Confidence Boost

Summer came to me struggling with confidence issues. Despite being brilliant, she was always second-guessing and doubting herself. That was always the way with smart girls; all those brains and they could never just be content.

Luckily for Summer, while I was a mediocre therapist, I am a talented witch. After identifying the problem, I cast a simple transference spell. Her brain cells were the problem, so taking most of them away meant taking away her doubts; dumb girls never questioned things.

Of course, I was still left with cells that needed a home, and the ex-Valedictorian deserved a confidence boost. A jiggly, fatty boost meant Summer could have jugs the size of her head; something any dumb bimbo could be proud of.

My office had no mirrors, but the happy dummy made do, on her knees in front of my fireplace, cooing over her reflection. Fortunately for me, on her knees was exactly where I needed her for our sessions’ payment.

Weight Distribution

Your pandemic tummy was bothering you lately, and your new roommate took notice. You still didn’t know them very well, but they were studying biochemistry and suggested a custom supplement they were working on. They even promised the pill would flatten your waist in no time without a change in diet.

It sounded too good to be true, but they struck you as genuine and that paunch was getting on your nerves. What was the worst that could happen?

True to their word, a week after taking the pill, your waist was trim and your stomach was flat! You were even seeing the makings of abs.

What they didn’t mention initially was that the supplement was not designed to stop weight gain. After a week, it was obvious the weight you put on was shifting. Instead of a chubby stomach and a flat ass, you were developing a sleek waist and a bubble butt.

The supplements did have some side effects; heightened libido and sensitivity were definitely confirmed, and you couldn’t tell if you were getting addicted to the pills or your growing bottom.

All you knew was the more you ate, the more your butt filled out. You were having a blast shoveling dining hall food into your mouth to fuel your new obsession.

You’ve never felt more confident. And obviously, you offer your new dumptruck of an ass to your brilliant, considerate roomie as a thank you.

And to deal with that raging libido, of course. An ass like yours was meant to be fucked.

L is for Lesbian

Lesbian

(Obviously, I'm many days behind, but I figured I'd drop L on Lesbian Visibility Day!)

Layla was everything people expected when they thought of a preacher's daughter; modest, wholesome, and incredibly sheltered. The doe-eyed blonde was the Christian Conservative ideal of an All-American Good Girl. Her father touted her to his congregation as the ideal of a Woman of God, dutiful to her parents and chastely awaiting the righteous love of a Man of God.

That was what made the first step out of line so unexpected. Thanks to years of diligent studying, and despite her father's apprehension, Layla begged her way into attending college.

It was unconventional in her family, where women were expected to settle down, marry Godly men, and pump out many Christian babies. Layla promised to major in Theology and be an example for her peers; she felt a calling she could not explain to her father, but she still wanted to appease his expectations of her. Despite all her expectations, he relented because he knew his daughter had the Fear of God in her.

Layla was ready to go to college and be an example of her righteous raising. She was not expecting to meet an example of her polar opposite in her dormitory. Her roommate, Kelsey, was anything but traditional. An art chick with short, colorful hair and MULTIPLE tattoos— at eighteen!

Something about Kelsey made Layla nervous, but she was taught to be friendly and welcoming, even to people from... different walks of life. Kelsey, to her credit, was incredibly friendly. And open. Oh, so open. Layla got acquainted with the tattoos on her roommates as she spent her time walking around their room less than fully clothed.

Try as she might to ignore Kelsey, Layla found herself enthralled by the wild nature of her roommate. She started asking about her art and her interests, delving further into a secular world she was unfamiliar with.

But it was not just her interests; it was her body. It was her lack of shame. It was the way the low cut of her jeans dropped to the fullest point of the curve of her hips. Kelsey, to her credit, never said anything when she caught Layla staring. She just let her timid roommate cling to her (metaphorically) to help her break out of her shell.

They spend many nights in that first semester staying up late, talking about life and identity and shame. The shame that Layla had that Kelsey lacked, and where it came from. Each Sunday, it got harder to stomach some of the rhetoric at service and harder to justify getting out of bed early each morning.

Particularly when the bed she was rolling out of was Kelsey's bed. At first, it was something Layla justified as a comfort, but as Thanksgiving break rolled around, she was learning to accept the way Kelsey's scent lingered in her mind and her warmth left an impression on her body.

When Winter Break arrived, the preacher nearly had a heart attack when his timid blonde daughter returned home with her hair dyed pink. He preached fire and brimstone that Sunday on the Earthly temptations that lead good submissive women astray, but the fear tactics did not hit Layla the way they used to before college.

Kelsey could confirm Layla was not as submissive as everyone assumed.

In her second semester, Layla diversified her courses, opting for a Literature course where the Gospels were not required reading. Word traveled down the grapevine from her small college church to her small hometown, with Layla's father reaching out, demanding to know what was keeping his daughter from weekly services. 

He threatened to pull her out of school and lamented his mistake of leading her away from her destiny as a Godly housewife. Layla could only imagine his shock when he received her letter the next week.

Dear Daddy,

Thank you for setting me along my true path. Walking the straight line you preached, I never dared to stray out of fear. I needed to step away from your fire and brimstone to understand my path was never meant to be straight.

I won't be coming back this Summer. My girlfriend and I will be getting an apartment and I don't plan on telling you where. But rest assured, campus security has been informed that you are no longer a welcome guest here. I don't need sermons on hate and submissive boxes I belong in anymore, and that's all you've ever offered.

Farewell from your very, very gay daughter,

Layla

The newly re-registered English major slipped the envelope in the mailbox, only to feel familiar lips against her neck. She grinned and turned to admire Kelsey, dragging a suitcase behind her for their first Spring Break trip together.

"You ready to get moving on, babe?"

Layla could not help but wrap her arms around Kelsey's slender waist and pull her into a proper, passionate kiss in the middle of their dorm's courtyard. "Never been more ready."

K is for Kissable

Kissable

Kenna was accustomed to the hormonally-charged environment of an all-girls school now that
she was eighteen and in her final semester. Even the straight girls were so starved for experience and intimacy that it was common for girls to experiment with one another. 

As a certified, card-carrying queer girl, Kenna would love to have been part of the fun, but the introvert struggled to pull together the confidence to suggest a proper snogfest to any of her classmates.

Ever the dutiful goodie-two-shoes, Kenna was volunteering for the chore of cleaning up the dorm attic when she found an old oil lantern. Curious, Kenna took it in her own room and managed to light the lantern. Much to her surprise, a busty genie manifested from the flame!

"Thank you for releasing me. As a token of my gratitude, I can grant you one wish!"

"Wow, that's... wait, one? I thought it was supposed to be three?"

The genie rolled her eyes. "A bit bratty to look a gift horse in the mouth. I can only change reality so much; accept a small gift and be grateful."

Kenna sighed, but this was what she was asking for. She could not change anything big, but she could make her last year of high school and all her years of college way more enjoyable. She just needed a way to get people interested in her without Kenna having to be the initiator.

"I wish I was the best kisser in my grade, my job, or whatever groups I end up in, and everyone knows it." That was like starting a rumor without having to do any of the work!

"So your wish is... to be the most kissable person anywhere you go?"

"Yes, please!"

"Easy."

Kenna gasped as her lips started to tingle. She scrambled from her bed to the mirror on her wall to see what was happening. Her eyes went wide as she watched her thin lips fill with natural collagen. Her lower lip puffed up. Her upper lip matched, developing a perfectly defined cupid bow. She kept expecting those lips to stop, but they kept swelling until it was hard to imagine telling anyone that they were not fake.

Dumbfounded, Kenna brushed a finger along her pouty pillows. They were so sensitive that she felt the grazing touch between her legs. Even when those lips were closed, there was a little permanent keyhole open between them.

"How am I thupothed to exthplain thith?" Kenna gasped, shocked by the lisp she developed thanks to her obstructive mouth.

"You won't have to. I changed your history; your lips have been this way for years, Hot Lips!"

"But now I thound ridiculouth! How will anyone take me theriouthly in college?" She was a top-notch student, but she sounded like a total ditz! As remade memories hit her, Kenna realized her teachers always clearly judged her harshly for her "silly speech."

In fact, they thought she was a dumb bimbo because of her reputation. The reputation she asked for. They could not mark her down for it, but they gave her a hard time for being the school slut.

"You didn't ask to be taken seriously. You asked to be 'kithable,' remember?"

"But wait, thith ithn't—huh??"

The genie, tired of the ingrate's whining, had vanished into the lamp, leaving Kenna
conflicted. Is this really what she wanted? Was it worth it?

The door to the dorm room opened, and Kenna's roommate, Lila, entered. The popular, confident young woman was blushing and looking at Kenna in a way she never had before. "Hey, Kenna. I don't know if this is overstepping things as roommates, but... well, it's been a while since my boyfriend has been able to visit and..." She looked at her feet.

And Kenna realized what she was asking. Her full lips curled into an alluring smile. She moved to Lila and closed the door behind her and pulled her into a soft, sensual kiss so perfect, a moan hummed in Lila's throat.

Okay. Her teachers and professors could judge her all they liked; if that was how every girl she kissed would react, this was the best wish ever. Of all time.

J is for Jiggle

Jiggle

People liked telling Jessica she was lucky for her high metabolism, but those comments always irked her. She knew where they were coming from, but she was always self-conscious of her very thin frame and total lack of curves.

One day, before she left home for her office job, Jessica found an unexpected package on her doorstep. Taking it inside, she opened it and found a treasure trove of carefully wrapped chocolate truffles. The accompanying booklet explained that they were "a dietary supplement for those looking to put on healthy weight."

Jessica wondered who was pranking her with an order like this, but she still had to admit the truffles smelled great. Against her better judgment, she bit into one and discovered the dark chocolate was filled with a deliciously sweet pink cream. She decided to put a few in her purse, just in case these joke candies did not make her sick.

As hours passed, Jessica went from wondering if the chocolates were poisoned to wondering if they had cocaine in them, because she was addicted. She ate all of the truffles from her purse by lunch, followed by her actual lunch, and by the end of the day, Jessica was excited to pop another sweet and creamy treat in her mouth.

After three days, co-workers kept taking second looks at Jessica, and her friends said she was glowing. Her clothes were starting to fit more snugly, ending up especially tight around the chest and hips. It only took a week for Jessica to notice the gradual change she was seeing. After inspecting a past photo of herself, she realized the change was not all that gradual.

Stripping out of her clothes, Jessica cupped her breasts. Of course her shirts were tight; it was clear the girl in the photo was barely an A cup while the new Jessica had grown into a C in only a few days! Likewise, her toothpick thighs and boney hips suddenly had a comfortable padding of fat thickening them up.

Needing to know, Jessica reach back and smacked her own ass and giggled, because she could feel the flesh jiggling.

The candies were addictive before they proved themselves to be some kind of body-altering supersnack. Jessica looked over the booklet again, taking special note of instructions that told her to pace herself. She would have to work on that after an initial week of satisfying gluttony.

She set aside the candies to last for another month, and the results were better than she could have hoped for. Her short stature had always worked with her thin frame to convince people she might be too young to work her job. Now, as her thighs rubbed and her full tits bounced as she walked, no one would be making that mistake again. Even her stomach had gone from being barely there to having a soft paunch. Every inch of her was becoming voluptuous, a word she was never able to see in herself before.

Whether it was the candies or the sheer joy of having a bombshell body for the first time in her life, Jessica noticed her skin was incredibly soft and her nerves were torturously sensitive. Every time her body bounced and jiggled, Jessica felt heat build. She had all these curves and she needed people to start fondling and squeezing every inch of her perfectly fondleable and squeezable body.

Luckily for her, by the time her life-changing shipment of chocolates ran out, her office was full of men and women lustily watching every little jiggle.

I is for IQ

 IQ

(Continued from Hairpin)

The semester was almost over and, with her former rival writhing in the corner of her room, Isabel was confident in her secured valedictorian status. With that pressure off, she could focus her energy on a project that would set her up for life after graduation.

Doctor Juniper, her biochemistry professor, had tapped Isabel specifically to work on a revolutionary new brain drug that would accelerate the human capacity for thought. If they really hit a breakthrough, it would not be an exaggeration to say their work could be the next major step in the progress of humanity as a race.

Assisting the person who would change the world would let Isabel begin her scientific career as a rockstar in her field, but being the one to change the world would make her a legend.

Isabel was the one mixing test batches of the drug to be administered to non-human subjects, so she was the one developing an intimate knowledge of her product. She was the one who knew the sweet, floral scent of the vapors and she was committing the Doctor's formula to memory. She was sure, if she studied it enough, she could mix up a drug with the opposite effect. After that, all it took was a little prick and her professor could enjoy an early, simple-minded retirement.

It sounded simple on paper, but every time Isabel tried to mix the IQ Loss Formula, it would blow up in her face. Once, literally. The more she attempted it, the further she was getting from a stable solution, as though her grasp of chemistry was failing her.

One day, Isabel was finally being allowed to sit in on the tests as rats injected with the serum were challenged with a maze. It was not the complex maze Isabel expected, and yet the rats were utterly lost, going so far as to bump into walls. "Huh? But... why didn't the smart serum make them more smarter?" Wait, that wasn't right...

Doctor Juniper approached their student from behind, smirking. "Because it was never meant to do that, dummy." Isabel gasped as she felt a quick, sharp prick in her neck, followed by a rush of warmth. "You would have figured that out if you wore a mask to avoid the fumes."

Isabel spun and fumbled backwards, trying to understand what was happening and what went wrong. She had a plan to... she was going to use science and make the Doctor more... dumber? But how could she do that when they were so smart and even were a doctor? She had made a mistake somewhere!

"Oh, little Izzy, always too ambitious and predictable. After you used your little hex to turn Haley into a useless slut, I knew you'd be looking for someone new to exploit for the sake of your own ego." They approached Izzy, who tilted her head as the Doctor pulled her labcoat off her shoulders. "You won't be needing that. I decided you were far too dangerous to be trusted with the knowledge of witchcraft or science."

It was true; Izzy knew she had been going to school for years and had gotten very good at science. She had also read so many spellingbooks... no, spellbooks. She had taught herself so much, but the concepts went so far over her head, when she tried thinking of the most basic elemental compounds, her eyes started glazing over.

"Of course, the formula doesn't discern between what knowledge it erases from that empty little head of yours. I'd dare say you're as useless as your little Haley now, in your own way."

Izzy pouted, hit with the concerned panic of confusion. "But... if I can't do science anymore, what am I s'posed to do? I don't know what jobs I'm good at!"

"Not many, I'd bet. I doubt you can read at this point." 

Izzy gasped and looked for Doctor Juniper's name tag, only to find unfamiliar squiggles next to their picture. 

The professor rested a hand on Izzy's shoulder, and something about reassurance from someone smarter than her did ease her nerves. "Don't worry, Izzy, I'll make sure to find something even an idiot like you and a fuckdoll like Haley can handle."

That was the start of Izzy letting go of all her stress and machinations too big for her tiny brain. She could let her new keeper, Master Juniper, make big decisions and she could focus on fucking Haley on the Master's website. It was an enjoyable job even a low-IQ moron like Izzy could do!

H is for Hairpin

Hairpin

Haley and Isabel were the most competitive girls in their class. The two had birthdays in the same week and had competing parties. They went after the same guys. Most importantly, after four years at the same university, they were fighting to end the year as valedictorian.

Haley teased Isabel, pointing out that she was just edging her out going into Spring Break.

Something about Isabel's response was ominous. "We'll see how you like edging."

The young blonde student tried to shake off the comment and focus on her assignments.

Except it was the most annoying thing. As she focused on her word document, the fabric of her shirt brushed her nipple and it was like a switch was flipped. Try as she might to think about sentences, she just became more aware of the way her clothes were touching her. Haley was not prudish, but she considered herself low-libido.

Her body was just unexpectedly sensitive. If she could deal with this sudden swelling of need, she could focus. She slipped her fingers into her waistband, but the moment her fingertips brushed her clit, her vision went white and her eyes rolled back. The pleasure was so overwhelming, before she realized it, she had multiple fingers inside herself.

She came so easily. But that was not the end of things. There was barely any time to come down from the blissful climax before she was rubbing her thighs together, and the fabric between them was enough to get her going again.

The week of Spring Break was a blur. She masturbated, she came, she masturbated again, repeating until she passed out with fingers still in her pussy. A package came to her door on Friday; evidently, in her lusty haze, she had ordered a vibrator online. The new toy was put to immediate use, and by the time her body was too exhausted to fuck herself again, she looked at her computer and realized it was Wednesday. She had masturbated her way through three days of missed classes.

She did all she could to prepare for Thursday. finding a dress of the lightest material and connecting with someone shady online to obtain a local anesthetic. She needed her body under control to go to her classes and apologize to her professors. She would figure out a good excuse once her head started clearing out the pink sex fog clouding her mind.

Taking a seat next to Isabel, she grinned knowingly at Haley. "You're looking flushed, Haley. Are you still feeling... unwell?"

Haley's jaw dropped. Did Isabel know what was happening? Before she could ask, the professor called class into session. Haley's body felt heavy and numb, but it was better than the alternative.

Isabel furrowed her brow as minutes passed without incident, but the competitive witch finally pieced together what was happening. Flipping to a new page in her notebook, she drew a circle with an intricate design inside it. Getting up from her seat under the pretence of going to the bathroom, she tapped the glyph against Haley's shoulder and muttered, "Purify."

The numbness faded immediately. Haley's eyes went wide as the loose dress moved with her every movement and her nipples went erect and desperate for contact. Haley tried subtly cupping her own breasts, but at that point it was all over. Eventually, Haley had to be escorted out by security after refusing to stop masturbating in front of her Professor and peers, leaving a puddle of her sex in the chair she left behind.

Haley broke free from the security guards to hunt down Isabel, trying to demand answers, but by the time she found her in a washroom, her tongue was hanging out of her mouth and her body was shaking.

Isabel smirked. "Enjoying my Hairpin Charm? I was skeptical that it could put your sensitivity and libido on a hairpin trigger, but I've really made a useless slut out of you. Can you even think of anything else now?"

Haley tried to be mad, but thoughts of anger were melting into thoughts of lust. ALL her thoughts were devolving into sex. Her hand was buried in her cunt under her dress, and even her own touch felt insufficient for her inhumane need.

"You know what? Ask me for anything. I'll grant you any request in my power."

This was it. Haley could ask for the charm to be lifted so she could try to salvage her life. If she could put together that line of thought, she could be freed from life as a horny pervert.

But she was too far gone. "F-fuck me. P-p-please, fuck me!"

Isabel was so proud, pulling out a plug with a gem embedded in it and a small vibrator. "You want that? Your most bitter rival?"

"Yes!"

"But what if I only fuck you if you drop out and become my useless fucktrophy?"

Haley nodded, dripping drool from her hanging tongue and cum from between her legs. A fucktrophy was all she wanted to be. All she could see herself as now. 

Hornycunt would live a blissful life leashed in the corner of Isabel's dorm masturbating shamelessly to keep herself hot and wet for when her new owner wanted to reward herself with her conquered nemesis.

G is for Gym Bunny

 Gym Bunny

Gwen was in a new relationship and things were good. Well, okay. Okay for the most part. Harry was well-intentioned, but as a fitness nut, he had a habit of saying casually judgmental things. Since college, Gwen had put on some pudge working her sedentary office job, a trait she was painfully aware of lately thanks to Harry.

With a delicate nudge, Gwen changed into baggy gym pants after work and found a local gym to check out. Harry offered to go with her, but after a series of sarcastic comments, she decided it was best to go it alone.

Inexperienced and out of practice, Gwen found herself getting tired after challenging herself on the treadmill. She took a break at the water fountain where she made a new friend. Something about Anabel put Gwen at ease. She was gorgeous and confident, but the way she encouraged Gwen came with no judgment.

Gwen admitted that her boyfriend was being kind of an ass, and Anabel's energy shifted. The challenge of getting back into fitness and finding her own confidence was daunting for Gwen, but her new friend was adamant that she had just the thing to help.

The next day, Anabel offered Gwen a water bottle filled with her own homemade workout drink. Gwen drank the busty witch's potion and felt the effects immediately. Her muscles were tingling and warm, as though fire pervaded every fiber of her body. Gwen shivered, finding pleasure in the sudden burst of energy.

Gwen's new supplement broke down all the walls she hit in her first workout. She felt the "burn," but she was not getting tired. The more she worked out, the more natural the act of lifting, running, pushing became. At the end of the night, looking at herself in the mirror, her appearance had not changed, but she admired her body glistening with sweat, chubby tummy and all.

Each afternoon, Gwen would go in for her workout, and each night she would return home and her boyfriend would make negging comments. The difference was, as her workout routine became more consistent, her boyfriend's words came through muddled and distant. She thought nothing of it; thanks to her daily potion, tuning out negativity and judgment became second nature.

After a month, Gwen had drawers of yoga pants and compression tops and chub was already melting away into strong, firm muscle. Her arms were defined, her thighs were thick, and for the first time in her life, she had abs. Abs!

Another important change was the notable absence of Harry in her life. He made some comment about her getting too "bulky for a female," but Gwen was oblivious to most of what he said after a month of her potion inoculating her to negativity. And that was all he was; negativity under the guise of "good intentions." Casually, Gwen let him know she was done with him, and try as he might to gaslight her into changing her mind, she ignored him like the insignificant man he was.

Harry would not be missed; the other women at the gym had taken up shamelessly (but respectfully) admiring Gwen and her progress. Anabel, her wonderfully witchy new girlfriend, said it was her natural confidence shining through. Gwen agreed, but with how handy Anabel and the other gym bunnies got with her waist in the showers, she was willing to admit the abs helped.

F is for Feminine

Feminine

Felix and his girlfriend Glynda were hitting a rough patch in their relationship. They loved each other, but she was getting fed up with his antiquated hangups and opinions. Felix grew up in a conservative, repressed household with a father who ingrained the idea of what a "man" should be in Felix's head.

That toxic masculinity trained Felix to pick interests that men would like and see women as subservient and frivolous. Glynda was getting tired of Felix making patronizing comments whenever she watched a "girly" show or bought a new tarot deck. Anything he was taught to associate with women, he could not help but poke fun at.

Nevertheless, he recognized his behaviors were the problem and wanted to address them for the sake of their relationship, but he needed help. Luckily, Glynda's "silly witchy hobby" went beyond recreation, and despite his flaws, Glynda could see something worth salvaging in Felix.

As the clock struck midnight, Glynda lit candles and offered honey cakes and prayers to Artemis, beseeching her to help her significant other see through the toxic indoctrination of his past and connect with his own femininity.

With his eyes closed to the world, memories started flashing back for Felix, going back to childhood. He remembered befriending girls at Kindergarten before his father warded away protective mothers who saw through him. School friends gave him dolls, only for Felix to be scolded when returning home with the gifts. As these chains became clear in Felix's mind, it was clear they were binding a bottle.

Glynda raised a glass vial she prepared for the ritual, manifesting whatever Felix was forced to bottle up. In the glass, a warm pink flame flickered to life. The light felt familiar and comforting, but it made Felix nervous. With a gentle word of encouragement from Glynda, Felix took the vial and, in an instant, the psychic chains crumbled, letting him open the vial.

He breathed the flame in deep, but it did no harm. All it filled his with was warmth and the scent of peonies. The warmth radiated through his body as feelings and truths, buried for so long, were reclaimed.

The Goddess saw the truths and wishes of a lost sister and granted her blessing. As the soothing warmth radiated, it brought new change. Body hair faded, but strawberry blonde locks grew and curled around her shoulders. Fat and muscles redistributed themselves, padding out her thighs, hips, and ass. Her features softened and her chest swelled into prominent buds on her chest.

Gasping in a new, higher pitch, Felicia opened her eyes and looked at her body, draped in clothes a bit too big for her new frame. She finally looked up at Glynda, who was beaming proudly.

Glynda's significant other broke from the toxicity the patriarchy forced on her, reconnected with her repressed femininity, and as her truest self, they could retry their relationship on a healthier foundation.

After she took Felicia shopping for a new wardrobe, of course.

E is for Egirl

 Egirl

Emily was not the type of person who took pride in living her life offline. She was in her twenties, in her prime with a vibrant social life and a job where she could climb the ladder. Wasting time bouncing between websites held no appeal to Emily, and everyone in her life knew it.

That made it all the stranger when her marketing position with tech company was rebranded, designating Emily as their Social Media Manager. She begrudgingly accepted that social media was part of effective marketing, but why make a woman with no social media presence responsible for crafting posts and content? She asked her Supervisor, Felicia, but was just told, "I believe in your ability to adapt."

Adaptation was important, so Emily leaned into her new job. She watched other brands online and made posts and videos, tracking analytics. What she saw motivated her; when she was in a photo or video, the numbers improved. She was becoming part of the brand and people clearly liked seeing her. Something about that was validating.

Emily kept a closer eye on Twitter, TikTok, Instagram; all sites she was vaguely aware of before now occupied her attention as she committed to her new role. She even joined these sites with personal accounts to get the hang of them. To her surprise, people started following her on her personal accounts, too, and the outpouring of praise and attention felt even better when she knew they were there just for her.

As with everything, she learned what she was doing. She jumped on dance trends and bought outfits and styles popular creators wore. She invested in makeup, highlighted her hair, and started comfortably showing off more skin in her videos and photos. As she predicted, her views and follows skyrocketed. Despite never picking up a video game before, her new fans even prompted her to start a Twitch account!

The more Emmy devoted her time to her online persona, the fewer and farther between her company's social media updates became. The sad truth was that her numbers with her company were paltry, appealing to a niche market. Compared to her own brand, it seemed insignificant.

By the time Felicia let her know that she was being terminated, Emmy was committed to her pink-haired egirl existence, to the point where she was considering reinvesting her success into a few procedures she knew would triple her popularity. Money was not an issue, particularly after Felicia offered to be her manager and helped her set up an OnlyFans. 

In a way, Felicia was the one responsible for Emmy's wonderful new life. Her new manager even joked that she set Emmy up on the path to keep her "opportunistic ass" from taking her job. Emmy had a good laugh at that, particularly now that her ass was raking in big bucks for Emmy and her owner manager.

D is for Doll

 Doll

Dixie was between jobs when a modeling opportunity was brought to her attention. Dixie was not so modest that she would claim she was not attractive, but she never considered herself modelesque. Nevertheless, an old classmate assured her that she was exactly what the client was looking for. Strapped for cash, Dixie jumped at the chance to relieve some of the stress she was buried under.

Arriving to the set, Dixie was pleased to find her client to be an older woman rather than a sleazy man looking for excuses to take photos of her. She would take the money either way, but the woman set her at ease. Despite her age, she was stunning, with a regal air that made Dixie want to follow her instructions to the letter.

And there were instructions. This woman was not just the photographer; she was handling everything personally. She started with makeup. Dixie was no stranger to makeup, but for this job, she was being covered in a uniform, clean coat. Watching her skin in the mirror, every inch was clear and fair like porcelain.

"A flawless surface is essential."

Dixie's curly black hair could be a handful, but the client took her time painstakingly reining in each fly away, straightening her hair and putting it into a tight, stiff braid that rested between her shoulder blades.

"Every strand perfectly in place."

Next came the costumes. Each was a lavish period dress more beautiful than the last. The client dressed her, and when she was unsure of how to pose or stand, she meticulously guided Dixie's arms and adjusted her legs. At first, the dresses felt tight and uncomfortable, like they were not meant for Dixie's frame. With each new dress, the fit came easier and felt natural.

"The ideal frame for dress-up!"

At first, Dixie thought they were being tailored to her frame before she saw herself in the mirror between dresses. Her waist was dainty, molded to her owner's needs. That thought did not bother her, and she understood why. In the same way she painted and posed ever so perfectly, Dixie was being adjusted to be the model best suited for her task. 

Naked, she stood rigidly and examined her reflection. An hourglass figure, skin that reflected the light, and a face so beautifully made up, Dixie did not dare move a muscle.

Her owner smiled, taking care of that for her by adjusting her chin. "I knew you would make the perfect doll. All it took was a little care and guidance."

Dolly felt the smile in her heart, though her face remained perfectly still. Behind her glassy gaze, her mind was slowly adjusting, letting thoughts and memories fade. Functions ceased functioning. All Dixie's stress melted away because Dolly had nothing to stress about. 

"A doll doesn't need a brain; just a set of loving hands to guide her."