumed them. They lay there for a moment, panting, their hearts racing as they stared into each other’s eyes.

“Don’t take that necklace off baby. It's good luck.” Mickie’s voice was a faint whisper in Gladys’s mind. Gladys lay panting on top of Charles, the necklace feeling like it was a part of her. She looked down at her husband, his eyes glazed with a mix of shock and awe.

[alternate-ram]

TOO LATE

Alice knew she shouldn't have tried on her slutty Step-Mother's fur coat, but it was too late now.

What had started as just a voice in her head had quickly taken control of her whole body, and now Alice could only watch in horror as her hands expertly layered thick makeup on her face.

"Don't worry dear," spoke her own mouth in a mature and all too familiar tone, "Mommy's going to show you just how fun it is to be me..."