Lynne had been waiting, training, preparing herself for the championships. And she was so fucking ready.
It was a while ago - a few years into working out, she had an agent approach her at the gym, impressed by her form and strength. Lynne had taken Anna's card and signed up for her agency. It was the life she dreamed of -- the best personal trainer, the freedom to push herself past her limits, and the attention on her hot, muscular bod. It was an extra bonus that she'd have all the lesbians swooning over her wherever she went.
Most agents would have advised their competitors to do shit Lynne *definitely* didn't want to do. Lynne didn't want any dumb supplements or lightened training session when she'd get hurt. Lynne knew what kind of athlete she was. And her agent went along with her - no, her agent actively encouraged her. Lynne loved Anna. Anna had given her the life she wanted.
And then, about a month later, Anna left the agency. It came as a shock when she put in her two week's notice. She'd wanted to be closer to her family - which made sense, Lynne agreed, but it didn't make it sting any less. Lynne tried not to look angry or disappointed. She was too tough for that. They got drinks together on Anna's last night before she flew out the next morning.
Anna promised Lynne that she would be in excellent hands. Lynne believed her. The agency made good decisions more often than not. She trusted their judgment.
And she was wrong.
The agent who took over Lynne's schedule was Anna's polar opposite - and *everything* Lynne hated. Chanel constantly barraged Lynne to take her training easier. Not to push herself so hard - Chanel emphasized injury prevention. And she asked Lynne to take a breather every once in a while. And worst of all, Chanel pushed supplement after homeopathic remedy on her.
It was getting to the point Lynne was sick of going to work. She was all but ready to storm into HR and threaten to break her contract. But, then what would she have? The life she dreamed of would be gone. And Lynne couldn't afford that. Not when she was getting ready for the championships.
Lynne arrived at the gym at the crack of dawn - 5am - and Chanel was waiting right there for her. "Good morning, Lynne," she smiled sweetly. "How did you sleep?"
"Fine," Lynne grunted, ending the subject as she paced over to the bench.
"Fine?" Chanel proded. "Did you get a full 9 hours? You have to make sure your body is in proper shape. We wouldn't want you falling asleep during-"
"I said I slept fine, I slept *fine*," Lynne growled. She laid down on the bench and prepared herself for presses. She got *enough* sleep, and had a protein drink.
Chanel walked over to her, looking down at her sympathetically. Lynne tried to ignore her. "If you're not sleeping well, that supplement-" Lynne rolled her eyes, "-I've been telling you about does wonders. It helps your sleep, your strength, your ease of mind... I hope you reconsider trying it."
Lynne snorted. "I've reconsidered," she said, "and my answer is still no."
Chanel sighed. "Whatever you say."
Lynne proceeded to ignore her for the rest of her sets. That's what Lynne hated even more. When she worked with Anna, Anna would make sure to keep pushing Lynne. Harder, faster, more, more, more. She'd amp Lynne up as if she were her best friend. But Chanel just stood there. Eyeing Lynne. Taking notes. Lynne drowned it out. She didn't need to overthink it.
She was about an hour into her workout. Chanel piped up with her fifth attempt to cut Lynne's workout short. "Lynne, honey, it's been an hour. Why don't we call it for the day so--"
"Ugh," Lynne growled. "Fine. Let me just get some squats in."
Chanel smiled. "Squats, and then rest. I have some more ideas to go over with you next." Ideas. Probably more fake performing enhancing drugs that Lynne didn't *need*, goddammit.
Lynne sauntered over to the dumbbells, and grabbed the second to heaviest one - 200 pounds. Form, she reminded herself. Straight back. Knees pointed well. Every squat was agonizing - and she loved it. It made her legs so strong. And her ass so firm. One. Two. Three. Lynne went through the reps like clockwork.
She was almost done. And then, something piped up out of literally nowhere.
A fire alarm.
Lynne completely forgot today was the test day. It didn't matter. The blaring sound threw Lynne so far off that her form suffered. She fucked up her rep hard enough that she slipped. Lynne couldn't figure out what exactly happened. Her ankle twisted weirdly. Lynne tripped over herself, slamming down onto the ground, her ankle feeling on fire.
"Ah, fuck!" Lynne exclaimed. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" She crawled down and tried to massage it.
"Oh Lynne, dear, what happened?" Chanel ran over.
"Don't come close to me!" Lynne hissed. "I'm fine!"
"Clearly not," Chanel tsked her tongue. "We need to get you to a doctor, right away. You've clearly done something to your ankle, and it needs medical attention."
"No," Lynne refused. "I can stand up just fi--" Lynne immediately proved herself wrong. The second she put enough weight on her ankle was the second she fell again, shouting in agony.
"Fuuuuuck." Lynne breathed through the pain - and the humiliation of having to admit Chanel was right.
"Fine," Lynne resigned, anger seething through her. "I'll go."
Somehow, the triumphant smile on Chanel's face made Lynne's skin hairs stand up. Chanel spoke in a sickeningly sweet voice. "Let's call them over, then."
~~
        "Well, the good news, it's not broken," the doctor started. "The bad news, you'll still need a couple weeks of rest."
Lynne's eyes widened and bulged out of her head. "Are you serious?" she demanded. "The championships are coming up! I can't miss it for a stupid knee injury!" Fury ran through her blood. This couldn't be happening. No, absolutely fucking now.
The doctor frowned, gripping his clipboard tightly. "I'm sorry, Lynne, but you can't afford to risk hurting it further. Do you really want to sacrifice your ankle permanently just so you can participate in a weightlifting competition one time?"
Lynne inhaled sharply. The thought of skipping the tournament sucked - that was an understatement. But the idea of losing one of her ankles was even worse. She was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Part of her wanted to scream. Somehow, this was fucking Chanel's fault. Lynne knew it wasn't, but it was easier to blame her. "Okay," she forced herself to exhale. "Thanks."
"Of course. I'm sorry this happened," the doctor said.
"Yeah, you and me both," Chanel said sweetly. "I'll make sure Lynne gets ton of rest, like she needs."
Lynne shot Chanel a dirty look. 'Don't make me want to strangle you more than I already do,' she thought to herself. Chanel grabbed Lynne's belongings, and led her disgraced weightlifter away. Lynne struggled to follow. The crutch slowed her down, as did her own spoiled pride.
This couldn't be the way things ended. It just couldn't.
~~
Lynne knew she shouldn't have. She knew this was a bad idea. But losing her chance to fight in the championships was bad enough. When Lynne fell off of her workout routine for more than a day, she'd feel like absolute shit. She couldn't bear the thought of not working out for weeks on end.
She promised herself - just 30 minutes of arm workouts. She could even do so while sitting or laying down. Lynne arrived at the gym at 4am, hoping no one would catch her. She went to swipe her card for entry--
"Disobeying doctor's orders?" Lynne whipped around to see fucking Chanel standing behind her. When had she gotten there? Lynne's heart stopped as she processed. "My, I didn't think you were quite *that* reckless."
Lynne grumbled. "Look, you don't have any reason to watch over me. I'm going to miss the tournament. Can you please just let me--"
Suddenly, Lynne was interrupted. By something quite bizarre.
In a matter of milliseconds, Chanel's hand was slammed against a wall, pinning Lynne neatly to it. Lynne had a 'deer in headlights' feeling slam into her. It finally occurred to her how much taller Chanel was over her. What also occured to her was how small Lynne felt with Chanel keeping Lynne against the wall. Against her *will*. Lynne briefly assessed the situation. In that exact moment, Chanel could do whatever she wanted to Lynne. No one was around to watch, of course. And for some reason, Lynne lost touch with every ounce of her physical strength.
Not for long, though.
"W-what the hell are you doing, lady?" Lynne demanded, trying to make herself as intimidating as usual.
"Tournament or not, I'm still your agent," Chanel said. Her sweet tone now felt like a threat. "I can do whatever I want with you."
Lynne's eyes widened. "What the fuck?" Finally, she pushed Chanel off of her. "What is wrong with you?!"
"Nothing," Chanel sang. "In fact, I have something of interest to you."
Lynne gave the biggest eyeroll of her life. "I swear to fuck, if you say 'your friend's supplements', I'm going to--"
"They'll help you recover fast enough for the tournament."
Lynne lost whatever she was saying. What? Chanel wasn't for real, right? "What do you..."
Chanel chuckled. "I remember when I got a similar injury. I was all heartbroken and destroyed. I felt weak, like you!" Lynne's blood boiled. "And then I gave it a try. One pill a day. Easy peasy. The doctor said I'd be back to normal in a month. I was on my feet fully in less than a week. If you want to see, I can even get you my 'lil ol' doctor's notes, as proof."
Lynne's breath stopped. She knew Chanel was lying. She couldn't pinpoint how, but she knew. The rational part of her brain screamed to turn it down, to run to her company and tear her contract apart.
But if there was even a chance - even a sliver of one - of getting to participate in the tournament...
Lynne resigned. She couldn't resist. "Fine," she said. "I'll take your dumb fake medicine."
Chanel chuckled. Lynne couldn't determine why, but her laugh made her feel the same way she felt pinned against a wall. "Great!" She reached into her bag. "Luckily enough, I happened to bring a full bottle with me."
Lynne knew this was a mistake.
She didn't care.
She needed this.
~~
Lynne took her first supplement, and then her second, and then her third. She was on the medication for an entire week, and noticed only little difference. Walking wasn’t a completely abysmal experience anymore, but her body still entirely relied on the crutch. Leg day was still a distant dream. On her seventh day of taking the medication, she resigned that Chanel was lying.
The doctor was right. She wasn't going to be able to make the tournament. There was no point to continuing Chanel's stupid homeopathy. Chanel promised herself to toss it into the trash the second she got home.
At the very least, Lynne still had workouts. Kind of.
Lynne arrived at the gym at her usual time. It was empty - fantastic. She sauntered over to the free weights, grabbing a chair to sit down in. Lynne went to grab the 200lb dumbbells off the wall.
They were immovable.
Lynne blinked. What? She could usually lift 200lbs with ease. She faltered at 300lbs. Lynne kept trying to pull the weights off the wall, to no avail. Maybe she was tired. Lynne huffed, and resigned to the 190lbs. Then 180lbs. 170lbs. 160lbs.
The heaviest set of weights she could lift was the 150lbs set. And that felt like a herculean challenge.
Lynne dragged them over to the chair. Looking down at them. What was going on? She'd moved up from 150lbs months ago. She couldn't have lost all that strength in a week.
This wasn't right. Lynne tried to think what could have possibly happened. She wasn't slacking off. Sure, she had noticed herself being a bit tired the past week, but it wasn't anything this bad.
The past week.
"Fuck," Lynne muttered under her breath. Now she realized what was happening. At least, she thought so.
That fucking *bitch*. Lynne knew Chanel was hiding something up her sleeve. Lynne must have been manipulated, lied to or... Lynne didn't even want to think about it. She felt so weak and pathetic listening to Chanel. And even going so far as to take her stupid supplement.
Lynne was lucky she had access to the company gym. Because at that moment, Lynne dropped whatever she was doing and began storming up. Holding her gym bag tight, she traversed through the halls. Going up the elevator. God it couldn't go any slower. The second the doors opened, Lynne stormed into Chanel's office. She slammed the doors open and walked in.
"Lynne, what a pleasant surprise!" Chanel sang. "What seems to be on your--"
"What the *fuck* is in those supplements!?" Lynne shouted, slamming her hand on Chanel's desk. Chanel just smirked up at her, as if she didn't do anything wrong, and that only made Lynne's blood boil further. She was going to tear into Chanel. "Those supplements are making me weak as a fucking breeze! What the hell is wrong with--"
Chanel tsked her tongue. Lynne froze. "My, what crass language," Chanel tutted. "Such awful words from a sweet, soft girl like you."
A sweet, soft girl? Chanel was out of her fucking mind. "You and I both know I'm not sweet *or* soft," Lynne hissed.
"Awe, yes you are!" Chanel protested. "But never mind that. That fatigue of yours is just a side effect, sweetheart." Chanel picked up the bottle of the supplement - conveniently on her desk, for some reason. She turned it around and flashed it to Lynne. "You read the side effects, didn't you? Luckily for you, they only last about a week."
"You dumb idiot, it's *been* a week!" Hell, even verbally fighting Chanel felt exhausting. Lynne just wanted to lie down for a million years. "Please, just... take me off them. I don't need them anymore."
Chanel pouted. "And what about the championships? You don't care?"
Lynne paused. "I'll skip this year," she started, "and go next one if it means I don't have to work with you."
Lynne turned around, with the intent of leaving on that. Just as she got to the door, though, she felt something grab her from behind. Lynne momentarily freaked out as Chanel grabbed onto her waist, and pulled Lynne back into her. Lynne's back was pressed firmly against Chanel, and she was held completely in place. Lynne struggled - at least, she wanted to. But she couldn't get out of Chanel's grasp.
"What are you-"
"My sweet girl," Chanel said condescendingly. "You are mine. You are my model. I get to do whatever I want with you."
Lynne’s mind worked at a mile a second. What was she feeling? Why had the last of her strength suddenly left? She shivered and stammered, and Lynne felt humiliated by that fact. There was no way she could be losing that easily to fucking Chanel. No way. "N-no..." Lynne gasped.
Chanel held onto Lynne, but one of her hands lifted and grabbed onto Lynne's chin. "No you're not," Chanel said. "You're not going anywhere. You're going to be my property. And I'm going to do whatever the hell I want with you."
Every word Chanel spoke sent a chill down Lynne's spine. She felt something she hadn't in years - terror.
"You're going to take the drug," Chanel stated, "and whatever other drug I want you to take. You're going to do whatever I want." There was a pause. After an agonizing minute, with Chanel's words sinking in Lynne's heart, Lynne was let go.
"Right, my sweet girl?"
Lynne gasped for air as she fell to the ground. She still had some fight in her. She could still resist.
She thought so.
Lynne opened and closed her mouth a few times. Every time, she couldn't quite get the words out. She couldn't protest. Lynne was weak, and under Chanel's command.
Lynne was *soft*.
"Right," Lynne said, defeated.
"So you'll continue taking the supplement, yes?"
Lynne hesitated. "Yes."
"Great!" Chanel clasped her hands together. "Now, why don't you take the rest of the day off, sweet girl?"
~~
        With working out being a challenge, Lynne had to fill her days somehow. She wasn't resigned quite yet to sitting at home being stupid and lazy. One morning, Lynne had a thought - a rare occurrence these days, it seemed. "Maybe I should go to the mall," Lynne murmured to herself as she got dressed. "Maybe I can at least get some steps in."
So that's what she prepared herself to do. Being a competitive weightlifter gave her a pretty generous salary - even before the tournament. Lynne obviously wasn't going to blow $10,000 in one mall trip, but she had enough to do some retail therapy.
Lynne called a cab, which stopped by her place and brought her to the mall in less than 30 minutes. Normally, Lynne's first stop would be the sportswear store. But... Lynne couldn't get herself to go inside. She couldn't quite figure out why, but she resigned it to recognizing she had enough sports gear. Maybe today, she could *really* let herself loose. What was wrong with a little fun once in a while?
So she sauntered over to the hottest lingerie store in the city. The most expensive one, too. Normally, Lynne would have winced at the thought of being seen in such garments. Right now, all Lynne wanted to feel was hot, luscious, and usable.
Usable. Lynne briefly wondered why that word popped into her head.
It didn't matter. The second Lynne walked into the store and grabbed a basket, her cart was filled in seconds. For some reason, Lynne suddenly loved the color pink - purples, reds, and light blues were nice as well. Most notably, Lynne avoided any full-cover bras like they were a disgrace. Why go into a lingerie store if you don't want to show off your body?
All around her, Lynne had people staring at her. At her curves, at her tits, at her ass. Lynne didn't care. In fact, the first time she caught someone staring, she winked and blew a kiss their way. A couple minutes later, someone's hand accidentally - right? - grazed her ass. Lynne only blushed and giggled.
While in the dressing room - a cubicle she stayed in for hours - Lynne looked at her own clothes and frowned. Sure, they fit her, but they didn't show her off quite the way she suddenly wanted. Lynne knew being this seductive went against her entire personality. She knew this was unnatural for her. And yet, she went back out - in the skimpy lingerie she was trying on, not to anyone's complaints - and added what might have passed as a crop top and shorts to her cart.
Finally, she was satisfied, and went to check out.
"That'll be $1,885.96," the cashier said, handing Lynne her bags.
Lynne smiled, giggled again, and pulled out her card. As she did, she looked at the number.
One... eight... eight... Lynne's head began to hurt trying to imagine such a big number. Lynne scrunched her eyebrows, trying to think of why she felt so wrong. Or right? As the cashier swiped her card, Lynne tried to figure out what in the world was happening to her.
She couldn’t think fast enough, and before she knew it, she was being asked to sign. Lynne flushed, signing quickly, and then taking her bags and waltzing away. Gosh, her bags felt so heavy… and they were just lingerie. There was no reason a bodybuilder should have felt any weight from those bags.
Something was wrong. Lynne just couldn’t put her finger on it.
“Yo, Lynne!”
Lynne pounced out of her skin, and whipped around. Suddenly, standing behind her were two familiar faces. (At least, Lynne made herself remember them through the brain fog.) This was Patricia and Britt. Two of her gym buddies - and her rivals. Patricia and Britt both had bodies that were more muscle than skin, a body type that Lynne used to have. Standing next to them now made Lynne feel horrendously awkward - not only did she look out of place, but she *felt* how much her body had changed since she'd been unable to work out. The smug grins Patricia and Britt were giving her didn't help her nerves in the slightest.
"What's up with you?" Patricia asked, eyeing Lynne up and down. Lynne couldn't tell if her stare was predatory, mocking, or lustrous. "You look different. Heard you dropped out of the tournament too."
Lynne blushed, averting her eyes away shyly. "W-well, um, yeah. I got injured, um... my ankle. Doctor's orders say I'm not allowed to work out, either." That wasn't particularly a lie. Lynne just left out the fact she *tried* to work out, and couldn't.
"Awww, you can't even do some sitting exercises?" Britt smirked, crossing her arms. Lynne got all huffy. She hated being taunted more than anything. Normally, in this situation, she would have grabbed Britt off the floor and started doing overhead presses with her body. Now, all she could do was shrink awkwardly. "That's not like you, Lynne. Guess you've really let yourself go."
"I-I didn't--" Lynne felt so humiliated. She couldn't believe this was happening. But she really *did* look different, huh? She was hoping it was only her insecurities making her feel that way.
"At least you still look hot," Patricia said as she licked her lips. "You've got those hot curves you're showing off. Maybe this look is doing it for you. Your clothes really show it off, too."
Lynne stammered, trying to think of a good excuse. Her blood boiled, and she *wanted* to get angry, but all she could do was go along with their mockery. "I... well, um, thank you," she said with a nervous chuckle.
"Yeah! The look works on you. You're pulling off the slutty bimbo vibe off well."
Slutty bimbo.
Those two words would have sent Lynne into a rage in the past. And she didn't feel fantastic hearing it from Britt now. But Lynne could only respond by giggling more. Why was she laughing so much? This wasn't funny! Her situation was embarrassing as all hell! And yet, when she thought about the degrading way Britt were treating her, it just felt fun. And the more Lynne giggled, the harder her rivals laughed at her.
Lynne's knees clasped together, desperately trying to hide her arousal. She felt like her body was completely betraying her. How could she be horny in a situation like this?
"Wow, she's - she's so turned on, too!" Britt cackled. Lynne realized people could hear their conversation, and that only made her feel hotter. "Maybe this whole bimbo thing is doing it for you. Works for us, too, since we don't have to worry about you in the competition now."
"All she needs is just the intellect of a bimbo, right?"
In...tellect? Lynne furrowed her eyebrows, trying to focus, trying to shove down the heat in her panties.
"Well, maybe you've got that too." Patricia looked hard into Lynne's eyes. "Lynne, can you tell me what six times nine is?"
"T-that's easy!" Lynne protested. "It's... um..." Fuck. This was easy. Lynne could figure that out, she wasn't an idiot! She counted the multiples in her head - six, twelve, eighteen... And then she lost count. Lynne closed her eyes and tried again. The harder she tried, the less clearly she could think.
Patricia and Britt were laughing. They were mocking her. And why wouldn't they be? Lynne used to be a powerful bodybuilder who took no shit. And now? She was a slut. An idiot. A weak bimbo. And worst of all, it was turning her on like nothing else did.
"Maybe that was too hard," Britt suggested. "What about four plus four?"
"It's... it's..." Lynne knew she should know that. She should *definitely* know that. Thinking gave her a headache. Four plus four. Four plus four. She knew this.
No she didn't. So instead of answering, Lynne just started giggling again. "I, um, I dunno," she finally resigned. At the very least, she could admit it.
"Wow." Britt nodded in awe. "I guess I overestimated you, Lynne. Don't worry, though. Just let the strong girls handle everything."
Lynne was about to take off, before Patricia patted her on the back. "Why don't we show you our workout routine? Maybe that'll get a couple of your brain cells activated. You can try to get back to how you used to be."
How Lynne... used to be. Yeah, that sounded appealing.
"Our gym's in the mall," Patricia said, "so we won't have to go far."
"But... why--"
"Don't worry about why, slut," Patricia snapped. "Just follow us. You don't have anything better to do, don't you? After all, it’s not like you’re smart enough to do anything on your own."
Lynne eventually nodded. It didn’t sound right, but she guessed what Patricia was saying made sense. She followed as best as she could, the injury still taking a good bit out of her. She could move fine, albeit with a slight limp. Lynne followed Britt and Patricia to the gym. At least, she thought they were going to the gym. But suddenly, out of literally nowhere, Britt and Patricia took a sharp left and dragged Lynne into an empty storeroom.
“W-what?” Lynne gasped, trying to figure out what was going on. “What’s, like, happening?” As she was asking the question, she heard a click - the door locking. Lynne’s brain tried to process as quickly as possible. With her dying wit and lackluster strength, it took her quite a bit.
“We’re just guessing,” Britt said as she started unbuckling her pants, “how to make better use of you, now that you’re just a bimbo slut.”
“Yeah,” Patricia added, “I think this is a pretty good way.”
Lynne gulped. Soon, any thoughts of a way out disappeared as the two hot, muscular ladies began using her body like a toy. And quite quickly, Lynne didn’t really want to think of a way out, either.
~~
Lynne did as she was told. She kept taking the pills. Every day, she tried to work out, to see if her strength would come back. Obviously, it didn't. She should have expected that. In fact, her strength kept diminishing further. As did her intellect. Completely humiliated, Lynne couldn't even go to the gym unless she was the only one - and she sure didn't have the energy to wake up at the crack of dawn for that. She was weak. Soft.
Why was it so hard? She could at least do some cardio, if anything. But... she didn't want to. Lynne felt chained to her couch, unable to leave her apartment if it meant working out. It felt embarrassing, these days, especially seeing some of her competitors there.
She wanted to do *something* with her day. Or her evening.
Lynne decided to go out. She had nothing better to do, anyways. Staying at home thinking hurt her brain too much anyways.
It had been a while since Lynne went to a club or venue on impulse. Actually, it had been a while since Lynne went *anywhere* on impulse. All she could remember doing the last couple years was going to the gym day and night. The only other people she'd see were her competitors or her workout buddies. Lynne can't recall the last time she met someone - genuinely got to know someone - outside of her circles.
If this were any other day, Lynne would go out and flash her muscles to any hot girl on sight. But this wasn't any other day. Lynne looked at herself and frowned. Sure, she still carried a bit of muscle on her body. But it was only visible under good light, and hidden under a bit of chub. That part was confusing. Lynne understood her muscles weakening, but... she hadn't changed anything else.
Whatever. At least her favorite club outfit - a fancy-ish dress that showed her body off - still fit her. Lynne donned it, grabbed a purse, and headed out.
Lynne sauntered into the closest one she could find - one that was a mere five minutes from her place. She was lucky to live in such a lively area. Briefly, Lynne caught herself in the mirror. Her eyes narrowed. She didn't look like a bodybuilder anymore. Lynne ignored the angry pang in her chest and walked in.
She grabbed a seat at a corner table, somewhere no one could see her. She made her order as short as possible - tall beer, bartender's choice - and sat back. Lynne tried to ignore the rampaging thoughts in her head.
"Hey."
Lynne nearly pounced out of her seat, whipping around to the source of the voice. A tall lady was now leaning against the wall next to Lynne, smirking down at her. Her confident, smug smirk set off alarms in Lynne's head. She tried to keep a leveled voice.
"Is there, like, something you want?" Lynne's voice was firm, but not threatening.
"I just saw you all alone here," the woman started, licking her lips. "And I just thought you might like some company."
"I'm, um, fine. Thanks," Lynne exhaled.
She hoped that'd make the woman leave, but it only coaxed her on further. She grabbed the chair across from Lynne, moved it to Lynne's side, and sat down. Lynne bit her lip.
"My name's Nali," she said. That cruel, possessive smile... Lynne briefly thought of Chanel. "Trust me. There's nothing worse than going to a bar alone. I mean, look at all these happy couples. You can't look at them and not wish to be partnered... right?"
Nali's hand, as she spoke, slowly crept up to Lynne's thigh. Normally, Lynne would have pushed her off and made a scene, but... she didn't have it in her. Besides, Nali's touch didn't feel particularly bad. She let this woman grope her thigh, her hip... Nali touched all around Lynne's body, as if she were examining it. "Your skin is so delicate," Nali commented. "So malleable."
Lynne wanted to say 'shut up'. Instead, she just groaned and panted with every touch from Nali. Lynne felt like melting into a puddle. Even from a few touches, her body was hot with need and arousal. It was as if she shot up from one to ten in a matter of seconds. Nali's hands grew more prying. Before long, her fingers were on Lynne's panties, feeling around her wetness. God, Lynne was so turned out, and out of literally nowhere.
She really was soft. Her power had completely left her.
"My, you're really enjoying this, aren't you?"
Lynne's head raged on, but she couldn't even disagree. "Yes," Lynne panted.
"Well, good. I am too, Lynne."
“P-please, keep going.” Lynne scrunched her eyes, and forced herself to ask something. "How... did you know my name?"
Nali chuckled. "You told me, dear."
What? No, she didn't. Lynne didn't *remember* telling Nali her name, not in the two minutes they knew each other. "I... did?"
"Yes. You're so silly, you can't even remember something that obvious. How else would I know your name, if you didn't tell me?"
She was being gaslit. Manipulated. Lynne knew it. But the second any semblance of resistance piped in her throat, Nali silenced it immediately. What did gaslighting mean, anyways? She grabbed onto Lynne's chin, holding her face firmly in place. "Don't question what I say, dearie. We wouldn't want to make this any harder for you, would we?"
"Make... what?" Lynne tried to resist. She couldn't even ask questions. All she could do was... what Nali wanted. When did Lynne become so obedient? So complacent?
"You said you wanted to come home with me," Nali whispered into Lynne's ear. "I have something quite tantalizing waiting for you."
Nali grabbed her wallet, and threw a couple five-dollar bills on the table. "So, ready to head out, dearie?"
Nali was clutching onto Lynne's body like she was hers. Lynne wanted to be anywhere else. But the only thing that came out of her mouth was the word "yes."
~~
The next thing she knew, she was back at Nali's apartment. Nali didn't waste a single second. Lynne couldn't even register what was happening until her clothes were ripped off. She was thrown on Nali's bed. Completely naked.
A month ago, Lynne would have been able to break her arm if she tried anything like that. But she couldn't even muster up the thought, let alone the strength.
Lynne sat on the bed, whimpering in need. She hated feeling this needy.
Nali took off her shirt, her bra, and then her panties. Lynne's jaw dropped when she saw what Nali donned underneath her pants. She had a harness attached to her. And attached to said harness was the thickest dildo Lynne had ever seen in her life. She couldn't even guess the diameter of it. Nali wasn't planning on putting that in her, right?
"Spread your legs, dearie," Nali smiled as she crawled on the bed, on top of Lynne. "You're wet enough that this won't hurt... too badly."
Lynne gasped, and finally managed to get something out. "It... won't... fit..."
Nali tsked her tongue. "Yes it will," she stated as she pressed the tip into Lynne's hole. Already, Lynne could *feel* the size. "We're going to make it fit."
"N--" Before Lynne could get another word out, Lynne grabbed onto her thighs and held Lynne down. Not that she needed to, Lynne wasn't going to do much to fight back. Nali pushed in further. She only got the tip in, and already Lynne didn't think she could handle much more.
"That's it," Nali pushed in further, slow as she could. The slow pace only made it worse. "Relax. That's all you know how to do. Relax, and do what you're told."
Lynne shook her head. Nali didn't care. "You're so adorable. We're not even a fourth of the way in." Further. Deeper. Lynne felt herself being worked into, like she was a firm ball of clay. Nali spent time working into Lynne. Manipulating her body into being her strap's fleshlight.
She pushed in deeper. Lynne gasped for air. "Good news," Nali smirked. "We're a third of the way in."
"P-please..." Lynne tried to speak up. She couldn't.
"Please go faster? Well, alright."
No no no no no-
Lynne felt her body being stretched open. Whatever was left of her muscles faded away. Nali pushed in more and more, and soon enough, Lynne's entire hole felt crammed with Nali's strap on.
Lynne couldn't think. She couldn't move. "That's it," Nali sighed in pleasure. Lynne heard a click, and something even worse happened. The strap on vibrated. "What a good girl. You're worth every penny I spent on you."
What?
Lynne couldn't question that. Nali pulled out, and Lynne didn't get a moment to breath as Nali thrusted back in. Out and in, out and in, every thrust feeling deeper and deeper. And the worst part was that Lynne loved this. She loved being filled and toyed with. Lynne choked out. She despised what her body was doing to her.
Nali continued to thrust. She increased in speed, only serving to overwhelm Lynne more.
"This strap on has... quite a fun feature," Nali explained. "It can simulate ejaculation. Isn't that fun?"
Lynne couldn't answer that. Her mind was too caught up with being fucked relentlessly by her thick strap.
"And even better yet... it's filled with a certain medication."
Nali leaned in, pushing in all the way. "One you know quite well."
Lynne distantly realized what Nali was talking about.
Chanel sold her.
And she was about to get filled with more of the thing turning her into this.
"Ready?"
Nali didn't wait for an answer. She pushed all the way in, deeper than Lynne could have fathomed, and within seconds Lynne's hole was being even more stuffed with cum-like substance. Lynne wanted it out of her. She didn't want this. But she couldn't resist - being filled up felt good. Being *weak* felt good. And Nali's strap was filled up enough to leave Lynne nice and dripping as she pulled out.
Lynne collapsed into the bed.
Nali kept her trapped in her bed for the evening. Lynne couldn't question it or move. She allowed it.
She had no choice.
~~
Inhale.
Exhale.
One foot in front of the other.
Let the wind grace your face.
Repeat.
Lynne always repeated that mantra whenever she felt uneasy about going for a run. Her old agent had drilled it into her head so much that it soon felt like a prayer. Cardio wasn't exactly her thing, after all. But she always reminded herself about the benefits of running. When all else failed, remembering the refreshing feeling of the wind against her face got her moving.
Not that Lynne could really think too hard about any of that.
She had to move. Sitting around all day, only getting up to be picked up and fucked by some random passerby, only speaking in giggles and "bimbo talk", as one person called it. It only did so much for her. Exercising got Lynne through the worst. Maybe, if she was lucky, exercising would make two neurons in her brain connect again.
She was slow. After all, she still hadn't completely healed from her injury. Her jog was at a walking pace. Fifteen seconds in, and she already felt out of breath. This was too hard. Getting fucked was much easier. It'd be much more fun to just hit up the club and get toyed with in the bathroom again.
Lynne tried to focus.
She couldn't.
Thinking of exercising felt like a chore. All she could naturally think about was the way a thick cock would work itself into her, making her malleable like a ball of clay. Destroying her with every thrust. Being degraded. Being stupid. Being weak and soft and helpless.
Lynne stopped her running. God, she was so fucking horny. It wouldn't be much of a problem if she started touching herself in public, would it?
Yes! A part of Lynne's dying brain screamed. It would be a problem! Lynne wanted to ignore the voice. But she didn't. She got back up-
And then a car pulled up next to her. Lynne stopped again as the window lowered.
"Lynne," Chanel said with a stern, strict voice, "are you disobeying doctor's orders again? I thought you'd know better by now."
Lynne giggled. Then she stopped herself. "I, um, I just thought it would help--"
Chanel clicked her tongue. "Come in, Lynne. Let's bring you back."
Lynne opened her mouth to protest. She couldn't. Fighting back against Chanel, physically or mentally, was an insurmountable task for her. "Okay," Lynne sighed. She walked around the car and got in the passenger's seat. Mm, it'd be fun to get fucked in a car, she fantasized...
Lynne didn't notice Chanel started driving away. She didn't question it or wonder where she was going. The only thing Lynne could do was fantasize about the myriad of ways she could get fucked in a car, the way her fluids would soil the seats. Chanel tried to make conversation with Lynne, knowing that at this point, it was a lost cause.
"Did you really think I wouldn't find you, Lynne?" she asked.
"Mmm?" Lynne murmured, absentmindedly pleasuring herself through her panties. "I, like, I dunno."
"Of course you don't," Chanel chuckled. "Just let me do all the thinking for now, dear. All of it."
Lynne happily obliged. Soon, Chanel pulled into a familiar parking lot - the one to their office. Chanel ushered Lynne out of the car, bringing the giggling, airheaded ditz discreetly into her office.
Instead of getting Lynne to sit down - fuck, even sitting down on a nice chair would get Lynne grinding herself on the gabric at this point - Chanel pushed her against a wall. Lynne squinted her eyes, trying to assess the situation.
"Did you really think I'd let you go off on your own again?" Chanel snarled, running a hand across Lynne's jawbone. "No, dear, you don't get to make those decisions anymore. Working out isn't an option for you. We can't have you lose any of that sweet softness all over you now, can we?"
"Soft...?" Lynne moaned, shaking her head. "I'm not, like, soft! I'm a bodybuilder! All tough and, and stuff!"
"Really?" Chanel smirked. "Then go ahead. Push me off of you."
"Like, okay!" Lynne delicately grabbed onto Chanel's hips - a bad start - and began pushing outward. Or trying to. Chanel didn't budge an inch, and no matter how hard Lynne pushed, she couldn't get her agent off of her. Not that she wanted to, particularly.
Chanel smiled condescendingly down at Lynne. "Lynne, dear, you weren't meant to be a bodybuilder or some muscular fitness model. No, I'm going to make you a much, much better model. So you're not to run off or hit the gym ever again."
"But, but wait." The word 'but' felt painful to say, somehow. She didn't want to fight back against Chanel, did she? Or why not? "Isn't working out... like, good for you? It, like, used to make me feel soooooo good." *Just in the way getting fucked by a thick strap on did these days for her.*
Chanel clicked her tongue. That sound sent shivers down Lynne's spine. "I don't care if it makes you feel  'good', idiot," she snapped. "You don't get to make those decisions. You're not smart enough to. I mean, have you looked at yourself, Lynne? You're nothing but a giggling, ditzy bimbo."
Humiliatingly, Lynne giggled at that. Chanel exhaled, the tension leaving from her voice, being replaced with a sickeningly possessive tone. "But, that's how you should be, isn't it? Don't worry if my decisions don't seem quite right. All of what's happening to you... what I'm doing to you..."
Chanel leaned in.
She kissed Lynne's forehead tenderly.
The gentleness felt so sharp. A heavy contrast against what was actually happening right then and there.
"Is because I love you, Lynne," Chanel said with a cruel smile. "I care about you so, so much."
Lynne paused. Even a soft, weak bimbo like her could tell something wasn't quite right. "You... do...?"
"Yes," Chanel pushed a strand of Lynne's hair out of her face. "And I think you look much better as a total slut. An idiotic bimbo. That's just how I like you. How I love you."
Lynne gritted her teeth. Chanel's love didn't feel how love should have felt - warm, safe, reassuring. Instead, it felt like a giant warning sign. A way to tell Lynne to get the hell out of there right now. Her legs shook -- with fear? anticipation? anger? who knew?
"This..." Saying her next few words made Lynne feel like she was committing some great sin. "Isn't right."
"No?" Chanel's hands trailed down Lynne's body, feeling her curves. Making Lynne feel how soft and curvy she was. How powerless she was without all her strength and muscles. "It's not? How could it not be right? We're in love, Lynne. And all your lover wants is what's best for you. All your owner wants is you to be the best bimbo fucktoy you can be. How can that be wrong?"
"But... I didn't use to, um, be like this!" Lynne protested. "I was all, strong, and I could do the thing with the numbers... I, Chanel, what... what did you do to me?" Lynne's eyes welled up with tears. She felt so hurt, so betrayed. Especially the timing of all this - Chanel took advantage of Lynne during a weak point in her life. And it was obviously intentional. "I used to be all muscles, and people like, respected me, but now people pick me off to play with me like a toy!"
Chanel laughed. "And?" she cupped one of Lynne's soft breasts with her hand. "Is that a problem!"
"O-o-of course!" Lynne spoke through her indecent moan. "I, like, want to be me again! Please make me, y'know, me!"
Chanel sighed as she continued playing with Lynne's tits. "Do you even hear yourself?" she said. "You sound like a moron. You can't take care of yourself anymore. You never really could. So you need your agent, your lover, your owner, to take care of you for me. Isn't that better anyways? You don't have to think."
Lynne opened her mouth to protest, but she was silenced. Chanel's over hand slid down and tore under her panties to grab onto Lynne's cunt aggressively. "You're much better this way," she said. "Soft, luscious, powerless, and obedient... to me."
Lynne kept trying to force the words of protest out. She held onto the 'something is wrong' thought for dear life. It felt like it was her last brain cell. "But... you're so mean..." Lynne choked.
"Oh, it's for your own good," Chanel said. She pushed two fingers roughly against Lynne's clit, stimulating it in a torturous manner. "Besides, what can I do now?"
Chanel leaned in, and whispered into Lynne's ear.
"After all, this is permanent," she said. "I can't turn you back even if I wanted to."
"You caaaa--" Lynne was about to fight back, but Chanel slid her fingers into her hole and continued pleasuring her clit with her thumb. Her other hand twisted Lynne's nipple. It felt so soft and delicate that the simple twist felt agonizing.
Chanel silenced whatever Lynne was going to say next with a possessive, rough kiss. Her tongue forced itself into Lynne's, nearly choking her. Chanel had Lynne held in chains in the palm of her hand. Lynne was hers.
Chanel pulled back. "You can't leave, Lynne. You can't go back. So just admit it. Admit that you belong to me."
"I-I-I..." Lynne fought back as best as she could. At this point, though, she was at the end of her rope. All it'd take is one more push, one more orgasm, for the last of Lynne's ability to resist to wash away.
Chanel grew impatient. She grabbed Lynne's body and moved her around. Within seconds - Lynne couldn't process it either - Lynne was in front of a mirror with Chanel. Lynne could see it. She could see her weakness, how soft she became, how delicate she looked. She could see the vapid look in her own eyes. And the look on Chanel's face...
Well, that smile could have looked loving. Instead, it looked terrifying.
"You," Chanel whispered as she continued to pleasure Lynne, "belong to me."
"I... belong to me..."
"No," Chanel hissed. "Look at yourself. Do you look like someone who can make good decisions for herself? You love me too, Lynne. You know that I know what's best."
Chanel's fingers kept moving. Lynne felt so, so close to the edge of orgasm. All it would take was a little more stimulation. Just a bit more.
"This is what's best for you."
Lynne panted. "It... is?"
"Yes," Chanel chuckled. "So when you cum, you're going to see the last of your brain cells wash away. Then, you'll be mine for the taking. And I can - and will - do whatever the hell I want with you."
Chanel kissed Lynne's ear and whispered.
"After all, it's for your own good." Lynne's legs were shaking. "Do you want to cum?"
"Yes!" Lynne begged. She didn't even think twice about it.
Chanel laughed. "You see, that enthusiasm tells me everything. Tell me I own you."
"You o-own me."
"You love me."
"I-I love you."
"You obey me."
"I obey you."
Chanel paused. "Forever?"
Lynne nodded. "Forever."
Chanel grabbed Lynne's jawbone, her fingers working at an agonizing speed. "Then, cum."
Lynne happily obliged. She saw her own orgasmic face in the mirror. The way her body just let loose. She looked like a total bimbo slut, but moreover, she looked happy. She could have been here forever. Just being played with by Chanel - or Chanel's 'friends' - and not having to think twice about anything.
And as she rode out her orgasm, that fantasy set in with her.
Belonging to Chanel, only needed to do as she says.
Lynne eventually collapsed into Chanel's arms. Chanel kissed the top of her head gently. Lynne smiled in glee. Why was she so angry before? Chanel was so, so kind to her. Of course Lynne wanted to obey her, and belong to her.
"I love you," Lynne murmured.
"I love you too," Chanel chuckled. "And I have the perfect idea for our first real date."
"Mm?"
Chanel pulled Lynne back. "I scheduled a very special photoshoot for you today," she said sadistically, "to truly show off the weak bimbo fucktoy I've made out of you."