naturally dirty blonde locks had become bright, golden blond. It slid down over my eyes—and was eerily silky soft. I chopped it right off, as soon as I saw it. I thought I had, I don't know, accidentally knocked some bleach into my hair or something.
The next morning, the lock had returned, and with company. There were three or four locks all blond, and all of them long. I chopped it all off again—and also trimmed down the rest of my hair. It had gone almost past my neck, which never happens.
This continued for a few days—with my hair steadily getting longer and blonder the whole time—until I just gave up.
Now, it’s comfortably right past my shoulders. I’m getting rather good at trimming it, I think—and Claudette even gave me a pair of real hairstyling scissors so that the cuts could be cleaner. The color is cheery, bright blond. And...I have to admit, it really makes my whole demeanor much more cheerful and vibrant.
I thought I would hate that—being forced to be cheery...but you know what? I sort of like it. It’s kind of like being dropped off at summer camp, you know? All of a sudden, because you’re in an environment where you can’t help but meet new people, you actually start to meet new people? The same deal with...whatever’s happening with me now. Because I look friendlier and sexier, I feel friendlier and sexier.
I smiled in the mirror just now, giggling at the ridiculous thought of comparing my changing body to a summer camp. I could hardly believe it was me. The girl in the mirror just looks so pleased . I want to be her friend. I want to fucking go out with that girl...and that girl is me .
I blame the pills for all the changes, of course. I know, I know—probably you do too. You’re not dumb. You probably caught right on—maybe you caught on even before I did!
But like...well, it’s not as if any of these changes are making me look bad . Or feel bad. In fact, I've had nothing but good consequences from them. Claudette won’t stop complimenting me. Neither will Lilah.
“You just look like an angel on Earth,” Claudette said just today, kissing me on the cheek.
And Lilah, as she slid her hands down my back: “You’re an absolute knock-out, girl. Look at you.”
Stuff like that. I know it’s cheesy, but...I can’t help but like it. It feels so good to be noticed for a change. Can’t I enjoy it, just a little?
I feel like I deserve it.
I don't even mind that Claudette and Lilah have been touching me so much. God, who would? They're so hot. Something about the way their hormones hit them means they love touching and being touched. Lilah made it clear it was part of my job to cooperate with their desires when it came to touching, and you know what? I'm fine with it.
I get to touch Lilah's body whenever I want. The hottest babe around. And when I'm not touching her, I'm touching Claudette. And they want me to. It's so invigorating.
Also, they’ve gotten very strict about the dress code. It seems that—after I capitulated to Lilah when it came to the pills and the one uniform, they knew they had all the power.
It all culminated one day when Claudette cornered me as I was cleaning Mister Castle’s enormous vacant study.
I heard her before I saw her, of course. By this time, I was wearing rather elaborate three-inch heels. They had leather straps that slid across the tops of my feet and up around my ankles. But even those didn’t compete with Claudette’s awe-inspiring six-inch heel gladiator style-sandals. The heels were solid steel.
She slid down across from me on the long leather couch in front of the fire place, her long legs in the air. She stroked the leather for some time, erotically almost. I watched as she leaned over, her heavy tits pressing hard against the cushions, and took in a deep breath. I could see that her nipples were dripping small amounts of milk through the tight confines of her clothing.
“Can I help you find something?” I asked.
“Oh, no,
The next morning, the lock had returned, and with company. There were three or four locks all blond, and all of them long. I chopped it all off again—and also trimmed down the rest of my hair. It had gone almost past my neck, which never happens.
This continued for a few days—with my hair steadily getting longer and blonder the whole time—until I just gave up.
Now, it’s comfortably right past my shoulders. I’m getting rather good at trimming it, I think—and Claudette even gave me a pair of real hairstyling scissors so that the cuts could be cleaner. The color is cheery, bright blond. And...I have to admit, it really makes my whole demeanor much more cheerful and vibrant.
I thought I would hate that—being forced to be cheery...but you know what? I sort of like it. It’s kind of like being dropped off at summer camp, you know? All of a sudden, because you’re in an environment where you can’t help but meet new people, you actually start to meet new people? The same deal with...whatever’s happening with me now. Because I look friendlier and sexier, I feel friendlier and sexier.
I smiled in the mirror just now, giggling at the ridiculous thought of comparing my changing body to a summer camp. I could hardly believe it was me. The girl in the mirror just looks so pleased . I want to be her friend. I want to fucking go out with that girl...and that girl is me .
I blame the pills for all the changes, of course. I know, I know—probably you do too. You’re not dumb. You probably caught right on—maybe you caught on even before I did!
But like...well, it’s not as if any of these changes are making me look bad . Or feel bad. In fact, I've had nothing but good consequences from them. Claudette won’t stop complimenting me. Neither will Lilah.
“You just look like an angel on Earth,” Claudette said just today, kissing me on the cheek.
And Lilah, as she slid her hands down my back: “You’re an absolute knock-out, girl. Look at you.”
Stuff like that. I know it’s cheesy, but...I can’t help but like it. It feels so good to be noticed for a change. Can’t I enjoy it, just a little?
I feel like I deserve it.
I don't even mind that Claudette and Lilah have been touching me so much. God, who would? They're so hot. Something about the way their hormones hit them means they love touching and being touched. Lilah made it clear it was part of my job to cooperate with their desires when it came to touching, and you know what? I'm fine with it.
I get to touch Lilah's body whenever I want. The hottest babe around. And when I'm not touching her, I'm touching Claudette. And they want me to. It's so invigorating.
Also, they’ve gotten very strict about the dress code. It seems that—after I capitulated to Lilah when it came to the pills and the one uniform, they knew they had all the power.
It all culminated one day when Claudette cornered me as I was cleaning Mister Castle’s enormous vacant study.
I heard her before I saw her, of course. By this time, I was wearing rather elaborate three-inch heels. They had leather straps that slid across the tops of my feet and up around my ankles. But even those didn’t compete with Claudette’s awe-inspiring six-inch heel gladiator style-sandals. The heels were solid steel.
She slid down across from me on the long leather couch in front of the fire place, her long legs in the air. She stroked the leather for some time, erotically almost. I watched as she leaned over, her heavy tits pressing hard against the cushions, and took in a deep breath. I could see that her nipples were dripping small amounts of milk through the tight confines of her clothing.
“Can I help you find something?” I asked.
“Oh, no,
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