The bottle sat on the other side of Kim’s bedroom like a threat, a curse that had been laid on her bloodline for generations. Inside: a single pill, resting at the bottom, just barely visible through the veil of plastic, somehow the most terrifying thing in sight despite the rest of her space being adorned with every possible symbol of a follower of the occult. Bone-white animal skulls near her bureau? Check. Heavy drapes across all possible sources of sunlight? Of course. Fingernails sharpened to a point and painted the color of night, to match her always-on lipstick? Naturally. A pentagram hastily scrawled around the offending bottle, incense sticks burning with the scent of graveyard roses at each point? Mhm. So why was the pill, trapped inside that plastic, across the room from the scrawny figure curled up at the very back of her bed, clutching a copy of the latest The Cure album to her chest as if to absorb a little of its bleak and somber essence by osmosis, so terrifying?

It was pink. 

It didn’t start out that way. She had been handed it by one of her best friends after one of their weekly shared venting sessions in Kim’s kitchen, just as Kim had finished up lamenting how soul-crushing it was to be forced to tone down her aesthetic for her workplace on the few days they required her to be in the office. After a few minutes of nodding along to the goth’s exasperated tone, her friend, Olive, had simply fished around in their bag and pulled out a small bottle, made of translucent brown plastic, and containing a single rattling pill, which looked to be some shade of grey. On the side, pasted on a little off-centre, was the word “Fixx” in bright blue lettering. 

“Here, look, I tried one of these a few weeks back and it made everything better,” Olive had said. 

Kim had taken note of a strange shiver in their voice as they handed the bottle over, but brushed it aside in favor of making a joke at her friend’s expense; “Olive! You’re handing me drugs? Mx Straight-Laced themselves? Scandalous!” 

The laughter that had spawned from that remark carried them through until the end of their scheduled bitching session, Olive returning to their home while Kim withdrew to the safety of her veiled, darkened chambers – more to get out of the light than anything else, since it had started hurting her eyes a little. She had placed the bottle on her desk, firing up her laptop and Googling the name on the side, but found nothing within a few minutes of searching beyond a few circumspect comments on forums about how it had solved everyone’s problems, and a probably-AI-written description on some website that looked like it hadn’t been updated since the 2000s. Turning her attention back to the bottle, she had popped open the cap, and spilled the pill out onto her palm. As she had thought, it was a neutral grey, with a faintly plastic texture, fairly typical. Then, it changed. 

Starting from the inside out, with a swirling, sparkling, almost bubbly pattern, that neutral grey had steadily turned pink. Worse, it was a bright, pastel, baby pink – exactly the kind Kim refused to even allow in her vicinity, let alone in her body. Watching the pill’s transformation had sent a feeling of wrongness down her spine and all the way through her body, the feeling that it had somehow chosen that color specifically to spite her, even though it was ridiculous to imagine. Instantly, she had slammed it back in the bottle, clamped the cap on tight, and retreated as far as possible. 

Which still left her with the problem of what to do with it. She couldn’t take her eyes off the bottle, that faint imprint of pink showing through the plastic, the words of her friend telling her it would fix everything. 

Despite herself, despite every instinct in her body telling her to throw it away and tell Olive to go fuck themselves with whatever prank they were pulling, Kim could still feel a faint tingle where the pill had landed on her palm, and the faint-but-growing compulsion to just try it. What's the worst that could happen?

Kim crept forward, shuffling over the black velvet sheets of her bed, gathering up her bunched, layered black skirts, and stood in front of the bureau, looking down at the bottle. Her heart pounded in her chest, bizarrely intense for what was surely just a simple prank of some sort. Even though Olive never pulls pranks. Kim shook the thought away, squared her slight shoulders, and reached out. 

Before she knew it, before she could second-guess her decision, she had popped the bottle, tipped the pill into her mouth, and swallowed it down. 

She stood still for a moment, tensed, as if expecting the world to come collapsing down around her. A heartbeat stretched out to infinity, before the next came crashing in, and she gasped out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. A smile creased the corners of her lips as the abominable pink pill, in fact, didn’t cause her to spontaneously combust into black flames of anti-gothness. The thought made the smile wider, and then, all of a sudden, like a convulsion rippling up her throat and out through her mouth – Kim giggled. 

Instantly, her hands leapt to her blackened lips, eyes going wide with shock. Goths don’t giggle, especially not Kim. A dark chuckle, maybe, a howling cackle, absolutely, but a light, lilting, bubbly giggle? Never. So where had it come from? There was an obvious answer, but Kim refused to believe that the pill could have caused something like that. An image sprung to mind unbidden: the pink capsule erupting into cotton candy as it went down her throat, which somehow managed to make another giggle slip through her fingers. What the fuck was going on?

Retreating to a safely grim and dark place – the centre of her bed, amidst the veils draped over it and atop the velvet-black sheets – Kim tried to steady herself, replaying song after song in her head, but things only got worse. Every lyric that normally caused her heart to ache and her soul to tremble now was a source of hilarity; who would ever be sooo melodramatic like that? Haven’t these people ever heard of having fun?

The thought wasn’t hers, its texture in her mind somehow sticky and sweet and oh-so-pink, and it was so wrong but it just slipped through all of her attempts to pin it down and wipe it out. She thought of a butterfly darting away from grasping hands, but that only made her think about how pretty the wings of butterflies are, and how they have such interesting colors that glimmer so brightly in the light, and that just made her giggle even more and what the FUCK was happening to her?

She ran her hands – wiry, pale, tipped with black nails – through her hair – dyed black, frizzy, always up in some improbably hairsprayed structure – and tried to ignore the thoughts. “Just, like, calm do–” she cut herself off, choking on the phrase, as she heard the sound of her own voice. Kim liked her own voice a lot, she liked how it had a faint rasp that sounded so right when whispering poems and rituals to herself. What had just spilled out of her mouth was not her own voice. Kim didn’t sound like some sort of valley girl, who’d be more suited sipping pumpkin spice lattes and chittering about her latest manicure, and thinking of that just made another giggle spill out and it was all too much–

Suddenly, all at once, the stress that was getting ready to boil over in her head did something strange. Just before it got overwhelming, before she reached for her phone to call an ambulance, all of those thoughts simply went away with a resounding POP. Like someone was chewing some bubblegum inside her head. 

Her mind was silent, empty, airy, and pink. So pink. But that wasn’t so bad, really, it was nice to get some peace and quiet, after all. She let out a giggle that didn’t even feel bad, in fact, it felt really nice to just let it out, and she sighed and giggled again, toppling backwards on the bed with her arms splayed wide, deciding all of a sudden to just enjoy whatever was happening. Her lips curled out into a wide, blank smile, and she happily licked them, enjoying the sweet taste that filled her mouth from the lipstick that didn’t quite feel the same. 

Things got even more hazy after that as a tingling, bubbling sensation spread out from her lips to the rest of her body, occasionally sending pulses and tremors through her that just made her squeal, which then sent her into another fit of giggles, which then collapsed into faint moans as that sensation turned fully into pleasure. She realized right then that she was so, so, so horny – she must not have noticed it before, how silly! 

She reached down with her hand, dimly expecting to have to dig through layer after layer of skirts to reach what she wanted to touch, but instead finding only a one – a tiny, tight miniskirt, barely reaching her thighs, entirely too skimpy for her, although she had no room in her thoughts for that realisation as she pulled it up just a little and pressed her fingers to the aching-hot cunt between her legs. The moan she let out filled the room, even from just touching it, and it only got more intense as she started rubbing it through panties she somehow knew had suddenly become baby-pink, with the word “SLUT” stencilled on the back. She didn’t have the brainspace to care about that either, as her other hand reached up to grope what should have been an unremarkable chest, instead grabbing hold of one of a pair of huge, perfectly-shaped, and intensely sensitive tits. 

A whine broke free of lips that felt far too puffy and oversized, and as that other hand reached up to check she was suddenly captivated by how good it felt to suck something, even her own fingers, and then she was just lost to the bliss of pleasure for far too long, whimpering and squirming as the pill switched its focus to her mind. 

Memories of graveyards, rituals, and ceremonies were wiped clean in a flood of pink, leaving instead manicures, hairdressers, and parties, of giggling away at some terrible jokes that would have made her cringe five minutes ago, of sex, so, so, so much sex. Her body felt so good, and she loved feeling good, and it meant she didn’t have to think which was good because thinking was so hard and there were other hard things she liked better and she was giggling against and it felt so good and her pink-painted fingers were suddenly in her cunt and with a choked gasp she was hurtling over the edge into the first orgasm of the night, her legs twitching and shaking and her hips thrusting up into the air because it all felt so fucking good. 

Kim – or, that didn’t feel right, did it? That wasn’t really what she went by, too straight-laced, too strict. Kimmy. That’s a better name for someone as giggly and silly and pink as her, right? Kimmy had just remembered that there was a dildo buried deep in her bedside table, buried under a heap of clutter because the color had once embarrassed her, but a big, fat, thick plastic purple cock sounded perfect to her right then. Rolling over, giggling as her huge titties squished up under her, she reached down, fumbling through all of that silly mess to grab her prize. A gasp of pleasure emerged as she pulled it out; it was bigger than she remembered!

There wasn’t much else going through her head as she rolled onto her back, spreading her legs and shoving the toy down between her legs. Her eyes went wide as the shaft slipped into her slick, wet, over-eager hole. It felt sooooo much better than it ever had before, and not a moment later she was ramming the purple cock in and out of her cunt, desperately grunting and whining and moaning as more pleasure than she’d had in her life flooded through her body, popping any last coherent thoughts and leaving just a blank, cotton-candy-flavored haze of bliss. She hit the edge quickly, orgasmed hard, and kept going, again and again, her juices leaking out to soak into the bedsheets that were now steadily staining pink to match the rest of her bedroom, her head now surrounded by a halo of bright blonde hair. 

She ripped the dildo from her hungry cunt only long enough to slam it into her mouth, a sensation which was somehow even more decadently blissful than when it was in her cunt, if only because it  let her catch a glimpse of the puffy pink lips she now had wrapped around that thick shaft. Her other hand found her cunt, rubbing her clit as sucking the dildo turned rapidly into facefucking herself, sloppy and desperate and so fucking good. Another orgasm hit her, instantly, and she kept going for a handful more.

Finally, finally, she felt somewhat satisfied, letting the dildo fall from her lips, discarded so she could tumble back onto her frilly pink sheets, breathless, floating on a blissfully bubbly cloud. Rolling off the bed, Kimmy stumbled towards her makeup table, looking wide-eyed at the reflection in the mirror. Staring back, with the most obvious post-fuck glow she had ever seen, was the textbook image for “bleach blonde bimbo.” Her chest bulged out to a perfectly round curve, capped with thick, squeezable nipples, while her body curved in to make for an intensely grabbable pair of hips. Her fingers were capped with unwieldy and expensive-looking fake nails, except for her right index and middle fingers which were thankfully filed smooth. 

She twirled, giggling as her hair fanned out perfectly, before grabbing her phone, now with a handful of glittery charms hanging from its corner. She could at least string enough of a thought together to know that she had a question to ask Olive, although it was a little hard to keep that thought in her head and not just let it go pop. She slowly navigated through her phone, frowning at how difficult she was finding it, before eventually finding the right contact. A bubbly ringtone played over the speaker, making her giggle again, before Olive picked up. 

“Heyyyyy babeeee! Sooo, I took the Fixx pill!” Kimmy broke off with a giggle, twirling a strand of perfectly curled platinum-blonde hair in her finger. “And you were, like, soooo right, it’s made me so happy! But…” A pout broke out on her face, those puffy, pink lips pursed up. “I can’t remember what you said. When does it, like, wear off?”

Kimmy, if she was capable of any coherent thoughts at that moment, would have been practically able to hear the grin from the other side of the phone. As it was, she was far too distracted by that dim ache in her cunt slowly returning, making her think far more about the dildo discarded at the foot of her bed and how much better it would be to discard it inside her own pussy. She barely even heard the reply before she cut it off with a “Kay-thanks-love-you-byeeee!” and tossed the phone across the room. Not that it would have helped; 

“Oh, it wears off…eventually. Have fun!”

Kimmy didn’t have any space left in her brain to comprehend the reply, nor did she have the words to respond. The next twelve hours dissolve into a pink slurry of depravity, hedonism, whimpers, moans, and the occasional sound of gagging as a pair of puffy pink lips wrapped around a cunt-soaked dildo. 

When the pink slowly receded, and some semblance of thought returned to Kim, her body aching in all the best ways, she really did have to admit, though – she did feel much, much better.