Frank had seen possibilities in Jane’s photos on her Facebook profile, but the thing had had actually jumped out most clearly was her location. She lived about two hours’ drive from the house he and several of his gaming friends rented, and that seemed like… potential.

Which, in turn, led Frank to think about more than just what he usually used Pastime for, which was arranging matters so that he didn’t need to feel guilty about the way his friends behaved. Truth be told, Frank did occasionally wince at the things Huey and the others said; he just also lived with them, and had known them for ages. It can be embarrassing when your friends seem to stop advancing as human beings, but it doesn’t automatically mean they’re no longer your friends.

Pastime had been pretty useful for that kind of thing, and he knew his dad had occasionally used it to get out of paying poker debts or even make his poker buddies think they owed him. But he hadn’t really considered what it could do if he decided to just go for it.

The first few conversations had persuaded him that the idea had legs; the fact Jane was now talking to him enthusiastically, without prompting, about her new workouts was a pretty good sign. (And the fact she’d excitedly commented that if they had the effect she wanted them to, she might actually finish off her half-done Femme Link cosplay ahead of the new convention season was giving him motivation.)

Of course, the idea wasn’t without problems. He’d have to bring Jane along carefully still. And he’d have to explain things to the others. Not that they wouldn’t be happy about his goal - but would they understand? Would they doubt?

Well, he didn’t need to decide immediately. He opened a Word document and started drafting out potential explanations. He wanted to make sure he had all the answers ahead of time, or he’d lose control of the discussion immediately.

…Of course, if he pulled this off, he could probably rely on control going forward. They’d owe him.

*

Jane had taken to doing her workout in just lycra shorts and a sports bra, in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom. She’d come to believe she could see the difference it was making.

Holding the heavy kettlebell in both hands, she worked through her squats. She wasn’t entirely sure why this exercise was one FisherKing had insisted on, but it gave her a good burn in her thighs, and she was pretty sure she was getting a better rear. That couldn’t be her friend’s goal, of course; that would be ridiculous.

She moved back to the doorway to her bedroom, which now stood permanently open after she’d fixed a pull-up bar in place. It had been expensive, getting set up for FisherKing’s routines, but she was really starting to see the point of that now; she was confident already that she was a better looking, happier woman than before.

She kept her legs rigid and extended as she ran through her pull-up reps, staring at herself in the mirror, feeling good and proud because she could see her form was good. After her sets finished she dismounted and moved back closer to the mirror, picking up the skipping rope that now lived on her dressing table next to her makeup.

Standing five paces in front of the mirror she began to skip, watching her body react on each leap.

The wobbling she’d sort-of hated when she first tried this exercise was already less a wobble and more a bounce, and while the sports bra did its best each leap provided a jolt of sensual feedback through her body. She had a dull ache that was somehow erotic starting to flood through her, and as she got closer and closer to completing her workout, she found herself smiling more and more. By the time she finished and set the rope aside, she was beaming happily, a glow suffusing her beneath the sheen of sweat she’d worked up, and she felt better and healthier for her efforts.

There was one last thing she wanted to do. She loved to chronicle her fitness journey, loved to collect evidence of her improvement. Still smiling happily, she picked up her phone in her left hand, swiping the camera function open. Her right arm crept in over her flattening stomach, resting just at the base of her sports bra, her breasts pushed up, as she aimed the phone, leaning forward slightly, legs together, and took a photo.

She pivoted then, planting her feet wider apart, and half-turned at the hip so she could see a flatter chest, firmer glutes, and her broad, happy smile all reflected in the mirror, then brought up her phone to snap another photo.

These were her own little private reward, something she treated herself to every day, so she could look back at each pose and see a sexier, fitter, healthier woman look out at her every time.

Progress day by day was sparse now, after a brief burst early on which had seemed to bring visible change every time. Now her body was close to - well, the word ‘acceptable’ was present in her head as she thought about it, though sometimes it seemed part of her thoughts, sometimes it almost sounded like an echo from FisherKing.

*

Thunderwave: Hey!

FisherKing: Oh hi Jane

FisherKing: What’s going on?

Thunderwave: It’s been a weird day. Do you need me for a team game tonight?

FisherKing: Maybe not. It’s been kind of crazy lately. You know how the guys are.

Thunderwave: Oh

Thunderwave: OK

FisherKing: But I do have a half hour spare before the game. Fancy a round of Pastime?

Jane whimpered slightly. Her aching body seemed to feel everything more keenly, and the sudden wave of excitement at the idea of playing was a strong one.

Thunderwave: You know I do.

Her left hand was already sliding from the keyboard down to the waistband of her shorts, where it lingered for a few moments. She bit her lip as the Pastime invite opened on her screen, and by the time the game loaded properly, her fingers were already inside her. No anticipation. No build-up. Nothing but pure instinct.

She opened voice chat a hair faster than she’d thought she would, and her excited whimper was the first thing to be broadcast to his headphones. She knew that with confidence when she heard him chuckle.

She should probably have been embarrassed by that. Why wasn’t she?

The opening moves of the game were much easier now. They came naturally, and even one of her hands busily fingerfucking herself didn’t prevent her from pairing cards. As always, the more she played the more easily she seemed to settle into a placid calm, though now that calm wasn’t warm and tranquil; instead the outright heat of her arousal churned through it, until emotion and desire were the only things that seemed to stir in her mind.

FisherKing had developed a habit of remaining silent for the first few minutes of play. “So,” he began, when he finally chose the moment to start a conversation, “are you still doing your exercise?”

“Oh, yes. Every day.” She paused. “Sometimes I have to skip other-”

“That’s nice. Jane, you can remember our deal now.”

She blinked. “Yes,” she said.

“Yes what?” he asked, amusement in his tone.

“Yes… I… understand…” Her voice lost all affect, even the arousal and need her fingers were busy satisfying seeming to vanish for a time. The hand which had been guiding her mouse released it, moved away from the screen even as her eyes were rooted to the view.

She picked up her phone without looking, unlocked it with her thumbprint, and practised, automatic motions called up the last two photos she’d taken and sent them across to a WhatsApp account she never noticed when scrolling through her list. With one hand’s fingers stickily busy inside her and the other occupied with her phone, she watched her cursor pair two cards and felt the extra little dopamine hit of a successful play. It didn’t occur to her that the game was playing itself. That she had nothing to do with her moves.

It didn’t occur to her that the game was playing her.

There was a low whistle of appreciation from the other end of the call. “I like that,” he said. “Looking better than ever.”

“Look… better… ever…” she murmured, her echo of his words monotone but broken.

“You’re really building up a beautiful ass.”

“Beautiful… ass…” she droned, but she sat a little higher in her chair. She had a beautiful ass and she was happy someone else had noticed.

“If you ever catch yourself looking sexy now, snap a selfie,” he instructed.

“Catch… self… sexy… selfie…”

“Those selfies are part of our forgotten deal.”

“Forgotten… deal…”

Jane could feel that strange pressure that sometimes came down on her thoughts when playing Pastimes. She never remembered the sense of her conversations with FisherKing, certainly nothing he said, but she was conscious that sometimes thoughts were so simple and unrestricted it felt like she wasn’t thinking at all. At other times, it felt like a struggle to hold even the simplest idea.

With the restrictions on her memory she had, of course, forgotten, it wasn’t possible for her to link that to trouble speaking outside her games, and within them everything was too easily accepted to question.

“And don’t you think you should start dressing sexier?”

“Don’t… think…”

It was no good. The question made no sense to her trance-addled mind. She sat for a few moments longer, mouth open, groping for a completed concept. She might have sat there forever if FisherKing hadn’t worked out what had happened.

“You like to dress sexy,” he said.

“Like… dress… sexy…” There was a shift, somehow, in her monotone. Some of her confusion was gone. It was easier to drone without confusion.

“You dress sexy at home.”

“Dress… sexy… home…” It was going to be difficult. She didn’t own much that fitted the description that wasn’t just some of her prettier underwear. She’d have to turn the heating up quite a bit, and she should think about getting a blind for the kitchen windows.

“There’s nothing wrong with dressing sexy at home. If other people can’t handle it, that’s on them, not you.”

And that was the moment. For whatever reason, that helped everything fall into place. Dressing sexy at home it was. And to hell with anyone who caught sight of her cooking in bra and panties. If they thought anything negative about that, that was their problem.

“There’s nothing wrong with dressing sexy at home.” Her voice was losing the drone, becoming more animated with every word. The juice making her fingers slick caught her breath, leaving ragged gasps for the microphone to pick up as she rallied herself for the second half. “If other people can’t handle it, that’s on them.”

“That’s good, Jane. That’s very good. When you dress up sexy for your home time, you’re going to take selfies of that too, OK?”

“When I dress up sexy for my home time, I’m going to take selfies of that too.” Again, nothing wrong with that. A selfie could do you no harm if it was kept private, if it wasn’t allowed out into the wider world.

“And these selfies are under our forgotten deal too.”

“These selfies are under our forgotten deal.” Whatever the deal was, it was expanding significantly.

“You’re doing very well, Jane,” FisherKing said, and that last bit of praise pushed her over the edge. She lost sight of the game for the first time, eyes rolling up into her head, as she came, screaming loudly. Cumming was sexy. If anyone couldn’t handle that, that was on them.

*

Frank sighed loudly. “GUYS,” he said, loudly enough to override the chatter. “Can we focus? We’ve got serious business to discuss.”

Silence stretched out. Not wanting to push it, he waited for someone else to speak.

It was Ricky who spoke first. “Wait,” he said. “You were serious?”

“Yes, Ricky,” he said, and he couldn’t quite keep the exasperation out of his voice. “It’s going to take another month or so, I think. But I’m completely serious. This is a real possibility. So is anyone objecting?”

More silence.

“I mean, no,” Ricky said slowly, “but-”

“There’s no way you can do it,” Huey broke in.

Frank smiled. That was one of the openings he’d been looking for. “OK. So if I give you some proof, you’ll work with me on this?”

“What kind of proof?”

“Nothing we could get in trouble for. But enough to know things are going the way I’m telling you they are.”

“I mean…” This was Dan. Dan could be counted on to be a voice of reason, which usually made Frank happy when he weighed in. This time it might cause more trouble. “Can you be more specific?”

“No. Specifics will come later. But - look. You’ll know it when you see it.”

“If this works, can you get my ex involved too?” Huey piped up, and there was laughter suddenly. The group glanced around each other, but the tension was gone. Frank was already relaxing.

“Forget Huey’s ex,” Ricky said. “If this works I’m going to remind you all I called dibs on his big sister.”

The laughter redoubled, then doubled again as the group took in Huey’s steamed expression.

Frank knew he had them, so long as he could deliver. Of course, if he couldn’t, he’d never live it down. And they’d always know he’d been thinking about it, too. It was do or die now.

*

“Alright, Ruth. Thanks for everything - have a good weekend and I’ll see you Monday.”

Jane was in high spirits as she left the office for the night. She’d be home soon, where she could shed the humdrum outfits of the office and get back to dressing sexy. For whatever reason, she’d spent years not doing this, despite the fact she loved it so much - and pretty much always had; she couldn’t even remember the occasion that must have happened in her past when she noticed how much she enjoyed it. After that she just hadn’t, and now, a week or so into her new determination to make every evening count, she was treating herself.

Resting in beautiful-looking bags in the back seat of her car was about $500 in assorted lingerie, the result of a very enthusiastic lunch hour. It hadn’t quite escaped Jane that she’d spent a huge amount on fitness equipment the previous month and now was spending another load on something else, and she knew she was effectively committing to another month of buying the cheapest food and stretching it, like she’d done in her early twenties when cosplay was more of her life.

Not ideal, admittedly, for a woman still ramping up her fitness regimen, but it was still something that needed doing. She wondered idly as she got into her car what Ruth would make of all this if she knew.

Her PA had remarked over the past month on the way Jane looked now - by this stage the change to her physique was clear even when disguised by power suits, especially if your gaze strayed to the skirt and tights. Not many people had been willing to say anything, but she knew that plenty of them had definitely noticed. The lingering stares did make her vaguely uncomfortable; it would be different, of course, if they were staring at home.

The workplace just wasn’t the place for that.

Still, she was very keen to get home, and when she pulled into her driveway she unloaded the half-dozen bags and one large box all in one go, practically skipping up the path to the door. She was pretty sure that some of her neighbours had seen the logo on the bags, and couldn’t help but think she’d be the topic of discussion among some of the couples in the houses around her, discussed in hushed tones outside the hearing of their children.

As soon as she hip-checked the front door behind her, setting it swinging to close, she let go of bags and box, allowing them to clatter to the floor. Her arms were already changing direction, shrugging her suit jacket from her shoulders and then tugging it off by the sleeves. It deserved better care, but it hit the floor just as the front door clicked shut, and Jane felt like that was good enough. The cuff buttons of her blouse were quickly undone, then the others, and then she was out of the blouse, giving her body a little shimmy as she did so, already feeling good.

She’d worn some of her less attractive, more utilitarian underwear to work - part of the purpose of today’s shopping trip had been so she wouldn’t have to have any unattractive underwear in future - and she was happy to get out of it. She was kicking off her shoes as she reached back for the hooks of her bra, which was discarded onto the vase of flowers in her hallway to be dealt with later.

Her power skirt slipped off easily once eased past her buttocks (her beautiful ass, some part of her brain insisted), and she walked topless from the hallway into her living room, taking with her one of her bags. She wanted to be able to sit down as she stripped off her tights.

She paused for a few moments, looking down her own body, examining it thoughtfully. She’d always been critical of her body but lately, the more she talked with FisherKing the more positive she was about it. She assumed her body must be one of the things discussed in the Pastime conversations she never remembered.

She hooked her thumbs into her panties and drew them down, then delved into the bag. Her quarry came out on sets of hangers, a deep-dark red, soft and luxurious, with just the right amount of decorative stitching in a shinier red to off-set the rest.

The panties went on first, high-waisted and figure-shaping, tapering down across her crotch so that the long ever-more-muscular arc of her thigh was on full display. She turned slightly on her heels, looking down over herself approvingly. With a moment’s more thought, she picked up the bra next, fastening its hoops around her before spinning it round and tugging it into place. It felt better around her than the dull beige thing she’d worn to work; Jane wasn’t sure if that was just because it looked sexier or whether the more expensive shop had given her a better fit.

Next came a new experiment for her; the garter belt, the final part of the matching set, which fastened across her tapering middle. Pulling out a pack of black fishnet stockings, she drew them up and clipped them into place, then stood again to look herself over.

She was pretty sure she approved, and was already walking back toward the hallway as she came to that conclusion consciously; once again, she thought, her mind had gotten ahead of her.

She rescued her phone from her purse and scurried upstairs to her room, where she spent a good minute finding the best poses to show her look off, snapping selfies. Then, a strange feeling she’d done what she needed to uppermost in her mind, she headed downstairs to gather up her discarded clothes, pick up the other bags of shopping, and tidy them away before her evening got started.

She wasn’t invited to FisherKing’s game, again, and it didn’t frustrate her so much as she felt an ache of absence. Even though the rest of his group were still utterly insufferable, she was quite willing to put up with that for a while to keep hearing FisherKing’s voice - and especially if she could help him rack up wins and grind for new skins more quickly, she’d consider it time well spent.

Friday was her cheat day and her rest day. She got to skip her workout and decided that, to cheer herself up as she didn’t get to play, she’d order takeout rather than cook.

(Which would make the rest of the month even more of a squeeze, she reflected; but it was definitely worthwhile.)

Once her pizza had been delivered and she’d closed the front door again she rolled her eyes slightly. Honestly, that delivery guy couldn’t handle people dressing sexy at home at all. His eyes had been glued to either her tits or her hips all the way through the transaction, and he’d stumbled over his sentence to lick his lips about three times.

Jane had felt herself getting first embarrassed and then angry, before it occurred to her that it was his problem, not hers - at which point she went instantly from being uncomfortable to calm and accepting. She’d given him a smile and actually quite enjoyed watching him crumble, and she’d shut the door on him just before he could really start wondering if he’d fallen into a cliche fantasy.

Which had all been rather fun, really.

She settled in on the sofa, her pizza box open beside her, and watched TV, the blinds of her windows wide open, oblivious to the disturbance she had caused in a number of the men of the neighbourhood. Once rumour had begun to spread quite a number of them had contrived to find things to do with a view of her home.

Jane wasn’t aware of them, but she would have dismissed their gaze as irrelevant if she’d known. She was dressed sexy, she was home, and she was, she realised, content.

*

After the gang got stomped during their game, Frank decided that he needed to combine blowing off steam with covering his ass against mockery from his friends. It was time to tinker with Jane a little more.

He was still kicking himself over some early mis-adjustments. It had taken him most of the first month to realise that if he just said something, her mind would take it in and try to make it make sense. Saying the right thing - or the wrong thing - could make changes to how she thought and behaved. He’d pushed her further than made sense in some cases, and he’d probably missed his cue to push harder in others. And he hadn’t been thinking about what he’d said at all.

He’d told himself he was learning the value of choosing just the right word. Of course, everyone’s view of themself is very different from the reality.

Jane wasn’t online. He dropped her a simple message.

FisherKing: It’s time to play Pastime.

This was at least partly a test. He was pretty sure that if she wasn’t already putty enough to take it as a command, she’d miss how rude it actually was. But he also expected by now that she’d jump to agree when she saw the message.

He sat back and picked up his phone to watch videos until she replied. It took an hour.

Thunderwave: Oh! I’m so sorry, I was just watching TV. Is the offer still going?

FisherKing: It’s not an offer. I’m telling you it’s time.

Thunderwave: Sure!

He fired up the program and sent the invite across, then simply waited. Jane’s microphone was much more sensitive than she realised - he’d had her tweak the settings some time ago - and he could tell when she was ready for processing when he heard the rhythm of her breathing change.

First things first. “Jane, you can remember our deal now.”

“Yes… I… understand…”

He wasn’t sure what he felt about the weird monotone she adopted during Pastime. It had made him instantly hard the first time he heard it, and he wasn’t sure he liked what that said about him. The woman she was changing into - obviously that excited him. But that made perfect sense. He was taking control of her destiny and he was shaping her the way he wanted to see her. Both of those were hot.

He saw that the pictures were transferring and he grinned, and then the first of them opened and he felt that same suddenly uncomfortable excitement. The lingerie here was new. Stockings hadn’t been anything she’d worn before. Which meant his comment had, just as he’d hoped, been taken as another new rule for her brain.

“Fucking hell,” he breathed. “That’s gorgeous. You look like a classy slut.”

“Look… classy… slut…”

Frank bit his lip in frustration. That shouldn’t have been what came out of his mouth. He knew how important it was to be careful, but he’d screwed that one up.

Well. Maybe he could fix this.

“There’s nothing wrong with being a slut.”

“Nothing… wrong… slut…”

The pauses in her speech were getting longer and longer. It couldn’t be clearer that she was fighting this. It would still sink in, he was pretty sure, but he worried it might… damage her somehow.

Frank blinked. His jaw dropped. He sat quietly for a good five minutes, ignoring the breathy moans and wet squelches of the sound of Jane toying with herself.

Suddenly he had a whole new perspective on his parents’ failure to divorce, and just why his mother had been so… lessened… by the experience.

Well.

He wondered if a conversation with his dad would give him any useful insights. Then he wondered if it might not be a risk to let him know Frank had realised.

Was the same level of damage going to happen to Jane? Or could he do better with an example of what not to do?

He’d definitely have to think about it.

In the meantime, some quick course corrections.

“Sluts have more fun,” he said. “If other people can’t deal with you being a slut, that’s their problem. You’re a classy slut and you’re proud.”

“Sluts… more… fun…” came the drone. “Other people… can’t… deal… that’s their problem.” Frank felt himself relaxing as the rhythm of her speech returned. “I’m a classy slut, and I’m proud.”

Frank grinned broadly. It wasn’t going to be a full fix, but he had time for that. And it was probably going to help with the demonstration.

“So tell me,” he said. “Are you still wearing that outfit?”

“Yes,” Jane replied.

“Jane, you don’t need to remember this, but you should have your webcam on when we play Pastime.”

“I should have my webcam on when we play Pastime,” she acknowledged, and he heard the catch in her voice as her excitement built. He got the impression he wasn’t the only one who found this more exciting than he should have. There was a needier, more urgent undercurrent to her next words. “I don’t need to remember this.”

He saw the camera notification popup, and he opened it. Seeing her vacant eyes in a flushed face, gasping urgently as one of her hands did so much good work, her chest on full display in her new bra, he grinned like the cat with the cream.