Chapter Three

Victoria lay awake in bed as morning arrived outside her window. She had spent the night staring at the ceiling while sleep refused to claim her. Her mind replayed the events of the bake sale on an endless loop. She saw the faces of the two mothers praising her intellect and heard her own voice accepting their compliments. She had stolen the credit from Gemma. She had betrayed a shy volunteer to stroke her own ego, and the guilt gnawed at her conscience.

She shifted herself on the mattress. Her fingers brushed against the blankets, and a strange sensation caught her attention. Long, rigid objects snagged on the woven threads. She lifted her hands and examined them. Pink acrylic nails extended past her fingertips. The sharp tips clicked against one another as she curled her fingers into a fist. She remembered the late-night visit to Lola’s salon and the sudden, strange desire to demand a radical overhaul.

She threw the blankets aside and stood up. She walked into the bathroom and stopped in front of the sink, gripping the edges of the counter. She stared at the reflection looking back at her. Her natural brunette waves were gone. Lola had bleached her hair and dyed it a bright pink. The unnatural neon strands tumbled past her bare shoulders. She had slept in the dramatic cosmetics applied at the salon. Dark eyeliner winged outward from her lashes. A thick layer of foundation masked her freckles. Overlined lips carried a coat of pink gloss.

A profound sickness settled in her stomach. What the fuck do I look like? She reached for the container of makeup wipes resting near the faucet. The acrylic nails made opening the plastic lid difficult, forcing her to fumble with the packaging until she managed to pull a white cloth from the container. She raised the wipe toward her cheek. She intended to scrub the trashy facade away. She wanted to wash her face and pretend the salon visit was a momentary lapse in judgment.

The cloth brushed against her jawline, and a sudden surge of revulsion rushed through her mind. Her hand froze in midair as she stared at the patch of bare skin exposed by the wipe. The natural flesh looked plain and boring, lacking the vibrant allure she now craved. The sight of her own unpainted face disgusted her, twisting her stomach into uncomfortable knots.

You look unfinished now, her own voice whispered in her head, slipping into her thoughts with a mocking clarity. You have a beautiful face, but you always want to hide it away behind a boring facade. Those plain features belong to an ordinary woman, and you are very special, Victoria.

“I won’t look like a bimbo,” Victoria whispered, lowering the cloth to the counter.

You don’t get that choice anymore. You’re a thief, the voice replied, reasoning with a logic that made her skin prickle. You stole that idea to stroke your ego, wanting to be the center of attention while everyone praised you. You need to look the part to match your new attitude. Wash that face, and you’ll feel hideous all day. Put the makeup back on.

Victoria dropped the wipe into the trash can. The curse offered no physical pain this time, choosing to wage a psychological war against her vanity instead. She stared at the unpainted patch on her jaw, feeling a wave of nausea at the sight of her bare skin. She hated the plainness, needing the artificial glamor to feel comfortable inside her own body.

She opened the drawers of her vanity, revealing the large stash of cosmetics she had purchased at a pharmacy on her way home from the salon last night. A sudden compulsion had driven her to buy palettes of bright eyeshadow, thick tubes of lipstick, and bottles of liquid contour. She pulled the items out of the drawer, lining them up across the bathroom counter with trembling fingers.

She began the process of erasing her natural beauty once again. She squeezed thick liquid foundation onto a sponge, applying the substance across her cheeks and forehead before blending it down her neck. She grabbed a dark pencil to trace thick lines around her eyes, extending the wings outward to create a dramatic, seductive gaze. She picked up a set of false eyelashes and glued them directly to her eyelids. The thick lashes framed her blue eyes, giving her a flirtatious appearance she would normally despise.

Her hands moved with practiced ease, guided by the supernatural force hijacking her impulses. She swept a brush coated in bronzer across her cheekbones to sharpen her facial structure, adding a bright pink blush to the apples of her cheeks. She picked up a dark pink lip liner and traced far outside her natural lip shape, expanding the borders of her mouth to an absurd degree. She filled the expanded area with a bright pink lipstick, finishing the application with a generous layer of gloss. She puckered her lips, admiring the plumped, inviting shape.

She set the cosmetics down and studied the final result in the mirror. The woman staring back at her looked like a high-maintenance trophy wife, masking the modest community center director beneath layers of paint. The revulsion she felt moments ago vanished, replaced by a disturbing sense of satisfaction. She felt attractive, and a thrill of vanity rushed through her veins as she accepted her new look.

She turned away from the sink and walked back into the bedroom, approaching her open closet. Her conservative wool skirts and buttoned blouses remained piled on the floor from the previous day. She reached down and touched the fabric of an old sweater, but a sharp prickle of heat warned her to stay away. She ignored the modest clothing and focused on the scant garments hanging on the rack, knowing the curse dictated her wardrobe and punished any attempt to cover her skin.

She selected a cropped white tank top. The garment lacked straps and featured a plunging neckline that offered no coverage for her chest. She pulled the top over her pink hair and adjusted the fabric, feeling the hem stop inches above her navel. Her modest breasts pressed against the thin material, and the lack of a bra left the shape of her nipples visible through the white cloth.

She grabbed a pair of denim shorts from a hanger, sliding them up her thighs and fastening the metal button. The denim rode on her hips, featuring a cut short enough to leave the lower curve of her ass exposed to the air. She reached into the bottom of the closet and retrieved a pair of wedge sandals, slipping her bare feet into the footwear. The cork wedges elevated her height, forcing her calves to flex and her hips to align differently.

The moment the sandals touched the floor, her body betrayed her conscious desires. Her spine arched backward, her chest thrust forward, and her hips tilted into a provocative, submissive stance. She accepted the forced posture, knowing she lacked the strength to fight the compulsion. She walked across the bedroom, her hips swaying in a wide, sensual strut as the acrylic nails tapped against her bare thighs.

She reached the door and paused, taking a moment to understand the reality of her situation. She had surrendered her modesty and her style, transforming into a superficial slutty version of the woman she used to be. The worst part was the insidious pleasure she felt when she embraced the changes, knowing she enjoyed the exposing garments and the dramatic makeup. She pushed the door open and headed down the stairs, preparing to face the day while looking like a pink-haired bimbo.

❖

Victoria stood behind the main desk inside her Pearl Cove Community Center office. She held a sharp box cutter in her hand, slicing through the packing tape sealing a stack of cardboard shipping boxes. The local bookstore had dropped off a donation of new best-selling novels for the upcoming adult literacy program. She needed to organize the materials into individual learning kits before the students arrived for their evening session.

She pulled the cardboard flaps open and reached inside. Her fingers wrapped around a stack of glossed novels. Her pink nails tapped against the book covers, making the simple task of lifting the materials far more awkward and frustrating than it needed to be. She set the stack down on the desk and began sorting the books into neat piles, matching each novel with a corresponding workbook. She moved efficiently through the boxes, determined to keep her mind focused on the task at hand. The tedious organization offered a temporary distraction from the embarrassing, exposing outfit she felt compelled to wear.

A sharp chime sounded from the surface of her desk. She paused her sorting and looked down. Her phone vibrated against the laminate material, displaying a push notification across the lock screen. The alert icon belonged to her personal banking app.

She picked up the device, her long nails sliding awkwardly across the glass screen. The pink-haired woman tapped the notification and waited for the application to load. The dashboard appeared a second later, displaying her current checking account balance in bold red numbers. A minus sign sat directly next to the digits.

Her account was overdrawn by several hundred dollars.

Panic gripped her chest. She navigated to the recent transactions page, scrolling through the list to find the source of the deficit. She had transferred her last bit of spare cash to the community center public ledger just a few days ago to cover the outstanding utility bill. She knew her personal funds were low, but she had budgeted enough money for basic groceries to survive until the next trust disbursement.

Her eyes locked onto a massive charge posted late last night. Lola’s Beauty and Hair had billed her card for an exorbitant sum. She tapped on the digital receipt, expanding the itemized list of services she had demanded during her spur-of-the-moment visit. The teenager had charged her a premium for an emergency after-hours appointment.

Victoria stared at the screen, her heart racing against her chest. She couldn’t afford this level of vanity. Her family trust held millions in assets, but her personal allowance remained strictly limited. She had deliberately restricted her own finances to support the town. Now, the bank was preparing to hit her account with overdraft penalties she had no way to pay that would put her further into debt.

A horrifying realization settled into her mind as she processed the numbers. Whatever dumb voice in her head had dictated this new look, it punished any attempt to reject the changes. The bright pink hair would grow out, requiring frequent, costly root touch-ups to hide her natural brunette strands. The acrylic nails would chip and demand frequent fills at the salon. Her false eyelashes, thick foundation, and glossy lip colors would run out and need constant replacement.

Maintaining this trashy facade required a steady stream of disposable income. She lacked the personal funds to support the cosmetic upkeep. If she allowed the hair color to fade or the long nails to break, Victoria imagined the supernatural affliction would torture her mind with that unbearable, agonizing revulsion again. The threat of that punishment terrified her. She needed money to survive her own vanity.

Her gaze drifted across the office. A metal petty cash box sat on a low shelf next to the filing cabinets. The container held the emergency reserve funds for the community center, alongside the leftover cash donations collected during the bake sale. She knew exactly how much money sat inside that box.

Well, you do need the cash, and you’ve given so much to the center already, her own voice whispered in her head, adopting a calm, pragmatic tone. You drained your bank account to keep the heating on for this building. The center owes you.

“What? I can’t steal from this place,” Victoria muttered, shaking her head. “That money belongs to the town. It makes a difference in people’s lives.”

You sacrifice all your time for this community, the voice countered, slipping effortlessly into her thoughts. You work endless hours. You receive no salary for it. You deserve a little compensation. Take a cut. It’s only fair.

She stared at the box. The logic presented by the voice suddenly felt right. She had spent the last three years running the facility out of the goodness of her heart. She managed the staff, paid the bills, and organized the events. The town expected her to handle every crisis without ever asking for a dime. She lived on frozen meals while the citizens of Pearl Cove praised her generosity.

Just open the box, her thoughts urged, the suggestion wrapping around her conscience. Nobody audits the petty cash. You control the ledgers. You can adjust the margins later. Take what you earned.

Victoria took a slow step toward the filing cabinets. She reached out and grabbed the handle of the container. She carried it back to her desk, setting it down next to the stacks of books she’d just organized. She retrieved a small key from her purse and slipped it into the lock. The mechanism clicked open.

The woman lifted the lid. Stacks of twenty- and fifty-dollar bills rested inside the compartments. The sight of the currency sent a warm, intoxicating thrill through her veins. She knew it was wrong, that it was more than wrong, but she deserved this. She reached her hand into the largest compartment. Her acrylic nails scraped against the metal as she gripped a thick stack of cash.

She pulled the money from the box. She didn’t bother to count the bills. She simply shoved the wad of cash into the main pocket of her purse. She closed the lid, turning the key to lock the remaining funds away.

Victoria picked up her purse and adjusted the strap over her bare shoulder, noticing the added bulk of the stolen money pressing against her side. A sharp pang of guilt pierced her chest as she stared at the locked metal box. She had crossed a line she swore she never would, taking from the people she promised to support just to fund her own vanity. She swallowed hard to force the sickening feeling down, grabbed her keys from the desk, and turned toward the door, desperate to leave the office before anyone caught her with the charity’s cash.

❖

Stepping out of the main office, the community center director closed the door behind her and leaned against the painted drywall. She took a moment to steady her breathing. The hallway remained quiet during the mid-morning lull. She pushed her pink hair over her shoulder and began walking toward the community bulletin boards, her hips swaying in a wide, forced strut as the cork wedges clicked against the lino flooring.

Chloe Jenkins, a nineteen-year-old college student who volunteered on Tuesday afternoons, rounded the corner at the same time. The young woman wore a modest sweater and a pair of loose jeans. She stopped in the middle of the hallway, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of her boss. Chloe stared at the bright pink hair, the dramatic makeup, the exposed cleavage pouring out of the cropped white tank top, and the short denim shorts leaving her lower curves on display.

“Oh, hi, Ms. Blaire,” Chloe stammered. “Are you doing alright? You look a bit different today. Is this a new look?”

Victoria opened her mouth to offer a professional explanation that belied her current appearance. She wanted to reassure the young volunteer that nothing had changed.

You naughty naughty girl. You stole from the charity, her own voice whispered in her head, the tone dripping with mocking judgment. A naughty little thief like you doesn’t deserve to control her speech. You gave up your morals, and now you surrender your eloquence. You want to dress like a bimbo; you will speak like one.

A strange numbness washed over Victoria’s tongue. The muscles in her throat constricted, tightening her vocal cords into an unfamiliar shape. She tried to push past the sensation, focusing on the articulate sentence she had formulated in her mind. I am quite well, Chloe; I simply decided to try something new.

“Oh my god, like, I am doing fine, babe,” she said instead.

Her eyes widened in horror. The words escaped her glossy lips in a sexy, high-pitched soprano. She sounded like an airhead. The intelligent tone she relied on was gone, replaced by a vacuous drawl that drew out the vowels and ended every statement with an upward, questioning inflection.

Chloe blinked, taking a step backward. Her brow rose in confusion. “Are you sure? You sound kind of strange.”

Victoria felt a spike of panic pierce her chest. She needed to correct this immediately. She needed to reassert her normal tone and prove her intellect remained intact. She concentrated all her mental energy on forcing her mouth to obey her commands. She pictured the exact syllables she wanted to produce. There’s no cause for concern; please ensure the literacy flyers are distributed before five o’clock.

“There is, like, no reason to panic,” she cooed, her lips pouting instinctively as she spoke. “Just put the paper thingies on the board before five, okay?”

Chloe frowned, glancing down at the stack of detailed pamphlets resting in her hands. “The paper thingies? You mean the adult literacy guides?”

Yes, the literacy guides, Victoria screamed in her own mind. That’s exactly what I meant.

She wanted to apologize and dismiss herself gracefully before the situation degraded further. Things were clearly getting out of hand. I apologize for my strange behavior; I am just going through some things at the moment.

“I’m just, like, going through some things at the minute, sweetie,” the pink-haired woman whined, a breathy giggle escaping her throat. “It’s just a fun vibe, you know?”

Chloe nodded slowly, her expression shifting from confusion to mild pity. “Okay. I’ll go pin these up then. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thanks, babe,” Victoria blurted out.

She clamped a hand over her own mouth. The rogue phrase slipped out without any conscious thought, bypassing her brain entirely. She turned away from the young volunteer and hurried down the hallway. Her wedge heels clicked against the floorboards, forcing her to sway her hips aggressively with every frantic step.

She bypassed her office and ducked into the empty staff breakroom instead, pulling the door shut behind her. She dropped her purse onto a plastic table and held onto the edges of the counter. She stared at her own reflection in the small window above the sink. The bright pink hair and dramatic eyelashes framed a face twisted in genuine terror.

She needed to test her voice in private, away from judging eyes. She took a deep breath, focusing on a simple, factual statement to ground herself. I am a smart and capable director.

“I am, like, a smart and capable girl,” she whispered to the empty room.

The sentence came out in that same vacuous drawl. Her internal monologue remained sharp and normal, but the moment she tried to communicate those thoughts to the outside world, her words were reduced to a dumb joke of the English language. She realized the devastating scope of her punishment. She couldn’t use her voice to portray her professionalism or intelligence. Anyone who spoke to her would assume she was a vapid bimbo, and she lacked the ability to prove them wrong.

A frustrated sigh escaped her lips, morphing into another ditzy giggle against her will. The disconnect between her brilliant mind and her new voice threatened to tear her sanity apart. She pushed away from the counter, dreading the meetings she had to endure for the rest of the afternoon.

She grabbed a memo left on the table by the janitorial staff, outlining the cleaning schedule for the upcoming week. She decided to read it out loud, hoping that reading verbatim text would bypass the curse and force her mouth to produce proper sounds.

The floors require mopping every evening after closing.

“The floors, like, need a wash every night after we close up,” Victoria read, her voice dripping with that unbearably sweet tone.

She threw the paper back onto the table. The supernatural force tormenting her actively intercepted her brain signals, rewriting her vocabulary before the sound left her lips. She felt her spine arch backward, thrusting her chest out as she stood in the center of the room. Her body matched the energy of her new voice, settling into a submissive, provocative stance she couldn’t seem to correct.

She ran her acrylic nails through her pink hair, the long extensions tangling around her fingers. The cost of her vanity was a devastating loss of her identity. She had traded her eloquence for a handful of stolen cash to maintain a trashy look. The guilt of the theft gnawed at her, but the immediate crisis of her ruined speech demanded her attention.

She took a bottle of water from the fridge and twisted the cap off. The woman took a long drink, hoping the cold liquid would shock her vocal cords back to normal. She swallowed and tried one last time to speak normally. I must get back to work.

“I gotta, like, get back to work, babe,” she chirped.

She tossed the plastic bottle into the recycling bin and snatched her purse off the table. Victoria felt like she was losing her mind. She pulled the door open and stepped back out into the hallway, forcing her legs to carry her toward her office. She had no idea why this kept happening to her, but for now, she would need to put on a brave face until she had time to look into it.

❖

The bell above the cafe door chimed as customers filtered in and out of the small, local establishment located just a block away from the community center. Victoria sat in a booth near the back wall, her hands resting on the surface of the table. She kept her posture upright, fighting the urge to arch her spine and present her chest to the room. Jack Henderson sat across from her. The chubby local business owner ran a chain of hardware stores in the county and served as one of her most reliable donors.

Jack pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. He refused to make eye contact with the woman across from him. His gaze kept darting down toward her cleavage before snapping back up to the menu holder sitting between them. He shifted uncomfortably against the booth seating, clearly intimidated by her hyper-sexualized appearance.

“I appreciate you meeting me on short notice, Ms. Blaire,” Jack said, his voice trembling as he stuffed the handkerchief back into his pocket. “I need to discuss the upcoming quarter. I ran the numbers for the store this morning, and things are tight. I need to rethink about my current charitable commitments. Unfortunately, I’ll have to withdraw my funding until I right the ship.”

Victoria felt her pulse quicken. She had already earmarked this quarter’s check to pay for the aging equipment in the sports hall. She had promised the volunteer coach that she would get it done. The pink-haired woman would need to deploy her best negotiating tactics to salvage the relationship. Without his money, the children of Pearl Cove could very well lose their after-school activities. She opened her mouth to form a reasonable argument regarding the tax benefits of charitable donations and the long-term good PR his brand would receive in return.

Look at the man sitting across from you, her own voice whispered in her mind, and Victoria already knew that nothing good would come of it. He isn’t listening to your brain. He doesn’t care about public relations. He’s staring at your little tits. He’s attracted to you, and you need to use that. Using your body is the best way to change his mind.

Victoria tried to push the dark suggestion away. She refused to manipulate the man who had been so good to her by weaponizing her current appearance. She pictured the exact words she needed to convey her argument. Jack, your contributions provide essential resources for underprivileged families, and the tax write-offs make it a sound financial strategy for your business. We can structure the payments to ease your cash flow.

“Like, Jack, you’re a smart businessman,” she cooed, her painted lips pouting playfully. “You know these kids, like, need your help to play their games. And think about the tax thingies. It makes you look like a big hero to everyone in town. We can even split the money stuff up to make it easy for you.”

The breathy lullaby voice coated every syllable. She sounded like a vapid party girl trying to talk her way out of a parking ticket.

Jack blinked, his face flushing a bright shade of red. He didn’t know what to make of Victoria’s change of mannerisms and appearance, but his hardening cock didn’t care.

“Umm, I-I understand the benefits,” Jack stammered, pulling at the collar of his dress shirt. “I just don’t have the margins right now. The- are you feeling okay, Victoria?”

Victoria needed to reassure him that her mind remained sharp, even if her appearance suggested otherwise. She wanted to brush off his concern and pivot back to the finances. I’m perfectly fine, Jack. I just felt like changing things up a bit. Now let’s get back to those local radio spots you buy. You could easily use that money for the sports hall instead.

“Oh my god, I am, like, doing amazing, babe,” she giggled, twisting a thick strand of pink hair around her long nails. “I just wanted to do a fun little makeover. But we need to, like, talk about your money stuff.”

Jack swallowed hard. He tried to keep his eyes focused on her face, but his gaze immediately dropped back down to her almost exposed chest.

“Right, the money,” he mumbled. “I just can’t spare it, Victoria. Business is tough.”

She knew her old persuasive techniques were never going to get anywhere in her current state. The voice in her head was right. He wanted her, and she needed his money. She needed to use that to close the deal. You throw cash away on those awful billboards out on the highway. Cancel them and give the funds to the community center. I would owe you a big favor.

“But you waste all your cash on those boring billboards, sweetie,” she purred, her body moving before her mind could catch up.

“If you cancel those dumb signs, you can, like, give the money to the kids,” she whined, her voice dropping into a sultry, inviting pitch. “And I would be, like, your biggest fan, Jack. I would, like, totally owe you one.” She winked suggestively after she spoke.

Jack melted under the blatant sexual bribery. His nervous energy vanished, replaced by a desperate need to please the attractive woman sitting across from him. A fresh bead of sweat dripped down his temple, and he absentmindedly wiped it away with the back of his hand.

“I, umm, suppose those highway billboards don’t bring in much foot traffic,” Jack whispered, his voice cracking. He reached across the table and placed his hand over hers. “I can probably still find the cash you need, Victoria.”

Victoria felt a wave of disgust at the man’s touch, but she knew what she needed to do to seal the deal. She needed a guarantee that the check would clear before she let him leave the cafe. I need your word that the funds will be transferred by Friday, Jack. The invoice for the equipment is due next week.

“You have to, like, promise to send the money by Friday, sweetie,” she cooed, squeezing his fingers between her acrylic nails. “The coach needs to buy the balls and stuff next week. Do you promise?”

“I promise,” Jack said, nodding eagerly. A dopey grin spread across his face, his eyes lingering on her cleavage one last time. “I’ll have my accountant wire the money to the center tomorrow morning.”

“You are, like, the best guy ever,” she chirped, flashing him a bright smile. “I knew I could count on you, Jack.”

Jack pulled his hand back and scrambled out of the booth. He nearly knocked his knees against the underside of the table in his haste to stand up. He straightened his tie and smoothed down the front of his dress shirt.

“Can I get you anything else before I head out?” Jack asked, lingering by the edge of the table. “A coffee or a pastry? Perhaps I could even take you out for a drink next week, just the two of us, you know?”

She wanted to decline the inappropriate invitation immediately. She needed to maintain professional boundaries with her donors, especially after crossing the line to secure his cash. I appreciate the gesture, Jack, but I prefer to keep our relationship focused on the charity.

“Oh my god, you are, like, the sweetest guy ever to offer,” she cooed, batting her long false eyelashes at the nervous man. “But I am, like, booked solid right now. Maybe we can grab that drink after the money clears, babe?”

Jack beamed at the suggestion. The vague promise of a future date was all he needed to hear. He thanked her for the meeting, turned around, and hurried out of the cafe with a bounce in his step.

Victoria let out a shaky breath and slumped against the vinyl booth. She watched him walk past the storefront window, a sickening sense of self-loathing twisting in her stomach. She had won the negotiation, saving the sports hall for her youth members, but the victory felt tainted. She had chosen to lean into the curse. She used her exposed cleavage, her breathy voice, and a flirtatious attitude to extort money from a man who was clearly into her. The worst part was the undeniable thrill she felt when Jack surrendered to her charms. She enjoyed having him look at her like that and obey her suggestions. What the hell am I becoming? She wondered in horror. Whatever was happening to her was taking over her life, and everyone around her was starting to become affected.

❖

Victoria walked down the hallway and pushed her office door open. She stepped inside and let the door click shut behind her, craving a moment of privacy away from judging eyes. She crossed the carpeted floor and dropped her purse onto a chair before sinking into the leather seat behind her desk.

Her mind raced as she replayed the events of the cafe on an endless loop. She had manipulated the charitable Jack Henderson into handing over his money. She pictured the nervous man staring at her tits, and a wave of nausea washed over her. She hated what she did, but she remembered the undeniable thrill she felt when he surrendered to her demands. It felt so wrong, so why the hell did it also feel so right?

A sudden knock echoed through the room. Victoria jumped in her seat and took a steadying breath before calling out for the visitor to enter.

The door opened, and Tony Musker stepped into the office. The arrogant older man wore his traditional tailored suit and a confident smirk. He closed the door behind him and leaned against the frame, taking a long look at the woman sitting on the other side of the desk. He grinned widely when he saw her.

“Good afternoon, Victoria,” the man said, his eyes trailing down her body. “I decided to drop by since I was in the neighborhood. You look different today.”

Victoria felt her chest tighten. This was not a good time. She needed to get rid of the older man as soon as she could. I decided to try a new look, Tony. What brings you by the center this afternoon?

“Oh my god, I just wanted a fun makeover,” she moaned out instead, her body automatically arching backward to present her breasts to him. “What are you doing here, babe?”

Tony let out a low laugh, amused by the unexpected display. He took a slow, deliberate step into the room, his eyes scanning her from head to toe. He pushed off the doorframe and walked toward her desk. His gaze remained locked on her exposed cleavage and the way she thrust that chest out. He seemed captivated by her new submissive posture and the breathy, vacant tone of her voice.

“A fun makeover, huh?” the financier asked, stopping at the front edge of the desk. “I have to admit, it works for you. You sound different, too. I like it. I came by because I have a lucrative fundraising idea I thought you’d like to hear.”

Victoria needed to focus on the charity and ignore his wandering eyes. The man had never given her a workable idea in his life, but she was eager to steer the conversation back to work. I’d love to hear about any ideas you have, Tony. Please tell me the details.

“Oh my god, I love, like, hearing about money ideas,” she chirped, her lips forming an exaggerated pout. “Tell me all about it, babe.”

Tony smirked, his eyes dropping to her chest again. “I am hosting some associates from New York at my estate tonight. They want to diversify their portfolios with charitable donations. I think you should come by my house later this evening to meet them. They have deep pockets.”

Victoria gasped. If Tony was telling the truth, this presented a chance to secure a huge injection of investment. She needed to play this right. That sounds great. I will bring the latest financial reports and a presentation.

“That sounds like a fun time,” the pink-haired woman giggled, batting her false eyelashes at the man. “I’ll bring all my papers to show your friends.”

“You won’t need any paperwork, doll,” the man said condescendingly, stepping around the side of the desk. “Just bring yourself. My friends prefer to evaluate what they are investing in with their eyes. They want to see the pretty face of the charity before they hand over their cash.”

Tony stepped closer. He stood right next to the young woman’s leather chair. Victoria felt the heat radiating from his legs. She needed to set a firm boundary right now. She pictured herself standing up and asking him to step back, just as she had done a dozen times before. Please step back, Tony.

Before she could attempt to open her mouth, Tony reached down. He placed his hand on her shoulder, letting his fingers roam along her exposed skin. He pulled her closer, forcing her body against his waist.

A sudden rush of wet heat flooded straight to her pussy, leaving her panties slick with arousal. Her mind screamed in outrage at the unwanted contact. She ordered her arms to push his chest away. She commanded her legs to stand up and retreat to the other side of the room. She wanted to slap his smug face and throw him out of her office.

Her muscles refused to obey her commands. The freezing shudder she experienced at the cafe returned to wash over her skin. She knew she was in trouble.

Look at you, her voice whispered in her mind, dripping with patronizing glee. You wanted to act like a cheap slut for Jack, and you weaponized your sexuality for a favor. You broke your professional boundaries to get what you wanted. You surrendered them, and now you have none left. Your body belongs to any man who wants to touch it, and you will act like you love every second of it.

Instead of pushing the arrogant financier away, her body betrayed her logic, melting against his waist. She rubbed her bare thighs against his slacks. Her spine arched further, pressing her breasts forward to rub against his suit jacket. A breathy moan escaped her painted lips. She stared up at Tony, her eyes wide with internal terror, while her face formed a pliant, vacant smile. She hated him touching her, but her skin buzzed with undeniable pleasure under his rough hands.

Tony blinked, his confident smirk faltering for a brief second. He clearly expected her to push his hands away. When she leaned into his touch and whimpered like a desperate slut, his surprise morphed into a triumphant grin. He slid his hands down her arms and held her bare waist.

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise,” Tony said, his voice dropping into a rough growl. “I always knew you hid a dirty little secret behind that uptight professional act. You like it when I touch you, don’t you?”

Victoria desperately wanted to scream in his face and spit on his expensive clothes. I despise you, Tony. Take your hands off me and get out of my office.

“Oh my god, I, like, love it, sweetie,” she purred, her hips swaying against his groin. “You make me feel amazing.”

The older man let out a harsh laugh and squeezed her hips. His thumbs dug into the soft flesh above her denim shorts. He leaned down, placing his face a few inches from hers.

“I’ll see you at eight o’clock, Victoria,” Tony whispered before placing a soft kiss on her cheek. “Don’t be late.”

Tony took one more look at the pink-haired woman, turned around, and walked out of the office.

Victoria collapsed forward, resting her forehead against the surface of her desk. Tears welled up in her eyes, almost ruining her expensive makeup. She possessed a feminist, intelligent mind trapped inside a body she no longer seemed capable of controlling. She had agreed to attend a private party with unknown men, and she now lacked the ability to defend herself from their advances. Her very existence was being altered piece by piece, and she had no idea how to stop it.

❖

The main hall of the Pearl Cove Community Center sat quiet and empty as the evening approached. Victoria stood near the front entrance with a ring of keys resting in her palm. She waited for the final stragglers to finish their activities and leave the building. The exhausting afternoon and her latest transformation had left her drained. She wanted nothing more than to return to her quiet house, take off her uncomfortable shoes, and figure out a way to break the inexplicable hold on her life.

Sarah rushed down the adjacent corridor with a worried expression plastered across her face. The daytime operations manager carried a wad of papers in one hand and a metal lockbox in the other. Victoria’s eyes widened as she recognized that box instantly.

“Ms. Blaire, we have a problem,” the woman said, stopping a few feet away from the entrance. “A big problem.”

Victoria offered a rehearsed smile. She unsuccessfully fought the urge to thrust her chest out. What’s wrong, Sarah?

“Oh my god, like, tell me what is going on, babe,” she whined instead.

Sarah held the metal lockbox up. “I went to balance the emergency petty cash like I do at the end of every day. There’s money missing, Victoria. I’ve checked the ledger a million times. It definitely doesn’t line up.”

The pink-haired woman felt her stomach drop into her shoes. A cold sweat broke out across the back of her neck. She knew exactly where the missing bills went. The stolen cash sat crumpled at the bottom of her purse, destined to pay for her makeup and fake nails.

Sarah looked around to make sure no one was watching when she made her next statement. “I saw James hanging around the petty cash office this morning. I think he may have stolen it.” She retrieved her phone from her pocket. “I think we should call the police and report it.”

Victoria stared at the cell phone resting in Sarah’s hand. An icy chill raced down her spine, replacing her initial shock with a sense of dread. If the police arrived, they would request access to the security camera footage. The officers would find out that she was the last person in that room. She’d end up in jail for sure.

Are you really that stupid? the malicious voice echoed inside her mind. Don’t you remember the CCTV went down last week and they haven’t been back to fix it yet? Sarah handed you a perfect little gift. James asked you for rent money last week, and Sarah saw him near the room. That’s all we need to get away with it.

Victoria felt a wave of nausea hit her stomach. James volunteered his free time for this place. He needed the community center as much as they needed him. Framing an innocent boy for a crime he didn’t commit crossed a moral boundary she couldn’t touch. The deceit went against everything she stood for. She wanted to make this right. She should just give back the money.

She reached a hand toward the top of her purse. Her fingers brushed against the leather straps. The thought of pulling the stolen bills out and handing them over brought a rush of terrifying consequences. Sarah would know she stole the money. The local paper would print her mugshot on the front page. Her entire family’s name would be dragged through the mud, and her parents’ legacy would be destroyed.

She pulled her hand away from the purse and let it fall to her side. Her instinct for self-preservation overpowered her sense of empathy. She needed to save herself and her family, even if it meant destroying an innocent young man in the process. Yes, Sarah. James came into my office last week begging for financial help. I declined his request, and he became agitated. He must have taken the cash to pay his landlord.

“Oh my god, you are, like, a genius,” Victoria chirped. “He came to my desk last week begging for, like, rent cash. I told him no, and he totally threw a massive fit. He must’ve, like, taken it to pay his landlord, babe.”

Sarah blinked in confusion. She looked away from the metal lockbox and stared at the director. “Victoria, are you feeling alright?” she asked, her voice tinged with concern. “Why are you talking like that girl from Clueless?”

Victoria felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment under her heavy makeup. I’m fine, Sarah. It is just a new thing I’m trying out to stay hip with the youngsters. Don’t worry about me and call the cops.

“Oh my god, I am, like, doing amazing, sweetie,” she purred, twisting a strand of pink hair around her finger. “It is just a fun vibe to stay cool with the kids. You just need to call the cops right now.”

Sarah shook her head and brought the phone up to her ear. She dialed the emergency number and waited for the operator to answer. Victoria stood in the quiet hallway and listened to her subordinate recount the false narrative. The daytime manager provided James’s description and explained where he was.

The realization of her monstrous lie settled deep in Victoria’s bones. She watched Sarah speak to the dispatcher and felt a suffocating pressure build inside her chest. She had condemned a down-on-his-luck volunteer to a criminal record just to cover up her own theft. The woman felt sick. She crossed her arms under her breasts and dug her acrylic nails into her bare skin, seeking physical pain to distract her from the agonizing truth of her own corruption.

A distant wail pierced the evening silence outside the building. The sound of approaching sirens grew louder with each passing second. Victoria stayed frozen in place near the front entrance, unable to look away from the glass doors. She listened as squad cars pulled into the back parking lot and screeched to a halt near the dumpsters. The sudden shout of commanding voices echoed through the alleyway, signaling the exact moment the officers cornered James. She had made her choice to protect her own secrets, and the innocent man would pay the price for her sins.

❖

A uniformed police officer pressed a hand against the top of James’s head and guided him into the back of the squad car parked near the dumpsters. The young volunteer had his wrists cuffed behind his back. He twisted his neck to look back at the Community Center, his face twisted in disbelief and shock. A second cop stood near the rear bumper and kept a watchful eye on the small crowd gathering near the edge of the parking lot.

“I didn’t take the money,” James begged, his voice cracking as he looked toward the bystanders on the sidewalk. “You have to believe me. I just empty the trash cans. I don’t even know where the cash is kept. Please talk to Ms. Blaire. She knows I wouldn’t do this.”

The officer ignored the pleas and pushed the young man into the backseat before slamming the door shut.

Victoria stood near the edge of the sidewalk and watched the scene unfold. She hugged her arms under her breasts. The guilt twisted in her stomach like a knife. She had always preached about second chances and helping the less fortunate. Now she stood idly by while a vulnerable man took the fall for her crimes. She wanted to march over to the cop car and confess everything to the officers, but stayed exactly where she was.

Sarah stood next to the director, shaking her head. The woman watched the police vehicles with a grim expression.

“I feel bad for him,” Sarah said, crossing her arms over her chest. “But we can’t let people steal from us. The cops will figure out what he did with the cash.”

Victoria wanted to agree and offer a response to maintain her cover. It is a real shame, Sarah. I hope the police find out what’s going on.

“It is, like, a massive bummer, babe,” Victoria whined, letting out a breathy sigh that sounded ridiculous in the serious situation. “I hope the cops sort it out fast.”

Several men from the nearby neighborhood had wandered over to the edge of the lot to watch the commotion. The group stood near a pickup truck and drank from canned beers. With James secured in the back of the cruiser, their attention shifted away from the arrest and focused squarely on the pink-haired director.

Victoria noticed a tall man in a baseball cap nudging his buddy and gesturing toward her chest. Earlier in the day, the forced arch of her spine and the exposure of her breasts caused her intense humiliation. She had hated the way Jack Henderson stared at her cleavage in the cafe, and how Tony had touched her in her office. Even through all this, the male gaze always made her skin crawl.

A strange, airy sensation washed over her mind. She waited for the familiar rush of embarrassment and nausea to strike, but her thoughts remained calm. The men by the truck shamelessly tracked the curve of her body and the swell of her cleavage spilling over the cropped white tank top. One of the men even licked his lips.

Instead of feeling violated, a thrilling rush of electricity zipped through the young woman’s veins. She actually seemed to enjoy the attention. Her pussy twitched with pleasure under their hungry stares. She dropped her arms and pushed her shoulders back, purposefully thrusting her chest forward to give the onlookers a better view. Her eyes widened. Why wasn’t she ashamed? Why did she enjoy it?

Ohh, poor Victoria. You threw away your morals to save your reputation, the malicious voice whispered inside her mind. You may have thrown away that man’s life to hide your own theft. You abandoned your integrity and surrendered your pride to save yourself. Now your pride is gone. You are nothing but a shameless exhibitionist. Enjoy all those eyes on you now, slut.

Victoria gasped. Whatever force was doing this to her had stripped away her public inhibition. She knew exactly what was wrong, but her body now reveled in the degradation. She liked knowing these men wanted to touch her.

The men leaned against the metal of their truck, their eyes trailing up and down her bare legs. They drank from their cans and watched her like a prize on display. Before today, a public spectacle like this would send her running for the safety of her own car. Now, she felt an overwhelming urge to give them a spectacular show. She adjusted herself on her heels and popped her hip out to the side. She rested a hand on her bare waist, highlighting the short denim fabric of her shorts. She ran her long nails through her bleached pink hair, tossing the bright strands over her bare shoulder. A breathy sigh escaped her glossed lips as she absorbed their undivided attention.

Sarah turned her attention away from the departing police cruisers. She noticed her boss posing like a corner streetwalking whore for the group of strangers.

“Victoria, what the hell are you doing?” the woman asked, her jaw dropping open in shock. “Those men are staring at you. You need to pull your top back up.”

Victoria needed to defuse the situation and send her subordinate home. I’m aware they are looking at me, Sarah. I’m going home. Have a good evening.

“I know they are, like, looking at me, babe,” Victoria purred, swaying her hips side to side. “I am just getting ready to walk to my car. Have a fun night.”

“You’re acting weird,” Sarah said, gripping her metal box tighter. “You need to sort yourself out.”

Sarah turned around and marched toward her sedan parked down the street. Victoria ignored her departing employee and focused on her audience. She offered the silent men a soft giggle before biting her painted bottom lip. She wiggled her fingers in a playful wave. The men grinned back, their eyes glued to her exposed cleavage.

Victoria turned her back to the group and began the walk toward her own vehicle. She forced her body into a slow strut, exaggerating the way her hips thrust out. She felt their hungry stares fixed on her ass, and she felt the flow of ecstasy run down her spine. Her mind recognized the danger. She knew she needed to find a solution to this supernatural nightmare, but her corrupted body cared only about the thrill of being watched. These changes were coming thick and fast, but she had no time to think about it; she had a gathering to attend.

❖

Victoria tugged at the bottom hem of her short pink latex tube dress. The tight fabric squeezed her breasts upward, pushing her cleavage out for the entire room to see. The dress barely covered her crotch, leaving the bottom curve of her ass exposed to the open air. She stood near the entrance of the spacious living room inside Tony Musker’s estate. The party buzzed with loud conversations and ice clinking against glass. Dozens of older men in well-maintained suits occupied the floor space. She noticed a distinct lack of other women in the house.

A bald man with a thick mustache noticed her as he broke away from a nearby group and walked directly up to her. He stopped inches away and dragged his gaze down her bare legs before staring nakedly at her chest.

“Are you the hired whore for the night, sweetheart?” the stranger asked, licking his lips. “How much does a quick fuck in the bathroom cost?”

Victoria felt a flash of indignation light up her mind. She possessed a master’s degree in business and ran a successful charity. What the fuck? I’d never fuck you. Keep your filthy comments to yourself and step back. Despite her internal revulsion, she felt a wave of pleasure run down her body at his gaze.

Tony stepped up behind her before she could open her mouth. The financier wore a black suit with an open collar. He slid his arm around her bare waist and pulled her flush against his side, saving her from answering the bald man.

“She isn’t a hired whore, Richard,” the older man said, a wide smirk spreading across his face. “This is Victoria. She’s one of my girlfriends. She runs a charity project in town.”

Girlfriends? Victoria wanted to push Tony away and correct his demeaning introduction. Her brain sent the command to her arms, telling her muscles to shove his chest and create distance. The curse intercepted the signal. Her body betrayed her instantly. Because she had surrendered her physical boundaries earlier in the day, she couldn’t allow herself to reject his touch. Instead, she arched her spine, rubbing her bare shoulder against his jacket. She ground her hip directly into his groin, feeling a hard bulge pressing against her thigh. A rush of wet heat flooded her pussy.

Don’t you look like a happy little slut, the dark voice mimicking her own purred in her mind. You gave up your right to say no. Act like a good little bitch and show these men who you answer to.

“I’m, like, Tony’s special girl tonight,” Victoria giggled, leaning her head onto his shoulder. “It’s nice to meet you, babe.”

Tony grinned widely at Victoria’s words. He knew she’d come around eventually. Richard laughed and took a sip from his glass. “My apologies, Tony. She looks a little bit like a cheap hooker in that latex outfit. You’ve got excellent taste in sluts.”

“Thank you, Richard,” Tony said, squeezing Victoria’s bare hip. “How about you go grab us a fresh round of drinks? I need to discuss some business with my girl.”

The bald man nodded and walked toward a marble countertop across the room. Tony kept his hand firmly planted on the bare skin of her waist, his fingers digging into her skin as he turned her to face a large group of men gathered near a stone fireplace.

“As I told you at your office, my associates from New York are eager to diversify their portfolios,” Tony explained, leaning close to her ear. “They want to write off a chunk of cash for tax purposes, and I told them you would show the town in a positive light. They prefer to see exactly what they are paying for.”

Victoria tried to ignore the multitude of changes to her mind and focus on the opportunity. She had a real chance here to secure the funding she needed for the next five years. I’ve got a great proposal I’d love to tell them about. Who do we speak to?

“Oh my god, I have, like, an amazing idea I want to tell them about, babe,” Victoria chirped, batting her false eyelashes as she leaned her weight against his side. “Which of these rich daddies do we talk to?”

Victoria was horrified, but Tony simply chuckled at her breathy words, leading her by the waist toward the circle of older men gathered by the stones. The investors paused their conversation as the pink-haired director approached, their eyes dropping to her exposed cleavage instantly. A few hours ago, the leering stares of strange men would send her running for cover, but her corrupted mind remained clear of any shame. Instead of feeling humiliated by their hungry gazes, an intense thrill shot straight through her spine, causing her nipples to peak against the tight pink latex. She relished the attention, purposefully swaying her hips to give them a better view of her ass as they walked across the floor.

“Gentlemen, this is the lovely Victoria I mentioned,” Tony announced, sliding his hand down to grab her ass cheek right in front of the group. “She runs the charity project, and she is eager to earn your investments tonight.”

“The only thing she looks capable of running is her mouth along the underside of my cock, Tony,” a tall man with gray hair spoke as he reached out and stroked the woman’s smooth bare arm. “Is this some kind of joke?”

Tony chuckled at the crude comment, keeping his firm grip on Victoria’s exposed ass cheek as he pulled her closer against his side. “It is no joke at all, Marcus,” the financier explained, a smug grin spreading across his face. “She might look like a dumb slut, but she understands how this arrangement works, and she’s more than happy to give you a good time if you open your wallets for her charity.”

Marcus smirked at Tony’s reassurance and stepped closer, moving his hand from her arm to forcefully cup her latex-covered breast. Victoria felt his rough fingers pinch her hardened nipple through the thin material, sending a fresh wave of arousal soaking into her panties. She wanted to slap his hand away to demand basic professional respect, but her cursed body arched forward to give him better access to her tits.

Tony patted her exposed ass cheek, announcing to the group that a hundred thousand dollars would buy her undivided attention for the rest of the night. The other men chuckled in agreement, stepping closer to surround the director as they admired her trashy outfit. Another investor reached out to stroke her bare thigh, sliding his fingers dangerously close to her crotch, and Victoria let out a breathy moan of pleasure instead of pushing him away.

Look at how much you love it, the voice mocked her internally, reveling in her total submission. You threw away your pride for a stack of stolen cash, when opening your legs was a much easier way to get the money you needed.

Tony brushed the man’s hand away from her thigh, pulling Victoria flush against his chest to establish his ownership over the pink-haired woman. “Take it easy, fellas,” the financier warned, his voice carrying a smug sense of authority. “I didn’t find Victoria here on some street corner. She is one of my girlfriends, and I expect a little more class from you.”

Marcus pulled his hand back from her latex-covered breast and grinned, taking a long drink from his glass. “My apologies, Tony. Her tits are just practically spilling out of that dress, and she pretty much begged me to squeeze them.”

“She does love the attention, but she also respects a generous benefactor,” Tony continued, running his own hand down her bare arm. “If you boys write the checks to cover her little community center projects, I’m sure she’d love to spend more time with each of you for the duration of your financial agreement.”

Victoria felt no shame in how she acted, and was elated that they were getting somewhere. I assure you the center will manage all agreements, and I will personally oversee the community projects to guarantee this partnership is a success.

“Oh my god, I promise I will, like, take amazing care of all your needs, daddies,” Victoria whined, grinding her ass backward against Tony’s groin as she smiled at the investors. “I love making sure you boys get exactly what you pay for.”

Marcus laughed and reached inside his tailored jacket, pulling a silver pen and a leather checkbook from the breast pocket.

“I think we have a deal, Tony,” the older investor agreed, looking around at the other men who offered their nods of approval. “I’ll get my secretary to forward the necessary paperwork, and I expect your little bimbo to deliver on her dirty promises.”

“She always delivers exactly what she promises, Marcus,” Tony boasted, running his hand up her side to stroke her exposed shoulder. “She might not have a working brain in her head, but she knows how to keep her investors satisfied. Isn’t that right, babe?”

Victoria simply giggled a response, her cheeks flushing red as Tony said his goodbyes and led the young woman away from their hungry stares.

“You did great, Victoria,” he whispered in her ear. “I don’t know what brought on the change of style and attitude, but I like this new you, and I think we can have a lot of fun with it.”

Victoria walked beside the arrogant financier, letting him guide her through the crowd toward the back hallways of the estate. Her body hummed with a dirty, lingering heat from the degrading encounter, and her pussy throbbed with an undeniable urge to please him. Beneath the thick makeup and the vapid smile, her mind recognized the bleak reality of her situation. She had given up her morals in response to her horrible decisions, and the curse had stripped away her defenses piece by piece. She existed as a mindless, eager slut for these men to ogle. She had no idea what was happening to her, or where this damn voice was coming from, but she knew she had to find a way to break the affliction before she forgot the smart, capable woman she used to be.

End of Chapter Three