The late-afternoon sun cast long shadows across Central Park in New Haven, Arkansas, a small, conservative town slowly seeing the emergence of a vibrant queer community. Lush green lawns stretched towards ancient oak trees, their branches heavy with summer foliage. A wrought-iron fence, ornate and stately, bordered the park’s edge. It separated its quiet paths from the gentle hum of the nearby city streets.

On a stone bench, tucked beneath a canopy of leaves, Yuna Belle sat. Her dark hair, the color of midnight, cascaded like silk past her shoulders, framing a face of exquisite, delicate features. She wore a dark dress suit with a vibrant yellow button-up shirt, the fabric hinting at the firm, lithe body beneath. Her posture, even at rest, suggested coiled power, a quiet precision honed by years of studious discipline and a strict upbringing. As a statistician for Cooper & Hunt Finance, the Japanese-American woman’s beauty was an understated elegance that turned heads without effort. The afternoon sun kissed her warm-toned skin as she scrolled idly on her phone, awaiting her lover’s appearance.

Interrupting the Asian woman, a male voice, smooth and overly confident, entered the park’s quiet air. “Excuse me, beautiful, are you waiting for someone?”

The brunette woman’s head lifted. Her intelligent eyes, typically composed, narrowed ever so slightly. She had a dislike for men in general. Still, she particularly disliked men who approached her in this manner, presuming her availability based solely on her appearance. They viewed her Japanese heritage as an exotic prize. Her upbringing had taught her restraint, but years of such encounters had sharpened her tongue. She closed her phone. Her fingers tapped a delicate rhythm on its surface.

“The name is Glen, and I had to come over here and meet my future wife,” the man said, taking a step closer. His smile persisted as his gaze slid crudely down the Japanese-American’s body, lingering on her well-covered curves. “I have never had an Asian woman before. You are simply exquisite.”

Yuna’s gaze hardened. “I suggest you leave immediately.” She didn’t want to give him any opportunity to accuse her of leading him on.

The crude man chuckled dismissively. “Now, why would I do that, pretty eyes?” He took another bold step. His eyes continued their invasive exploration. “Perhaps you are simply playing hard to get. That’s a game I love playing.”

The dark-haired woman offered no response. She simply returned her attention to her phone, dismissing him. Her silence was a cutting edge, but Glen, blind to nuance, pressed on.

“Come on now, honey,” he cajoled. His voice was thick with presumed charm. “A beautiful woman like yourself should not be sitting all alone on a Friday. Let me buy you a drink. We could talk, maybe something more.” His smile widened, revealing too much tooth.

The composed woman looked up. A flicker of something dangerous sparked in her eyes. “You clearly do not understand the word ‘no’.”

“I understand that a pretty doll like you just needs the right man to show her a good time,” the man insisted. His hand reached out, as if to touch her arm. “Trust me, babe. I always get what I want.”

Before his fingers could graze her sleeve, the intelligent woman’s hand moved. She performed a subtle, precise gesture in the air. The space before her shimmered. However, it was not with natural light, but with a sudden, oppressive distortion. A small, wicked-looking iron vice, no bigger than her palm, materialized in the air between them. Its metal jaws opened and closed with an almost audible, hungry click.

“Are you used to getting what you want with your balls in a vice?” the powerful witch asked. Her voice was a low, dangerous growl, devoid of any pleasantry. The air around her seemed to prickle with an unseen energy.

Glen’s eyes, previously filled with crude desire, now dilated with profound, sickening terror. The vice, though tiny, exuded an aura of ancient, cold power, and promised him a world of pain. The man stumbled back, and the smile on his face had been completely erased. He knew, with a sudden, horrifying clarity, that this was no ordinary woman.

“Forget it, you dumb Asian bitch,” the retreating figure choked out. The words could have had bite, bit came out as a desperate, pathetic insult. He spun on his heel, scrambling away as if chased by a demon. He disappeared into the pedestrian flow outside the park without a backward glance.

Yuna returned her attention to her phone. A flicker of satisfaction in her eyes; she liked making them uncomfortable. The small vice dissolved into shimmering air, leaving no trace behind. The world, the witch knew, was not what it seemed on the surface. Magic existed. It was a vibrant, unseen current flowing through everything. It was an ancient power often hidden in plain sight. However, it was largely frowned upon by the older non-magical citizens of New Haven. It was a gift, a force of nature, primarily carried and wielded by a handful of women. Men, for the most part, were powerless to the aura’s incredible workings. It was the great equalizer in the eyes of many. Yuna was a young witch, as was her partner, and they loved every moment of it.

The witch’s gaze then drifted to the gothic archway, marking the park’s eastern entrance as a familiar silhouette emerged.

Morgan Ravencraft exited the gothic archway. A heavy rucksack was slung over one shoulder; the woman’s skin was pale, almost alabaster. It sharply contrasted with the vivid emerald green of her blunt fringe, which fell just above sharp, intelligent eyes that were heavily lined with dark makeup. Her face was whitened with powder, and her lips were a deep, luscious crimson. The crimson was a second choice after her boss forbade her from wearing her usual matte black lipstick, as he thought she looked too intimidating. Although the young woman’s fringe was vivid green, the rest of her pixie-cut hair was as black as her girlfriend’s.

She wore her white and brown barista uniform, having just returned from her job at Morning Joe’s Coffee. The fabric was a stark contrast to her usual dark aesthetic. It felt deeply uncomfortable, a million miles from her usual gothic style, and all Morgan wanted was to get home, peel off the polyester, and slide into her favorite band tee and worn jeans. Silver piercings adorned the goth’s ears and septum, catching the sunlight. She pulled a slim, black e-cigarette from her pocket. Its tip glowed faintly, and took a deep drag. Yuna had tried to convince the woman to give up, but she had started at 13 as a rebellion against her deeply religious family, and she couldn’t stop now even if she wanted to. Morgan was studying Women’s Studies at the local college, and the goth, whose birth name was the utterly despised Ellie Parker, found solace in the forbidden. She had a rebellious streak and a penchant for seeking out the adventurous. The woman found quiet strength in her own magic, and she had long since severed ties with her traditionalist parents as their conservative views were the polar opposite of her own.

The tall woman reached the bench, and a soft smile graced her lips. “Trouble, babe?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” the Japanese-American smiled and replied, rising to meet her gothic girlfriend. They shared a deep, lingering kiss, a powerful sign of their connection. Their love was a complex dance between two dominant wills, a beautiful, fiery clash. Each desired control, but neither wanted to crush the other. This paradox had caused friction once or twice, until they found their unique solution.

The rebellious goth squeezed Yuna’s hand as a mischievous spark caught in her eye. “Oh, hon, I found the coolest new spell today. It is going to totally spice up our Friday nights. I promise you.”

The intelligent Asian woman raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “A new spell? What kind of mischief have you concocted this time?”

The goth giggled, a low, secretive sound that sounded alien coming from her lips. “It is a surprise, babe. Let’s get home, and I’ll show you.” Yuna mockingly pouted as her girlfriend kept her in the dark. The weight of the rucksack shifted on Morgan's shoulder as they continued their walk back to their small apartment.

❖

Morgan’s black combat boots clicked against the hardwood floor as she crossed their small apartment, her rucksack slung over one shoulder. The space was a clash of their personalities: velvet curtains and occult trinkets marked her gothic influence, while Yuna’s sleek bookshelves and minimalist desk asserted order. She dropped the bag beside a low wooden table in the lounge, her lips curling into a mischievous smile.

Yuna followed, her dark dress suit still crisp from the park as she entered her home. She leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, one eyebrow arched.

“You’re plotting something, Morgan,” the Asian-American woman said curiously. Her sleek black hair framed her delicate features, and her posture radiated a quiet strength.

The pale-skinned rebellious witch knelt beside the table, pulling a chessboard from the bedroom’s corner, where Yuna’s orderly influence reigned. The board’s polished wood bore intricate runes, faintly pulsing with an otherworldly energy. Morgan set it on the floor and sat beside it. Her crimson lips twitched with excitement as she traced a finger along a well-made black knight.

Morgan reached into her rucksack and retrieved a heavy, dusty tome, its leather cover etched with ancient sigils. “I found this in the library’s restricted section,” the goth said, her voice laced with rebellious intrigue. She flipped open the book and coughed as a plume of dust erupted around her.

Yuna’s sharp eyes narrowed as her composed demeanor tightened. “You know only authorized witches can access that section, Morgan. Those spells are locked away for a reason.” The 21-year-old Asian had been brought up to respect authority, and Morgan’s extracurricular adventures always made her feel uneasy.

The raven-haired rebel waved off Yuna’s concern. “Relax, babe. It’s worth it, trust me,” Morgan said defiantly with a hint of excitement. She tapped the open page, revealing a Latin incantation scrawled along the parchment in faded ink. “Get this. This spell curses the chessboard, rendering every game an exciting and perverse experiment. It allows the winner to shape the loser into their fantasy slut for the weekend. Sexy, right?”

The intelligent Asian woman stepped closer, her curiosity battling her caution. “Shapes how, exactly? I’m not signing up for anything that turns me into some vampire goth. No offense.”

Morgan’s laugh was low and sultry as her eyes danced with mischief. “Not a vampire. Think hotter. You capture pieces and earn points: one for a pawn, three for knights or bishops, five for rooks, nine for queens, and one for checking the king. Those points build up, and you get to spend them to transform your opponent.”

Yuna raised an eyebrow, pressing her unpolished, unmanicured hand to her chin. “And how exactly can you spend them? What’s the end goal?”

The goth leaned forward as though she was revealing a secret. “You can spend five points on small stuff, like changing your opponent’s hair color or nails. Ten for tattoos or piercings, fifteen for natural body shapes like curves and height. Twenty-five points get you the big changes, like super surgery-enhanced changes.” Morgan chuckled lightly. “If you checkmate your opponent, you can rewrite their mind into your perfect sub until Monday.” The goth’s voice dripped with seductive promise, her eyes flashing with excitement. “All of the changes, both physical and mental, get reversed by the end of the weekend, so there’s no harm.”

Yuna thought for a moment. She was Dominant and strict, but she wasn’t as impulsive as her girlfriend, and she wanted to think through every possibility until she committed to a decision. She sighed. “Okay, let’s do it.”

Morgan’s dark red-lipped smile grew wider, and she clapped her hands together. “Great!” She said before she rose to her feet. “Just let me get out of these drab work clothes and slip into something more comfortable, and we can start.” She said before she skipped into their joint bedroom to change.

Moments later, Morgan emerged, her barista uniform replaced by a flowing black lace dress and a black spiked choker, along with her traditional black combat boots. The rebellious witch’s pale skin contrasted sharply with the dark fabric. She knelt beside the chessboard and invited her partner to sit opposite.

The composed statistician knelt across from her girlfriend, her posture precise and poised. “Let’s make this quick,” Yuna said with a steady, nervous voice. She adjusted a white pawn as she set up her side of the board, her fingers deliberate, signaling her readiness.

Morgan’s eyes sparkled with defiance as she opened the tome to the incantation. “Ready to lose, babe?” the raven-haired rebel teased, her voice playful. Together, they recited, “Ludus transformare, vinculum aeternum.” The air shivered with power, and the chessboard glowed violet, its runes flaring. A holographic tally materialized beside it, chimes echoing as it activated, displaying zero points for each witch.

The game began with a slow, deliberate pace, each witch testing out the other’s strategy. Yuna was by far the better player, but she was often too cautious, and Morgan knew how to rile her up. The Asian moved her white pawn forward steadily. “Your move, hon,” she said with a cool tone.

Morgan smirked and moved her pawn forward. They exchanged safe moves before the goth took the first piece, her black knight sliding forward to capture Yuna’s pawn. The holographic tally chimed, adding one point to Morgan’s score.

Yuna’s lips tightened, but Morgan had fallen into her trap. With one fell swoop, she moved her bishop, capturing her girlfriend’s prized knight and claiming three points. “Thanks for the freebie, hon,” she grinned, eliciting a groan from her partner.

After trading moves, Morgan was able to take out a knight, and with her next move, she checked Yuna’s king, giving her a total of five points. “Check! And for that, I think I’ll spend my five points on bleaching that dark hair of yours blonde,” she remarked triumphantly. “Not the traditional kind. Fake, bright, cheap-looking platinum locks.” A shimmering light enveloped Yuna’s head, her midnight black strands suddenly fading into a colorless voice before turning into a vibrant, bright platinum blonde, a total departure from the Asian’s chosen style. “Oh my god, you look ridiculous!” Morgan laughed at her lover.

The intelligent woman’s cheeks blushed, her fingers brushing her newly platinum locks with a mix of irritation and humor. “You got me good, babe, but you’ll pay for that,” she warned. She moved her king to continue the game and waited for Morgan to make a mistake before stealing the goth’s rook, giving her a total of eight points. “Hmm, I think I’ll wait a while. I have an idea,” the Asian said cryptically.

They traded blows, with Morgan following Yuna’s king around, picking up constant single points for putting her under check. The newly blonde Asian was prepared to move her king but paused, sensing a trap. She thought deeply. After two minutes, Morgan spoke up.

“Uhmm, I probably should have mentioned earlier. Suppose you take over five minutes to make a move. In that case, the game will randomly assign you a transformation, and will keep transforming you every five minutes after that,” she grinned, putting more pressure on her love. “Also, if you make an illegal move, your opponent immediately receives twenty points.”

Yuna’s eyes widened, her composed facade cracking under pressure. “You play dirty, Morgan,” she retorted, her voice tight with frustration. As she studied the board and the seconds ticked down, she saw an opening, moving her king one space to the left.

The goth played directly into Yuna’s hands as she moved her queen down to join the attack, leaving it vulnerable. With one fell swoop, Yuna used her rook to take out the queen, lifting her to sixteen points. She grinned widely. “Yes! Now, you have constantly taunted me for being so much shorter than you. Let’s see how you like it. Shrink your height to 5 feet 2 inches.

Morgan was six inches taller than her girlfriend at 5’10, and towered over many men, but as the world shimmered around her, the goth felt the room grow larger. Eight inches were shaved off her torso and legs, leaving her with a diminutive height.

The goth gasped, her hands instinctively patting her now-shorter frame, the black dress hanging looser and longer on her petite body. “You sneaky little bitch,” the raven-haired rebel said, determined to make her lover pay for that. She should have known Yuna would target her height, considering the arguments it caused whenever Morgan teased her girlfriend about the issue.

The two continued to play, knocking out various pieces and racking up points. Over the next thirty minutes, Morgan found herself with long, glittery pink nails on her fingers and toes, a sacrilegious insult to her dark style, a new silver heart-shaped piercing on her navel, and a trashy tribal stamp on her lower back.

Yuna hadn’t gotten off any lighter, now finding herself with a deep, unnatural dark tan, permanently long, dark, fluttering lashes, and a corseted wasp waist.

The Japanese-American didn’t think she’d have another opportunity to transform her partner with only three of her opponent’s pieces left on the board until Morgan made a fatal error. “Illegal move! Bishops can’t move in that direction.” And before Morgan could retort, Yuna’s points balance grew by twenty points, giving her a total of twenty-five.

“Mmmm, what can I do with that?” She wondered carefully. “I know. I’m gonna spend all twenty-five points on giving you breast implants. Big, round, high-profile saline implants that defy gravity and improve your tiny B-cups to a giant G-cup.” The moment she said it, she wondered if she had gone too far.

“What the fuck!” Morgan said as her chest sparkled around her, slowly starting to expand, straining against the dress. “What the fuck is that all about?”

“It’s only fair,” Yuna replied defensively. “You gave me this ridiculous gyaru tan, blonde hair, and these tarantulas on my eyes.” She said, although she knew that nothing Morgan did was anywhere near as extreme as this latest transformation.

The rebellious witch’s face flushed with anger, her newly enhanced chest heaving against the taut lace of her dress, almost splitting it open. The implants felt heavy and unnatural, her petite frame making them appear even more ridiculous. “You’re going to regret that, babe,” she warned. “I’m going to have you crawling on all fours for the entire weekend.” She leaned forward, her glittery pink nails tapping the board as she took out Yuna’s queen.

The Asian sighed as she waited for what was to come. Morgan thought hard. She had planned to give her girlfriend a tongue piercing, but after the extreme implants, she knew it wasn’t enough. “I want you to have a tattoo on your lower back. A pair of bright red, thick lips with the words ‘Sucky-Sucky Five Dollar’ surrounding it.” The busty goth grinned at her choice.

“What the hell?!” Yuna exclaimed, already experiencing the tickling sensation on her lower back. “That’s so racist!”

Morgan raised an eyebrow. “I don’t care,” she responded coldly. “Look what you’ve done to my chest!” Yuna paused. Her girlfriend did have a point, but it didn’t make the last transformation any less humiliating.

After a few minutes in deep thought, the Asian moved, before her pale-skinned lover responded in kind, eliciting a smile from the intelligent blonde. “Take that!” she exclaimed, taking out Morgan’s final knight. She thought for a moment as she moved up to ten points. “Hmm, how about this? I want your lips to be tattooed a bright, glossy, glittery pink, just like your nails. Totally irremovable.”

Morgan’s hand immediately moved to her mouth, and her eyes widened in horror as they began to tingle. Before long, her lips had transformed into glittery pink mockeries of their former gothic appearance. “What the hell are you trying to pull, Yuna?” She exclaimed.

“Well,” the Asian said calmly. “You’re going to be my sub all weekend; you may as well look the part.” She chuckled to herself.

“We’ll see about that,” the pink-lipped goth exclaimed in fury before moving her piece, a move she should have thought about first.

“I’m sure we will,” Yuna said in a whisper, grinning to herself. She only needed to wait for Morgan to defeat herself. She moved the queen across, and the goth instantly knew she was in trouble. “Checkmate.”

The chessboard flared with a brilliant violet light, its runes pulsing wildly as the air thickened with magical energy. Morgan’s body tensed, her glittery pink lips parting in a silent gasp as her mind started to cloud. The rebellious witch’s sharp, feminist intellect dulled, replaced by a bubbly, naive haze. Somehow, everything felt complicated and funny to her.

The raven-haired woman’s eyes widened, now sparkling with vacant innocence, and her posture softened, her heavy G-cup breasts jiggling slightly as she giggled. “Like, oh my gosh, what’s going on?”

Yuna covered her mouth at the sound of her partner’s voice, a far cry from the stubborn, rebellious Dominant she had grown to love. “Oh my, I can’t wait to show you off to the guys tonight. You don’t look much like a Morgan, though. In this state, let’s call you Pixie.”

The newly transformed bimbo’s eyes widened, her pink lips forming a perfect pout as she twirled a lock of her raven hair, still streaked with vibrant green at the fringe, around a glittery pink nail. “Like, Pixie? That’s, like, a totally silly name!” she squealed, unable to sound like anything other than an oblivious dumb bimbo.

Yuna rose, her own platinum hair catching the violet glow of the chessboard as the game settled back into normalcy, and stepped closer to her girlfriend, her lips curling into a triumphant smirk. “Oh, Pixie, you’re going to be so much fun,” the Asian woman purred, her voice laced with mocking dominance. She reached out, trailing a finger along the busty goth’s jaw, savoring the contrast between Pixie’s vacant expression and Morgan’s suppressed fury. “Come on, let’s get you dressed. We have people to meet.” She grinned as she helped the transformed woman to her feet, ready to start a weekend of humiliation.

❖

Yuna tugged the leash of Pixie’s silver choker, guiding her through the gay village’s sparse streets. The naive bimbo tottered in pink stiletto heels, her sparkling crop top barely containing her fake G-cup implants, and her micro-shorts rode up to reveal her tribal tramp stamp. The bimbo’s raven hair, streaked with vibrant green, swayed in the wind with each unsteady step.

Yuna, in a green bodysuit that hugged her new wasp waist and hid her own humiliating tattoo, strode confidently, her new platinum blond hair blowing in the wind, her flat sandals moving silently against the ground beneath them.

The Muff Dive’s neon sign flickered as they entered. It was Yuna and Morgan’s favorite place to frequent on the weekends, and most of their friends could be found there. While it also attracts unsavory types, it was generally a safe place for gay women to enjoy their evening without being perved on by terrible men.

As the pair entered, a small group of women cheered and gasped in equal measure. Sophie, Hazel, and Kendra completed the terrible five, as they nicknamed themselves, and Yuna’s smile grew wider when she noticed the confused expression on their faces.

“Hey, ladies,” the Japanese-American blonde called casually as she led Pixie to the booth where their three friends lounged. “What’s going on?” She said nonchalantly as she pushed her girlfriend into the booth and shuffled in beside her.

The three women’s jaws dropped in unison. “Uhmm,” Sophie was the first to speak. “What’s up with your hair, Yuna? And who’s this Barbie doll?”

Yuna’s lips curled into a mocking smirk, ignoring the question about her hair. “Don’t you recognize Morgan?” she purred, tugging Pixie’s leash to make her shift closer. The naive bimbo’s implants strained against her crop top as her long nails fidgeted nervously.

Hazel’s eyes widened. “No way!” She exclaimed. “That’s Morgan? What the hell did you do to her? This looks like her worst nightmare.” The other women chuckled at Hazel’s comment.

“And look at you,” Kendra said, pointing at Yuna. “That hair, your tanned skin, those eyelashes. You hate makeup. What kind of game are you two playing?” she asked suspiciously.

“Like, it’s totally me, girls!” Pixie squealed, her valley-girl dialect catching all three women by surprise and grating against Morgan’s trapped mind. Her bright pink lips pouted as she bounced playfully in her seat. Inside, the raven-haired rebel screamed, unable to control her body as her temporary alter ego took over.

Yuna leaned back and absently groped one of her girlfriend’s oversized breasts possessively. “Morgan found a spell in a book she shouldn’t have been reading,” the platinum-haired dominant explained, her voice dripping with amusement. “It turned into a competitive game, and one thing led to another before my bimbo here decided that she wanted to be my perfect sub for the weekend. Isn’t that sweet?” She tugged the leash, guiding Pixie to her knees between her girlfriend’s thighs. “Show them how obediently you want to be, Pixie,” she commanded as she unzipped the single zip in her bodysuit’s crotch, making her bare pussy available to the bimbo.

Pixie’s glittery pink lips parted eagerly, her tongue darting out to lap at the Japanese woman’s exposed pussy with slow, sensual strokes. The real Morgan wouldn’t have minded tasting her girlfriend’s pussy either, as she had done many times before. Still, the idea of doing it in public was the height of submission in the dominant goth’s mind. Pixie, however, had no such shame.

The naive bimbo’s moans vibrated against the Asian woman’s skin, drawing a soft gasp from Yuna as she leaned back, her fingers tightening in Pixie’s dark hair. Morgan’s trapped mind recoiled, horrified at the public display, but her body obeyed, her tongue working with practiced devotion. The booth’s patrons watched, their laughter and excitement palpable as Pixie’s pink nails gripped Yuna’s thighs.

Sophie leaned forward, her eyes wide with amusement. “How the hell did you get Morgan to agree to this, Yuna? She’s eating you out like it’s her only job.”

The statistician’s smirk widened, her breath hitching as Pixie’s tongue flicked deeper. “Well, that’s the thing, Sophie,” the platinum-haired dominant explained as she moaned with pleasure. “This isn’t really Morgan right now. She lost the game, and now she’s going to spend the weekend as a little dumb bimbo called Pixie.” The words stung Morgan’s suppressed consciousness, her feminist intellect raging against the humiliation as Pixie enjoyed her ‘meal,’ her lips slick with Yuna’s juices.

A sharp graze of Pixie’s teeth against Yuna’s sensitive flesh sparked a sudden yelp from the Asian woman. Morgan’s rebellious spirit flared through the bimbo’s facade. “Fuck,” she exclaimed. “You little brat,” the woman snapped at her transformed girlfriend, her eyes narrowing as she yanked the leash hard, pulling Pixie’s face away.

The naive bimbo whimpered, her pink lips glistening, looking perfect despite the sloppy cunnilingus she had just performed. Yuna stood and dragged Pixie to a nearby stool, bending her over so her micro-shorts exposed her tramp stamp to the suddenly cheering crowd. Yuna pulled her girlfriend’s shorts down to reveal her bare ass before signaling to the barwoman. “It’s time for a lesson, Pixie,” the platinum-haired dominant declared as the bartender handed her a coil of red rope.

Yuna deftly bound Pixie’s wrists with the red rope, securing them to the stool’s legs, before doing the same to her ankles, her bare ass raised high for the crowd’s delight. “You need to learn your place, Pixie,” the Asian woman said sternly. She had dated Morgan for two years and had to dial back her dominant streaks over that period due to their clashing personalities. However, with Morgan transformed into Pixie, Yuna wanted to make the most of the opportunity. She handed the leash to Sophie, who grinned wickedly and kept the bimbo in place as Yuna picked up a leather paddle.

Yuna delivered the first sharp smack with the paddle, the crack echoing through the bar as Pixie’s ass reddened. “Count, Barbie,” the dominant girlfriend ordered, her voice rough with amusement.

“Like, one!” Pixie squealed, her valley-girl voice trembling with forced enthusiasm. Morgan’s trapped mind burned with shame as her friends took turns ‘punishing’ her. Hazel took her turn, the paddle stinging the bimbo’s bare skin. “Two!” Pixie chirped, her long nails digging into the stool. A random woman followed, each spank drawing louder cheers from the increasingly interested audience.

Yuna watched as the bar alternated with the spanks. She chuckled as Pixie lost count at fifteen and had to start over again. She was apprehensive about playing that game at first, but she knew she had the edge when it came to chess; she wouldn’t mind playing this game a few more times.

Eventually, Yuna halted the fun and began to untie her girlfriend’s bonds. “That’s enough for one night,” she told her bimbo girlfriend, to the disappointment of the group. She pulled the busty woman upright and laughed at her overinflated tits having spilled out of her top, exposing themselves to the world. “Say goodbye, Pixie,” Yuna commanded her. “I’m sure these people will see plenty more of you in the coming weeks.”

“Like bye-bye!” Pixie squealed with dumb enthusiasm, her pink lips pouting as she waved with her ultra-feminine hands. Yuna pulled Pixie’s top up to return her modesty and lifted her shorts over the bimbo’s now tender ass.

The dominant tugged her girlfriend’s leash, leading Pixie out of the bar, her green catsuit clinging to her overtly tanned curves. “You were a hit, bimbo,” the Asian purred, her voice thick with mocking satisfaction. “I think it’s time for some private fun,” she grinned as she led the busty woman back down the street.

❖

The dominant Japanese-American tugged Pixie’s leash again, guiding the dumb bimbo into their apartment. Yuna pulled her into the bedroom, her eyes dancing with excitement over the fun she was about to have. “Strip, Pixie,” the Asian demanded in a sharp and sultry tone. “Everything off, now.”

Pixie giggled, her pink lips pouting in faux anger as she peeled off her crop top, her massive, magically induced implants jiggling free. She slid down her micro-shorts, showing off her pierced navel and tribal tattoo, and reached for her heels.

“Leave them on,” the platinum-haired woman ordered firmly. Pixie froze, her glittery nails hovering over the pink strapped clasps before nodding with a vacant smile.

Yuna retrieved a pair of pink leather cuffs from a bedside table before wrapping them tightly around Pixie’s wrists and ankles, the clasps clicking firmly into place. The Asian pushed the submissive goth onto the large bed, the white satin sheets cool against Pixie’s skin.

With deft movements, Yuna threaded some rope through the wrist cuffs’ D-rings, tying them tightly to the headboard and pinning Pixie’s arms above her. Morgan’s mind screamed, her dominant pride raging. Still, Pixie’s body arched invitingly, as if she was tempting Yuna to go harder.

The intelligent woman stepped back and began undressing. Her green bodysuit fell away to reveal her naked body and the humiliating tattoo behind her. The witch clicked her fingers, and a semi-sheer black lace teddy materialized on the woman’s body, her deeply tanned curves clinging to the material.

Yuna turned her attention back to the bound bimbo on the bed. She clicked her fingers with a spark of magic. A large pink ball gag materialized in thin air, its glossy surface hovering briefly before she grabbed it and secured it in Pixie’s dumb bimbo mouth. “Open wide, little bimbo,” the platinum-haired dominant taunted before fastening the strap and muffling Pixie’s moans. Morgan’s trapped consciousness burned with humiliation; she hated wearing gags.

The Asian woman snapped her fingers again, and silver nipple clamps appeared on Pixie’s G-cup implants, a delicate chain connecting them, tugging with each breath. The naive bimbo took in a tip breath and moaned through the gag, her body trembling with pain and forced arousal. Yuna lifted Pixie’s legs, her pink heels pointing upwards, and threaded rope through the ankle cuffs, tying them to the headboard near her hands. The submissive goth’s thighs spread wide, her pussy exposed, vulnerable to Yuna’s whims.

Yuna smirked, her tanned curves swaying as she retrieved a double-ended strap-on dildo that they had used together many times. She slid one end into her own wet pussy, moaning softly as it settled inside of her, the other end jutting forward, ready to take a willing victim.

The commanding woman teased the bimbo’s slick folds with the tip, circling slowly, drawing muffled, needy whimpers through the pink gag. “You’re mine tonight, Pixie,” she purred. “This is not an equal relationship right now,” her eyes locked onto the submissive goth’s trembling form.

Yuna thrust forward, the strap-on plunging deep into Pixie’s pussy, eliciting a muffled scream through the large pink gag. The blonde witch rocked her hips, the double-ended dildo driving into both women, her own pleasure spiking with each forceful thrust. Pixie’s body writhed, her huge, clamped tits bouncing, sending jolts of pain and arousal through her. Morgan’s trapped mind burned with shame, but she couldn’t deny the overwhelming pleasure that was surging through her transformed body.

The Asian woman’s breaths quickened, her moans mingling with Pixie’s muffled cries as she fucked the bimbo harder, the bed creaking under their intensity. Yuna’s fingers tugged on Pixie’s thighs as the dominant woman pushed them both towards climax. With a final, powerful series of thrusts, the couple shuddered together, a joint orgasm crashing through them. Yuna screamed out in ecstasy as Pixie bit firmly against her gag, both bodies writhing in spent pleasure.

Yuna collapsed onto the bed beside the bound and gagged Pixie, her black lace teddy clinging to her sweat-slicked skin. “Fuck,” she said. “That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had. No lie,” the blonde panted. “I’m already looking forward to next weekend, my perfect little bimbo.” She patted her bound girlfriend on the head condescendingly as she settled into the bed.

The dominant Asian unstrapped her dildo, slipping it out of her soaking wet slit and tossing it aside with a satisfied smirk. She relaxed back into the bed and snapped her fingers, using her magic to plunge the room into darkness. Pixie remained bound, her pink heels still pointed skyward, the nipple clamps tugging painfully, her muffled whimpers fading into the night. Morgan’s trapped mind seethed, watching her lover fall to sleep as she was helpless and bound beside her. She would get her revenge; there was no doubt of that.

❖

Morgan stirred on Monday morning, her body aching as she shifted on the white bedsheets, the faint soreness from the weekend’s relentless bondage and fucking pulsing through her muscles. Her wrists throbbed from the leather cuffs and rope that had surrounded them for most of the last two days, and her thighs burned from Yuna’s extreme bondage techniques.

A wave of relief washed over the goth as she blinked awake. Her mind was clear, and the familiar bubbly haze of Pixie was gone. The raven-haired rebel exhaled, savoring the return of her sharp, feminist intellect, her dominant pride surging back. However, she would have to get her own back on her Asian girlfriend, she thought. At least she was herself again, free from the humiliating valley-girl persona that had consumed her all weekend.

The goth stretched, her body feeling oddly heavy, and swung her legs over the bed’s edge. A strange weight tugged at her chest, and she froze, her breath catching in fright. Slowly, she glanced down, her eyes widening in horror as she saw the massive, fake G-cup implants still bolted to her petite 5’2” frame, straining against the tight black tank top she’d worn to bed.

The goth’s hands flew to her lips, finding them still as glossy and smooth as ever; her glittery nails prodded her painfully in the lip as she examined herself. With her heart pounding, Morgan stumbled to a full-length mirror across the room, her bare feet padding softly. The reflection confirmed her fears: the silver navel piercing gleamed proudly, her tribal tattoo still peeked above her low-rise pajama bottoms, and those ridiculously bright pink lips marred her face. “Fuck,” Morgan cussed at the mirror in a panic. What was going on? Everything was supposed to disappear.

Morgan’s outburst jolted Yuna awake, her mid-length platinum blonde hair splayed across the pillow, her unnaturally dark tan stark against the white sheets. She got up and stepped beside Morgan, her long lashes fluttering as she caught her own reflection in the mirror. She turned around and slid her hand to her lower back, her fingers tracing the ‘Sucky-Sucky Five Dollar’ tattoo that was still etched there. “What the hell, Morgan? Why haven’t we changed back yet?” the intelligent blonde demanded as she spoke with alarm.

The raven-haired rebel spun, her oversized implants jiggling uncomfortably in her too-tight tank top. “I don’t know, Yuna,” Morgan snapped with frustration. “The spell said everything, physical and mental, would revert by Monday morning. It was written in plain English in the damn book!” Her bright pink nails clenched into fists as her gothic pride warred with the humiliating reality of her transformed body.

Yuna’s eyes narrowed, her tanned curves tense as she covered herself with a silk robe. “You should’ve never trusted a spell in the restricted section, Morgan,” the Asian woman accused. “I warned you. You didn’t understand what you were doing, and now we’re stuck like this!” She gestured at her blonde hair and ultra-slim waist.

The goth’s jaw tightened her juvenile pink lips, a stark contrast to her fierce expression. “Really?! And you didn’t have to give me the biggest tits in New Haven, did you?!” the busty woman shot back, adjusting her top as she signaled to her inflated chest.

Yuna crossed her arms in defiance. “You brought that book into our home. This is all your fault, Morgan,” she retorted before staring at her girlfriend’s busty form, memories of the best weekend of her life returning to the forefront of her mind. “However, maybe another game might fix this. If we play again next week, maybe the spell will work properly this time.” Her analytical mind clung to logical hope, though her long lashes fluttered with unease.

The dark-haired woman’s eyes flashed with defiance, revealing a range of emotions about how the weekend had gone. “You’re out of your mind if you think I’m going back to being that dumb slut,” Morgan growled fiercely. “I’m not spending another weekend as your brainless bimbo. You can forget about it.”

Yuna stepped closer, her presence inches away from Morgan’s enhanced chest jutting out before her. “It might be our only shot,” she said sympathetically. “It’s a risk, but it’s better than being stuck in these bodies forever, don’t you think? Unless you have a better idea, of course.”

Morgan’s fists clenched as she groaned in frustration. Despite her own intelligence, Yuna was always the smartest one, and the likelihood of Morgan finding a solution before her girlfriend was minimal. She sighed. “Okay, Yuna,” she said reluctantly. “Let’s play again.”

Yuna hid the smile that began creeping across her face. As much as she hated her own transformation, it was a small price to pay for the opportunity of being reintroduced to Pixie. She couldn’t wait for Friday.

❖

Morgan knelt on the floor of their apartment as the cursed chessboard glowed faintly between her and her Asian girlfriend. It had been five days since they had returned to their lives, and the pair were ready to put an end to their humiliation. The raven-haired rebel wore a loose black hoodie and baggy jeans, a desperate attempt to hide her G-cup implants. Her new 3-inch flat platform combat boots did little to disguise her tiny 5’2” height, though there was not much she could do to conceal her glittery pink nails and brightly colored lips.

Yuna sat across from her, wearing a flowing navy summer dress that draped over her wasp waist and concealed her humiliating tattoo; her blonde hair was pulled into a low bun to downplay its unnatural sheen. Although she had gotten off more lightly than her lover and enjoyed the weekend of her life, she had her fair share of unwelcome advances thanks to the lingering physical transformations the game had subjected them to.

The goth adjusted a black pawn, her pink lips pursing with determination. “Be nicer this time, Yuna,” Morgan warned, her voice low and edged with defiance. “I’m not letting you turn me into a brainless bimbo this time.” Her pink nails tapped the board, waiting for her girlfriend to make the first move.

Yuna’s lips curled into a sly grin, her unnaturally long lashes fluttering over her tanned face. “No promises, babe,” the intelligent blonde teased playfully. She moved a white pawn forward. “Let’s see if you can keep up this time.”

The game started tentatively, with each player strategically placing their pieces around the boss, not wanting to be the first to make a fatal mistake. Yuna’s bishop slid forward, capturing one of Morgan’s pieces. “Five points!” the Asian woman declared after swiping the wooden piece away. “As you like it so much, let’s dye that black hair platinum blonde as well, super long down to your ass, held up in a high ponytail.” She grinned as a shimmering light enveloped Morgan’s head, her green-banged locks stretching into a flowing platinum cascade. As they continued to grow and reached down her back, they were secured in a high, swaying ponytail. The goth’s jaw clenched, her new hair an irritating mockery of her gothic style.

“Bitch,” the gothic witch retorted. “You’ll pay for that.”

Morgan wasn’t lying, and she captured Yuna’s rook for five points, giving her an immediate opportunity for revenge. “My turn,” the busty rebel hissed, her new blonde ponytail swaying in her excitement. “We can’t have matching hair, after all, Yuna. Let’s give you some silly high pigtails, with one pigtail bright pink and the other electric blue. Still platinum blonde in the center.” The board flared, and Yuna’s low bun unraveled, revealing her luscious hair as it tied itself into a pair of high pigtails. One side of her became a vivid pink, while the other side merged into a shocking blue, bouncing absurdly against her tanned shoulders. The intelligent woman’s eyes widened. She had thought her original style was bad, but this screamed humiliation.

Yuna’s fingers brushed the garish pigtails as her composure began to crack, glaring at Morgan. “You’re pushing it now,” the tanned statistician snapped, ignoring Morgan’s rightful glance at her own giant breasts. Nonetheless, it wasn’t long before she had earned enough points for a transformation of her own, spending ten points. “Seeing as you like those big tits so much,” she grinned. “How about some silver nipple barbells to decorate those slutty things. Make them thick and heavy.” The new blonde gasped as a sharp tingle pierced the goth’s G-cup implants, and silver barbells materialized, tugging painfully at her sensitive nipples. The gothic witch hissed, her hoodie rubbing uncomfortably over her new, tender piercings.

Morgan’s eyes flashed with anger, the heavy piercings pulling at her chest as she leaned forward to continue playing. Yuna was enjoying this too much, she thought, and it was time to take control. After taking a couple of pieces and building up her points, Morgan gained herself fifteen points, just what she needed. “Hmm, how do you like this?” She mocked before spending her points. “Let’s inflate that ass of yours, Yuna. Make it naturally big and round, contrasting your slim waist, perfect for a gyaru slut like you.”

The board pulsed, and Yuna’s hips shimmered, her ass swelling into a plump, exaggerated curve that strained her navy dress, forcing her to shift awkwardly on the floor. The Asian woman’s eyes narrowed. However, she was more enraged by Morgan’s comments than by the actual transformation. A gyaru is a type of superficial, party-mad Japanese woman who brings shame to her family. At least, that is what Yuna had always believed, and now she knew exactly what her girlfriend wanted to turn her into.

The game began to intensify, each move a calculated strike fueled by mutual resentment. Yuna, one move from checkmate, hesitated for too long, her fingers lingering over her queen as she debated how to get out of the sticky situation. The board chimed ominously, startling both women and signaling a five-minute delay. The holographic score counter flashed with a penalty score to Yuna, triggering a random transformation. The Asian shook her head. “Wait, that wasn’t five minutes!”

A shimmering glow enveloped Yuna’s chest, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to guess what was about to follow. As the flashing began to dissipate, the Japanese-American’s modest breasts began swelling into round, E-cup orbs that stretched her navy dress to its limits. Mixed with her tiny waist and bubble butt, Yuna had the most sensual of proportions.

Morgan smirked, relishing in her girlfriend’s distress, grateful for the small ounce of retribution she had been granted. “Looks like the board agrees with me, babe,” the busty rebel taunted, her voice dripping with vengeance.

The gothic witch seized her chance, capturing Yuna’s pawn for one point before checking the king for another, giving herself five points. “Let’s change those pretty eyes. I have plans,” she said cryptically. “Give them contact lenses, electric blue, bright and unnatural.” Yuna blinked uncontrollably as her brown irises were replaced by the unnatural blue shade of her new contacts, amplifying her cartoonish appearance. The tanned statistician was disoriented, her pink and blue pigtails bound as she tried to refocus.

Yuna rallied, her queen capturing Morgan’s rook before taking out the goth’s queen, amassing the lucrative twenty-five points. The last time she attained that many points, Morgan received humongous breasts. “I was going easy on you today, but you asked for it,” the Asian woman hissed, her bright blue eyes blazing with anger. “Your lips are pretty and colorful, but they are just not enough. Let’s give you permanent fillers, lots of it, Morgan. Fill them up until they are fully plump and pouty, a proper bimbo’s pout.” Yuna folded her arms in satisfaction as she watched the transformation unfold.

Morgan’s eyes widened, and she gasped, her lips tingling as they wasted no time swelling into an exaggerated glossy pout, the permanent fillers stretching her already pink lips into a cartoonish mockery of her gothic aesthetic. She looked more like a bimbo porn star than an aspiring rebel witch. The busty woman’s voice faltered, her new lips making her speech clumsy, which elicited a further grin from Yuna. “You’re gonna regret that, bitch!”

The gothic witch’s plump lips quivered with rage, her platinum ponytail swaying as she leaned forward, determined to turn the tables. She flicked her wrist, and a small handheld mirror appeared before her, allowing her to examine the damage. She gasped sharply; the transformation was just as dramatic and humiliating as she feared, her lips naturally curling into an inviting pout.

Morgan’s fingers trembled, brushing her newly plump lips, the glossy fillers making every word feel heavy and foreign. She slammed the mirror down as she moved the knight, determined to end the game victorious despite her strained lover’s higher skill level.

Yuna, overconfident, smirked at her girlfriend’s reaction and shifted her bishop, thinking she had Morgan cornered and on the run. However, the busty rebel had baited her, luring her into a trap, allowing Morgan to shift her rook into place with a triumphant grin. “Uhmm, I think that’s checkmate.” She declared, prompting Yuna’s bright blue eyes to widen in horror. She refused to accept defeat, but found that every move she attempted would lead to defeat. She groaned as the board erupted in violet light, signaling the end of the game.

The Asian’s body tensed, her pink and blue pigtails bouncing helplessly as her mind clouded, transforming itself in Morgan’s direction. It was time for Morgan to enact her revenge. The pigtailed woman’s sharp intellect melted into a ditzy haze, and her posture slumped into a provocative sway.

“Like, oh wow, me feel so strange, yeah?” Yuna squeaked, her voice high and fractured, thick with an exaggerated broken English. Her electric blue eyes widened vacantly in shock, but the rest of her body moved with the grace of a woman desperate to get fucked by the next man who past her.

Morgan’s plump lips curled into a vengeful smirk as she stood, towering over the tanned bimbo despite her petite frame. “It’s payback time, Lulu,” she said, referring to Yuna’s adopted name. “Time to have some fun,” she grinned, imagining all the ways she would make her girlfriend suffer before they both reverted to normal on Monday.

❖

In a mirror image of one week ago, Morgan led Yuna, now Lulu, down the sparse streets of the gay village, her loose black hoodie and baggy jeans doing nothing to hide the exaggerated pout of her glossy, filler-plumped lips or the swaying platinum blonde ponytail that cascaded to her ass. Her 3-inch flat platform combat boots clicked defiantly as she attempted to make up for her short height, and her G-cup breasts and new nipple barbells shifted uncomfortably beneath the baggy clothes.

Lulu tottered beside her, although her outfit wasn’t quite so modest. She was humiliatingly dressed in a slutty Sailor Moon outfit, with a tiny blue pleated skirt, a cropped white top that strained tightly against her enhanced breasts, and thigh-high stockings that accentuated her inflated ass. Her pink and blue pigtails bounced as she stared vacantly through her new bright blue eyes. Passersby stared, with some whispering about the stereotype. Still, Lulu kept walking with her head held high, as others gawked at the tanned bimbo’s provocative ensemble.

Outside their favorite watering hole, The Muff Dive, a large man in a leather jacket and yellow workman’s vest leered at the Asian bimbo before catcalling her. “Hey, sweetheart. How much you worth?” he asked, his voice dripping with crude interest.

Morgan parted her big, plump lips to tell the man to get lost, but she stopped herself. She was curious about what her transformed, slutty girlfriend’s response would be now that she was in the mind of Lulu.

The bimbo giggled as she replied to the man in broken English. “Like, me busy tonight, yeah?” she squeaked, her pigtails swaying as she bounced excitedly. “But, like, you fuck me ‘nother time, so hot, okay?” Her tongue piercing was visible as she spoke with a dialect so degrading, it was bringing her tramp stamp tattoo to life. Yuna’s trapped mind reeled in horror at her own humiliating act. She had always worked to erase demeaning stereotypes, and now her girlfriend had her paraded around like this.

Morgan’s plump lips curled into a vengeful smirk as she tugged Lulu’s leash and guided her into the bar. Inside, Sophie, Hazel, and Kendra lounged in their usual booth, their eyes widening at the sight of Lulu’s outrageous outfit and Morgan’s transformed appearance. “Holy shit, Morgan,” Kendra said in amusement. “You both look like you walked out of a porn set.”

Hazel leaned forward, her cropped green hair glinting under the bar lights. “What the fuck has happened to Yuna?” she laughed, pointing at the tanned bimbo. “Does this have something to do with you acting like a muff-diving slut last weekend?” She grinned at Morgan, sending a little jab her way.

Morgan slid into the booth, pulling Lulu to perch beside her, the gyaru’s tiny skirt riding up to expose her racist tattoo. “Oh, she’s Lulu now,” the busty goth purred, settling in comfortably in her dominant role. “She lost a little game we played, and now she’s my little toy for the weekend. Say something sexy for the ladies, Lulu.” She tugged the leash to reinforce the point.

The tanned bimbo giggled, her blue eyes vacant. “Like, me so horny, want fucky-fucky all night, yeah?” she squeaked, her broken English dripping with crude allure. Yuna’s mind screamed, humiliated by the stereotype she had fought against, but Lulu’s body leaned into Morgan, her E-cup breasts pressing against the cropped top. The three women erupted in laughter.

“Damn, Morgan, you’ve outdone yourself,” Kendra grinned. “How the hell did you get her to agree to this? She had always been offended if we said so much as an Asian joke. She always hated those superficial, tanned, Japanese bimbos, and now she is walking around as the Asian joke.” The group laughed jovially again.

Morgan leaned back and smirked. “Get us some cocktails, Lulu,” she commanded. “Maybe use that pretty mouth of yours to ask for a discount,” she winked at her transformed girlfriend, prompting more laughter from the group. As the Asian woman tottered to the bar, Morgan turned her attention to the group. “I can’t wait to get her home,” she said, her plump lips curling with anticipation.

The busty goth chatted with the group, explaining the game the pair had been playing and how she had lured Yuna into a trap. She savored their shocked amusement. “It’s a wild spell,” she said, her voice edged with pride. “Come Monday, all these changes will turn back to normal, and we will have nothing but our memories to look back on.

Ten minutes passed, and Morgan’s brow furrowed. “Where’s Lulu?” she muttered as she realized that her girlfriend had been away for some time. Her eyes scanned the bar, and her stomach twisted as she spotted her girlfriend in a precarious situation.

The goth’s eyes locked onto the far side of the bar, where Lulu was bent over, naked, her Sailor Moon outfit discarded in a nearby heap, as her pigtails bounced wildly. Two biker women, one with a buzzcut, the other with a mohawk, ravaged her from both ends. The buzzcut woman pounded a strap-on into Lulu’s bare pussy, her hips slamming with force, while the mohawk woman gripped Lulu’s pigtails and thrust a cock-shaped dildo deep into her mouth, muffling her slutty squeals. Both women grinned at Yuna’s humiliating tattoo being advertised before them as they alternated back and forth.

Morgan stood, her platform boots stomping in fury as she approached the bar. “Having fun, ladies?” she asked, her voice somehow staying cool as she tried to hide her irritation.

The buzzcut biker didn’t break her rhythm as her strap-on continued driving deeper into Lulu’s pussy. She glared at Morgan, “take a hike, blondie, unless you want to join in with those pretty, cocksucking lips?” She said invitingly in what almost sounded like a threat.

The mohawk woman tightened her grip on the Asian’s pigtails, the dildo plunging deeper into Lulu’s mouth. “This Asian slut’s ours now,” she sneered, her eyes glinting with mischief. “She’s loving it, aren’t you, little whore?” The tanned bimbo’s blue eyes sparkled vacantly, her body rocking eagerly between the two women. Yuna’s trapped mind screamed in horror at the degrading public spectacle.

Morgan’s plump lips tightened, her gothic pride flaring as she stepped closer. “She belongs to me,” the busty rebel said coldly. “You don’t touch what’s mine.” Her hand raised, fingers poised to snap as the air crackled with latent magic.

The buzzcut biker laughed, her thrusts unrelenting. “Your property?” she laughed. “Look at this whore, thinking she has what it takes to own someone.” She laughed, eliciting a chuckle from her partner on the other end. “Look at those lips, and don’t think for a minute that you’re fooling anyone trying to hide those mammoth tits. You’re just a dumb bimbo.”

The goth’s eyes narrowed, her plump lips twisting into a scowl as they insulted her. She snapped her fingers and unleashed a pulse of magic that rippled through the bar. The biker women froze, their bodies shimmering as their strap-ons and clothes vanished entirely.

In an instant, the two bikers were bound together, kneeling on the sticky floor, a double-strap ball gag materializing with a single pink ball forcing their lips to press tightly against each other, their muffled, shocked cries vibrating through it. Leather straps cinched their arms behind their backs, their torsos bound so their breasts mashed together, sweat-slicked and heaving. Beneath them, mercilessly vibrating Sybians hummed, their bodies writhing as they moaned in unison, their eyes wide with shocked and forced ecstasy. The crowd gasped and moved closer, enthralled by the bondage sex show unfurling before their eyes.

Morgan smirked triumphantly as she took one last look at the bound bikers before stepping over to Lulu, who knelt, panting and confused. She hurled the Asian’s Sailor Moon outfit at her. “Get dressed, Lulu. It’s time to go.” Morgan commanded.

The tanned bimbo giggled as she clumsily pulled on her ridiculous outfit, her E-cup breasts straining against the top, her stupid tattoo peeking out about her flared skirt. “Like, me go home, do some fucky-fucky, yeah?” Lulu squeaked crudely.

Morgan nodded and grinned, watching her transformed girlfriend finish getting changed before she reattached the collar and leash and led her out of the premises. The remaining patrons focused on the orgasm challenge taking place at the edge of the bar.

❖

The morning sun filtered through the apartment bedroom curtains as Morgan began untying Lulu from her tight hogtie, the ropes leaving faint red marks on her tanned wrists and ankles. The gyaru bimbo’s pigtails still hung perfectly in place, her bare, round breasts heaving against the white sheets.

Morgan unfastened the ring gag, and Lulu’s blue contact lenses sparkled vacantly. “Like, we fuck again, yeah?” She squeaked enthusiastically, her inflated ass shifting as she sat up. Yuna’s mind recoiled, humiliated by her submissive role in last night’s debauchery. However, her body leaned forward suggestively.

Morgan’s bright pink lips curled into a vengeful smirk as she reached into the closet and tossed a pink string bikini in Lulu’s direction. “Not yet, my little toy,” the busty goth purred commandingly. “Get changed. We’re hitting the beach.” She adjusted her black tank top and shorts and strode out of the room, leaving Lulu to get dressed in private.

Lulu emerged from the bedroom, her pink string bikini barely containing her transformed E-cup breasts, the ties digging into her darkened skin, and her degrading tattoo plainly visible for everyone to see. She wore a pair of 4-inch heels and tottered behind Morgan as they headed out the front door.

Lulu strutted onto the crowded beach, her pink bikini riding up her inflated ass, her vivid pink and blue hair bouncing with each provocative step in her tall heels. Yuna’s trapped mind screamed, mortified by the gyaru’s brazen display and the attention that screamed in her direction. She clicked her new tongue piercing against her teeth as she smiled vacantly.

A surfer called out, “Looking hot, sexy!” and Lulu responded with an exaggerated ahegao face, tongue lolling, eyes rolling back, drawing laughs from the nearby beachgoers. Yuna had no idea why she had acted that way, but it felt natural to Lulu. Each compliment resulted in the same humiliating reaction, deepening Yuna’s internal shame.

Morgan led Lulu toward a man with a camera and a lighting rig set up, his tripod planted in the sand near the soothing, crashing waves. “Lulu, meet Keith,” the newly blonde rebel said, her pouty lips smirking. “He’s here to take photos of you. Won’t that be fun?” She spoke with such juvenile humor, as though she was talking to a six-year-old.

Lulu giggled, her pigtails bouncing as she nodded. “Like, me so sexy, photo fun, yeah?” she squeaked, dumbly contrasting Yuna’s real-life trapped intellect. Morgan rolled her eyes. As hilarious as her dumb, broken English was, as though she had stepped out of a cheap porno, it was also annoying as hell.

“I paid Keith here to make you a star, Lulu,” the busty goth told her girlfriend, her voice dripping with mock delight. “Follow his every command.”

Keith’s camera clicked rapidly, capturing Lulu’s initial poses, hands on hips, her bikini straining playfully. “Big smile, babe,” he called, his voice professional but tinged with lustful amusement. Lulu beamed as she continued to post for him, thrusting her bare, inflated ass out further.

The photographer’s directions grew bolder, his camera snapping as he called, “Arch your back, sexy, show off those puppies.” The tanned bimbo complied, her E-cup breasts nearly spilling from her pink bikini as she struck a provocative pose, getting into the model act. As Keith took another shot, Lulu flashed an ahegao face again, putting up a peace sign, which drew chuckles from the growing crowd of onlookers lounging on the sand.

Keith’s commands escalated as he moved himself closer, zooming in on the Japanese-American’s transformed body. “Turn around, Lulu, bend over. Good girl, now run your finger along the slit. Perfect,” he directed, his voice thick with excitement. The tanned woman obeyed, her bikini bottoms slipping to reveal the entirety of her tattoo, her inflated ass jutting out as she ran a finger along the g-string seem covering her pussy, her tongue out in lust.

The camera lens zoomed closer as Keith’s voice grew husky. “Lose the bikini, Lulu. Take it all off,” he commanded, and the gyaru bimbo giggled, instantly untying the pink strings despite the voice inside her head screaming to ignore him. The busty woman posed naked, one hand squeezing her nipple as the other slipped between her thighs. She continued to make degrading fantasy faces as Keith directed her to pose seductively for him, teetering on the edges of a porn shoot.

“Mmm, good girl,” he praised the pigtailed woman. “Now masturbate, babe, make it steamy,” the photographer urged. Lulu’s hands moved rhythmically, her darkened body glistening with sweat as the bare sun beat down on her. Suddenly, cameras started flashing on the phones of the crowd, capturing every humiliating moment as Yuna helplessly tried to will herself to get out of there. Lulu’s fingers plunged deeper, her tongue piercing, clicking as she moaned in pleasure, oblivious to the growing spectacle of her public degradation.

A booming voice cut through the crowd’s cheers. “Stop that right now!” Morgan looked up and noticed a uniformed police officer heading her way, struggling to run in the sand. She immediately took a masturbating Lulu by the hand. “Time’s up, bimbo,” she grinned before she led the pigtailed woman off in the distance before the officer could reach them, leaving Lulu’s clothes on the sand.

Panting, Morgan guided Lulu down a darkened alley to allow the pair to catch their breath. The blonde goth let out a grin. “That was fun,” she exclaimed, looking her naked girlfriend up and down. She took Lulu’s hand. “Let’s get you home. That’s enough fun for one day.” She laughed before leading the way back and leaving the beach in the distance.

❖

“Fuck!” Morgan muttered under her breath, her plump, glossy pink lips trembling as she stood in the restricted section of New Haven’s public library, an area the witch wasn’t allowed to frequent. The blonde-haired rebel, her massive chest straining beneath another baggy black hoodie, flipped through another ancient book, searching desperately to undo the transformations plaguing her and her girlfriend.

A woman at a nearby table shushed her as she studied, prompting Morgan to scowl in the student’s direction. Earlier that morning, Yuna’s exaggerated Asian bimbo persona had faded just as it was supposed to, but her plentiful physical transformations remained. Morgan, too, was still cursed with her tiny 5’2” frame, platinum ponytail, pink nails, navel piercing, tramp stamp, and bright pink painted lips filled obscenely with filler. The transformed goth had skipped her classes for the day to scour the library, but every book so far had come up empty. Morgan groaned, tossing a heavy grimoire onto the table in frustration.

“Are you okay?” A woman asked, her soft voice whispering through the library’s silence. Her auburn hair was tied in an elegant bun, and her emerald eyes peered over delicate glasses with a mix of curiosity and concern.

Morgan raised an eyebrow. This woman was too put together to be of any trouble, but she looked like she could have been the librarian. “Get stuffed,” she said with hostility. “It’s none of your damn business,” she snapped, her pouty lips forming a petulant, humorous pout rather than the terrifying scowl she attempted to project.

The woman smiled, unfazed by Morgan’s angry response, her eyes glinting with knowing amusement. “Your name isn’t Morgan, by any chance, is it?” She said curiously.

“Who’s asking? Are you a cop?” The former raven-haired goth spat back.

The woman chuckled; her sleek, black professional dress was conservative enough, with a hint of cleavage teasing from her lowered zipper. “No, I’m not a cop. I’m just observant.” She held out her hand. “My name is Alice. I’ve seen you at some LGBT parties. I figured you’re here looking for a transformation reversal spell.”

Morgan’s eyes narrowed. “And why would you think that?” she retorted sharply. Her Dominant pride bristled as she scanned the shelves for another book.

Alice leaned closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “It’s not hard to guess, darling,” she said teasingly. “You’re in the restricted section of the library, which means you’re a magic user, and you’re trying to hide those massive tits under that hoodie,” she grinned as she glanced down, “failing miserably, I might add.”

The busty goth’s jaw tightened in irritation. “You don’t know shit,” she bit back as she sighed, catching a glimpse at the mounds protruding out from her thick, black hoodie. The woman wasn’t wrong.

Alice flicked her wrist, and a sharp tingle spread across Morgan’s lips, her glossy pink puckers darkening to a matte midnight black, still swollen. A small mirror materialized in Alice’s hand, and she turned it toward Morgan’s direction, reflecting the goth’s altered lips back at her. “I can help,” the woman said, her tone empathetic. “Tell me all about it.”

Morgan’s eyes widened, her fingers brushing her matte black lips. She had attempted countless spells to remove the garish pink from her face, and this woman had done it at the flick of the wrist. The transformed goth reluctantly recounted how she found the spellbook and used the curse on Yuna’s chessboard. She spoke about how the pair played intense games over the last couple of weekends as the spell allowed them to alter each other’s bodies with every captured piece. She described how the loser’s mind was changed into a submissive persona for the weekend. She said that it was all supposed to end by Monday morning. Still, while the mental adjustments had reverted, their physical changes remained.

Alice folded her arms and leaned back, dissolving the mirror with a mere thought. “Wow, that sounds like quite a game,” she chuckled. “I’d love to join you for a round. What do you say?” The unknown woman asked eagerly.

Morgan’s black lips parted in shock. “Play again?” She gasped. “No way. You’re out of your fucking mind,” the goth snapped. “I’m not touching another piece on that chessboard ever again. It’s caused enough trouble.” She glanced down at her long, well-manicured, sparkling pink nails and grimaced with embarrassment.

Alice didn’t waver, and her emerald eyes gleamed with a mix of amusement and challenge. She leaned forward and whispered. “Just on game, Morgan,” she coaxed persuasively. “If the chessboard doesn’t fix your transformations, I’ll reverse every change myself. You know I have the ability.” The woman bit her lower lip, “Or you can chance it alone.”

The goth stared back thoughtfully. She didn’t want to risk any further transformations, but the woman was right; her search had yielded no results, and Alice might well be the best chance she and her girlfriend had of returning to their former bodies. She sighed deeply. “Okay, just one game.” Her eyes averted from Alice’s as the busty woman agreed to the request.

The refined woman’s smile widened as her eyes glinted with triumph. “Great,” she purred confidently, clapping her hands together. She clicked her fingers, and Morgan’s lips tingled again, the dark black color brightening back to their transformed glossy, pink shade, the sudden shift prompting the goth to clasp her hand over her mouth in horror. “I’ll see you and Yuna on Friday night,” she said as she turned around. “I look forward to it.” She lifted a hand to say goodbye before sauntering out of the library, leaving Morgan to wonder what she had just agreed to.

❖

Yuna stood sulking in the kitchen, her pink and blue pigtails perched atop her head after another week of humiliation. She had almost gotten fired from her job until she promised her boss that she’d have the changes reversed by next Monday. Her round breasts strained against her white work blouse, and her bubble butt threatened to split the knee-length black pencil skirt. The biggest humiliation was acting like she wasn’t utterly mortified by the changes; that would have come off even creepier.

Anyhow, the pigtailed Asian woman narrowed her eyes toward her girlfriend. “Trust me, Yuna,” the goth pleaded. “This is our way out of this hell.”

Yuna’s blue contact lenses flashed with irritation as she bit back. “You’re trusting a witch we don’t even know, Morgan,” she snapped, unintentionally fluttering her long lashes. “This could make everything worse.”

Morgan adjusted her baggy green turtleneck sweater despite the warm temperature, and she pursed her glossy lips. “Alice will help us,” she insisted. “She wants to play one game, and then we’re done with that cursed chessboard forever. I’ve seen firsthand what she can do.” Her pink nails absently tapped the counter as she tried to convince her girlfriend.

A sharp knock echoed through the apartment. “I’ll get it,” Morgan said. She had recently kicked off her tall, flat platform boots and was still adjusting to her diminutive height. Yuna sighed, her tongue piercing clicking against her teeth anxiously, and moved into the bedroom, setting up the now familiar cursed chessboard on the carpeted floor.

The goth padded barefoot to the door and opened it up to greet Alice, her auburn hair softly framing her face as opposed to the tight bun she had previously held at the library. The woman slid her coat off to reveal a full, black leather catsuit, not the attire Morgan had predicted. She tossed her jacket to the goth, as if handing it to a servant. The busty student gritted her teeth, her plump lips twitching, but hung the coat silently on the rack. This woman was the key to returning to her former body, and Morgan didn’t want to mess it up.

Morgan led Alice to the bedroom, where Yuna knelt by the chessboard, her tight skirt taut against her plump ass. “Yuna, this is Alice,” the busty goth introduced her girlfriend.

Alice’s emerald eyes raked over Yuna, a sly smirk curling her lips. “Wow, you look positively delicious, Yuna,” the elegant witch purred. Yuna’s tanned face flushed,  and her blue eyes narrowed. She hated being spoken to condescendingly.

“Just get the game started,” The Asian woman snapped. Morgan nodded, settling opposite, while Alice sat on either side of them.

The newcomer raised a hand, chanting a melodic incantation. Suddenly. The chessboard shimmered, altering its shape and morphing into a hexagonal grid with three sets of pieces: black for Morgan, white for Yuna, and red for Alice. The holographic counter flared, adding Alice’s name. “I can’t wait to get started,” the woman bristled with anticipation. “Last woman standing wins.”

The game began with cautious moves, the hexagonal board a disorienting maze of strategy. Yuna was the first to fifteen points, and with the past weekend’s humiliation fresh in her mind, she targeted Morgan. “Let’s slim that waist, babe. See how you like it,” she said, her voice sharp with lingering resentment.

Morgan’s midsection tingled, her already petite frame contracting into an exaggerated hourglass. Her tiny size and extremely slim waist drew attention to her big, fake tits even further, making her a walking sex doll.

Morgan was the next to act, as Alice allowed the two to battle each other. She spent her ten points immediately. “It’s time for your makeover, Yuna,” she grinned widely. “Let’s tattoo that pretty face, and give you exaggerated eye makeup, and tattoo those pretty lips red, with a dark pencil tattoo making the lips look much bigger than they are.” She folded her arms and waited for the magic to happen.

Yuna’s face shimmered, and the group knew what was coming. Her cheeks flushed as exaggerated black eyeliner and shimmering red eyeshadow materialized, framing her bright blue eyes in a permanent hyper-feminine mask. Her lips gained a permanent red tattoo, outlined in dark red pencil to exaggerate their size further, giving her the quintessential gyaru pout.

Alice leaned back; she took Morgan’s bishop but decided to save up her points. Morgan followed Yuna’s latest transformation with another. “How about a cute, silver, sparkling nose stud. Nothing says dumb bimbo quite like a decorated face.” She grinned, waiting for the familiar glimmer.

Yuna’s nose tingled lightly, and a sparkling silver stud appeared, glinting against her tanned skin and amplifying her bimbo aesthetic. She glared at Morgan, her red-tattooed lips pouting, but the game pressed on.

Alice minded her own business, allowing the two lovers to transform each other, while quietly taking out pieces one by one and racking up the points. With five more points awarded to Yuna, she looked down at Morgan’s pink nails and grinned. “Hmm, you talk to me about bimbo?” she said cryptically. “I don’t think those nails are quite bimbo enough yet. Lengthen them to at least two inches, indestructible acrylic, sparkling pink, with silver, shiny rhinestone letters on each nail spelling out ‘BIMBO’ on one hand and ‘WHORE’ on the other.” She winked teasingly at her girlfriend, anticipating the changes.

Morgan’s fingers tingled ticklishly, and her already transformed nails elongated into two-inch, indestructible acrylic claws, each adorned with glittering rhinestones spelling “BIMBO” on her left hand and “WHORE” on her right.

“That’s too far, you dumb bitch!” Morgan exclaimed, clenching her fists together before gasping as the extra-long nails dug into the palms of her hands.

Alice chuckled lightly, turning the pair’s attention to the auburn-haired woman, as though they had almost forgotten she was in the room. “Before I make my next move and take you out, Morgan, I have some points to spend,” she nodded at the holographic display, showing the stranger with 51 points. Morgan and Yuna’s stomachs clenched.

“First,” she said methodically. “I think you’d make a great bondage slut, Morgan,” she smiled. “I want to spend 25 points to give you flexibility surgery, giving you the same poise and flexibility as an Olympic gymnast. Even more so. You can contort in ways that even a circus freak can’t.”

Morgan’s entire body was clouded in shimmering magic, a warm tingle coursing through her muscles as her joints loosened, granting her an unnatural, almost serpentine flexibility. Her petite frame, already burdened with huge, fake H-cup implants and a cartoonishly slim waist, now felt capable of bending into impossible positions. She glared at Alice, “What the hell was that?” She asked furiously. “I don’t think you understand the nature of this game.”

Alice laughed heartily, biting her lower lip as she stared at the transformed goth’s altered body and furious reaction. “Ohh, don’t I?” She mocked before moving her queen into position, trapping Morgan’s king. “Checkmate.”

Alice’s red queen pinned Morgan’s king, and the chess board flared an unnatural violet. Morgan’s remaining black pieces vanished in a shimmer of magic, leaving only Alice and Yuna’s pieces on the board. The busty goth’s breath caught, her nails squeezing her palms as she formed fists in frustration. “Gahhh!”

Yuna seized the moment, believing that Alice’s latest move had left her own king unprotected, and moved her own queen to take it out. “Check!” she said gleefully, unaware that she had fallen into a trap herself.

Alice’s rook swept in, capturing Yuna’s queen as the newcomer chuckled. Only Yuna’s two knights remained, leaving the Asian woman a sitting duck. “Hmm, interesting move, Yuna,” Alice quipped. “I heard you had played this before.”

The pigtailed woman didn’t justify the taunt with an answer and made her move, knowing it was only a matter of time before she, too, was toast. However, before Alice made the final strike, she paused. “Well, this was fun,” she said confidently. “But before we go, I can’t waste these delicious points.” She glanced at the 56 points on her display.

“First, Morgan, how about we spend fifteen points on adjusting your vocal cords, giving you a permanently high-pitched, childish pitch. Perfect for a bimbo feminist like you.” She grinned, but before the changes even set in on Morgan, she turned to Yuna. “And you, let’s change your voice too, but give you a thick, traditional Japanese accent, as though you weren’t born in America.” She winked as both women clasped their throats.

Morgan’s throat tingled, her voice shifting to a high-pitched childish squeak that made her sound like a sexualized cartoon character, her feminist pride in agony as she gasped. Yuna’s throat shimmered simultaneously as her words were now laced with a thick, traditional Japanese accent, her once-confident tone warped into a halting, foreign cadence.

Alice took hold of one of her pieces as if she were about to end the game but stopped again. “Well, I have enough points for one final change,” she grinned, staring victoriously at Yuna once again. “Yuna, I’m going to spend twenty-five points on giving you something special. I’d like all three of your orifices, mouth, pussy, and ass, to be fitted with an elastic that accommodates whatever enters it, no matter how large. It always tightens around the object, creating a super-tight vacuum. Your orifices will always remain this way, regardless of how often they are used.”

Yuna’s bright blue eyes widened in horror. “What?” she exclaimed. “I am lesbian, you bitch!” the Japanese-American said in a highly exaggerated Japanese accent. She covered her mouth at the sound of her own voice as her orifices began to tingle.

Alice’s smile curled into a predatory smirk as she slid her red rook into place, trapping Yuna’s king. “I think that’s checkmate, too,” she declared in a triumphant tone.

The chessboard erupted in another blinding purple glow as Yuna’s pieces vanished the same way as Morgan’s had earlier. Both women’s transformed bodies tensed, their minds suddenly clouding with a subtle haze as their eyes locked in shared shock, with the game’s magic taking hold. Morgan shook her head, refusing to admit defeat. “No, not again,” she squeaked, hearing her new juvenile bimbo voice for the first time.

Alice leaned back and placed her hands on the carpeted floor behind her, taking in the sight of the two transforming bimbos. “I enjoyed hearing about Pixie and Lulu’s escapades over the last couple of weeks,” she gloated. “But those two won’t be joining us this weekend. I have something else in mind.” She flashed a knowing smile, prompting the two lovers to stare at each other helplessly. Whatever Alice had planned, the women could only hope that she would stick to her word come Monday.

❖

Mistress Alice strode into Club Magik, her tight black latex catsuit hugging her curves, spiked heels clicking on the floor, her spiked choker sparkling under the disco lights. She tugged two leashes, leading Ellie—Morgan—whose pink and black underbust corset left her H-cup implants bare, a silver chain linking her ridiculous nipple piercings, and a princess plug snug inside her ass. She wore pink fishnet stockings that clung to her legs, and clear, 6-inch platform heels that made her wobble with each step. Her two-inch rhinestoned acrylic nails sparkled, and her huge, glossy pink lips pouted silently.

Suki-Suki—Yuna—followed, her red PVC tube top emblazoned with the cursive ‘Fuck Me Stupid’ straining over her E-cup orbs, a red lycra g-string with an inbuilt plug deep in her pussy, her butterfly tattoo and humiliating tramp stamp on display. She wore red fishnets to complement her 6-inch red platform heels, which accentuated her tanned curves. Her red-tattooed lips parted as the submissive fog overwhelmed her mind.

A large man wearing a pair of leather pants, combat boots, and his potbelly chest on full display approached the Domme, nodding to Alice. “Hello, Mistress,” he said, his eyes roving over Ellie and Suki-Suki. “Who are your new pets?”

Alice’s auburn hair cascaded as she smirked. “My newest projects,” the commanding mistress purred. “I’m testing them out for the weekend.” Her emerald eyes glinted with satisfied dominance as she glanced at her two scantily-clad pets.

The man’s gaze lingered over Suki-Suki, his eyes darting to the font on her T-shirt. “You know, Alice,” he said, “I’ve never tried Asian before.” He bit his lower lip, admiring the Japanese-American’s dramatic curves. “I’d love to fuck her stupid, like her top says, but it looks like there’s no intelligence in there to start with.” Yuna’s internal mind screamed about how wrong that was, but the bimbo wouldn’t let the woman’s thoughts escape.

Alice laughed, handing him Suki-Suki’s leash. “Give her a whirl,” she said indulgently. “I got all weekend to play with her, and she’s definitely built for it.”

As Yuna squealed out against the transaction taking place, Suki-Suki blinked dumbly. “Like, me so fucky, yes?” she said, her heavily-accented voice making her broken English appear even more humiliating. The unknown man laughed and nodded at the Asian bimbo before leading her off toward a private area of the fetish club.

Mistress Alice tugged Ellie’s leash, guiding her through the club’s neon-lit haze to a public demonstration room. Alice took in a deep breath as the pungent stench of leather and sweat lingered in the air from a recent play session. A woman with a green mohawk leaned against the wall. Despite being trapped inside Ellie’s head, Morgan’s mind reeled when she recognized the woman as one of the two bikers she had humiliated last weekend. “Hello, Ryder, it’s good to see you out tonight,” Alice greeted the woman.

Ryder’s eyes narrowed, a vengeful smirk spreading across her face. Morgan had been further transformed since their last encounter, but her bimbo appearance was unforgettable. “Well, well, look who it is,” she said maliciously. “I think it’s time for a little payback, you little slut. If Mistress Alice will allow me, of course,” she stepped closer and glanced at the Domme expectantly.

Alice chuckled as she patted Ryder’s shoulder. “Yes, have some fun. But go easy on the bimbo, Ryder,” she said mockingly, waving goodbye to the trapped bimbo goth. Ellie’s extremely plump lips parted in a soft moan as Ryder took the leash, her grin widening as she led the busty submissive toward a padded bench, ready for a couple of hours of wild fun.

Ellie complied with her temporary superior’s wishes like a good, eager bimbo as Morgan watched on in horror. All she could hope for was to get through the weekend unscathed and hope that Alice would keep up her side of the deal.

❖

One Month Later

Morgan knelt backstage at Club Magik, her H-cup implants completely bare save for the glittering pink star pasties clinging to her nipple piercings, her platinum blonde hair loose and free-flowing to her ass. She adjusted her pink fishnet stockings and grimaced at the sight of her bimbo and whore acrylic nails, her glossy pink lips pouting as her high-pitched voice squeaked softly. “We have to find a way out of here soon, Yuna,” she whispered in a rare moment of clarity. She knew it wouldn’t last long, however.

Alice had found a way to disable Morgan and Yuna’s magical abilities, and had trapped them inside their new bimbo personas for the past month, serving patrons at the auburn-haired woman’s fetish club, Club Magik. She allowed the couple respite from their new personalities whenever they were alone or together. However, as soon as someone else entered the room, their submissive alter egos would take over.

Yuna, kneeling beside her former lover, applied lube to her elastic pussy and ass, her red-tattooed lips parting as the coolness sent a shudder down her spine. Her E-cup fake breasts strained against a semi-transparent tube top, a sexual price list covering the back of the material. With her intelligent mind also temporarily free, the pink and blue-haired woman parted her lips when a knock at the door interrupted them.

A redheaded woman in a black leather corset burst through the door without invitation, her eyes narrowing. “Mistress Alice is asking what’s taking you sluts so long,” she snapped impatiently. “Get to work, now!”

Morgan and Yuna’s minds clouded instantly, their bimbo personas snapping into place. Elli giggled, her cartoonish pink lips curving as she adjusted one of her star pasties. “Like, yay, let’s go, Suki-Suki!”

The Asian bimbo beside her rose to her feet and clapped. “Me go fucky-fucky now,” she said in a humiliating dialect. Her 6-inch platform heels clicked as she began walking to the door, her former girlfriend trailing behind her.

Mistress Alice lounged on a velvet chair near the bar, wearing her tight black latex catsuit with an over-the-bust corset, watching a male slave kneeling before her, sucking her bare toes. “Get them nice and clean, froggy,” she taunted her slave as she glanced up, her emerald eyes glinting with interest as she watched Suki-Suki saunter around the club, absently flirting with the men she used to despise.

A tall man in a black vest stepped up to the Asian bimbo and smirked. “Damn, babe, you look like more of a whore than I remember,” he said, eyeing up her inflated breasts. “Recognize me, sweetheart?”

Suki-Suki tilted her head, her blue contact lenses vacant as she rattled her brain for an answer, but nothing came to mind. “Like, no, me so silly, yeah?” She said, her thick Japanese accent dripping with degradation. Yuna’s mind, buried in the bimbo haze, recoiled. She knew Glen, the chauvinist pig from seven weeks ago, who wouldn’t take no for an answer. However, Suki-Suki’s vacant smile held.

Glen laughed. “That’s okay, babe,” he grinned. “It’s good to see you’ve finally embraced your exotic side. If you didn’t know, you rejected me a couple of months back like a frigid bitch, but now…” He pointed at her price list. “Are you ready to show me a good time?”

The Asian whore nodded eagerly, her piercing clicking as she flicked her tongue suggestively. “Like fuck dollar, me fucky-fucky now, yes?”

Glen laughed and slipped a $5 bill down her top between her impressive implants. “I think I can manage that,” he said, grabbing her by the ass and leading her toward a private room for the fuck of his life.

Ellie swung hypnotically in the demonstration room, her body contorted in a punishing hogtie, suspended from the ceiling by red ropes that bit snugly into her skin. The ropes tightly bound her wrists and elbows behind her back, her thighs and ankles equally cinched, pulling her into a fierce arch that showcased her unnatural gymnast flexibility.

A red-roped harness framed the bimbo’s huge, round breasts, the star pasties now on the floor, while a large red ball gag, secured by a leather harness, filled her sex doll mouth, its O-ring at the back, pulling her head back to her toes with more red rope, curving her body into an agonizing arc.

Ryder, the green-haired mohawked woman, strutted before the audience, her leather vest open, revealing a dark spiked bra. She held a whip in her hand. “This bitch will be hanging around for a while if y’all want to have some fun,” she declared, cracking the whip against the blonde bimbo’s ass cheek, prompting a squeal from the helium-pitched woman.

Morgan’s faint defiance flickered in her eyes as the crowd began to play with her. She held on to the fact that she still had her mind intact, and that gave her hope that she could escape this submissive nightmare.

Suki-Suki straddled Glen in the private room, her elastic pussy clamping tightly around his throbbing cock, squeezing with a relentless vacuum as she bounced, her free E-cup’s jiggling wildly with her top crumpled on the floor. Her bright red lips parted in a slutty moan, her thick Asian accent spilling out as she squealed, “Like, big cock, fucky me, yes!” She cried out in pleasure, bouncing up and down as Glen smacked her oversized ass every time he could, enhancing her degradation. Her elastic orifice tightened impossibly around the tall man as she screamed out in ecstasy.

Glen groaned, gripping the Asian bimbo’s inflated ass, his fingers digging into her skin as he pumped harder. With a low moan, he began emptying his load deep inside Suki-Suki’s elastic pussy. A piece of Yuna’s soul tore away, her trapped mind wailing as he body shuddered in forced ecstasy, her own body shivering in a mind-blowing orgasm of her own.

The tanned bimbo eventually calmed down, and Suki-Suki had services yet another customer for Mistress Alice. She was her cash cow, and the formerly intelligent Japanese woman saw no escape in sight for her or her blonde bimbo lover, their defiance making way for total submission as Mistress Alice’s permanent pets.

The End.