At first, Vivienne was entirely quiet and calm. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so utterly at peace with herself. Normally, her entire life felt like a battle. There were endless pressures, buzzing around her like flies. Not now. She was perfectly still. Perfectly relaxed. Vivienne was conscious of nothing but a gentle, rhythmic purr she could feel throughout her entire body. It seemed to be coming from beneath her.

Then came a noise so loud, urgent, and uncomfortably familiar, it pierced through her calm and dragged Vivienne unwillingly back to awareness.

It took her a long moment to remember that the sound was her phone ringing.

The ringing ceased, but it was too late. Vivienne blearily opened her eyes and, after the blurry haze resolved into a set of distinct images, realized she was sitting in the back of a limo. Somehow, at first, it didn’t occur to Vivienne to question that. It simply seemed right.

“Oh look! She’s, like, waking up.”

“So she is. Welcome back, sleepyhead.”

Vivienne looked up and saw Melanie Adams sitting opposite her. She blinked. She looked to one side and saw Emma sitting next to her, in all her pink, bimbo glory. She blinked again, then blushed.

Emma. It was really her. It hadn’t all been a dream.

Vivienne’s embarrassingly eager adoration for the bimbo hadn’t been diminished by their meeting. If anything, she was more starstruck than ever. The CEO sat up straight and tried to hide her blush by rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“I apologize,” she said blearily, hoping to recapture a little dignity. “I must have… well, I suppose I’ve been putting in some long hours lately.”

“I understand,” Mel replied, offering a sympathetic smile.

Vivienne nodded gratefully, then looked out of the window. She frowned as the realities of the situation began to set in.

“Where are we going?” she asked. She had no memory of getting in a car or agreeing to anything.

“We’re going shopping!” Emma squealed gleefully. “We’re gonna get you, like, a whole bunch of new outfits.”

“That’s right,” Mel added, a strange look in her eyes. “You remember, don’t you?”

Suddenly, she did. As Mel spoke, the memory was lifted out of the heavy fog that seemed to surround Vivienne’s mind. Remembering that, though, only prompted more questions.

“Right,” she agreed slowly. “But… why?”

Mel’s smile was beginning to look faintly condescending. “We were talking about how stressed and overworked you are. About how you need to make some changes and learn to relax. And since we’re friends, we decided I’d help you out by taking you shopping. Remember?”

Vivienne nodded. It was all coming back to her now, and it was just as Mel said. “Right,” she repeated, rubbing her head. “Goodness. I really must be tired.”

“Don’t worry,” Mel told her. “We can fix that.”

As they spoke, another memory was coming back to Vivienne. This one, unprompted, was far less concrete. It was a mere impression, accompanied by a faint, inexplicable sense of loss. Guided by it, Vivienne found herself reaching up toward the pocket in which she normally wore her pocket watch.

It was gone.

“Looking for this?” Mel asked.

Vivienne looked up and, to her shock, saw that Mel was holding her most prized possession, the very symbol of her prowess as a mind controller, dangling between her fingers.

Vivienne frowned deeply. Mel having it seemed right, somehow, but she couldn’t remember why. That troubled her.

“Why do you have that?” she asked warily. Perhaps something was afoot. Some kind of plot to entrap her and weaken her mind.

“Don’t you remember?” Mel replied. “Whoever’s holding this is in charge. That’s how it works, isn’t it? And since I’m the one who’s taking you out shopping, I’m in charge. That means I hold the pocket watch. Isn’t that right?”

“Oh.” Vivienne steadily relaxed. “Right.”

It was all coming back to her now.

“I can’t believe I forgot my own rules like that,” she apologized again. “I just can’t seem to get my head off my pillow today.”

Mel threw a grin at Emma. Her pet bimbo was giggling helplessly. Vivienne couldn’t imagine at what.

“That’s perfectly OK,” Mel assured her. “Just as long as you’re clear on how this all works.” She gestured to the pocket watch again.

“Of course,” Vivienne promised. “You’ve got the watch. You’re in charge.”

Before Vivienne could figure out why that was bothering her so much, her phone started ringing again. Reflexively, Vivienne slipped the phone out of her pocket and made to answer it.

“Stop,” Mel instructed sharply.

Vivienne froze. She flashed Mel a dissatisfied look.

“Don’t answer it,” Mel told her. “You’re not doing any work today. This shopping trip is all about relaxing and having fun with a makeover. No business.”

Vivienne couldn’t help but feel uneasy with that. Her phone was still ringing. She looked down at the caller ID. It was work, of course. Her CFO was calling.

“It could be important,” she protested.

“They can manage without you for one day,” Mel retorted. “But you? You desperately need to blow off some steam, Vivienne. Don’t answer.”

For a long moment, Vivienne languished in indecision. It was true that, probably, her people could cope. Vivienne couldn’t imagine that anything disastrous was happening. But equally, as CEO, her sign-off was needed on all kinds of decisions, and her leadership style ensured that none of her underlings would be willing to move forward on anything without her. By not taking this phone call, Vivienne was likely causing her company a serious headache. It was in opposition to her entire long-held personal and professional ethos.

But Mel had the pocket watch. She was in charge. That was the rule.

“Fine,” Vivienne acceded. She declined the call.

Listening to Mel felt strange. It didn’t sit quite right with Vivienne. After all, Mel was her rival. Vivienne despised what she represented. She was still determined to hypnotize Mel and break her to her will - eventually. But for now, Vivienne had to follow the rules. As scrambled as her memory was, she could at least remember that much.

But it was more than just that. Vivienne was surprised to find that she was taking a strange comfort in following Mel’s orders. It was a novel experience, she supposed. A welcome break from having to decide everything for herself. She glanced across at Emma, giggling happily again. Was this how she felt all the time? Every day? Vivienne wasn’t sure what to make of the fact that she felt much, much more envy than she did contempt.

Maybe her plans could afford to take a back seat. Maybe letting Mel take the lead for just one day wasn’t so bad.

“Wow!” Emma exclaimed at Mel through her giggles. “Oh my god, that thing, like, totally worked, huh?”

Mel couldn’t suppress a grin of her own as she looked back at her girlfriend. “It really did.”

“What did?” Vivienne asked irritably. Mel was in charge, yes, but that didn’t mean Vivienne liked being talked around.

“Nothing,” Mel swiftly assured her. She glanced at the cell phone Vivienne was still holding. “Actually, Vivienne, you should turn that off before it rings again.”

Vivienne pulled a face. The thought of being out of touch filled her with anxiety. She’d already missed half a dozen calls. There was something exciting about it too, though. Like she was a child again, skipping class.

Not that how she felt really mattered. Not while Mel had the pocket watch.

“Very well,” she agreed. Vivienne switched her phone off and tucked it back in her pocket.

“Good.” Mel’s grin widened. “Look, we’re here.”

Right on cue, the limo pulled over to park. Looking out the window, Vivienne could see that they had driven to the city’s high-end shopping district. The kind of place only elite hypnogarchs and their most favored servants could afford to shop. Vivienne had been there once or twice, although mostly she relied on her brainwashed assistants to do her shopping for her. She simply didn’t have the time.

As they stepped out of the car, Mel checked her own phone before turning to Emma and Vivienne. “I hate to bring down the mood, but it looks like I actually have a couple of calls I need to take,” she said. “My mothers. Work stuff. Emma, why don’t you take Vivienne around?”

“Oh-em-gee!” Emma squealed, while Vivienne blinked in surprise. “Really? I can pick out her stuff?”

“Of course,” Mel replied indulgently. “It’ll be a nice treat - for both of you. Besides, I’m sure Vivienne is just dying for the two of you to get a little one-on-one time.”

Vivienne’s heart skipped a beat. The way Mel said that was alarming. It was almost as if she knew. But no. No, that was impossible.

“Well, yes, I’m sure it’ll be lovely to… to get to know one another,” Vivienne replied lamely, fighting to keep her face neutral. Emma giggled some more.

“Yeah!” the bimbo exclaimed. Without warning, she locked arms with Vivienne. “We’ll be, like, besties in no time.”

Vivienne could have fainted from sheer, starstruck joy.

“Oh, before you get going,” Mel added, “Emma, you’d better take this.”

A distinct shiver raced down Vivienne’s spine as she watched Mel hand Vivienne’s pocket watch over to Emma.

Emma was in charge now.

Vivienne could certainly think of worse things than that. It was like a fantasy come to life.

“Come on!” Emma cried out, already tugging at Vivienne’s arm. “Let’s get going! We’ve got soooo much shopping to do.”

It was like being caught in a whirlwind. Pocket watch and rules notwithstanding, Vivienne was powerless to keep herself from being unceremoniously dragged around the shopping district. Emma’s giddy, gleeful, irrepressible energy was impossible to resist. Vivienne found herself breathing hard as Emma pulled her at a jog from one store to the next, from aisle to aisle, gushing over different items of clothing. Suddenly, she had a new thing to envy Emma for: her fitness. Thanks to all that exercise, Emma seemed to have endless breath to spare for gushing over different clothes and how they might look on Vivienne. It was all Vivienne could do to nod agreeably and try to keep her head from spinning.

But there was one thing she couldn’t help noticing: all the clothes Emma insisted on looking at and buying were pink.

“I… I’m just not sure this is really my color,” Vivienne offered diplomatically, as Emma held something up against her body for inspection. She truly hated disagreeing with her idol, but she felt she had to say something.

“Yes, it is!” Emma replied, somewhat indignantly, and with such force Vivienne couldn’t bring herself to argue back. “Pink is the best. It’s everyone’s color. Duh.”

With the matter settled, Emma marched Vivienne over to the cashier to pay for a set of new sports bras and a couple of pairs of leggings - all bright pink. All the clothes they bought - lingerie, workout clothes, a few casual outfits - were so garish and so revealing that Vivienne could never have seen herself wearing them. But she quickly found she didn’t regret any of the purchases. Quite the opposite. Emma’s joy for all things pink was proving truly infectious. The more they shopped, the more Vivienne could sense her own feelings softening. 

She couldn’t help it. Emma loved pink, and Vivienne wanted to be like Emma.

It was impossible not to. She had everything Vivienne didn’t. She was joyful, carefree, and completely unselfconscious in her happiness. More and more, Vivienne found herself dwelling on the strange envy and longing she felt toward the bimbo. Maybe Emma and Mel were right. Maybe a makeover was exactly what she needed. A few lifestyle changes to bring everything into balance.

All so she could keep pursuing her corporate ambitions, of course. Eventually.

Besides those deeper ruminations, there was, of course, a much simpler form of pleasure to be taken in their little shopping expedition: Vivienne was Emma’s biggest fan, and she was having her favorite bimbo porn star of all time pick out clothes for her.

It was a dream come true.

Slowly but surely, Vivienne started leaning into it. She joined her voice to Emma’s as they squealed over cute outfits. She started suggesting things for herself - always pink, of course. It was fun. More fun than she’d expected. And Emma seemed so pleased with her whenever she did. Soon enough, the two of them were like peas in a pod, giggling over cute clothes and the flashy new outfits they were putting together. Vivienne was having the time of her life - even if Emma did keep pushing at her boundaries of modesty a little.

“Are… you sure?” Vivienne asked gingerly, indicating a pink pencil skirt Emma had picked out that was far, far too short to be deserving of the name. “There’s got to be a longer one around here somewhere.”

She knew Emma was keen for her to have it, and so she half-expected the bimbo to reach for the pocket watch and assert her authority. Instead, Emma simply leaned in close and fixed her with the most devastating puppy-eyes stare Vivienne had ever seen.

“Aw, c’mon!” Emma pleaded. “Don’t you, like, think it’ll look good?”

“I…” Already, Vivienne could feel herself melting.

“It’s just soooo perfect.” Emma’s eyes were practically glistening. “Please?”

“F-fine,” Vivienne found herself saying. She was helpless to resist Emma.

“Yay!” Emma brightened at once, before marching off towards the cashier.

It always played out that way, no matter how risqué the item. Lacy thongs, slutty bras, ridiculous heels - in the end, Vivienne fell prey to them all. It was a strange feeling. Usually, Vivienne always got her way. She was a CEO. A leader. A hypnogarch. Someone who’d clawed her way up from ignominy. She wasn’t used to being such a pushover. Yielding to Emma’s will just felt so easy. So natural. Whenever she tried to muster an objection to the kinds of clothes the bimbo was picking out, her head turned foggy and hazy, and the right words simply wouldn’t come. Simultaneously, the temptation to giggle and smile and just say ‘yes’ grew and grew.

Now and then, as they shopped, Vivienne wondered if she should be worried about the fact that she felt so hazy, or that she was proving to be so weak-willed. But each time she decided - no. It was just a harmless shopping trip. Nothing more.

Besides, Emma had Vivienne’s pocket watch, and that meant she was in charge - and that was Vivienne’s own rule! How could anything be amiss?

Eventually, after what seemed like hours, once Vivienne’s arms were aching from the now-huge shopping bags she was carrying around, Emma led her to the changing room of a particularly up-market boutique. It was the kind of place where the changing room really was a room of its own, with luxurious couches and soft, flattering lighting, and where the staff would bring glasses of champagne on request.

“Finally,” Vivienne sighed, slumping onto one of the couches. “I could use a moment to catch my breath.”

“Nope!” Emma admonished, still a wellspring of excitement. “No time! Cause it’s time to, like, try on some of these adorable outfits.”

Vivienne groaned, but good-naturedly. Emma truly was irresistible. Vivienne hauled herself back to her feet and, as Emma indicated, stepped up to the mirror.

“Oh, yeah,” Emma giggled. “This is gonna be soooo much better.”

A shiver of anticipation raced down Vivienne’s spine, and the CEO giggled nervously.

“Right!” Emma exclaimed, before scrunching up her face like she was struggling to concentrate. “How was I supposed to do it… um… Vivienne, you should just, like, stand there and let me undress you, m’kay?”

“Oh!” Vivienne blushed a little. “Um. OK.”

“And… let’s see…” Emma had the distinct look of an actress who’d forgotten her lines. It was kind of endearing. “While I’m doing that, I want you to, like, look straight ahead at the mirror. And just, like… look at yourself. Got it?”

“Sure.” Just as Emma instructed, Vivienne turned to face the mirror and looked at her own reflection.

At once, Vivienne was struck by just how radical a departure from her typical wardrobe her new clothes were going to be. The clothes she was currently wearing were, like all her clothes, dark, formal, and classy. That morning, Vivienne had dressed herself in one of her normal work outfits: an expensive, finely-tailored, black suit jacket with matching pants, a white shirt beneath, some stylish but sensible flats, and a few pieces of designer jewelry to accentuate the look.

She looked good. Very good, in fact. Vivienne looked fashionable, wealthy, intelligent and powerful. All-in-all, it suited her perfectly - and yet, Vivienne couldn’t help but be struck by how plain and joyless her fashion now seemed compared to what Emma wore each and every day.

“So, like,” Emma began. She spoke with the air of someone who was about to launch into something they’d rehearsed. “Isn’t it funny how some people say that the stuff we wear is, like, part of our… um… our identities?”

Vivienne laughed a little at the way Emma was struggling. “I suppose so,” she agreed. “I’ve heard people say that, yes.”

“Yeah!” Emma said excitedly. “I mean, Mel always says stuff like that. But I dunno. To me, it just sounds, like, silly. What does it even mean? It’s like… like what clothes you put on makes you who you are, or something?”

Vivienne let out another laugh. She felt lucky just to be here, with her star, Emma, listening to her speak like this. Being able to bathe in her presence was just as wonderful as she could have hoped.

“How does that even work?” Emma pouted. “I mean, c’mon! Like, what, you just put some different clothes on, and suddenly you’re a whole new girl? That’s so silly!”

Her voice was especially delightful. Vivienne felt like she could listen to it forever - that lilting bimbo voice, rising at the end of every sentence, free of even the slightest hint of stress or shame. For a long time now, listening to Emma on her videos or audio recordings had been a source of comfort for Vivienne. In person, it was even more relaxing.

“But… I guess maybe I do kinda get it,” Emma reconsidered, tilting her head. “I mean, look at me! I’m a total girly ditz, and all I wear is stuff that’s pink and pretty! So that makes sense, kinda. And you? You’re like this… this serious, smart, big-time business lady! So you wear suits and stuff. It all matches.” She giggled. “Isn’t it funny when you see it like that?”

Vivienne giggled along with her. It just felt natural. She was in such a good mood. Being with Emma, like this, made her feel so light and fluffy. It helped, strangely, to know that Emma was holding her pocket watch. Emma was in charge. For some reason, that made Vivienne feel very safe.

“Still.” Emma’s brow furrowed slightly. “It’s weird to think about how, like, if that’s how it works, then when you take off your clothes, it’s like… it’s like… it’s like you’re taking off who you are. You know?”

“I’m… not sure… that’s how it works,” Vivienne replied bemusedly, and was surprised at how distant and absent her own voice sounded. It was as if, just by listening to Emma, she’d drifted off into a kind of waking sleep.

“I guess maybe not,” Emma conceded brightly. “But! You never know. Maybe it’s just, like, something for you to think about, while you’re getting changed.”

As she spoke, Emma gave a cutesy little flourish that, it just so happened, placed Vivienne’s pocket watch in the palm of her hand. Vivienne could only watch in the mirror as the bimbo fastened the watch to a gold chain necklace she plucked from her purse, and then clasped it around her neck like an amulet. With Emma wearing the symbol of authority, her words seemed to stroke Vivienne’s very soul.

“Let’s get started,” Emma announced. “Remember: just, like, stand there, and watch.”

Vivienne nodded numbly. She stood on the spot and watched herself in the mirror. Emma’s reflection was behind hers, and her eyes were drawn to the pocket watch around her neck. Its rhythmic ticking was endlessly seductive.

“First, I’ll take this off,” Emma said, reaching for the front of Vivienne’s suit jacket. She unbuttoned the front, then took hold of the collar and started to peel it away from the CEO’s shoulders. “You know, a jacket like this really sym… um… symbolizes you, right? It’s what people in, like, your position wear. Businesswomen. Leaders. Serious people. People in charge.”

Vivienne nodded again as Emma’s words worked their way through her mind. There was an undeniable, powerful truth to it. Whenever Vivienne dressed herself in the morning, putting on her suit always felt like putting on her outer layer of armor. With it, she was ready to face the world.

“But now,” Emma added, as she pulled Vivienne’s arms out of the sleeves and let the jacket fall to the ground, “it’s off!” She giggled. “No more serious business lady.”

A dizzying sense of loss took hold of Vivienne’s gut. Once, she’d been on a private jet that had run into some turbulence, and the plane had dropped a thousand feet in just seconds. It was just like that. For a brief moment, she stirred.

Then, the pocket watch caught her eye again. She noticed how, reflected in the mirror, the numerals around the face were backward. It was all the more captivating for it. Trying to read the watch was like trying to unravel a little puzzle. Somehow, it reminded her:

Emma had the watch. Emma was in charge.

No more serious business lady.

Then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the sense of loss was gone, and Vivienne felt nothing but an incredible, blissful lightness.

But Emma was only just getting started. “Now, your pants,” she said, already unfastening them. “I think these are like… um… I don’t remember what Mel said, actually.” She giggled. “But it makes me think about that expression. Y’know? Wearing the pants? Like, being in charge.” Another giggle. “Well, um, now you’re not!”

Like she was sleepwalking, Vivienne stepped out of her pants. Once more, she felt it: the loss, then the lightness. It was quicker this time. Easier.

Maybe it was something to do with the way she’d been following Emma’s lead all day. Vivienne was completely and totally swept up in her rhythm. If either of them was wearing the pants in the relationship, it wasn’t Vivienne. And somehow, that felt natural. It was like Vivienne didn’t need to be in charge anymore.

It was such a relief.

“Next,” Emma cooed, “your shirt.” She reached around Vivienne and started to unbutton it. “It’s so… so nice. Nice and professional. Nice and modest. I guess you can, like, show a little cleavage, if you want. But besides that, you look really, um, what was the word? Dignified. Yeah. Dignified.”

Once more, Vivienne nodded. She was so relaxed. Listening to Emma was so easy.

“Let’s take that off too.” Emma giggled quietly. “Shall we?”

She slipped the shirt off of Vivienne’s body and let it fall softly to the ground.

Vivienne shivered briefly as she felt the cool air on her bare skin. She looked at herself in the mirror, losing herself to her own image. She was wearing little more than her underwear now. She was so exposed. So vulnerable. That thought brought with it a little spike of adrenaline. A certain unfamiliar thrill.

And yet, it wasn’t bad. It wasn’t unwelcome. Far from it. She sensed that here, with Emma, she didn’t need to guard herself. Didn’t need to project an image. She could simply be.

Vivienne felt free.

“How about your shoes?”  Emma suggested next, bending at the waist. “Let me take care of those for you.”

In the mirror, Vivienne saw the bimbo lifting her feet and slipping her soles out of her shoes.

“Flats, huh?” Emma giggled. “I mean, they’re nice! Stylish. Sensible, huh? Just like you. That’s what I always think when I see a girl wearing flats. That she’s so, like, serious.” Another giggle. “Makes me wonder what she’s like when the flats come off, and she puts on something a little flashier instead.”

As she finished removing Vivienne’s shoes, Vivienne found herself giggling absently too. Every time Emma took something off, she felt lighter, and that lightness was only growing, filling her, leaving her euphoric.

She was starting to understand how Emma could be so happy and giggly all the time. In a way, it was only natural.

“Oh! And let’s take care of that jewelry too,” Emma exclaimed, standing up. She reached for Vivienne’s pearl earrings, and then her necklace - silver, worked into a fine pattern. “Oo, fancy! Your accessories are all so, like, dignified. So proud. It’s seriously impressive! But, I dunno, I always get tired of being proud like that.” She giggled. “It’s way more fun to just be like me, y’know?”

Vivienne found herself giggling and nodding in vacant agreement.

Being proud was so tiring. But she didn’t need to be proud. Not right now. Not with Emma. She was private, comfortable, safe. When she looked in the mirror, she didn’t see someone proud or dignified or serious. She simply saw herself, free of expectations.

“Last thing!” Emma announced. “We got you some, like, new lingerie. So let me just take the rest of this off.”

She started unhooking Vivienne’s bra, then, after slipping it off her shoulders, turned her attention to the CEO’s underwear. Vivienne had been wearing a matching set, neither flashy nor frumpy, simply classy and comfortable.

“See, this is what, like, really gets me about all that stuff we were talking about a moment ago,” Emma mused out loud. “If your clothes are your, um, identity, or whatever, then what even happens when you take everything off?” Emma giggled. “You’d be like, nothing. Right? Like a - what do you call it? - a total blank slate!” She seemed pleased with herself for remembering the phrase. “Like there wouldn’t even be a single thought going on in your head.”

Her words sank deep into Vivienne’s mind and echoed within. When, with Emma guiding her, Vivienne stepped out of her underwear, she was left completely naked. Lightness washed through her, and with it a kind of stillness. She was staring at the mirror, and her reflection seemed to echo nothing more than her own blank, tranquil state of mind. She felt nothing. She thought of nothing.

There wasn’t a single thought going on in her head.

“I think I did it! Yay!” Emma cheered quietly, after inspecting Vivienne for a moment. “OK! Now comes the really fun part.” A huge grin came to her face. “I get to dress you up again!”

She started reaching for Vivienne’s shopping bags, rummaging around for particular items. Vivienne remained perfectly still, watching impassively in the mirror. She was a blank slate. There was nothing for her to do but watch.

“Let’s see… Mel had something just adorable in mind…” Emma muttered to herself. “Here it is!” She plucked out a lingerie set and rushed back over to Vivienne, an eager glint in her eye. “Oh my gosh, I can’t wait!”

In a flurry of activity, she dressed Vivienne up in the lingerie. Vivienne was nothing more than a passive mannequin, assisting with the process only as Emma guided her. But she was still obediently watching her own reflection, and the sight of herself wearing those new garments immediately left a deep impression on Vivienne’s hypnotized mind.

They were like nothing she’d ever worn before. The bra was perfectly fitted but tight, clearly designed to push up on her breasts and give her a deep, plunging, visible cleavage. It was unmistakably both slutty and frivolous; pink, and embroidered in lace with little flowers and flowing patterns. Even worse was the thong. A matching pink, it was wickedly thin and hid almost nothing, and was clearly shaped to accentuate the lines and curves of the wearer’s hips and ass.

Once, underwear like that would have offended Vivienne’s pride - but now, her pride was gone. Her mind was primed to accept what Emma gave her, and feel good about it. When she looked in the mirror, she saw a woman who was hot, slutty and shameless.

And she liked it.

“It’s perfect,” Emma purred, admiring her handiwork. “OK. This next!”

The next item was a white blouse. At first glance, it was innocuous, albeit far, far more frilly than anything Vivienne might have usually worn. But once Emma slipped Vivienne’s arms into its sleeves and started to button it up, her design became clear. The blouse was absurdly, obscenely tight. It clung to Vivienne’s figure and, moreover, it was so small around her chest, it couldn’t be buttoned up to cover her cleavage, or even to hide the lacy hem of the push-up bra beneath.

Only one word came to Vivienne’s entranced mind as she took in the look: pornographic.

And that was her, now. Pornographic. A dumb, gleeful, sultry smile came to Vivienne’s face. She looked good. She looked hot. What else was there to say? Clearly, she was meant to be looked at. Stared at. She was meant to enjoy her body, and let other people enjoy it. It was so simple.

“And… here.” Emma was already putting on the next item of clothing. “Careful,” she giggled. “It might be a little tight.”

It was a pencil skirt - ostensibly. In truth, the garment was so outrageously short, it barely deserved the name. The tiny tube of fabric clung tight to Vivienne’s hips as Emma pulled it up, and once it was in place, it covered almost nothing. Vivienne immediately knew that, with every single step she took, it would threaten to ride up and expose the equally slutty thong she was wearing.

And the skirt was, of course, bright pink.

A transcendent fondness for the color was quickly searing itself into Vivienne’s identity. That was what she saw when she looked in the changing room mirror: a girl who loved pink. The color made her feel bright. Bubbly. Giggly. Girly. Euphoric. It was just so right for her. It brought her such happiness. In that way, she was just like Emma.

Black? Gray? No way! Those were boring.

Beyond that, something else about Vivienne was now taking shape. She was an office girl - or at least, a kind of porno parody of one. That was what the blouse and pencil skirt suggested. It made her look like a stereotype of a slutty secretary. That was her role, she could only assume, or something similar. She wasn’t serious. She wasn’t professional. Yes, technically she was a CEO, but that no longer seemed like such a suitable role for a girl like her. Perhaps, instead, she could just be a pleasing little boardroom mascot.

Vivienne giggled at the notion. It felt good. It felt freeing. Nothing to worry about but looking hot. A girl like the one Vivienne saw in the mirror had no cares or stresses besides that.

The next item Emma presented Vivienne with only cemented her new identity. It was a pair of ridiculous, bubblegum pink, stiletto heels, the kind you could barely walk in, polished to an eye-catching sheen.  There was no way a serious, proud, stern CEO would wear heels like these. No, Vivienne thought, as Emma helped her into them, one by one. That wasn’t her. Not anymore.

“C’mon!” Emma urged. “Try ‘em out!”

Naturally, Vivienne obliged, strutting back and forth in front of the mirror a few times. At first, she almost fell over with every step, but eventually she started to get the hang of it. As she walked, she couldn’t help but notice how, just to keep her balance, she needed to place her feet in a line and swing her hips back and forth. It was like she was begging people to stare at her ass.

Vivienne’s dumb grin widened. The sheer, shameless, slutty frivolity of that was a delight. It was so refreshing.

“You look totally hot!” Emma squealed. “I can’t wait for the final touch. Here it is!”

To Vivienne’s slight surprise, Emma produced a pair of large glasses with pink rims and pressed them to Vivienne’s face.

Vivienne’s first instinct was to express that she didn’t need glasses. Then, she realized that they were fake. Clear lenses. Just a fashion accessory. And once she looked in the mirror, it all became clear. The glasses fit with the rest of her outfit perfectly. It was just what she needed.

Because, paradoxically, the glasses made her look very, very, very dumb.

Vivienne giggled. Maybe she was. Being dumb didn’t sound so bad. After all, Emma was dumb, and she seemed all the happier for it.

Yes, Vivienne decided. She felt like being dumb. The hypnotized CEO decided to let go of all the big, complicated thoughts that were threatening to intrude on her newfound bliss. She didn’t want to think about those things. Being dumb like Emma seemed like much more fun.

She giggled again. She was dumb, and she loved it.

Looking at her, Emma sighed fondly. “You’re just perfect,” she cooed. The two of them giggled together. “OK! We totally need to go and show Mel your new look. Come on, Vivienne.”

Vivienne was ready to follow her but, after just a couple of steps, Emma stopped abruptly and turned back to the other bimbo.

“You know,” Emma said slowly. “That really doesn’t suit you anymore, huh? You don’t look like much of a Vivienne.”

Vivienne had to agree. Emma was in charge and, besides, Vivienne was now too dumb to think for herself. “I guess not!” she tittered.

“In that case,” Emma decided. “From now on, let’s just, like, call you Vivi!”

***

Hours later, Vivi finally arrived back at her family mansion. She’d spent a little more time out with Mel and Emma, but eventually, Mel had been pulled away by her corporate duties, and Vivi had similarly felt forced to head home so that she could get a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow, she’d need to work twice as hard to catch up on all the work she’d missed out on during their little impromptu shopping trip.

As she thought about that, Vivi’s carefree giggles died away and the euphoric grin she’d been wearing for hours fell from her face.

Now, more than ever, work sounded completely, infinitely exhausting. All of that stuff was just so boring. So joyless. It didn’t suit her. Not anymore. Did Vivi really have to go back to that life? More than ever, it was so desperately tempting to just let it all go. To dress the way she wanted, pink and slutty. To behave the way she wanted, dumb and silly and giggly. Maybe, if she just let go, she could be like that every day.

Just like Emma.

She couldn’t just walk away, of course. She had far too much responsibility weighing on her shoulders. Something would have to be done about Valeyard Solutions, her company. Suddenly, Vivi’s mind went to Mel and her mothers, and their interest. Perhaps she could just sell to them and wash her hands of it all.

Perhaps she could be free.

For the briefest of instants, her mind was made up. But then, as she stepped across the threshold to the house she’d grown up in, Vivi’s mood turned. In those familiar surroundings, once faded, now reborn in grandeur, it all came flooding back. Her motivation. The reasons she had to fight so hard, day after day. It was all for this. To make good on her family name. To prove herself. To prove she could stand on top.

Vivi rubbed at her face. How could she ever have forgotten?

And why had she wasted a day hanging around with that whelp Melanie Adams? Mel wasn’t her friend. She was her enemy. Her rival - not that she deserved the title. Vivi had let hours go to waste shopping when she could have been advancing her plans to see Melanie Adams subjugated and hypnotized.

Hypnotized…

Then, at last, the penny dropped. Cheeks burning red, Vivi - no, not Vivi, Vivienne! - tore at her ridiculous clothes, trying to rid herself of the shame. She couldn’t believe it. She, Vivienne Gilbert, had been hypnotized - and they’d used her own pocket watch to control her, making her act like a dim-witted bimbo for their amusement.

They’d made her act like Emma. That, most of all, was what stained her cheeks with a churning mess of emotions.

Vivienne would never live it down. Being hypnotized like that was unthinkable for someone in her position. If anyone found out that it had happened - or, god forbid, about her weaknesses - Vivienne would be ruined. She was living out her greatest nightmare. And somehow, the very worst part was how genuinely good it had all felt. Try as she might, Vivienne couldn’t seem to banish that memory from her mind.

Instead, she settled for drowning it in fury as she vowed her revenge.

Melanie Adams would pay.