Mona Lisa Smile - by IridescentGentleman

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Mona Lisa Smile - by IridescentGentleman

Postby iridescentgentleman » Mon Feb 12, 2024 11:31 am

Mona Lisa Smile
By IridescentGentleman

Mind Control, Bimbofication, Jerseyfication, Accent Change, Personality Change, Betrayal, Male/Female Pairing, Demotion


When young, ambitious Lisa tries to climb to the top of the corporate ladder, Brad and his magic medallion may send her back to her Jersey roots instead. Can her best friend Clark stop her transformation, or will he just be a witness to it?

[Disclaimer: All characters in this story are entirely fictional and over the age of 18. If you aren’t over 18, this story is not for you. Additionally the author does not condone any of the immoral actions or offensive behaviors of the characters herein. This is fictional, fetish writing for entertainment purposes only.

Copyright © 2024]


Chapter 1 - Monday Morning

Lisa Ricci stepped out of the elevator of the MetroCorp building and blinked as all the office’s lights turned on. She was usually the first one on the 7th floor to show up in the morning, so everything was dark until she walked in. She smiled a bit to herself as she made her way towards the break room. Coming in early was one of the many things Lisa prided herself on in her career. At only 25 she was one of the youngest managers at MetroCorp’s headquarters. And she had gotten there by coming in early, staying late, and making sacrifices outside of work to show she was ready to lead in the company.

Lisa made it to the break room, quickly catching a glimpse of herself in one of the glass panel walls. The young woman was the picture of professionalism, and little else. Lisa had never really been a beautiful woman. Even she considered herself fairly plain. Lisa was mid-height, about 5 feet and 6 inches tall, with pale skin that didn’t get enough sun as she worked inside. She had flat, chestnut brown hair that went down past her shoulders. That hair framed an angular face. Her hazel eyes were set far apart, her nose was prominent but not big, and her lips were thin and wide. She had little in the way of curves. Her chest was almost flat, her waist and hips straight up and down, and her butt just blended in. Her long, shapely legs from playing soccer were her best features. But they weren’t anymore visible than the rest of her under a purple pantsuit.

Lisa had been insecure about her looks as a teenager, especially given where she was from. The young woman had grown up on the Jersey Shore, famous for its guidos and guidettes. Its culture of loud, garish excess had always repelled Lisa and her family. Her parents had used the “Shore trash” to warn her about the consequences of failing in life, and it had sunk in. Lisa had gone to college on the West Coast, had trained away what accent she had, and had become the model of a professional woman. She wanted to be valued for her initiative and ideas. And she was proud of her looks as they were. She looked smart and professional.

And besides, curves would have been harder to fit comfortably into a suit.

Lisa slipped a Keurig cup into the office’s machine as she put her lunch away in the refrigerator. She waited quietly until her coffee cup filled and took it with her to her small. That light, as well, flipped on as she entered her spartan workspace. Lisa’s office was small – the office a junior manager would expect. The expanse of an executive office was confined to her imagination for the moment, though she hoped not for much longer. Because today she had come in early for a reason. She wasn’t just here to get more work done. She was here to prepare for what she hoped would be a defining moment of her career. Lisa’s department’s quarterly report was due on Friday, and the executive board would be physically present at the meeting. She’d already heard rumblings that she was being considered for a Junior Executive position, and Lisa thought a good performance for the Board could tip the scales. It was Monday morning now, and she’d have until Friday to make it perfect.

Lisa had just settled in and begun drilling into her spreadsheets and powerpoints when her door opened. She looked up and smiled as she saw Clark enter the room. Clark was wearing a button-down shirt and a pair of slacks – same as he did most days. He had a tote bag over her shoulder and a coffee from a local café in hand. He was a welcome sight to Lisa. He was her work husband, to hear her tell it. Clark and Lisa had started at the same time and hit it off at their orientation. Even though Clark worked two floors down, the two were constantly chatting on their workplace messenger and helping each other where they could. Their personalities meshed well. Both were serious, but not harsh. Committed to their work, but not boring. And despite his dull appearance, Clark had a flair for graphical design. The IT developer was about 6 feet tall, with short brown hair and a round face shrouded in a full, close-cropped beard. He had green eyes, a big nose, and full lips that poked out from under his whiskers. His work shirt and slacks hid his slightly overweight frame, and a bit of hair poked out from his chest. He adjusted his glasses as he took a seat across from Lisa and smiled.

“Morning, work hubs,” Lisa said with a chuckle.

“Morning, work wife,” he said back. “I guess it’s the big week. And I guess you’re going to need help putting together this presentation.”

“You know me way too well,” Lisa said, sighing. “I just have no eye for style. And you make such amazing stuff. But you know you don’t have to do that, right? Like…you don’t have to do this, Clark. You have your own job.”

“I don’t help you because I have to, Lisa,” he replied. “I do it because I want to.” Clark smiled. He wasn’t lying, but his reasons were a bit more complicated than just wanting to help. He’d harbored a secret crush on Lisa for most of the two years they’d known each other. She’d generally had boyfriends, so he hadn’t said anything. It would have been unprofessional, anyways. But some part of him hoped that by working with her, it would come up. And if not, he’d still have an amazing friend.

“If you insist,” Lisa said with a playful sigh. “Then we have four days to put everything together. How about we schedule working lunches each day. I’ll bring you what I’ve worked up, and you can help me make it look nice.” Lisa smiled. “And if it’s not too much trouble, we could get a conference room after hours and you could be my one-man audience for what I’ll say. Presentation matters at least as much as content in front of the board. They need executives to show leadership skills.”

“As if you’ll struggle with that,” Clark said. “You’re one of the most assertive people I’ve ever met, Lisa. There’s no way you won’t impress them.”

“But it’s not just me in a vacuum,” Lisa said with a sigh. “You know what we’re up against. Brad will be presenting, too. And you know how hard it is for any woman to be taken seriously when there’s some tall, smug douchebag in the room.”

Clark grimaced. He knew Lisa was right, and beyond that he knew exactly who she was talking about. Brad was another coworker who was part of their orientation. But he made an immediate bad impression. Brad was 6 feet and 5 inches tall, with slicked-back blonde hair and a goatee that rounded out a chiseled face. His piercing eyes and coy smile were attractive. Even Lisa couldn’t deny that. She also would admit that he looked absolutely cut when she saw him in a swimsuit at a company pool party. But looks were skin-deep, and Brad was rotten. Lisa hated how he treated her, like his junior coworker. She hated how he treated the secretaries. And she hated that nobody seemed to care enough to do anything about it. Brad had moved at the same pace Lisa had, and she was determined to overcome him this time. This board meeting would be her chance to finally show that substance could and would triumph over some shallow business school bro’s smug smiles and mediocre skills.

“I know, Lisa,” Clark said. “But I also believe you in. Maybe even more than you do. You’re going to be ready for this. While he’s off at the gym or barhopping or whatever it is guys like that do in their free time, you’re going to be focusing on success.” He smiled to his friend, and Lisa smiled back. “You wouldn’t be trying if you didn’t know, deep down, that you could do this.” He reached out his hand, and Lisa clasped it.

“Only because I have backup,” she said. “Thank you, Clark. And you know I won’t forget you when we succeed.” The two enjoyed that moment before breaking up. “Anyways,” Lisa said. “Pep talk is over. Let’s get started.” Clark listened attentively as Lisa began to lay out her plan for the biggest presentation of her life.

But contrary to their own beliefs, Lisa and Clark weren’t the only ones preparing for the presentation. Brad himself was getting ready, too. But he wasn’t reading over ledgers or creating presentations. He was standing outside of Lisa’s office, looking both ways to make sure she wasn’t coming. This would never work if she saw him planting the silver necklace he held in her office. The shopkeep who sold it to Brad told him that it would draw her in, but suspicion could give her the fortitude to resist it. Brad wasn’t one to believe in magic, but at worst he was out of 20 bucks. At best…he would change his life and Lisa’s forever. And her little pet Clark’s, too.

With one more look, he quietly slipped into Lisa’s office. He ignored his surroundings. He only needed a few seconds to place the necklace down on her desk and quickly leave. He was in and out before anyone could see him, shutting the door silently and heading around the corner away. He returned to his own office, shutting the door. He was going to avoid Lisa this morning. He usually got a good rise out of taunting her and Clark, but he didn’t want to give her any hint that something could be off. He would do his work quietly and wait until he bumped into her again to see if the necklace would do its work.

It was a bit longer before Lisa did return to her office. She carried a binder in her hands and wore a bright smile on her face. Her first practice session with Clark had gone well. She was feeling more and more confident she’d clinched the promotion. She closed her door behind her and sat down, only for a glint of pink and silver to catch her eyes. She reached out, feeling drawn to a little necklace with a silver chain and pink pendant at its end. It wasn’t the kind of thing she normally wore. She certainly didn’t remember owning it. But it was on her desk. Had she forgotten about it? Whatever the case was, Lisa idly slipped it on.

She had no way of knowing that the necklace was beginning to work its magic on her. To dig into her brain and find a vision of eroticism that would most offend and humiliate her. To twist her into a parody of her own self and pervert the life she so loved. But for now, she returned to work. She had a big presentation to plan for, after all.
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Joined: Sat Feb 10, 2024 1:07 pm

Chapter 2 - Monday Afternoon

Postby iridescentgentleman » Mon Feb 12, 2024 11:35 am

Lisa rolled her eyes and leaned back in her chair. The young businesswoman was not having the day she had hoped for. Lisa had never bought into “the Mondays” – Monday was a day she could put the previous week behind her and start fresh. But she had found it unusually difficult to focus today. And she had tried everything she could think of to counteract her struggles managing the work plan for the week. She switched from her regular coffee to decaf. She’d turned on relaxing music. She’d put her office IM status to “Busy.” But no matter what Lisa did, she always found her eyes migrating back to the small mirror on her desk. Back to the silver necklace she had put on. Something was off about it. Something she couldn’t quite place. She tried to avoid it, but by the late morning Lisa was frustrated. She was annoyed at her lack of progress. She finally put an away message up and looked into the mirror. Maybe she would find what was bothering her if she just gave in for a bit.

That was when she saw it. Lisa didn’t know how she didn’t notice it sooner. She was always such a perfectionist. But there it was – a blemish on her right cheek. Something her basic layer of makeup hadn’t covered. That was no good. She reached into her purse for her makeup kit. She looked over the shades of blush and settled on the darkest – a dark, rich tan shade. She applied it to the blemish, confident that it wouldn’t be visible under her foundation. But another look into the mirror revealed a new problem. The blemish she had covered was no longer visible, but the orange-ish brown makeup stood out on her otherwise conservative styling. She looked at her face in the mirror again, scowling. Lisa didn’t care about looking “attractive”, but she looked unprofessional with a dark spot on it. She quickly weighed her options. Something screamed to Lisa that she couldn’t leave her face like this. She locked her workstation and grabbed her purse, making her way to the ladies’ room.

Lisa found her way to the restroom and locked the door behind her. She had picked one of the single units, giving her access to the sink and the mirror. With a few alcohol pads, Lisa removed all the makeup from her face. As she did so she saw more blemishes. More imperfections. More things that weren’t perfect about her. That clashed with the beautiful silver chain and brilliant pink pendant hanging around her neck. With her face now bare, Lisa began to liberally apply the foundation that she had initially covered her unsightly blemish with. The young businesswoman hadn’t caked on makeup like this since her early days in middle school when she didn’t know better. But for whatever reason she found herself compelled to layer it on.

The occasional knock at the door did nothing to stop her. With the foundation applied, she noticed a new problem – her face was almost monochrome. It needed more color. Lisa pulled out her eyeliner. She drew dark rims around her eyes, matching it with mascara on her lashes. But it wasn’t enough contrast. Lisa dug in her purse and found nothing else to add to herself, though. She stomped her foot, frustrated at herself for not preparing. As she sifted, though, she felt her phone buzz with a text message – only the latest of several.

Lisa opened the text messages and uttered a curse. “Fuck,” she swore. It was 12:17. Clark had been asking where she was for the work lunch. How had she let herself get distracted from preparing for her presentation? Or worse, how had she let herself spend an hour in the bathroom applying makeup when there was work to do? And how much ruder could it get than leaving her best friend waiting for her at a lunch table? Lisa quickly put her makeup away and emerged from the bathroom, dashing towards the breakroom. She arrived panting, gasping an apology at Clark. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I got distracted and…” she shook her head. “I didn’t realize the time.”

Clark, for his part, stared at his friend with some bewilderment. It wasn’t unlike Lisa to get caught up in her work, but he hadn’t even recognized her when she approached him. Clark saw Lisa’s face caked in dark foundation, dark enough that it formed a line just beneath her jaw. The only break in it was the thick eyeliner and mascara that caked her hazel eyes. “Lisa,” he said. “It’s not a problem but…” Clark weighed saying something. It was so unlike her to wear this kind of makeup that it concerned him. But it wasn’t professional to say anything. Before he could, Lisa waved her hand.

“Don’t ask,” she said, offering a weak smile. “It’s been a weird morning. I’m so sorry that I left you hanging. I’ve just been flustered is all.” Clark wasn’t sure what to say, so he said nothing. He took his seat and Lisa took hers.

“Well?” Clark asked. Lisa blinked. It took a moment to connect the dots, but her smile faded into another look of embarrassment.

“Jesus!” Lisa half-shouted. “I didn’t even grab our work materials! Hold on, I’ll be right back.” Lisa stood, wincing apologetically as she headed back from the breakroom to her office. She muttered to herself on the way, trying to clear her mind of all the intrusive, nagging thoughts that had been plaguing her. She quickly slipped into her office and went behind her desk to grab her forgotten files. But she caught a look of herself in the mirror – of her face layered in heavy foundation and thick eyeliner. She looked at herself in disgust. What had she been thinking?

She needed some eyeshadow to make this look work.

And some pink lipstick.

Lisa shook her head. “What the fuck is going through my mind?” she asked nobody. And yet, she had to admit that those thoughts weren’t far off. If she was going to look like this – and she wasn’t! – she would need contrast with some brighter colors to give her face some depth. And probably at least a little more of a tan. And her hair. Lisa looked at her flat hair falling down her back. It was the dullest of her dull features. What if she tried something different with it? She reached back, pulling her chestnut-brown locks into a tight ponytail that showed off her makeup even more. She wasn’t entirely satisfied, but she preferred it to the non-style she had worn in. She needed to get back to Clark anyways.

Lisa left the office, this time with her binder in her arms as she went back to the breakroom to salvage their lunch session. As she turned the corner to the breakroom, she saw Brad passing. Brad’s eyes went wide at seeing her. Lisa pretended not to notice him, not even giving him a nod as she passed. But she had given Brad everything he needed. There was no way Lisa Ricci would do her makeup like that for any reason. There was only one explanation, and it was that the necklace was doing its job. With a new spring in his step, Brad passed on back to his office. He would have to come in early tomorrow.

“Alright,” Lisa said upon returning to the table with Clark. She didn’t address that she’d been gone for almost five minutes to make a quick walk to the office, or how she had pulled her hair up. “You ready to knock this thing out?” She gave Clark a big, warm smile – hiding her nerves behind it. Lisa didn’t know what was wrong with her, or how much she’d actually accomplish today. And as the remainder of the lunch break went on, she found it wasn’t very much. As hard as she tried to focus, her thoughts kept wandering back to makeup, haircare, and her appearance – things she never cared about. And no amount of encouragement from Clark was bringing her back to reality.

“Hey, it is Monday,” Clark said as the clock neared 1 PM. “I know how you feel about Mondays, but everyone has a bad day, Lisa. Maybe you’ll feel better this afternoon when we meet up.”

Lisa shook her head, though. “I think I may need to just go home early today and sleep whatever funk I’m in off,” she said. Clark looked disappointed but nodded in agreement. “We’ll just have make up for it tomorrow when I’m at 110%!” Lisa didn’t feel like she needed to mention the stop she’d be making at the mall on the way home to pick up some new makeup. Clark would just take it the wrong way.

“Tomorrow morning, then?” Clark asked. Lisa nodded and the two parted ways. Clark returned to the 5th floor and Lisa to her office.

But lunch and working on her presentation hadn’t cleared her mind at all. Lisa spent the rest of the day struggling with even the most basic work and keeping one eye shifting between the clock and the mirror in her office. Noting all the imperfections. Trying to bat off more invasive thoughts about her hair and makeup. She thought about the colors of eyeshadow she needed to try. She mused about how good her hair would look done up or in curls. She opened a second browser to look at shades of lipstick. She got so caught up with shades of pink that she didn’t notice it was quitting time until she heard a rap at the door at 5:13. She opened it and glared at Brad, standing in the doorway.

“Staying late, Lisa?” Brad asked with a cocksure grin. Most days Lisa would say something snarky, but she didn’t feel in the mood for it.

“I had a rough day, Brad,” she said. “Can we not do this?” She walked back to her desk to begin packing her things. “Unless you have business to discuss, I’d like to just go home.”

“That’s a shame,” Brad said. “Anything I can do to help?” Lisa cast a skeptical look at him. Brad wasn’t one to help her with much of anything, unless he wanted to show her up. He just shrugged. “What? A guy can’t ask his coworker if he can help?”

“A guy can,” Lisa replied, picking up her things and walking past him. “But you can’t.” Lisa wasn’t sure why she was willing to be so aggressive. Even in a bad mood she usually maintained professional courtesy around Brad. But today she felt different – like she was spoiling for a fight. “Just buzz off, Brad.”

Brad chuckled, annoying the irate Lisa even more. “Alright, Jesus,” he said. “Try to have a nice evening, I guess.” He walked off in the opposite direction, smirking to himself. He knew what Lisa didn’t. Why she felt so strange. And that it was only going to get worse. He left Lisa to head to her red sedan and program directions into her phone for the makeup store at the mall. She swore it would be a quick trip in and out. But the glittering silver necklace draped across her chest guaranteed it would be more than that.
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Joined: Sat Feb 10, 2024 1:07 pm

Chapter 3 - Tuesday Morning

Postby iridescentgentleman » Mon Feb 12, 2024 11:37 am

Lisa groaned and rolled over in her plush bed as her alarm blared in her ears. She looked over – it was 4:30 AM. Even for her, that was early. Why the hell had she set her alarm for such an ungodly hour.

“Sweethawt, ya new look is gonna take ya at least an houwa. Maybe more.”

The memory of the nasally, Jersey voice snapped Lisa awake. What had happened last night? She definitely remembered hearing those words. But she didn’t quite remember where. But as the sleep cleared from her mind, more and more of the evening came back to her. She hadn’t been at a bar, thank God. She hadn’t had sex with some stranger, either. But what had happened was even worse. She had gone to the mall like she planned, but nothing in the department store had grabbed her attention. Their makeup seemed bland and uninspired. She had been about to give up and put the whole makeup debacle behind her.

Then she saw it in the way out. Shorelines. She knew the chain well. It was a clubwear store full of all the gaudy things she had left the Jersey Shore to get away from. Tiny club dresses, trashy highlights, muscle shirts, cheap hair gel and perfume, and gaudy makeup. But that gaudy makeup she hated drew her in. She wandered to the makeup counter as though seeing it for the first time. She felt compelled by the electric blues, the neon yellows, the fiery oranges, and the hot pinks.

That was, until she was distracted by a mess of all four.

“Can I help ya suga?” A nasally voice called her attention to the short woman behind the counter. She was platinum blonde, a color that collided harshly with the fake-tan orange of her skin. Her eyes were hidden behind sunglasses and her face was round. She could have been described as thick – small with pronounced, natural curves practically bursting out of the shimmering minidress she wore under a pink jacket. Lisa looked down to see that her short stature was in spite of a pair of pink heels.

“Oh, no thank you,” Lisa said, masking her contempt for this Jersey exile. “I uh…I’m just looking.”

“Based awf ya face you’re doing more than lookin, dawling,” the woman said. She reached out and took Lisa by the chin. “Awwwwww…baby’s first makeup jawb. How sweet!”

Lisa had pulled back, angry. “Excuse you,” she said to the woman. “But I don’t need your shit. I need some decent makeup.” Lisa’s attitude went from annoyed to angry in a flash. “If you’re not going to help me you can just waddle back to the alley you came out of!” Lisa covered her mouth, gasping in shock. Before she could apologize, the woman cut her off with a high-pitched giggle.

“Oh I like you!” she said, much to Lisa’s surprise. “You gawt some fire in ya! Not like all these boring-ass Karens who usually come around. You can cawl me Big B – the B is fa Betty.” She held out a hand with long, fake nails. “And yaself?”

“Lisa,” Lisa said. “Lisa Ricci. And…I really could use help finding makeup.”

In the present, Lisa leaned back against the headboard of her bed as she recalled the evening. She stayed well past Shorelines's closing with Big B learning about the fundamentals of makeup and cosmetics. Not the fundamentals Lisa learned to fit in at the office, but the way a woman like Betty did it. She had exited the store with hundreds of dollars in cosmetics, and hadn’t made it home until almost 11. She had just enough time and energy to set her new finds up in her bathroom before she went to bed.

Lisa got out of bed and trudged into her small bathroom. She looked in the mirror, and her shocked look became even moreso. She looked different today. And it wasn’t just the orange foundation she had smeared off onto her pillow. Her skin was darker – no, tanner. Her hair was, too. Her chestnut locks were now deep and dark, and she swore she had waves where there were none before. As she undressed, she looked over her thin body. It looked subtly more defined to her, like she had been working out. And a quick feel confirmed that her breasts were larger. She had never been a handful before, but now her hands comfortably fitted around her boobs.

She had to admit, though. The necklace looked great on her. And looking at it made her sure this was all normal.

Without taking the chain off Lisa stepped into the shower. She quickly cleaned herself off before emerging in front of the sink and her array of new cosmetics. She remembered Big B's instructions clearly, and she got to work. The mask of dark brown foundation went on first, coating Lisa’s face. Even with her tanner body it created a clear line along her jaw. She followed it up with a burgundy blush to accentuate her cheeks. Eyeshadow was next. Lisa went for a yellow look, blending the fluorescent color in. And she rounded it all off with bright, pink lipstick. She made a few kissy faces into the mirror. She didn’t know how work would take it, but Lisa loved it. And it wasn’t like she was going to get in trouble. Plenty of the admin assistants dressed like this. And it wasn’t like it was a permanent thing. Couldn’t a gal feel pretty sometimes? She’d be back to normal for the presentation on Friday.

As Lisa rationalized to herself, she grabbed a straightener to press her darker hair perfectly. With her mane tamed, she pulled it into a high ponytail. Age flashed a smile into the mirror, and an idea occurred to her. She grabbed her phone from the counter and pointed it at the mirror. Once she was certain her bare boobs were out of the shot she took a picture. She shuddered with excitement. Lisa had always been ambitious. She supposed it was a small leap to loving the kind of attention this look would bring. The thought of being looked at. Noticed. Praised. Reviled. She shook her head at that. No…she wanted to be taken seriously. But there was no law saying she couldn’t look good at the same time. Lisa set the phone down and doused her hair in spray to keep it up through the day. Now she’d need to kill a few minutes while it set. And Lisa knew precisely how to do that.

Lisa opened up a pack of fake nails - Big B had been insistent that she try some talons. She had bought them to be polite. But with a few minutes to spare while her hair set, she figured it couldn’t hurt to try them out. One by one, her plain nails vanished under the neon pink falsies she had purchased. She drummed them on the counter, giggling at the clicking noise that they made with each strike. Once she was sure everything was set, she went to put on her normal work clothes. Today she wore a knee-length skirt instead of pants, rounding out a still utterly professional wardrobe. Lisa liked it – as far as she was concerned, she was proving that cute and professional could mix in the workplace.

Lisa’s drive to work was uneventful. She arrived at the same time she always did. If anything, her early start had invigorated her to make up for the time she lost yesterday. She was surprised to find her car wasn’t the only one parked under the company’s building, though. Who on Earth had come in before her? She didn’t have long to ponder the question as she walked up to the 7th floor and headed to the breakroom to make her coffee. She strode in and came face-to-face with Brad.

Brad had to work to hold his composure as Lisa walked in. Just one day with the necklace had changed her – a lot, too. Sure the makeup, the hairdo, and the nails were her own idea. But there was no way her tan, her more defined figure, or the slight heft in her bust were tricks of the eye. She had already gone from plain to pretty. Brad smiled widely and held up two cups of coffee from a store down the street. “Morning, Lisa,” he said. “Thought I’d save you a few minutes.”

Lisa’s reaction to Brad was one of surprise, as well. It wasn’t just that he was here earlier than she was. It was that she couldn’t take her eyes off him. Lisa knew Brad was attractive, but it had never been enough to distract from what a jerk he was. From every time he had talked over her in a meeting or given her a wink when she tried to talk sense into some stupid idea he had. But this morning she found herself focused on his blue eyes. His strong jaw. His broad shoulders. She wondered if he had a six pack. Or if his butt was cute. Or…she shook her head and stopped herself before her thoughts could go any lower on his body. “What the fuck are you doing here Brad?” She asked. She cursed herself for swearing in the office, but she couldn’t let him know she was ogling him. She was overcompensating.

“Offering you a drink,” Brad said. “And some conversation, I guess. I know you come in early and you’re always busy, so I wanted to have some time to talk. About Friday.” Lisa took the cup and sipped at it, not thanking Brad as she walked along to the side of him – trying to subtly get a better look at his profile.

“What’s there to talk about?” Lisa asked. She was feeling even more blunt than yesterday and saw no reason to hold back before anyone else was in the office. “I’m smarter than you. I work harder than you. And I want the Junior Executive position more than you. I’m going to get it, and you’re not.”

Brad’s smile widened. That pawn shop owner had told him the necklace didn’t change who a woman was – only altered the lens she saw herself through. He supposed he shouldn’t have expected the enchanted jewelry to make Lisa less ambitious. But he didn’t anticipate her becoming more forceful. That wasn’t to say he was unhappy, though. He liked the extra fire in Lisa’s eyes. “You sound confident,” he said.

Lisa shrugged, taking another sip of the coffee. “You’re free to take a sick day on Friday if you want to spare yourself some embarrassment,” she offered, circling behind him and getting a quick peek of Brad’s butt in his slacks. Her smile widened just a bit. She stifled it a bit when he turned around.

“I suppose I am,” Brad said. “Or…we could come to some sort of agreement.” The businessman shrugged. “Find a way to work together. To avoid all this messy conflict. I don’t imagine you’ll agree, but I wanted to put it out there. Give it to you to think through.”

“Just admit you’re a fuckin’ pussy,” Lisa said. She covered her mouth. She had been fine confronting Brad, but not quite that much. Even Brad’s mouth hung open for a moment before he laughed and finished his drink.

“I guess I’ll leave you to work on your presentation with your friend – Clark, was it?” Brad said, making his way for the door. “Just remember. The offer is still on the table, Lisa.” He walked out of the breakroom, leaving Lisa to watch him leave with a slightly spacy look. He really did have a nice butt.

Lisa was snapped out of it as Clark passed by Brad into the room. The taller man nudged Clark harshly as he passed, leaving Lisa’s friend sour. But his expression changed instantly when he saw Lisa standing in the breakroom. “Lisa?” he asked. “Lisa I…” Clark adjusted the suit jacket he had put on that morning and tried to figure out what to say to her. Should he comment on Lisa’s high ponytail and the smell of hair spray coming off her? Her thick makeup? Her bright pink lipstick? Or how she kept looking over his shoulder – he didn’t know what else Lisa could be looking at except Brad walking away. But Lisa snapped to attention, cutting him off again before he could speak.

“Clark!” she said, walking up and hugging him. He grew stiff at her embrace, taking a moment to tepidly return it. Lisa had just never been a hugger. “So do you love it, or do you love it?” She made a few mock poses for her friend. “I figured I would try something new today. A look that would give me some confidence.” Lisa walked over to a table and sat down. Clark followed her, just nodding along. “Do you love it, or do you love it?” didn’t exactly leave him an opening to express that he was worried about her. And maybe it wasn’t his place. “So, presentation,” she said. “Let’s get started again.”

The next hour soothed some of Clark’s worries, much to his own surprise. Lisa was more focused like she had been the previous morning. The two went over her presentation plan and got an outline of her plan completed. By the time 9 AM worked around Clark had managed to get used to Lisa’s new makeup. If it was helping her get her head back in the game, who was he to judge? “I think we’re still a bit behind where we want to be,” Clark said as they finished. “But we can make it up at lunch and after work today. I think we’ll be back on track.”

“I’m confident,” Lisa said. She felt great compared to the day before. “Thank you so much for your help getting me back on my game, Clark. And for being so patient with me.”

“It’s really nothing, Lisa,” Clark replied. “Maybe there’s something to this new look thing.”

“It feels like it,” Lisa said. She stood up, and Clark did in tandem with her. Lisa leaned in for another hug, wrapping her friend tight in her arms. “I’ll see you at lunch, babe,” she said. Clark blushed at Lisa’s new pet name for him. She parted from him, giving him one more brilliant smile before turning to head to the office. Clark scratched the back of his head, watching her go. Was it him, or was Lisa’s butt looking bigger today?

Lisa made her way back to her office, passing several coworkers as she sauntered down the halls of the cubicle farm. She quickly noticed all the people staring at her and whispering behind her back. And she loved it. The attention she was getting invigorated her. She smiled and gave little waves as she passed, flicking her hips in a way she had always thought was unbecoming of a professional. And her gazes lingered just a bit longer on the men of the office. Lisa found herself judging them in her mind, making notes as to who was hot and who was very much not. But she didn’t treat them any differently – attention was attention, after all.

But attention required people to look at Lisa. To notice her. And the moment she closed her office door, that attention was gone. She was able to get started at work on the fumes of it, but soon she found that feeling of agitation returning. That grating sense of annoyance. She looked in the mirror, but she couldn’t see anything wrong with her makeup. This feeling was different – like a mixture of the irritation from yesterday and something deeper. A sense of loneliness, of feeling abandoned and lost. Lisa needed someone to see her. She needed attention. In a panic, she pulled her phone out – and was struck with an idea. She turned on her phone’s camera and inverted it, directing it at herself. She gave a sultry pout and put two fingers in the air before snapping a picture. She felt a jolt of good feelings. They didn’t end the morose aura lingering around her, but they gave her a moment of relief. She took another picture with a different pose. And then one more. And with her mind now racing with good vibes, she got a new idea. One that made her wide mouth curl into a smile.

Lisa closed the camera app and set the phone down, quickly setting her office messenger to “Do Not Disturb.” She grabbed her phone again and opened her Picstagram app. Lisa’s own social media presence was token. She put up and maintained just enough to look good if a prospective employer searched her name on the internet. But she logged out of her own Picstagram account. She only had ten followers. As much as she’d have liked to tweak them, she had bigger things in mind. She set up a new account, taking the default name that Picstagram gave it and searched for the biggest beauty, glamor, makeup, and fashion accounts she could find. She followed each and uploaded the pictures she’d been taking one after the other. Each one got a list of popular hashtags and was plastered in every comment section Lisa could manage. Then she watched her phone and waited.

Lisa was starting to become anxious when the first like came in. She didn’t bother to look at who it was – she didn’t care. Someone had noticed her. Someone liked her. Then came another. And more. Her first follow wasn’t far behind. And her first comment came soon after that.

Hey bb, u fckn sexy.

Lisa knew she should have been appalled by some strange man talking to her that way, but she just giggled. It was exactly what she wanted. Her work lay forgotten on her desk. Lisa was using her computer for other tasks. She was looking up techniques for gaining followers. She was searching for how to take better pictures. She was looking up the current gen smartphone with the best camera. Lisa’s changes may have distracted her from work, but they hadn’t made her less intelligent or tampered with her work ethic. Lisa dove into learning how to get likes and clicks and promote herself with the same determination she’d usually be doing her office work. The “Do not Disturb” setting kept her from seeing the growing queue of messages requesting help or asking where she was. Lisa was much more concerned with getting her face out there for more people to see.

Lisa was finally distracted from her new work by her phone buzzing with something other than a Picstagram status update. She flipped to it and saw a meeting reminder. After she had gotten distracted yesterday, she wanted to make sure she didn’t stand Clark up again. The reminder brought her to her senses a bit. Lisa blinked and shook her head, feeling the rush of her selfie-spree fade away. She looked around her, at her phone and at the desk. She felt a moment of disgust at herself and how she’d spent her morning. But it had felt so good. Lisa was conflicted, both in the moment and about the new thoughts and feelings she was experiencing. Lisa was increasingly convinced that something was deeply wrong with her but found it difficult to muster the panic and alarm she wanted to feel. Giving into her new urges was easier and felt far better.

Lisa’s phone buzzed again. It was time to meet Clark. But Lisa wasn’t sure that she wanted to meet her friend when she could be taking pictures or going out. She felt deeply conflicted. She didn’t want to hurt Clark’s feelings or to slack off on preparing for her presentation. But she needed people to see her. To appreciate her. To admire her. Even to hate her as long as they noticed her. Lisa put her head in her hands and massaged her temples. She knew the right thing to do, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to get up from her desk and head for the lunchroom. Lisa felt a headache coming on. She groaned, and finally shot off a text to Clark.

Hey Clark. I’m not feeling well and I’m clocking out early. Hopefully I’ll feel better tomorrow.

With her decision made for better or for worse, Lisa sighed and began packing her things. She put in a leave request with her manager and quickly left the office. Despite her new impulses she fought to keep her head down. She didn’t want anyone to notice her, especially Clark. She made it to the elevator without anyone taking notice of her. Once she was safely inside, she checked her text messages. There was one from Clark, telling her that he would send his notes to her email – and of course to feel better. Clark’s sweet response almost made Lisa turn around and come clean with him. But she couldn’t bring herself to do so. Lisa’s pride wouldn’t let her go back and ask for help. She told herself this would be the last time she ditched her friend. The last time she skipped out on preparing for her own future. But she needed relief, and she had an idea of where to get it. Once the elevator reached the garage Lisa found her car and got in. She knew where she would be able to get what she needed, so she plugged directions to the mall into her phone.
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Joined: Sat Feb 10, 2024 1:07 pm

Chapter 4 - Tuesday Afternoon

Postby iridescentgentleman » Mon Feb 12, 2024 11:43 am

Big B, the shopkeeper at Shore Lines, was doing her nails with one eye on her work and the other on the clock. She had an afternoon shift today, which meant that she’d be able to go clubbing after. And she was dressed for it – her hair was done up, her makeup was thick, and she wore a tight, shiny, pink tube dress. She was almost average height with her towering heels on. She clicked them on the floor as she put another layer of polish on her fake nails. She smiled. The broad she had met yesterday, that Lisa girl, had put her in a good mood. It was so rare to see aspiring guidettes in this town, especially after the stereotype took off. The ding that accompanied a customer entering drew her eyes to the entrance of the store. And as Big B saw the customer, her smile only grew.

“Lisa!” she squeaked, getting up from the desk. “Shouldn’tcha be at the awffice right now? Since ya such a serious business bitch?”

Lisa shook her head, smiling. “I couldn’t focus,” she said, adjusting the silver necklace resting on her chest. “And you’re the only person I know who can help me. I can’t go to anyone else about what I’m feeling.”

Big B nodded sagely to Lisa. Her new friend, she supposed. She pulled a chair up to the cash register and patted for Lisa to sit. “Tawk to me, sweethawt,” she said. “You tell Big B what’s on ya mind and she’ll give you the solution. Ask my bitches I’m never wrong.”

And so Lisa told her about the morning she’d had. About how she looked different. How she ogled a man she despised. How she had spent what should have been a productive morning snapping selfies. BB listened patiently, continuing to apply her nail polish as Lisa told the story in a near-panicked tone. As she came to the end BB let out a giggle-snort. “Well none’a that sounds so bad!” Big B said. “It’s awl simple, dawling. Ya just feeling yaself. Ya been fuddy duddy so damn lawng that ya coming out of ya shell. It’s a good thing!”

Lisa sighed and leaned back. “If that is the case,” she said, unwilling to concede BB’s point quite yet. “What the fuck do I do about it? I want to go back to normal and get back to my job and working on my promotion like a normal person.”

“Assuming ya want to,” BB cut in. “But once ya get that feeling, ya can’t just shove it back down. The best way to get ya head on after feeling yaself? Is to go awl in. And I know just the thing.” BB stood up and pointed across from the entrance to Shorelines. Lisa looked to see a salon there. The gaudy, pink neon sign said Shades, and through the front windows she could see women who didn’t look so different from Big B. Lisa saw big hair, bright clothes, and thick makeup.

“I thought I did my hair exactly like you said,” Lisa protested. “I thought that was good enough.”

“For an amateur? Sure!” Big B said. “But ya never gonna be able to do it as good as a professional. I think a trip to the salawn could give ya a boost and clear ya mind.” Big B shrugged. “Or whatevah. Personally I don’t see what’s up ya butt about the awffice and work. But it’ll make ya feel good, not to mention draw every stare for a gawddamn mile.” The promise of attention tapped into Lisa’s new urges. She smiled and looked at the salon.

“It couldn’t hurt,” Lisa said. “I’ve never really gotten a full salon workover done. Even for big events I usually just do my own hair.”

“You’re about to find out just what ya missing,” Big B said with a smirk. “Now if you want the good treatment, though, you tell ‘em that ya friends with BB across the way. And don’t tell them ya Lisa Ricci. Ya do that and they’re gonna give ya pigtails. That’s a little girl’s name, not a woman’s.”

“Then what should I tell them?” Lisa asked, cocking an eyebrow. “My name is my name.”

“That’s not how it works,” BB said with a snort. “You think my maw and dad named me fuckin’ Big Betty? Fuck no, my name is Elisabetta Juliana Maria Viglioni. Big B is what fuckers cawl me. But you…” B stood up, looking at Lisa from every angle. She hovered for a moment, tapping her nails together. “I made my name shorter, yours should be lawnger.” Betty took another moment to think. “Well since ya my work of awt, maybe you should be Mona Lisa,” she proclaimed. “Mona Lisa Francesca Ricciolino. But folks can just stick to Mona Lisa.”

Lisa spent a moment in silence, considering what she was about to do. The implications of what Big B was suggesting were not lost on her. Big B wanted to give her a big, trashy guidette name. Lisa had spent her life trying to not be like the Shore trash from back home. But Betty’s offer was tantalizing. It was dangerous. It would make some people gawk and make other people mad. The truth was that she loved it the moment she heard it. Mona Lisa Francesca Ricciolino. It sounded almost musical to her changing mind. Eventually she couldn’t hold back her smile any longer. Lisa nodded timidly aa she stood. “I’ll let them know what you said,” Lisa finally agreed. “I’m interested to see how this goes.”

“Oh me, too, dawling,” Big B said as she gave Lisa a pat on the shoulder. “I think ya gonna love what they do to ya in there.”

Lisa left Shorelines, making her way to the salon. The bored-looking blonde at the reception desk gave her a skeptical look. But only until she introduced herself. “My name is Mona Lisa,” she said, trying to suppress the butterflies in her stomach. “Mona Lisa Ricciolino. And my friend Big B said you’d be able to give me a proper…” Lisa cleared her throat. “A prawpa makeover.” Lisa told herself she just wanted to fit in with her new friend. But Big B couldn’t hear her. And the nasally whine of the Jersey accent came off almost naturally. Like Lisa had never spoken any other way.

“Hey Angelo!” the woman called back. “BB sent you a new one. She’s your kinda challenge.” Lisa turned to see a tall, tan, muscular man with a deep, orange tab walk out. He had a smooth face, clearly shaven, with an angular jaw and full lips. His eyes were the same dark brown as his hair, which was slicked back with an irresponsible amount of gel. He wore a tight tank top that showed off his strong shoulders and powerful arms. And his tight jeans showed a hint of the definition in his legs. Lisa couldn’t help but stare at him. What a hunk. She had never been a fan of muscle heads and jocks. But Lisa found it impossible not to appreciate the man in front of her. He gave her a once-over and chuckled.

“You weren’t kidding, Trish,” he told the blonde woman. “She's just my kind of challenge.” He turned to Lisa and offered a bright, cocky smile. “I’m Angelo. Your angel of beauty. And I’m gonna show you everything you can be, baby.” He had the same Jersey accent that BB had – it was less extreme, and against Angelo’s deep voice it was even sexy. Lisa couldn’t remember the last time a man had given her that tingly feeling, but she offered up a giggle for it.

“I’m Mona Lisa,” Lisa said with a coy wave. “And I can’t wait…ta…see what you have in mind, dawling.”

“So now it is time to make you as beautiful as the masterpiece you’re named for,” Angelo declared. The flamboyant Italian took Lisa by the shoulder and led her into the salon. Loud, thumping club music that she would have hated before today played inside, causing her to bob her head with it. Angelo led Lisa to the last seat at the end and sat her in it, covering her up. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself while you get ready, my dear?” Angelo said, running a hand through Lisa’s hair. “Tell Angelo about the woman behind the work of art.”

“Oh I’m nothing…nuthin’ special, sweet…hawt,” Lisa said, trying her best to keep talking in the Jersey accent Big B had loved so much. “I live on my own and work in an awffice. I’m actually up for a promotion.” Lisa’s smile faded for a moment as she remembered the preparation she should have been doing. How she had left Clark behind to be here. But did she even want the promotion? If she did, why did the thought of it suddenly cause her so much anxiety? “To be hawnest I don’t know if it’s right fa me,” she said tepidly. “Like yeah, I’m in the corner awffice but working is all I do. I work. I go home. I sleep. I work again.”

Angelo tsks as he prepares his barbering tools. “That sounds so empty, doll,” he chided. “So dull, so empty, so lifeless. How did a babe like you end up in a gray life like that?” Lisa considered that question. As she thought back, so much of her life that she had been proud of days ago seemed dull and unimpressive. Why had she studied in college instead of partying? Why had she skipped so many happy hours? Why didn’t she have a boyfriend? Why hadn’t she had very many boyfriends, and why were the ones she had so boring. Worst of all, why had she enjoyed this dull life she’d made for herself?

“I guess…” she finally replied to Angelo. “I guess I thought it was what I wanted, ya know?” Lisa shook her head. “I’ve been feeling funny the last few days, and maybe that’s why.” She managed a slight smirk. “Maybe it’s my quatah life crisis, right?”

Angelo chuckled at that. “Well you know what they say is the cure for sch a catastrophe,” he replied. “A new look! If you will trust me, I promise you will walk away feeling amazing. Do you trust me, Mona Lisa?”

“Faw be it from me to tell an awtist how to sculpt his mastapiece,” Lisa replied with a giggle-snort. “Make me beautiful, Angelo!”

“Say no more, my darling,” Angelo eagerly replied. “I will make you my greatest masterpiece yet.”

Lisa spent the next two hours listening to the trancey music and watching Angelo do his work. She’d never been through a makeover as extensive as this one, and it took a bit to get used to the poking, prodding, and pulling that came with it. She flinched as her hair was pulled out of her ponytail, straightened out and wrapped in a cap for dyeing. Then again for highlights. Then again for still more highlights. Lisa winced as her eyebrows were plucked, her dyed hair was styled, and her makeup was enhanced around the edges. But at the end she felt a squeal of delight well up in her as she saw the results.

Lisa was turned to the mirror to see that her hair had been dyed from its chestnut brown to a dark brown – almost black. The highlights she had felt were streaks of trashy, golden blonde and a few even of bright, neon pink – pink that matched the silver amulet she still wore. All that hair had been pulled back and ran straight down, save for a bump in the middle that showed off the heaviest highlighting. Lisa’s makeup had been touched up, but Angelo left her yellow blush in place. Lisa had become the same mess of bright, neon colors that had so baffled her when she had come to the mall last night.

And she loved it.

“Oh Angelo!” Lisa said. She jumped up from the chair, throwing off the tarp and getting on her toes to give Angelo a big, wet kiss on the cheek. “Ya such a miracle-worker!” The muscular Italian hunk returned the gesture, squeezing especially tight against Lisa’s slightly larger chest. “Oh what can I eva do ta repay you?” With her new look Lisa’s Jersey accent began to feel less forced, less labored. She was lapsing into it for real, and she didn’t even notice.

“$150 will do,” Angelo said, chuckling. “But beyond that? Promise me that you will not carry my art around in that hideous suit.” Angelo motioned to her suit, looking disgusted. “Please, my angel, I beg you to find something better to wear. I’m sure Big B will accommodate you.” Lisa looked down and couldn’t help but agree. The professional attire she’d worn into work today seemed wildly inappropriate for her new look.

“I prawmise,” Lisa said, leaning up to kiss Angelo’s cheek. She left faint, pink lipstick stains where she did. She sauntered her way back to the receptionist, paying the bill and leaving Angelo with a $50 tip. It only seemed fair given how happy she was with her new look. But she knew it wasn’t yet complete. With her new hair Lisa walked back over to Shorelines to make good on her promise. She needed a new outfit, and she needed to saw just what her new best friend thought.

The answer to the latter question came quickly. “Mona fawkin’ Lisa,” Big B said. “That can’t be you!” She walked up to Lisa and wrapped her in a tight hug. “I told you Angelo could do it! Ya look so good, baby!”

“Yeah I do!” Lisa replied with a giggle-snort. “But my new angel said it wasn’t enough and he’s right.” Lisa motioned down to her suit. “Just look at this thing! It’s a disaster!”

“A crisis!” Big B agreed. “But don’t you worry, Mona Lisa. Your gal Big B is gonna hook you up. Your credit card still working, dawl?” Lisa nodded and a big smile crept across her lips.

“Oh my gawd!” Lisa cried. “Are we goin’ on a shawping spree?!”

“You know it, bitch,” Big B said. She stepped out from behind the counter and put up a sign saying she was out to lunch and to come back later. But she didn’t leave Shorelines. Both women knew everything Lisa – or Mona Lisa – would need was right here. Her new wardrobe was tangled up somewhere amongst the leather, fake fur, animal print, and neon pastels of Shorelines’ clubwear selections. It was up to Lisa and Big B to find what would fit her.

Shorelines was closed for the rest of the afternoon as Lisa and Big B combed every rack and every shelf of the store. They finally emerged after sundown, with Lisa thoroughly laden down with bags upon bags of new clothes. Tiny string bikinis, stretchy lycra in garish colors, tight pants, high heels, belly-baring tops, and a whole new set of thongs and bras overflowed from the bags. But the crown jewel of their finds - a faux jaguar-print fur coat - hung from around her shoulders.

“Now you go home and try awl this awn,” Big B instructed her protege. “And be back here tomarra marning.”

“Tomorrow…” Lisa asked. “I mean…tammara? I gawt work, though…”

“This is more important!” B insisted. “The hair and the clothes are real nice. But we gawts ta finish ya look. And then I gawtta show ya what to do with it.”

For a moment, Lisa prepared to turn Big B down. She had fun today. But she needed to get back to work. She needed to work with Clark to prepare her presentation. She needed to beat Brad - handsome Brad - if she wanted that executive position.

Sensing her doubt, Big B interrupted Lisa’s thoughts. “Look at it this way, Mona,” she said. “You wanna really blow ya bawses cawks awf, right?”

“You mean socks?” Lisa asked.

“Whateva,” Big B shot back dismissively. “Appearances are a pawt of succeeding. You think you’re gonna be able to nail this half-baked like you are now? You look good. But you don’t look great. Not yet. If you wanna rise to the tawp, you’re gonna need to let me take you the rest of the way.

Normally Lisa wouldn’t have bought such an argument. But on the fence as she was and unknowingly under the influence of the silver necklace, it was the excuse she needed.

“I’ll call…cawl…in sick, then,” Mona Lisa said. “See you at 8?”

Big B giggle-snorted. “Eight? Sweethawt a real Jersey girl’s day doesn’t start at no eight o’fawkin’ clawk. I won’t be over my hangover until at least noon.” The shopkeeper reached down and angled her hand under Lisa’s fur coat to give the office worker’s ass a firm swat. “Now get home. Get some sleep. We gawt a big day tomarra.”
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Joined: Sat Feb 10, 2024 1:07 pm

Chapter 5 - Wednesday Morning

Postby iridescentgentleman » Mon Feb 12, 2024 11:52 am

Lisa awakened. But not to the sound of her alarm clock this morning. The young professional had turned it off. If she wasn’t meeting Big B until noon, why did she need to be up early? And besides, she was up pretty late last night. Lisa had a lot of clothes to try on. A lot of outfits to put together. And a lot of pictures to take. Lisa had spent the previous evening flitting between the pile of new clothes, her bathroom for the good lighting, and her Picstagram account. By the time she practically passed out in bed, her generic ‘gram had given way to XoMonaLisaoX. Her wall was plastered with pictures of her makeup, her nails, and a few outfits - though none on her yet. And a short was posted for the growing number of followers who came to the page.

“Hey dawls,” “Mona Lisa” said to the camera with her big, wide smile. “It’s ya best girl Mona Lisa. I know you fawkers are prawbably gettin’ tired of my face by now. But I can’t give away the goods fa’ nuthin! Get me to a thousand follows and I’ll let ya see a bit more.” She blew a kiss to the screen. “Later!”

That follower count was the first thing Lisa checked when she woke up. 600, up from 300 the night before. Not bad. One of her face pics had gotten to a few thousand likes. The thought of so many people seeing her new look gave Lisa a jolt of energy…and a little something else. The budding guidette squealed a bit as a fuzzy feeling of arousal spread through her. This wasn’t just fun. It was hot.

Lisa considered staying in bed a bit longer. Maybe to browse for more advice influencing. Or maybe to do something about that horny little feeling. But she saw it was already 9:30. It would take her at least an hour and a half to get ready. Maybe two. And then she’d barely have enough time to make it to the mall with Big B. Fawk. So Lisa got out of bed, shed her big shirt and shorts, and headed for the bathroom.

Now naked and looking at herself in the mirror, Lisa could see her appearance had changed again. Now shot with pink and blonde, the further darkening of her hair was obvious. Almost as obvious as the growing weight on her chest. Lisa’s handfuls from yesterday were now two large orbs resting proudly on her chest. But more than her size, Lisa’s boobs felt…different. They rode higher on her chest. They were rounder and smoother. Her nipples stuck out prominently. Lisa reached up and felt them. They were…firmer. Almost like they were fake.

For just a moment, Lisa stared into the mirror. She felt a creeping sense of alarm at the woman in front of her. The way she looked was wrong. The way she was acting was wrong. And why was she still wearing the silver necklace with the pink pendant…

…and just like that, the moment passed. Lisa’s nerves faded and she smiled into the mirror. She felt a swelling of pride in her (slightly artificial) chest. She was hot. For the first time in her life she felt like a babe. And it was only going to get better. Her new best friend was going to make her fawking hotter.

Lisa stopped vogueing in the mirror and stepped into the shower, setting up her phone to play videos as she washed herself off. Normally Lisa might put on a podcast for a long shower. But today she had a series of videos on how to expand social media reach. Instructions on how to do her hair. And of course, shows about guys. What to look for in a guy. How to pick one up. Red flags. That twinge of arousal from before hadn’t gone away. And now Lisa found her mind increasingly occupied by thoughts of strong arms, washboard abs, firm butts…

…big, long, penises…

…no. Big, hard cocks.

Lisa let out a giggle-snort at just the thought. She’d been with a few guys. She wasn’t a virgin. But she’d never felt so boy-crazy. She was almost ashamed to admit that Brad - that fucking douche - crossed her mind. Poor Clark. He was a nice boy, for sure. But a bit too flabby. A bit too soft. She loved the guy. But he was a guy. Brad might have been a douche, but he was a man.

By the time she was done in the shower, Lisa was thoroughly frisky. Too frisky to reply to the texts from poor Clark. She had let work know she wouldn’t be in today. But she hadn’t told her friend. She left his texts asking where he was and if she was okay on read as she toweled herself off and applied her thick makeup once more. Soon her face lit up once more with orange foundation caked across it, yellow eyeshadow, and bright pink lip gloss. A final dousing of cheap perfume was what finally tipped her over the edge. Lisa had woken up horny. She’d driven herself further thinking about men. But nothing turned her on more than herself. No…nothing turned her on more than Mona Lisa.

Lisa ran her hand down her own tummy and towards her pelvis. Her womanhood was shrouded in a thick, brown bush - a problem to be dealt with once she could focus again. For now she snaked two fingers topped with long, fake nails through the thicket of hair and into her womanhood.

Lisa inhaled sharply and moaned. She’d had sex before. She’d jilled herself before. But sex had never felt this good. “Faaaaaaaaaaawk!” she cried out in her accented, Mona Lisa voice as two fake nails slid inside of her. She guided them to dance around her clit, teasing herself between the sensation of sharp nails and supply fingertips gliding in and out of her. Lisa fell to her knees and then backwards on her ass. She separated her knees and thrust herself in time with her own ministrations.

“Fawk,” she gasped.

Fawk!” she moaned.

And with one more thrust inside of herself, the dam burst. A wave of pleasure flooded through Lisa. “FAWWWWWWWWWWWWK!” she screamed, oblivious to the pool of fluids she’d left leaking onto her bathroom floor.

It was incredible, just like every other new experience Lisa had gone through this week.

As incredible as it was, though, the sensation subsided. Lisa found herself naked and panting on her bathroom floor, a tiny pool of liquid having leaked between her legs. For a moment she allowed herself to lean back against the wall. She took a deep, relieved breath. Fawk indeed. That was…something. And something Lisa wanted to experience again. But a quick look at her phone told her she was already running behind.

“And now I gawta shave my coochie,” she muttered to herself. Lisa didn’t even need to force the accent. In the wake of her explosive orgasm, it just…came. Lisa giggle-snorted. It came. Like she came.

Lisa finally managed to scramble to her feet and towel off the juices she’d left on herself and on the floor. She just about grabbed her razor…but hell. Why not ask Big B to go get a Brazilian with her. Lisa clapped and giggle-snorted. Puhfect! Two birds, one stone, all that shit.

Turning back to the mirror, Lisa decided to make her hair as simple as she could get away with today. She ran a straightener through her dark, voluminous hair before pulling it back into an impossibly tight, high-angle ponytail that cascaded halfway down her back. And with her hair done, it was time for her outfit.

Lisa returned to her room and stood over the pile of clothes she had left out from yesterday. A part of her noted that she’d become one of those girls with clothes strewn all over her room. Lisa hated those girls, but suddenly didn’t seem to mind becoming one. She’d fold and hang and put all her stuff up later. After she hung out with BB.

Lisa stood over the pile for a few minutes in deliberation. She had coordinated her new clothes into several outfits. But she had to pick which one she’d use to blow Big B away. The one that would fit Mona Lisa’s big debut. After entirely too much time passed, Lisa reached down and began to pull her look together. She started with a leopard-print G-string. Lisa put her feet into the gaps in the stringy thing, left then right, and pulled it up. It was her very first thong, but it felt perfectly natural. Her matching bra was easy to find. It was a bit too small now after her growth from last night, but she still managed to wrestle her bigger, faker tits into the cups. Lisa stepped into a leather miniskirt next. And then into a pair of fake croc-skin heels.

Lisa’s search for a top, though, led her to a simple conclusion. Mona Lisa wouldn’t need a top. Her big fur coat would work just fine. And if she took it off? Who would object to an eyeful of her new and improved funbags? The thought of strangers looking at her barely-bra-clad breasts…her big fawkin’ tits...provoked another giggle-snort from Lisa. Hunky men. Their jealous, bitchy boyfriends…

“No, bad Mona Lisa!” she chided herself. “I can’t get cawt in my cooch again or I’ll be even later!”

Pulling her thoughts away from her imagined admirers, Lisa - Mona Lisa - threw the fur coat over her shoulders and grabbed the tiny, hot pink, fake-name brand purse and headed out the door. She’d grab a coffee and a snack on the way. She was already going to be late, but Mona Lisa knew a big, sugary coffee was the only thing standing between her and being a world-class cunt. And that wouldn’t do for Mona Lisa’s big day out.
Posts: 24
Joined: Sat Feb 10, 2024 1:07 pm

Chapter 6 - Wednesday Afternoon

Postby iridescentgentleman » Mon Feb 12, 2024 12:38 pm

It was 12:15 when Mona Lisa arrived at the mall. The shopping center wasn’t exactly booming on Wednesday afternoon, but there was a bit of a lunch rush at the food court. Mona Lisa’s eyes wandered over to the businessmen and women who had showed up to scarf something down on their breaks. Her eyes lingered on a few of them. But more importantly, Mona Lisa could see their eyes lingering on her. The handsome men. The boring men. The fat men. The old men. The lesbians. And the judgmental women. Women who looked like Mona Lisa did just a few days ago. They looked down on her the way she would have looked down on her. As a jobless, deadbeat slut looking for a man to pay her way. Basically a prostitute in all but name.

Mona Lisa shivered a bit at the thought. Their desirous gazes made her hot. Their judgmental glares, if anything, made her even hotter. She gave them a few little waves and a few little winks. She giggle-snorted as one man dropped his soft drink cup when she blew him a kiss. But she didn’t stop. She had business with her new bestie Big B.

Now where was she?

Mona Lisa showed up outside of Shorelines. She was already late, but Big B was nowhere to be found. Fawk. Why didn’t she get BB’s number? Had something come up? Was BB in trouble?

Mona Lisa lingered in Shorelines while she waited. She didn’t intend to buy anything. But a few shades of lip gloss and a sparkly, pink, cheetah-print dress were all too sexy to pass up. She ignored her banking app warning her that she was spending much more than usual and stowed all the good away in her back. It was almost 1 when she finally heard a familiar voice. Lisa left the store and saw Big B walking up. Compared to Mona Lisa, Big B was a wreck. She was wearing a big T-shirt, tiny shorts, and crocs. Her makeup was hastily done and her hair was pulled up into a messy bun.

But most notably, Big B was’t alone.

The diminutive quidette was hanging off the arm of a man much taller than he was. His hair was shaved down to flat-top, with the sides totally buzzed off. He had dark, brown eyes, a big nose, and a smirk studded with two gold teeth. The gold teeth matched the gold chain around his neck and the gold cuffs around his wrists. His physique was barely hidden behind a loose tank top and baggy jeans. Mona Lisa could see his arms bulging with muscles, but his tank top still pushed out with a bit of belly fat. Lisa Ricci would have been appalled by a guy like this, and by the overpowering scent of cologne wafting off of him. But Mona Lisa offered a giggle and batted her long lashes.

“So this guy is why ya late,” she playfully chided Big B.

“Late?” Big B asked with a rasp in her voice. She checked her phone. “Whateva,” she said dismissively. “You’ll be happier if you don’t bawtha with times and just go with the flow.” Big B made a wavy motion with her hands. “Anyways this is Romeo,” she said, patting the man’s chest. “I met him last night at…where was it Romeo?”

“The Tiger Cage, babe,” the man, Romeo, replied. He looked up at Mona Lisa and whistled. “Your girl is a fuckin’ hottie, B.” Mona Lis a couldn’t help but blush through her caked-on foundation.

“Hey hey hey!” Big B objected playfully. “At least wait until I’m gawn before ya try to smoosh my new bestie!” She pushed off of the man and towards Mona Lisa.

“What’s the Tiga Cage?” Mona Lisa asked. She genuinely didn’t know. Lisa was never one for nightclubs or much of anything other than a few drinks after dark. The city’s nightlife beyond corporate bars and fake dives was limited.

“Just a joint where ya dance,” Big B said. “We can go ta-night if you wanna.”

Mona Lisa almost said yes, but some bit of her was still pushing back. Some bit of her knew something as wrong. “I mean I do gawts ta give a big presentation at work on Friday. I don’t know if I can play hookie again and still get my pruh-motion.”

Big B responded with a laconic shrug. “Hey, do what you want,” she said. “I’m not ya mamma. But lemme know if ya change ya mind. Anyways…” she turned her attention to Romeo. “Ya services are no lawnga required. Scram.” Big B waved her hand. “If you wanna plow me again, come by the Tiga Cage tonight and see if you can impress me.” The man must not have been brimming with self-respect, Mona Lisa observed, as he all-too-eagerly nodded and walked off. “So then,” Big B said. “Where you wanna stawt with pawt 2 of ya makeover?”

Mona Lisa watched Romeo walk away for a bit. She was caught between a strange confluence of feelings. Lisa felt pity and disgust for the man, while Mona Lisa couldn’t take her eyes off of his big, strong arms. She couldn’t help but breathe the remains of his cheap cologne in.

And best of all, he’d be easy.

“Mona Lisa!” Big B said, snapping her fingers. “Eyes here, slut.”

Mona Lisa looked back over and put her hands on her hips. “I’m nawt a slut!” she protested. “Romeo’s just…a real cutie.”

“Romeo is trash, like me,” Big B said. “Perfect for sluts like you.” Mona Lisa looked over at her questioningly. “What?” Big B asked. “Don’t tell me now ya gonna be awl precious, Mona Lisa.”

“I just…” Mona Lisa muttered. “Neva thawt of myself as a slut. As cheap. As trash.” Her eyes fell and she looked at herself. That same feeling from the morning came over her. Mona Lisa - Lisa - started to wonder if something really was wrong.

Mona Lisa was snapped out of it by Big B grabbing her hand. “Ya know,” she said. “I’ve noticed sumthin’ about you, Mona Lisa,” she said. “Beyond that yer a a show-awf and a slut.” Mona Lisa didn’t initially respond. She looked to Big B, indicating she was paying attention, and walked with her friend. “We had fun when we first met, yeah?” Mona Lisa nodded in affirmation. “And we had fun yesterday, yeah?” Mona Lisa nodded again. “Ya eva notice that ya have more fun when ya not thinking about ya jawb?”

“Yeah,” Mona Lisa finally admitted. “Yeah…I have more fun when I just don’t think of it. But it’s hawd. This Friday is coming up and I’m here doing this!”

“What ya wanna do, ya mean?” Big B asked. She stopped and put her hands on her hips. “Come awn. Ya gawt ya whole life to get some pruhmoshin at a jawb that makes you unhappy. You only got ten years or so before ya stawt getting too old to pull in any hunk ya want. It’s a math thing! Ya need to take advantage of this now!”

Mona Lisa couldn’t help but let out a giggle at that. “Awlright, awlright, Jesus,” Mona Lisa said. “Ya gonna run a girl down fa cold feet?”

“When they’re gettin’ in the way of greatness?” Big B asked. “Fawk yes. Now come on. We gotta get our tan on.”

“Wait, we’re goin’ tanning?” Mona Lisa asked. Big B shot her an exasperated look, expecting another round of objections. But Mona Lisa’s surprise was much more to her liking this time. “Ya didn’t tell me we were tanning,” Mona Lisa protested. “I didn’t bring a bikini or sun tan lotion or nuthin! And why didn’t we just meet at the beach?”

“Cuz we ain’t tanning at no beach,” Big B said. She made a turn in the mall and brought Mona Lisa to face a store with a big, pink sign bearing black silhouetted palm trees. The sign announced they were at Tanlines. “A Shorelines sista brand,” Big B explained. “Means we get a discount. Now I personally don’t do tanlines when I tan. I like ta be tan awl ova. But you can have ‘em if you want.”

“Well I might as well,” Mona Lisa replied. “I was actuawlly gonna ask ya if we could go get waxed afta this,” Mona Lisa said. Without work on her mind - and with the pendant working its magic - Mona Lisa was beginning to lighten up again. “I was pettin’ the kitty earlier and realized I’d look good with a little work down there, ya know?”

Big B snickered. “Atta’girl,” she said. “Cawse we’ll go get waxed afta. Now let’s get you a healthier shade of orange, Mona Lisa.”

The two women headed to the reception desk. The middle-aged woman seemed mildly irked by the two obnoxious women she was dealing with. Thankfully for her Big B knew exactly what the two wanted. She led them to a room with two tanning beds. Big B didn’t even wait for the receptionist to leave before she began stripping, pulling her simple clothes off until her small, curvy body was completely bare. Mona Lisa stared a bit at Big B’s big, natural breasts hanging heavily from her chest, topped by dark areola and nipples. She had a slight paunch on her belly and her already distinct tan was laced with equally distinct stretch marks.

“Glad ya like the view,” Big B said with a snort. Mona Lisa snapped back to reality somewhat. “Now your turn, hot stuff.”

Mona Lisa nodded and began to shed her clothing. She wasn’t so familiar with her new outfit, so it took her a moment to fully remove it. But as each piece of clothing fell away Big B’s smile grew. “Damn, girl,” Big B said. “With a little time at the gym you’d go from a 10 to an 11. And are your fawkin’ tits bigger than when we met? I don’t remember ya havin’ falsies like that.”

“I think so,” Mona Lisa said as she tossed her bra away and let her increasingly fake boobs free. “And I don’t know why. But fawk are they hawt.”

“Well I don’t believe in questionin’ a good thing,” Big B said. She walked up and slyly groped Mona Lisa’s boobs, causing the changing woman to squeal and snort. “Or two good things.”

“You bitch!” Mona Lisa shrieked playfully.

“Guilty as chah-ged,” Big B said. “Oh, and you’ll need to take that pendant awf, too. Pretty as it is.”

Mona Lisa looked down and slid the silver pendant over her neck, setting it on the table. As she did she felt a strange tingling throughout her body. Removing the necklace didn’t reverse its effects. Nor did it break the hold the necklace had over her. But its powers did weaken. As Mona Lisa took off her thong and her heels she felt the same creeping doubts as before begin to encroach into her mind. Big B kept watching and burst into a fit of laughter at the thick, heavy bush that had been concealed by Mona Lisa’s underwear.

“Fawk a Brazilian,” she cackled. “I’m gonna need three Brazilians and a weed whackea fa that thing! Two for you, and one to keep me busy while they work. Eh?”

“Yeah…” Mona Lisa said. She looked around, and then back down at her body, and then at Big B.

“Awlright, let’s get this party started!” Big B said. She grabbed two pairs of goggles from a nearby table and put one over Mona Lisa’s eyes. “Ya gawta wear these,” she explained. “So ya don’t get cancer or nuthin’. Now from here…” Big B went on, leading Mona Lisa to her tanning bed and patting it. Mona Lisa compliantly laid down, unable to push back against the pushy little guidette’s orders. “...ya just lay down and wait. Ya awl good in there?”

Mona Lisa looked up. She didn’t reply, which Big B took as an affirmative. Mona Lisa’s friend closed the lid of the tanning bed on her, shrouding her in darkness and silence.

The darkness and silence lasted about a minute. And it was a minute of confusion for Mona Lisa. She couldn’t see anything. She couldn’t hear anything. And she could only feel the cold surface of the tanning bed.

Then UV lights turned on. Her naked body was illuminated in soft, blue light. The glow of the tanning bed was surreal and otherworldly. And with the pendant removed from her, the sight of her altered form caused Mona to gasp. It wasn’t that she hadn’t seen herself before. It wasn’t that she hadn’t noticed the changes to her body or the way she had been acting. But Mona Lisa hadn’t stopped to think about the past week before. She hadn’t really stopped to consider what she was doing. But now without the pendant and with her naked form fully on display, the intrusive thoughts that the necklace had kept at bay fully seeped in.

And with the tanning bed locked down, she was alone with her thoughts.

“Oh my God,” Mona Lisa - or perhaps Lisa once more - whispered as she looked at herself. Something was wrong. Truly, utterly wrong. Something was wrong with her body, for one. Women didn’t just grow fake tits. She reached up and touched her inflated breasts with her right hand. Her left shot up to cover her mouth and keep her from screaming. This was impossible. It had to be a hallucination of some kind. She had to be seeing things. Lisa had to have lost her mind. None of this could be real. She needed to see a doctor. No, she needed to see a psychiatrist. But before that, Lisa had to get back to work! She had to offer Clark as many apologies as it took to get him to put in overtime for her presentation before the board. She had to make up for her fake sick days to her bosses. She had to…

“Ya eva notice that ya have more fun when ya not thinking about ya jawb?”

The question this woman - Big B - had asked Lisa cut through her increasingly panicked thoughts. The pendant still had some influence. But that thought came from inside Lisa herself. She laid her arms back at her sides as she mulled over that sharp memory.

Because Big B hadn’t been wrong. Even now with a clearer mind, Lisa begrudgingly admitted to herself that she had been having fun. More fun than she’d had in…months? Years? Work kept her busy. Lisa was passionate about her climb up the corporate ladder. But it was hardly anything she’d call fun. The money was good. But what did she do with it? Pay her exorbitant rent? Buy new gray businesswear? Pay for a gym membership she was too busy to use? Save for retirement so she could have fun once she was too old - and too ugly - to do anything as fun as she was right now?

Lisa bit her lip. She could feel the warmth of the UV lights all over her skin. She knew it was darkening. She knew with every second she didn’t demand to be let out, it would be harder for her to look respectable and certainly harder to land her promotion on Friday.

But a tan would help her pick up more followers on Picstagram.

And she’d fit in more with Big B and her friends.

And besides, Lisa had to admit to herself, she liked how she looked. As despicable and trashy as she felt it was, there was something compelling about her new appearance. It was almost enticingly gross to the young woman. And the attention. Just thinking about the stares of lust and envy made her wriggle in the tanning bed.

Lisa knew she shouldn’t be doing any of this. But she liked it. She had no way of knowing that the pendant had driven her to this behavior or altered her body like it did. But even with its hold diminished, Lisa realized she enjoyed living like this.

She liked looking like trash. She liked the stares. She loved her new friend. She delighted in the clothes and makeup and hair products and perfume. And she was curious about the men. Just what kind of men could she get like this?

What kind of life could she have as Mona Lisa? She pondered that question until the lights turned off. Lisa was left in darkness for just a moment before the lid opened - and Mona Lisa emerged once more. She sat up and stepped out of the bed, peeling off the goggles and looking down at herself. Mona Lisa’s skin had gone from a deep tan to something truly outrageous. Her skin was an even shade of orange-brown from head to toe. But more than that, it had taken on a slight sheen and a slightly leathery feel. All of Lisa’s blemishes - the stretch marks from her growing breasts, moles, and lines on her face - looked even more obvious now. She looked a few years older.

Mona Lisa let out a giggle-snort. She was so fawking hawt!

“Damn, betch!” Big B called from behind Mona Lisa. The newer guidette turned to see her friend sporting much the same complexion she was. “Way to rawk a tan, sweethawt! Ya look amazing.”

“Awwww, ya too kind,” Mona Lisa replied. She reached out to grab the pendant and put it back around her neck, fully banishing what lingering doubts she might have had. It seemed like almost a waste to get dressed again, but it wasn’t like she could walk around the mall naked. As much as she might have wanted to.

As she got dressed, Mona Lisa picked up her phone and checked her notifications. Another text from Clark she left unread. A few work emails she blew off. And a notification from Picstagram. She had hit a thousand followers on Picstagram. Which meant she had a promise to keep. Mona Lisa quickly snatched up her bra and thong and handed the phone to Big B. “Big B I need ya ta take some picshas of me,” she said. “I prawmised my followas if I hit one lawge I’d give ‘em a show. Then what do ya say afta that we get our nana’s shaved. Then you can head to the Cage and I can head home.”

“Home fa what?” Big B asked as she took the phone. “Ya still gonna be obsessed with work and shit?”

“I mean I gawta make money,” Mona Lisa said as she posed. “But ‘til then I’m gonna work on my new socials. I only gawta work until something else can work out.”

“Atta fuckin’ girl!” Big B said. She took one picture. Then another. “And the Tiga Cage?”

“Tamarra,” Mona Lisa said.

“Ya prawmise?” Big B pressed her.

“I prawmise,” Mona Lisa affirmed. “Craws my hawt and hope ta die!”

“Then see ya tammara,” Big B said. “I’ll be swappin’ our numbers to make sure, though. There’ll be fawkin’ hell ta pay if you flake on me.”

“Fawk flaking,” Mona Lisa said. “Fa awl you know I might be bringing company!”
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Joined: Sat Feb 10, 2024 1:07 pm

Chapter 7 - Thursday Mawnin’

Postby iridescentgentleman » Mon Feb 12, 2024 1:04 pm

Clark pulled out his phone and took another look at the time. 9:50 AM. He put it away. She was late. It was one day until Lisa’s presentation and Clark’s friend had gone AWOL. She had claimed to be sick, but didn’t believe it. Lisa had been sick before and she hadn’t acted like this. Even when she had to stay home she kept on top of things from her bed. She replied to texts. She made sure to stay in the loop. But Lisa had left every text he had sent her over the past two days on “read”. Most of them had been related to the presentation Friday, but some were related to complaints he’d heard about her work on Monday and Tuesday, as well. Invoices had gone unfiled. Reports were overdue. No, this wasn’t like Lisa at all. Something was wrong. Clark was worried about Lisa. But he was also a bit ashamed to be angry at her. He had been forced to continue prepping for the presentation on his own, and he’d picked up Lisa’s work to make sure she wouldn’t fall even further behind ahead of it.

The worst part of Lisa’s absence, though, had been Brad. Without Lisa around Brad had spent Tuesday afternoon and Wednesday harrying Clark. It was the same bullying he always did - jokes about Clark’s weight, his outfit, his hobbies. But there was an undercurrent to it contributing to Clark’s worry. Throughout his bullying Brad kept bringing up Lisa’s absence. There was a cockiness to it that made Clark feel like he knew something about what was going on. He couldn’t believe Brad would actually, physically harm Lisa over a promotion. Especially not when he seemed so certain he was going to get it anyways. So what was with that sly smile? That cocky wink? His over-the-top, fake concern for Lisa’s absence? Clark didn’t know, but he was growing more worried by the moment that something was very wrong.

“Is the lost puppy still waiting for his owner?” Clark was snapped out of his thoughts, as if on cue, by Brad’s deep, mocking voice. He scowled at the taller man.

“Sorry I care about my friend,” he said sarcastically. “And what do you care if I do?”

“I wouldn’t say I care,” Brad replied gruffly. “I just think it’s kind of pathetic that you can’t seem to do anything on your own.”

“Fuck you, Brad,” Clark said with a wave.

“Especially because you might find yourself having to do stuff alone pretty soon.” Clark narrowed his eyes. There was that smug, knowing smirk again. Like Brad knew something Clark didn’t. He stood up and looked Brad in the eye. He was about to snap at the bully, but he was cut off by a voice he only barely recognized as Lisa’s.

“Good mawnin’ boys!”

Clark turned towards the voice that sounded like Lisa’s and his jaw dropped. No, that couldn’t be Lisa. It wasn’t possible.

The woman who had called out to him was brightly, garishly orange. Her skin was tanned to the texture of a leather bag. That tan was contrasted against a face full of makeup that looked painted on. The woman’s foundation was a brighter shade of orange, different enough for Clark to see a line crossing her jawline. Her lips were bright pink and glossy. Her hazel eyes had eyeliner caked on her lashes and bright, blue eyeshadow. And her dark, almost black hair was shot with highlights of bright blonde and bright pink. It pushed up into a bump before cascading down her back.

But her face. Underneath the hair products, the makeup, and past the overpowering scent of cheap perfume, Clark recognized Lisa’s face.

But he definitely didn’t recognize the rest of her.

It was impossible to notice anything before Clark noticed Lisa’s breasts. They were simply impossible. Lisa’s enormous, fake boobs dominated her entire figure. While her hips were a bit wider, her butt was a bit bigger, and her legs were a bit fuller, Lisa’s implants wobbled and struggled against their confines. And their confines were scandalous for the office. Lisa had worn a button-down shirt, but it had no hope of actually covering her. The long-sleeved blouse barely covered her chest. Lisa had left it unbuttoned and tied it at the end, showing off a valley of cleavage for her silver pendant to get lost in. It was pulled so tight that Lisa’s cheetah-print bra showed right through the fabric. And the blouse had left her entire midriff exposed, showing off a tummy much tauter than it had been a few days ago.

Beneath all that, Lisa was wearing a set of leather pants that might as well have been painted on. Her already shapely legs, wider hips, and newly-round butt were all on full display, all pushed up by a pair of towering cheetah-print heels. Her whole body glittered and gleamed with cheap, fake jewelry - bracelets, earrings, a new belly button piercing - and her fake nails glinted in the fluorescent office light.

And all of this was topped off by a big, shiny smile.

Before Clark could snap out of his stupor, Lisa walked up and pulled him against her in a tight hug. “Hey Clawk!” she said. “I missed ya, dawl. Sawry I ghosted ya yestaday. I was out with my girl gettin’ awl done up.”

Squeezed up against Lisa, Clark could barely choke out a reply. “I…thought you were sick,” he sputtered.

“Oh yeah that was bullshit,” Lisa waved off, letting him Clark go. “I just needed some time awf to let Big B help me with my new look. Whaddya think?” She did a turn, showing off every inch of herself to Clark. The man was lost for words. What the fuck had happened to his coworker? His best friend? How was this even possible?

“I think you look amazing, Lisa!” Brad’s voice boomed out, cutting in on the conversation. He gave Clark an evil grin before turning his attention back to the newly-minted guidette. “How did you pull this off?”

“Foist,” she said, holding up a finger. “It’s Mona Lisa now. And second, how unusually nice of ya, Brad. Ya don’t gawt nothin’ cawky to say?”

“No,” Brad said, his confident smile not wavering for a single moment. “What would I say? You’re hot, Mona Lisa. Drop-dead fucking gorgeous.”

“Well, awren’t you fawkin’ sweet?” Mona Lisa replied. Clark covered his mouth. This was all like some kind of sick nightmare. Clark just stared at her, mouth agape. And Mona Lisa noticed.

“You ain’t gonna say nuthin’?” Mona Lisa asked Clark. “Ain’t gonna awfa mahral support to ya friend?” The look she gave Clark was almost hurt. Lisa, or Mona Lisa, or whoever she was clearly wanted his opinion. Even if he could choke out words, though, Clark wasn’t even sure what he’d say. He wanted to scream to Lisa that this wasn’t right. That some kind of fucked up magic had changed her.

But the slight stiffness in his pants indicated what he couldn’t bear to tell Mona Lisa or even admit to himself. Whatever happened to her, it was fucking hot.

Mona Lisa looked at him a moment longer, before finally turning away with a disappointed sigh. “It’s awlright, Clawk. I know it’s a big change. I was just hopin’ if even this douche could be happy fa me,” she pointed her thumb at Brad. “So could you.”

“Cut him some slack, Mona Lisa,” Brad said, with a wink towards Clark. “Like you said, it’s new. And you know Clark can’t talk to women.”

“Oh don’t I!” Mona Lisa said with a giggle-snort. “Awlright I’ll give it some time.”

“While Clark figures out how to get his mouth closed, why don’t I help you carry your things to your office?” Brad asked.

Mona Lisa looked at him suspiciously. “And why would ya do that?” she asked.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Brad replied.

“Becawse yer a douche tryin’ ta steal my promotion,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “Just becawse I gawt a new look don’t mean I gawt a new brain. I know the kind of man ya are, Brad. Ya can’t hide being a prick behind that chawmin’ smile.” Mona Lisa’s eyes lowered a bit. “And that handsome jawline. And those strawng awms. And that nice, firm butt…”

“Lisa!” Clark finally objected.

“Oh Gawd!” Mona Lisa said, covering her mouth. “Did I saw that out loud?” She let out an obnoxious giggle-snort. “Thanks fa reigning me in, Clawk. I don’t know where my filta went!” She pulled her friend in for another tight hug. “Though it’s still Mona Lisa. Mona Lisa. Like the paintin’.”

“Look, I know I can get competitive,” Brad said. “And I know I crossed a line earlier this week. Consider it a peace offering. Fair?”

Mona Lisa sighed. “Fine, ya can help me,” she said. “But only if ya put on a show. You walk in front, capiche?”

“Li-Mona Lisa!” Clark protested again. But this time the guidette only shrugged.

“What? The man’s sexy,” she said. “You’d be a little hawttie yaself if ya spent some time at the gym.” Mona Lisa reached out and patted Clark on his belly. “No offense or nuthin. But a nice boy like you shouldn’t be single!” Mona Lisa turned. “Anyways, Brad, out in front.” Brad obliged, stepping in front of Mona Lisa. She handed him her things and motioned for him to turn around. As Brad walked towards her office, Mona Lisa didn’t even pretend not to be staring at his butt.

Clark watched the two walk off…and he wasn’t alone. Several other office workers stared at the mess of silicon, makeup, and cheap perfume following Brad to Lisa Ricci’s office. Clark could hear their murmurs. A twitching in his pants brought him back to attention, though. Crap. His stiffy had turned into a full blown tent in his pants. Clark quickly sat down before any of the people staring at Lisa noticed him instead. He had no idea what could have happened to change Lisa like this. But he was sure Brad was behind it. And he knew he couldn’t get any answers until they were separated. So he tried to return to his work. And tried not to think of just what Brad and Lisa would be doing in Lisa’s office.

Brad, meanwhile, was walking through the office with the widest smile of his life plastered to his face. He knew on Tuesday that the pendant was working. He could already see Lisa’s body changing. But he had no way of knowing how far it would go.

Physically, Mona Lisa was beyond his expectations. She was hot, for sure. But a trashy sort of hot he thought was a fitting humiliation for his rival. Brad surmised that the pendant might have drawn on whoever wore it. He knew from her name alone that Lisa was Italian-American. Maybe the whole orange-tanned Jersey Shore look had been a play on that. No, it was certainly a play on those internalized notions. And Brad loved it. He could hardly imagine the horror and shame Lisa would feel if the influence of the pendant vanished and she could see what she had become.

More interesting to Brad, though, was her personality. When the antique store owner had told him about the pendant, Brad had assumed that Lisa’s transformation would rob her of her intelligence. Would render her submissive. But it apparently wasn’t that simple. The psychic feeling of Mona Lisa’s eyes on Brad’s ass as he walked to her office made it plain that her mind had been altered. But she didn’t seem any dumber than before. Nor did she seem more timid and deferential. If anything the pendant had rendered Mona Lisa more pushy and aggressive. And she was less eager to betray her little pet than Brad had hoped. On the plus side, she was clearly more shallow. Enough so that Brad’s behavior hadn’t turned her off from him. And she seemed a bit more gullible. That was something Brad could use to get his way.

Brad cleared his thoughts as he arrived at Mona Lisa’s office. Despite his hands full of her things, he opened the office door and stood aside to let her walk in first. “Since when were you such a gentleman?” Mona Lisa said mockingly.

“Like I said, I feel bad about earlier this week,” Brad said.

“Oh bullshit,” Mona Lisa spat back. “We both know that’s a load of baloney.” Maybe she wasn’t as gullible as Brad had thought. “We know why ya gooberin' up ta me, Bradley.”

“And why is that?” Brad asked. He shut the door and dropped Mona Lisa’s things, crossing his arms confidently. It wasn’t in Brad’s nature to show weakness even if he felt it. And he damn sure wouldn’t let his own creation lead him around by the nose.

Mona Lisa stepped behind her desk and leaned forward. “Because ya love the new look,” Mona Lisa said. She followed his eyes down to the airbags wobbling on her chest. “And ya especially love the new girls.” Lisa’s posture caused the pink gem at the end of her silver necklace to dangle enticingly over her cavern of cleavage.

Brad considered his response, but above all else he was curious. “I do love the new look,” he said. “But…how on Earth did you pull it together so quickly? I mean the hair. The tits…”

Brad watched, and for just a moment he saw Mona Lisa’s gaze falter. But then he caught it. The slight glow of the pink gem at the end of the pendant. “I’m nawt lookin’ a gift hawse in the mouth,” Mona Lisa said. “I’m a fawkin’ babe now.”

“Fair enough,” Brad said. He didn’t want to push too hard. “But you’re right, Mona Lisa. You’re fucking hot. And I know I am, too.” Brad walked up to her desk and sat in the chair across from her own, kicking his legs up on the desk. “Now what are we going to do about that?”

“Fuhst,” Mona Lisa said. “You’re gonna get ya dirty shoes awf my desk.” She grabbed his feet and set them aside, keeping eye contact with them. “And when yer in my awfice ya gonna show me respect.”

“Of course, Mona Lisa,” Brad said. “My apologies.”

“Good, so here’s the sitch.” Mona Lisa sat down in her chair. “Ya such a stunna that I’m willing to…consida lettin’ you put ya mitts awl over this.” Mona LIsa motioned to her body. “But nawt if ya gonna try to be such a piece of shit ta me and Clawky all the time. I’m nawt gonna consida lettin’ my best boy’s bully stick his fawkin’ Jawnson in me.”

“Mona Lisa, we’re moving so fast,” Brad joked. “From feeling you up to-”

“Don’t interrupt me,” Mona Lisa cut in. “Now I’m a fair woman. And if ya presentation tamarra is betta than mine then ya win, fair and square. But no sabotage…”

“No sabotage,” Brad agreed, barely holding back a snicker.

“And no more harassment,” Mona Lisa went on. “And I’m gonna need proof.”

“What kind of proof?” Brad asked. He was genuinely intrigued now. What plan had this Jersey trashbag whipped up?

“Tanight I’m goin’ to the Tiga Cage with my new friend from the mawl,” Mona Lisa explained. “And I’m bringin’ Clawk. And you’re gonna go, too. And help him get a girl.” Brad almost burst out laughing again. There was no way Clark was getting laid at the fucking Tiger Cage. And only a worthless guidette bimbo would even think that was a good thing. Even Brad thought Clark deserved better than most of the women who went to that dump. But he also knew that wasn’t what Mona Lisa wanted to hear. He pondered for a moment.

And he had an idea.

“I’m all aboard for that,” Brad said. He leaned back into the chair. “But…I think Clark is going to be the bigger problem in your little night out.”

“And why would that be?” Mona Lisa asked. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. Brad needed to phrase this just right. One thing he’d picked up on was that as skeptical and forceful as she still was, Mona Lisa was vain. Maybe even an egomaniac. She was a sucker for flattery.

“I don’t know how you haven’t noticed this,” Brad said. “But Clark already has eyes for a woman. You.”

“No he doesn’t!” Mona Lisa protested. “He could barely look me in the eye!”

“Let me rephrase,” Brad said. “He had a crush on you. Your old style. Your old look. Your old demeanor.” Brad wasn’t lying. The way Clark scrambled after her. The way he played the work husband. The way he helped her. He was clearly angling to be more than friends. And he was trying to impress Lisa Ricci the only way he knew how. “But I…don’t think he’s in love with the new you.”

“He’s just suhprised is awl,” Mona Lisa said. But Brad could hear her voice falter. Her eyes wander to the side. She was thinking about it.

“I’m sure,” Brad said. “But I don’t think he’s going to be willing to accept the new you. And if he sees us getting along, he’s going to blame me. I don’t blame him…” Brad held up his hands, as if to convey he wasn’t trying to be a jerk. “I just don’t think he’s going to take this well. And I don’t know that he can accept the new you.”

“Of cawse he can!” Mona Lisa almost shouted. “Clawky is my friend!” Her defensive tone was all the sign Brad needed that he was on the right track.

“I hope you’re right,” Brad said. “And the three of us can all get along. I just…” Brad shrugged. “I just want you to be prepared if that doesn’t happen.” Brad stood now, looking down at Mona Lisa. And into her eyes, not her cleavage. “Mona Lisa, you’re…frankly amazing,” he said. “And you deserve to be surrounded by people who accept you for who you are. I know you like Clark. But if he’s not going to accept you, he’s going to drag you down.”

Mona Lisa met Brad’s gaze for a moment. Gawd was he handsome. Those blue eyes. That square jaw. His cologne. Fawk she was going to soak her thong right there. She wanted those strong hands on her new tits so bad…

But what was left of Lisa Ricci couldn’t do that. Not yet.

Mona Lisa waved him off. “Yeah, yeah I hear ya,” she said. “I guess we’ll see. I’ll corner Clawk at lunch and we’ll talk.” She sounded dispirited and worried. Exactly what Brad wanted for her. “But fa now we both gawt work to do. And we should get to it, yeah?”

“Right,” Brad said. “So either way, you want to meet after work at the Tiger Cage?”

“Lawng as you behave yaself,” Mona Lisa said, her face curling back up into a smile. “Now get the fawk out of here.” Brad turned to leave, but was stopped one last time by Mona Lisa. “Slowly,” she commanded. Brad turned around to see the lecherous gleam in her eye.

This wasn’t exactly what he planned for Lisa Ricci. But he liked it.
Posts: 24
Joined: Sat Feb 10, 2024 1:07 pm

Chapter 8 - Thursday Aftanoon

Postby iridescentgentleman » Mon Feb 12, 2024 1:08 pm

Back at his desk, Clark spun in his chair. He was telling himself again and again that something was wrong. That Brad had done something to Lisa. That he shouldn’t take the way she ogled him so personally. That he shouldn’t have felt so betrayed. But if Clark actually believed that, he wouldn’t have to keep repeating it to himself. Feelings of shock and fear and hurt and betrayal sloshed through his mind, mixing together and coming undone as he tried to parse through it all. Clark didn’t know what to think or how to feel. But he did know who to blame.

Clark heard Brad’s shoes - and his obnoxious whistling - before he saw his bully returning from Lisa’s office. He launched up out of his chair and marched into the path between the cubicles just ahead of Brad. Clark was decently tall, just about six feet. But Brad was a head taller than him still. “Clark, buddy!” Brad said entirely too eagerly. He reached out and clapped Clark’s shoulder hard. “Just the man I wanted to see.” Clark winced at the clap, but kept his angry gaze on the other man.

“What did you do to her?” Clark demanded. His jaw was set and his voice was low and firm.

“What on Earth are you talking about?” Brad asked. “I’m just as much in the dark as you are!” Brad gave a comical shrug. “I have no idea how Lisa could change that way in, Christ, two days?” Brad counted on his fingers. “Especially those tits…”

“Don’t talk about her like that!” Clark looked like he was about to lunge forward and shove Brad. But he stopped himself. Clark wouldn’t have stood a chance in the altercation, but Brad admitted to himself he’d have been impressed if Lisa’s little pet tried. “I know you did something.”

“Even if I did,” Brad countered, walking around Clark. He turned to face the man again, having demonstrated there was nothing Clark could actually do to stop him. “I don’t think there’s any way to just reverse changes like that. And fishing those cantaloupes out…well, she’s probably got enough stretch marks as is.” Brad looked down to see Clark seething. He was increasingly convinced his chubby coworker might actually find the nads to take a shot. He wouldn’t even be mad! “So it looks like the Lisa we have is the one we’re stuck with.”

Fuck you,” Clark sputtered. “Why are you doing this? Why couldn’t you just leave us alone?” His anger was giving way to sadness. Like a kid whose toy had been snatched.

“Hey hey hey,” Brad said, putting his hands up in a mock surrender. “I for one like the new Lisa. Excuse me - Mona Lisa. She doesn’t like it when people don’t respect her name.”

“Fuck you,” Clark spat again.

“I’m just trying to help!” Brad protested. “Seeing as she’s made it clear I’m not getting any if I keep pushing you around. Say what you want about Mona Lisa, but she’s a loyal gal. She wants me to wingman for you at the Tiger Cage tonight.”

“What’s the Tiger Cage?” Clark asked quietly.

“Oh man,” Brad said. “If your friendship is going to make it you’re going to need to learn all sorts of stuff, Clark. You know the gals who can’t get boyfriends? And then can’t get fucked at nightclubs? The Tiger Cage is where they go. Trashy babes. Babes like…Mona Lisa.”

“And what’s she going to think when I say you called her trashy?” Clark huffed.

“I think she’s going to do that giggle-snort thing she does now, agree, and then stare at my butt some more,” Brad said. “But the bottom line, Clawky...” Brad drew out Clark’s name as he mimicked Mona Lisa’s new accent. “ that it looks like we have to share for now. And I’m sure you’re not thrilled with that. But if that’s what it’s going to take for me to tap that leathery ass-”

Brad didn’t get to finish his sentence before Clark gave him a shove. Brad barely moved a half step back from the assault. He certainly wasn’t hurt. He watched as Clark’s face turned from anger to fear at the realization of what he’d just done. But Brad just cackled. “And here I was just thinking I’d actually respect you if you threw a punch,” Brad mused. “But that was close enough. Don’t worry - I’m not going to pound you or report you to HR. That would make Mona Lisa mad and get in between me and an incredibly rubbery tit-job.” Clark’s face began to contort in anger all over again. With his victim thoroughly antagonized, Brad decided to take his leave. “Anyways, back to the old grind,” Brad said with a wave. “If you wanna try to save Mona Lisa from me or whatever, I know she wants to have lunch with you. Tell her I said hey, okay?” Brad chuckled as he walked off, jauntily whistling once more as he made a turn and headed back for his own cubicle.

After a moment of watching Brad walk away, Clark returned to his own chair. But he wasn’t even pretending to work now. He ran his hands through his hair and repeatedly bumped his head against his desk. He didn’t even know what he was trying to accomplish. Trying to wake himself up from a nightmare? Trying to dispel some hallucination caused by a tumor or brain damage? Just trying to cope with the fact that his best friend - his crush - had been twisted into this degrading shape? Had been brainwashed into falling for the man who tormented the two of them? How did someone even deal with that? Was there enough therapy in the world to begin to cope?

While Clark suffered at his desk, Mona Lisa was spending her morning the same way she’d spent it on Tuesday. The novice bimbo hadn’t even bothered checking her email yet. She’d turned her computer on, but had already been distracted by her phone.

As she had promised Big B, Mona Lisa had spent the previous night working on her social media. For all her changes, Lisa Ricci’s drive and ambition were both still present in her mind. And when she could be focused she was just as capable as ever. Mona Lisa threw herself into research on how to set up a successful social media presence. Guides on the mechanics and guides made by other influencers - fitness models, bimbos, and bikini babes - all went into her work. Her XoMonaLisaoX Picstagram account was joined by a Tweeter, a Strings, and a free (for now) ManyFans account. And all four were linked together and subjected to a barrage of racy pictures. Mona Lisa had promised her fans full body, and she’d delivered with a set of pictures in the mirror. XoMonaLisaoX's feed was now studded with bras, panties, thongs, bikinis, and any other clothes that showed off enough skin to get attention. And all with hashtags, comments, and teasers to drive more engagement.

Mona Lisa’s work the night before had paid off, and now instead of doing her job she was replying to comments and DM’s. Every single comment fed a jolt of excitement. Every DM made her want another. Even the disgusting ones - the lecherous demands, the lewd remarks, and a few dick pics just fed her craving for attention. Mona Lisa was finding between her experience at the mall and now this stream of feedback that negative attention was just as motivating as positive attention. She kept her replies short and cryptic, though. Nothing that would leave her new admirers satisfied. Nothing that would prevent them from coming back for more.

But after a short morning of ignoring her job, Mona Lisa felt her phone buzz in her hands and saw an alert come up on the screen. Lunch time. And this time she wasn’t going to leave Clarky high and dry. She needed to flag him down and talk to him about tonight. If nothing else, she needed to prove Brad - handsome douche he was - wrong. So she reluctantly closed her phone apps and got up from her desk. She fished around her things for a salad she had packed and minced towards Clark’s desk.

Mona Lisa found her guy friend looking blankly into an empty computer screen. He didn’t notice her approaching until she spoke up. “Working hawd?” Mona Lisa asked playfully. Clark almost jumped out of his seat at the sight of her.

“Oh…hey Lisa…Mona Lisa.” Mona Lisa smiled brightly at the correction. She knew it would take a bit to get used to. “Need…something?”

“Well I don’t need nuthin’,” Mona Lisa mused. “But I was hopin’ we could get lunch togetha and tawk, ya know?”

“Brad did tell me you wanted to meet me for lunch,” Clark mumbled.

“Well good awn him fa nawt bein’ a douche fa once,” Mona Lisa said. “You in, Clawky?”

Clark looked Mona Lisa once-over again and tried to hide that he was blushing. He hated what had been done to his friend. And he hated it more that he could feel his pants getting a little tighter. What about this…this trashy bimbo did he find so appealing? What was turning him on about her? Was he just a fan of big tits? Even big, fake, rubbery tits? Was it that the woman he’d been trying to get to like him for so long suddenly seemed so willing? He shook his head and tried to think of anything else. Waterfalls. Green fields. Anything but the basketballs jutting from Lisa’s chest.

“Well?” Mona Lisa’s shrill accent snapped Clark out of it.

“Oh yeah, sure,” he said. He stood up, realizing that his erection hadn’t gone away. And that Mona Lisa was staring right at it. But the guidette gave a cackling giggle-snort at the sight.

“I was wonderin’ if you was happy ta see me!” she teased.

“Sorry, Mona Lisa,” Clark mumbled. But Mona Lisa cut him off.

“I take it as a cawmplument,” she said. “I awtta send ya my new Picstagram so you can take care’a that on ya own time. But see? This is why I wanna take you out tanight!” Mona Lisa put her hands on Clark’s shoulders and led him towards the exit of the office block. She steered him to the elevator, continuing to talk as she did. “Ya clearly gawt some stuff goin’ on that only a prawpa woman can take care of.”

Once the elevator doors closed, Lisa pressed the ground floor. The conversation she wanted to have was a bit too personally for a full break room. “We’ll go ta my car,” she explained. “And we can tawk all nice and private. But let’s go ahead and stawt here.” Mona Lisa turned to Clark and put a hand on her hip, cocking it to the side. “So hawnestly, truly…waddya think?”

Clark looked Mona Lisa over again. What did he even say to that? When he looked in her eyes, he could clearly see Mona Lisa wanted his acceptance. As gaudy and trashy as she was now, she cared what he thought. But the way Brad had spoken to him before was clawing at his mind. He couldn’t take the thought that Brad was going to steal Lisa from him like this. That he had done this to her. Already pushed to his limits by his bully, Clark couldn’t even try to fake being happy for her.

“Lisa, how can you not see that something is wrong!?” Clark almost shouted. Lisa took a step back, her face caught between shock and hurt. “Look at yourself! People don’t change like this in a single week! Brad has done something to you! He’s made you this way and you’re not even fighting it! You’re just…just giving in!”

Mona Lisa looked Clark in the eyes. And for just a moment she felt doubt begin to swirl in her mind again. The doubts from her bathroom mirror. The doubts from the tanning bed. Lisa looked down at her long, fake nails. She held them up to his face, fumbling for words. For just a moment she allowed herself to wonder if something really was wrong.

For just a moment, Clark was sure he’d broken through.

But then she looked down. When she initially caught sight of her enormous, fake breasts, the feeling of doubt grew. But then Mona Lisa stared at her pink pendant. Her doubts faded. A smile crossed her lips…followed by a frown. She looked back at Clark. But she wasn’t doubtful or vulnerable anymore.

Mona Lisa was pissed.

She stood back up to her full height and took a forceful step forward, now just inches from Clark’s face. At this distance her hair product and perfume were overpowering. Clark coughed from the smell of it all. “Fuhst awf,” Mona Lisa said, her voice raised. “It’s Mona Lisa.”

“Lisa-” Clark tried to say, but he was cut off.

MONA Lisa,” Lisa said. “And how dare ya tawk to me like that?! Look at myself? Like I’m some kinda freak? Like I’m some sorta embarrassment? Like ya too good fa me?”

The elevator doors opened into the parking garage, giving Clark a chance to try to back away. But Mona Lisa’s heels did nothing to stop her from keeping up. “That’s some big fawkin’ tawk fur a guy who popped a boner the moment he saw me! Twice!” Mona Lisa held up two fingers and took delight in Clark’s deep, red blush. He’d hoped she hadn’t noticed this morning. But it was no good.

“Mona Lisa,” Clark acceded. “I…I don’t think you’re a freak. If this is what you want, you look great! But I don’t think it is. Brad did something to you! I don’t know what but he did.”

“I’ll have you fawkin’ know that Brad didn’t do none of this ta me,” Mona Lisa protested. “I gawt my nails and makeup done by myself awn Monday. I gawt my hair and my new clothes on Tuesday. And I gawt my tan and my cooter waxed on Wednesday. And the way I tawk? It’s how my new friends tawk!”

“And the breasts?” Clark protested. Once again Mona Lisa faltered. The one thing she couldn’t explain. But a look down at the pendant caused any sort of questions she had to melt away. Clark watched it happen. Her shock. Her look of doubt. Then she looked at the pendant…just like she had done in the elevator.

“Guess it’s a growth spurt!” Mona Lisa said dismissively.

“A growth spurt of plastic?” Clark snorted. “You can’t possibly believe that.”

“Don’t tawk to me like I’m fawkin’ stupid,” Mona Lisa said. By now she’d backed Clark up against the wall of the parking garage. With cars on either side, he was running out of places to go. “My point is that otha than work, I haven’t seen Brad at awl. The only thing he’s done since I gawt it is encourage me. Tell me how amazing I look. And offa to be nicer ta you.”

“Because he wants to fuck you!” Clark shot back.

“And you don’t?” Mona Lisa snarled. Clark’s face went from red to white. It was all the confirmation Mona Lisa needed. “Brad told me you was inta me and I thawt he was wrong. But seeing what a little bitch ya being about me showing any otha guy some attention I guess he had a point. Ya jealous ova a girl who ain’t even yours.”

“I’m not jealous!” Clark complained. “I just…” he was trying to find the words, but he couldn’t. Lisa wouldn’t listen to him. Saying the same thing again would just make her even madder.

“Well here’s the scoop, Clawky,” Mona Lisa said. She spread her legs slightly and crossed her arms. “You ain’t neva gonna touch this. No offense, but you ain’t my type. There’s girls out there fa fatties and furbawls, but I ain’t one of them. So you can be my friend. I can help you out findin’ a prawpa brawd. And ya can learn to live with the changes in my life. Or you can jerk it to my Picstagram photos awl on yer own. So what’s it gonna be, Mistah Big Bawls?”

Clark looked at Mona Lisa standing in front of him. His face was etched with hurt. His friend had insulted him. Belittled him. She had broken his heart like it was nothing. And had basically told him she was off to fuck the worst guy he knew. Clark knew it wasn’t her fault. He knew Brad had done something. And he knew he needed to fix it. But he always knew that if Mona Lisa cut him off, he never could.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I’m…I’m sorry, Mona Lisa. For yelling. For saying those things.”

“Damn fawkin’ right ya are,” Mona Lisa said. She scowled at Clark, an expression that caused him to slump over. But even after all that, she felt a little bit of sympathy. She walked forward and touched Clark’s arm. “I’m sawry I had to be so rough on ya, Clawky,” she said quietly. “But I want us to stay friends, awlright?”

“Yeah,” Clark said. He turned away. He didn’t want Mona Lisa to see him holding back tears.

“I think it would be betta if you skipped the Tiga Cage tonight,” Mona Lisa said. Clark nodded. He agreed. “And I think we should get back to work.”

Clark nodded again. But this time he spoke up. “Hey…Mona Lisa?” he asked. “Can you tell me one thingr?” The guidette raised an eyebrow and looked to him. She gave him a nod.

“That pink pendant,” he said. “I was just wondering where you got it.”

Mona Lisa’s eyebrow raised higher. Why was he asking about the pendant? “This?” she asked. “Oh I just found it awn my desk on Monday. Why do ya care?”

Clark shook his head and sniffled. “I just…thought it looked really nice on you,” he said. “I think it goes really well with the new look. That’s all.”

Mona Lisa softened her stance and smiled at what she saw as a peace offering. “Well thank ya, Clawky,” she said. “I appreciate it. But I should be heading back up, awlright? You dry ya eyes before you come up. Nobody wants to see a grown-ass man cry.” Clark nodded, slumping to the ground. Mona Lisa turned and walked back to the elevator, her heels clacking against the pavement as she returned to the office.

Clark waited for Mona Lisa to leave before drying his eyes, getting up, and making his own way to the elevator. He didn’t go all the way up to his cubicle’s floor, though. He pressed the button to stop at HR. He had no idea if his plan would work. But what did he have left to lose?
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Joined: Sat Feb 10, 2024 1:07 pm

Chapter 9 - Thursday Night

Postby iridescentgentleman » Mon Feb 12, 2024 1:11 pm

After the disastrous talk with Clark, the rest of Mona Lisa’s afternoon was uneventful.

Well, mostly uneventful.

Mona Lisa had returned to her office flustered and frustrated. She tried again to return to work, but couldn’t find it within her to focus on it. A text from Brad had been the perfect distraction. The sweetie was asking how the talk with Clark had gone. Mona Lisa deferred on the question. But she figured Brad knew it had gone poorly. Brad had predicted exactly that.

Instead they texted about other things. Brad became the first coworker she shared her Picstagram account with. And just like when he had first seen her, Brad had been supportive. Even more, Brad had sent her his own spicy pictures to “keep things even” with them. It was nothing more than what Mona Lisa had shown the world. Workout poses. Swim trunks. Brad’s broad shoulders and big arms all on display. Underneath Mona Lisa’s thick makeup and orange tan, she was blushing. She was rubbing her thighs together. Brad was getting her hot and bothered.

As 5PM near, Mona Lisa texted Brad one last time. She was heading off. She had to change before she headed to the Tiger Cage. And she’d meet him there. Clark, she said, had decided not to join them. Just as she began to pack, though, she heard a knock at her office door. She got up and threw the door open to find Shashi Kapoor - Sasha for short - standing outside her door. The short, slender, mocha-skinned Indian-American woman was from the HR department and dressed like it. Her mauve pantsuit would have gotten a respectful nod from Lisa Ricci. But Mona Lisa looked unimpressed. “Sawshai, ya better have a betta reason than needing fashion advice fa bawtherin’ me at 5PM,” she said.

Sasha looked Mona Lisa over and blinked. “Wow,” she said. She ran a hair through her long, black hair. “I heard you got a makeover. They weren’t kidding.”

“And ya gawt somethin’ ta say abowt it?” Mona Lisa asked pointedly.

Sasha looked her over again. “Um…a few things but that can come up tomorrow,” Sasha said. She looked at Mona Lisa, taller than her on the guidette’s heels, and then down to the pink pendant around her neck. “And there it is!” she said with a smile.

“There what is?” Mona Lisa asked.

“That pendant,” Sasha explained. “It was reported lost or stolen to HR and we heard someone had seen it on you.”

“I found it on my desk,” Mona Lisa explained a bit defensively. “I hope ya nawt accusing me of stealin’ it.”

“No, no no no,” Sasha said. “The reporter sounded like they had just lost it. And there it is!” Sasha put out her hand. “If you don’t mind…”

Mona Lisa nodded and stared down at the pink pendant for a moment. Once again she felt whatever thoughts she had fading away. But Sasha’s voice cut through it. “Ms. Ricci?” Sasha asked. Mona Lisa snapped to and removed the pendant from around her neck. She handed it to Sasha with a giggle-snort.

“Ms. Ricci is my grammaw,” she said. “You can cawl me Mona Lisa, dawl. And if you do wanna dress in somethin’ that might get a man lookin’ you should drawp by my desk tomorrow.”

“Uh…thanks,” Sasha said. “Anyways, have a nice evening…uh…Mona Lisa.” Sasha turned and left the guidette behind. She had managed to keep her cool, but Clark had been right. Something was definitely up with Lisa Ricci. Beyond just the dozens of dress code infractions. But Lisa had sounded irate from the start and Sasha didn’t want a confrontation. She headed for the elevator, pendant in hand, and went downstairs.

Now without her pink pendant, Mona Lisa finished packing her things and headed out of the office. She made a brief drop by Clark’s desk to see that the man had already gone home. She wasn’t even sure if he’d come back from lunch. She shrugged. Mona Lisa really did feel bad about being so harsh on him. But being nice wasn’t working. And right now her mind was on Brad. She couldn’t believe she was going out with Brad. She had always thought he was such a jerk.

…because he was such a jerk.

But now she was going out dancing with him, Big B, and whatever friends she brought.

…instead of preparing for her presentation.

With the silver pendant now nowhere near her, doubts were free to begin creeping back into Mona Lisa’s mind. But in the absence of the pendant she banished these thoughts herself. Big B had been right. She was sick of spending all her time working and preparing for more work. She was sick of sleeping in a queen-sized bed all alone. And she’d had so much fun out shopping with Big B and just being Mona Lisa. So no more doubts. Doubts were for the morning. Tonight, she was going to fawkin’ pawty.

The Tiger Cage was not a subtle building. It was large and square, almost like a warehouse, and its facade had a neon-orange sign announcing its name. Loud club music blasted from inside and crowds of people were gathered outside waiting to be let in. And as Mona Lisa walked over from her car parked a block away, she felt like she’d fit right in.

Mona Lisa had changed from her “work” outfit into something more suited to clubbing. The guidette wore a sparkly pink minidress with tiger stripes adorning it. She had done her hair into a messy, hair-spray infused updo and had slipped into a pair of towering pink heels. Her newly fit put wiggled with every step. And the dress, like any clothing, utterly failed to properly contain her boobs. The altered woman minced confidently towards the Tiger Cage, on the lookout for either her date or her friend.

“Mona Lisa!” Mona Lisa turned to the sound of Big B’s voice. Her mentor and new bestie was wearing a leopard-print mini-dress shaped a lot like Mona Lisa’s. But her makeup was brighter and had stronger hues of yellow, blue, and pink over Mona Lisa’s overpowering oranges. She ran up in her heels and threw her arms around Mona Lisa, who returned the gesture.

“Big B!” she said. “There ya are ya bitch!”

“There I am?” Big B said, sounding mock-shocked. “You’re the flight risk! I wasn’t sure ya’d make it.”

“I told ya I would and that’s awl there is to it,” Mona Lisa replied. “Now where is that man…”

“Ya brawt a man?” Big B asked. “Ambitious, Mona Lisa. So ambitious! Is he hawt?”

“Ya know he is,” Mona Lisa said. “His name is Bradley. He’s a coworka. And he’s kind of a douche but he’s so dreamy.” Mona Lisa squealed with delight.

“Nobody cares about his personality in the fawkin’ sack,” Big B said. “You have fun with ya toy, toots. If you can find him in this mawb.”

Mona Lisa kept looking around. Thankfully, Brad was tall. He was easy enough to spot over the crowd. And his outfit stood out, too. The crowd around the Tiger Cage was all leather, latex, lycra, and obnoxious hair. Brad with his clean-cut hair, well-groomed beard, and his casual button-down and slacks stood out. Mona Lisa bounced up and down to get his attention. And the moment he spotted her he headed over.

“Mona Lisa,” he said. He offered his once-rival a hug, chancing a move of his hand down to her firm, perky butt. Mona Lisa yelped at the touch, but didn’t react. A few days ago she’d have called the cops. Today she just smirked up at him.

“Ya gawtta buy me at least two shawts before ya try that, Bradley,” Mona Lisa said playfully. “Anyways this is my friend, Big B,” Mona Lisa gestured to the other guidette. Big B held her hand out, not to shake but for him to kiss. Brad shook her hand anyways, earning a sidelong look from Big B.

“Good to meet you Ms…B…” Brad said. He turned another gaze towards Mona Lisa, and then down at her chest. Suddenly an absence hit him. “What happened to that pendant you were wearing, Mona Lisa?” he asked. For the first time there was a measure of worry in his voice.

“Oh Sawsha from HR said someone repawted it missing, and since I ain’t no thief I gave it ta her,” Mona Lisa said casually.

“Well aren’t you generous,” Brad chuckled, hiding an internal flurry of curses. He didn’t actually know what would happen without the pendant. He couldn’t imagine the changes would just revert. But he also didn’t know how much Mona Lisa’s behavior would revert without it. He looked away, pursing his lips. Fucking Clark. It had to be Clark. Crafty little fuck. But there was no way he could leave. And he didn’t even know if that would help. If the pendant’s powers had left, Brad would have to keep Mona Lisa engaged with his own charm. Thankfully, he thought, he had loads of it.

“Awlright enough chit chat,” Big B said. “Let’s go tell the bounca’s to let our VIP pawty in.” She walked up to the opening of the club, forcefully pushing her way through it to the large, bald bouncers preventing entry into the Tiger Cage.

“Club’s at capacity,” one of the men said. “Beat it.” But Big B could see both of the men’s eyes shift as Mona Lisa wiggled through the crowd. Both bouncers were momentarily stunned by the wobbling mounds of plastic adorning the fledgling guidette.

“That right?” Big B asked. “Will ya be at capacity if you get a load’a those jugs?” She pointed at Mona Lisa, who looked up at the men and squealed.

“Big B!” Mona Lisa said. “I swear ta Gawd ya treatin’ be like a prawstitute!”

The shorter guidette just shrugged. “Please, bitch,” she said. “Ya know ya dyin’ for a man to finally lay eyes on those bongos. Give ‘em a show.”

Mona Lisa looked at the bouncers. The one on the right licked his lips and the one on the left smiled. They seemed receptive to the offer. Mona Lisa looked back up to Brad, who shrugged. “Your body your choice, Mona Lisa,” Brad said.

With that she turned back to the men and dropped the top of her dress. Mona Lisa had already foregone a bra. So her breasts barely moved when freed from the fabric of her dress, only wobbling slightly. She got a bit more out of them by giving her chest a shake. Mona Lisa cupped her enormous implants, thrusting them out towards the bouncers. “Ya tellin’ me ya club an go without these?” Mona Lisa asked. Around her a cheer went out as onlookers and others in the crowd all got at least a partial view of Mona Lisa’s new boobs.

“You know what?” the bouncer on the right said. “I think there’s room for one more party. Why don’t you head on in?” Mona Lisa pulled her top back up and led the way into the club.

True to its name, the Tiger Cage was full of cages. Dancing ages adorned the sides of the club, each with a pole in the middle. But there was one large, central set of bars in the middle of the club going from the ceiling to the floor. In the middle of it was a larger stage with its own pole. And hanging from that pole was a stripper dancing to the music. The woman was down to her thong. And she didn’t look so different from Mona Lisa herself. The bar was off to the right. The DJ was on a platform near the center cage. Sofas and chairs and tables lined the side. But most of the floor was reserved for dancing. And as the bouncers had promised, tonight was packed.

Once they were inside, Big B took the lead and headed for a table just now being vacated by a few drunks. “I’ll go get us drinks,” Brad said, heading for the bar. “You girls have fun.” Brad sauntered off to the bar and left the two guidettes to it.

“So,” Big B said. “Whaddya think?”

“This place fawkin’ rawks!” Mona Lisa squealed. “Awlso can you believe these beach bawls got us in?” Mona Lisa pointed to her fake breasts, prompting a cackle from Big B.

“Sweetie those is gonna get you lawtsa stuff you never thawt you could have,” Big B told her confidently. “They’re mahvelous!”

“Fawk yes they are!” Mona Lisa said, giving her boobs a shake. “But I love tha lights. I love tha atmosphere.” Mona Lisa cast a glance to the pole in the middle, where the tanned stripper had just lost her thong. “The girls ah pretty, too.”

“Mona Lisa I didn’t know you was bi!” Big B snorted.

“No no nawt like that!” Mona Lisa protested. “Well…maybe like that. But nawt like that right now! They’re just so pretty. And fawkers keep throwin’ ‘em money.” Mona Lisa’s gaze moved squarely to the middle dancer now. “How much money ya think these brawds make in a night?”

“Well I never worked at the Tiga Cage, but I did strip at a smawller club in the hood once,” Big B said. “The Tiga Club told me they didn’t got room for my tiny ass. As if. But I made a good take on a good night. I bet even the side gals get good returns. And her?” Big B gestured to the dancer in the middle. “I bet she makes a fawkin’ killin’. Prawbably about as much money as you make.”

“Interestin’,” Mona Lisa mused. “And what do ya think of Bradley?”

Big B looked off in the direction of the bar, and back to Lisa. “Mona Lisa you sure pulled yaself a looka,” she said. “But I’m gonna level with ya. I don’t like his vibe.”

“What the fawk’s that mean?” Mona Lisa asked. She felt a hint of frustration at Big B’s disapproval of the man she’d brought. A bit of annoyance. But also something else. Those doubts were beginning to fray at the edge of her mind again.

“Mona Lisa how much experience ya have with men?” Big B asked critically. “Based on how Plain Jane ya looked when we met I’m guessin’ nawt a lot?”

“I’ve had a few boyfriends,” Mona Lisa said a bit defensively.

“And I’m gonna guess neva a man like Romeo or Angelo or Brad?” Big B went on. “Someone skinnier and more timid. Fawkin’ weenies?”

Mona Lisa gritted her teeth. She didn’t answer. But Big B was right. Lisa Ricci had always worn the pants in her few relationships. And they rarely came off for the most basic missionary sex.

“Well, here’s what I think,” Big B continued. “I think Brad’s come to the Tiga Cage dressed like a preppy boy. And I think he’s taking you out the night before ya big promotion meeting or whateva. Now I don’t give a fawk about ya jawb. I think it’s bad fa you. But you at least cared the last he knew. And now he wants ta get ya hung over and prawbably bring ya home and dick ya.”

“Well don’t that mean he’s gonna be distracted, too?” Mona Lisa protested. But she sounded distracted. A tingle ran through her body at Big B’s graphic description of Brad having sex with her. Having sex with Brad. She had thought of it in the abstract. But the thought of seeing Brad’s bare body - his surely big dick - caused the guidette to start to moisten underneath her dress.

“Yeah but he’s gawt awl week ta prepare,” Big B pointed out. “And I’ll betcha he ain’t getting nearly as drunk as he’s tryin’ ta get you. Now I’m awl about finding hunks and climbin’ awl ova their hawgs. So you go girl. But…” Big B trailed off, looking at Brad. The young man was returning from the bar now with four shots in hand. “Even fa my flings, I wanna be the one in chahge. Of the relationship and of my life. And I don’t think Bradley wants that fa you.”

Mona Lisa turned back and smiled at Brad as he approached. The doubts still lingered in her mind. But they were met by her increasing arousal. More and more she was eyeing Brad’s body. She was picturing him towering over her in bed. His confident smile, his strong pecs, his muscular arms, and a long, thick cock ready to plow into her. The slickness in between her thighs was preventing Mona Lisa from really considering what Big B said. Mona Lisa turned back to Big B. “Look, I getcha,” she said. “But I’m a big gal. I’ll be fine, awlright Big B?”

“Awlright,” Big B said. “But if you need me ta pick ya up, you cawl ma, okay?” She reached out and took Mona Lisa’s hand. “I really like ya, dawl. I know lotsa bimbos and gahrillas. But I don’t have many bitches I’d really cawl my friends. That’s awl you, toots.”

Mona Lisa looked at Big B for a long time with a big, wide smile. She liked the other guidette, too. But before she could say anything, Brad returned. He set two shots down in front of each of the ladies. “Thought I’d get you gals a double,” Brad said as he took a seat.

“And none fa you?” Big B asked, shooting a pointed look to Mona Lisa.

“Well someone’s going to need to drive Mona Lisa home,” Brad said.

“See?” Mona Lisa declared with a smirk. “Such a gentleman!” She pulled Brad in for a big, chesty hug and lifted one of the shots. Big B, despite her misgivings, did the same.

“To Mona Lisa!” Big B declared.

“To Mona Lisa,” Brad agreed.

The two women drank deeply from the little glasses. Mona Lisa wasn’t used to hard liquor, so the vodka in her shot almost caused her to cough it back up. But she managed to hold it down. She exhaled comfortably and giggle-snorted. “That’s some fawkin’ fiya-water Brad!” she said. “Ya couldn’t warn me?”

“Well what’s the fun in the predictable?” he asked. “If we went with that you wouldn’t be here. And you certainly wouldn’t have me hanging off your arm.”

Mona Lisa blushed under her makeup and put back her second shot. This vodka shot went down more easily now that she was ready for it. “Stawng stuff,” Mona Lisa observed. The slammed the second glass down on the table. Even now Mona Lisa felt the start of a buzz and a warmth in her belly from the liquor she put back. “Awlright so what are we doin’ here?” Mona Lisa asked. “We tawkin’? We dancin’? What?”

“I certainly wouldn’t mind a dance,” Brad said with a smirk.

“Neitha would I,” Big B said. But Brad had already taken Mona Lisa by the hips. Big B tried to interject, but he began leading her to the floor. For her part, the increasingly drunk Mona Lisa considered protesting. But the feeling of Brad’s strong hands wrapped around her waist caused her to melt the slightest bit in his grasp. She looked up at him with hazel eyes clouded with lust.

“We’ll be back, Big B,” Brad assured her. The shorter guidette put her hands to her hips.

“I have a feelin’ ya won’t,” Big B said. “But look…Mona Lisa?” Big Be stepped in front of her friend and offered a smile. “When ya done making ya sexy mistakes, feel free to cawl me. And I’ll take care of ya, gawt it?”

Mona Lisa, drunk as she was, didn’t pick up the hint. Nor would she have cared if she did. “Ya so nice ta me Big B!” Mona Lisa said, wrapping her arms around Big B in a tight hug. “You…we’ll be back, okay?” Mona Lisa nodded a bit too hard. “We’ll be back!”

“Not tanight ya won’t,” Big B said with a smirk. “But don’t ya worry. I’ll find myself a man of my own and you have fun.”

Big B turned to walk off, and Brad turned to Mona Lisa and pulled her back into his grasp. “Well…she did tell us to,” Brad said.

“That…that she did!” Mona Lisa said. The vodka was going right through her. “Now come on…let’s dance, Bradley! Let’s dance!”

With her agreement Brad led Mona Lisa to the dance floor. The music was overly-produced House jams from the 90’s and 2000’s. And what Mona Lisa lacked in skill she made up for in enthusiasm. The drunk guidette meshed into the crowd of guidos and trash seemlessly. And she took her leads from the people around her. She rubbed her body against Brad and grinded her backside into him, noting the increasingly stiff erection that was up against her. Brad returned the grinding and ran his hands up and down Mona Lisa’s sides and front. He could feel her stretched nipples poking out. He could practically feel the heat coming off of her body. As 11 PM approached, Mona Lisa was sloppy drunk and all but trying to slip Brad inside of herself on the dance floor.

Brad leaned in and whispered into her ear. “Why don’t I drive us back to my place?” He asked. Mona Lisa’s eyes went wide. She turned to Brad with a wide, wicked grin.

Fawk yes.”

Brad reached out and grabbed Mona Lisa by the ass, leading her to the door. Any thoughts of Big B or Clark and any doubts in the absence of the pendant were gone. Mona Lisa wanted to get fawked. And Brad was ready to claim his creation.
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Chapter 10 - The Friday Morning After

Postby iridescentgentleman » Mon Feb 12, 2024 1:12 pm

It was 6AM, and Brad was still asleep. The young businessman’s bedroom was tastefully decorated with modular furniture. There were no posters of bikini babes in his room. No empty beer cans. Brad’s image was clean and mature - nothing like his fuckboy reputation at work. The man himself laid in his bed snoring softly. His broad shoulders, firm pecs, and his fit four pack were all uncovered. As was his toned right leg. His left leg and his cock were covered by sheets stained with the mess he made last night.

And so was Mona Lisa.

Unlike Brad, the guidette was awake. She had snuck into his bathroom and turned on the lights. And now she was staring at herself in the mirror. Her expression was empty and blank.

Mona Lisa had gotten drunk last night, but she still remembered everything that happened. And without the pendant and in the wave of post-sex clarity, she was thinking more clearly than ever.

She remembered leaving the club and coming home with Brad. The whole way home her eyes were squarely on him, flitting between his handsome jaw, his strong arms, and his tented pants. He carried the guidette up the stairs to his second floor apartment. The moment the door closed, Mona Lisa had lost her dress and pushed Brad to the couch.

Mona Lisa’s memory of the night before mixed with her first true thoughts about her new body. Her first time seeing it without the influence of liquor, arousal, or the pendant. She looked at her big hair with its tawdry highlights and her thick makeup. When she had pushed Brad to the couch Mona Lisa had immediately relieved him of his pants and took all 7, thick inches of his cock into her mouth. Mona Lisa had never given a blowjob before. But her eagerness made up for her sloppiness. She ran her lips up and down Brad’s shaft. And eventually her rival grabbed her hair and started pulling her further and further towards his base. Brad’s pubic hair was short, well-groomed, and had the faintest hint of cologne mixed with his natural musk. Mona Lisa in turn dropped one hand to her crotch and began sliding her fake nails and fingers in and out of her pussy. Just as Brad was about to burst he pulled her off and held her by the hair. Brad came for the first time that night, sending ropes of sticky cum into her hair and smearing her makeup with it.

That was the first time he came. The two hadn’t stopped there.

Mona Lisa’s eyes moved from her cum-stained face and hair to her most prominent features. Her enormous, fake breasts. Lisa reached up and touched them. They felt like unusually stiff water balloons. They were too high on her chest with no natural sag. They were too round. And her stretched areola and nipples were off-center now, poking in slightly different directions.

They were sticky, too.

Once Brad had recovered from the blowjob Mona Lisa gave him, he stripped the rest of his clothes off and carried Mona Lisa to his bedroom. He laid her down, took her tits in his hands, pushed them together, and began to piston his cock between them. A tit-job. Lisa Ricci hadn’t even had enough tit for a tit-job. But Mona Lisa cackled and cooed as Brad pumped his dick through her botch-jobs. Once again, Brad pulled up as he came. He kneeled above the prone guidette, his twitching cock and dangling balls poised above her, and came again. This time he shot his load over the tits she’d just fucked, and Mona Lisa had wiped up the heaviest bits with her fingers and licked them clean.

Still at the mirror, Mona Lisa’s eyes turned to her shaved crotch, her wider hips, and her still-shapely legs - now all coated in the garishly orange tan she’d developed. Her whole body felt leathery. Whatever blemishes and stretch marks Mona Lisa had before were more obvious. And there was a sheen to her figure.

Before he ran out of steam, Brad had taken Mona Lisa one more time. This time from behind. She had squealed as she felt the head of his cock push against the lips of her pussy. She’d told him to do it. To get inside of her. And Brad had done just that. Mona Lisa squealed loudly as Brad pounded her with total abandon and without a hint of protection. The two went at it until Mona Lisa felt that telltale twitch inside of her. She felt Brad’s cum coating her vagina and her own juices leaking out. By then the both of them had been spent. The naked guidette fell asleep in Brad’s arms. But she hadn’t stayed asleep for long. And now she was awake. She was lucid. And she was looking at herself.

“What the fuck happened ta me?” Mona Lisa whispered to herself.

The question could have meant so many things. The changes to her body were genuinely impossible, just like Clark had tried to tell her. The way she spoke made no sense. But Mona Lisa had seemingly forgotten how to speak without her new accent. Her conduct at work was unforgivable. She’d have fired herself yesterday for even coming in looking like this. And the other things she had done - her hair, her tan, her makeover, her Picstagram, the way she’d screamed at Clark for trying to help her. Mona Lisa couldn’t recognize the woman staring in the mirror at her. And she couldn’t make sense of her actions.

…but that didn’t mean she regretted them.

The guidette leaned on the sink and sighed. She would have loved to tell herself that whatever magic altered her body caused her to act this way. And it certainly gave her a push. But even thinking clearly, Mona Lisa had to admit to herself that she’d had fun this week. She loved her tacky nails, her big hair, her orange tan, and God help her, she even loved her impossible bolt-on boobs. She had come to adore Big B as the kind of friend and fellow adventurer she’d never had in her prim and proper upbringing. And her night with Brad had been incredible. She could have blamed the vodka, but she’d have done it sober. Well…maybe she wouldn’t have let him jizz in her hair. His stuff would be impawsuhble to get out. But that was on the margins. She let out the tiniest giggle and the tiniest snort at those thoughts. And then she put her hands on her head and sighed.

Mona Lisa knew that something had been done to her. That becoming Mona Lisa had not been entirely her choice. And she was certain Brad had something to do with it. There were doubts in her mind. She could call Clark, she knew. She could never truly go back to the way things were before. But she could salvage some semblance of her career. She could control her new urges. She could make a living. She could try to be a professional even now.

But fawk. There was no way Clark was going to help her if she kept going to the Tiger Cage. If she kept fucking Brad. Sure he’d probably forgive her for yelling at him. But he’d want the old Lisa back. And even if Mona Lisa could make it happen, she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

But she could just embrace Brad. As scummy and douchey as he was, he was hot. He was sexy. He made Mona Lisa feel like a woman. And if this had been his doing, then maybe he knew something about Mona Lisa that she didn’t. If Lisa Ricci preferred being Mona Lisa, maybe she’d prefer what Brad had in mind for her. Maybe she wasn’t the woman she thought she was. And maybe Brad knew what she’d want.

And it would be so easy. All Mona Lisa would have to do is climb back into bed. All she had to do was pull the sheets off of Brad. Suck his dick good morning. And then do whatever he said to make sure he got the promotion. He’d certainly gone all out for it.

Mona Lisa returned to the bedroom. Her eyes flitted between Brad and her phone.

And she made her decision.
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