#corrupted couple

Maggie forced a smile, nodding as pocketed the vial. “To new beginnings.” She offered, raising her glass.

Chelsea clinked it lazily. “To you finally learning your place and staying in your lane.”

The next half hour was unbearable. Chelsea prattled on about Tristan, about the new implants she was considering, about moving to Monaco where “there aren't any middle class riff raff.” Maggie nodded, laughed where appropriate, pretending to sip her own drink while keeping a watchful eye on Chelsea’s.

And then, finally, Chelsea began to fade. She rubbed her temple. “Ugh… did you make this too strong? My head feels…”

Her voice trailed off as she slumped sideways onto the velvet settee, legs folded awkwardly beneath her, blonde ponytail cascading over her shoulder. Her breathing slowed. Maggie waited a few heartbeats. Then crossed the room.

She knelt beside Chelsea, heart hammering. Up close, the ring was even more bizarre, unnaturally pink, with veins of glowing crystal beneath the surface. It pulsed faintly. Gently, Maggie slid it from Chelsea’s finger. And then it happened.

Before her eyes, Chelsea’s face began to shift. The glossy lips deflated slightly. The sharp, sculpted cheekbones softened. Her skin tone paled just a little, her tan retreating like waves from shore. Her hair darkened, inch by inch, from platinum to mousy brown. Her chest, once unnaturally full, shrank beneath the silk robe. Even her nails retracted, the long acrylics vanishing as if they were never there.

By the end, Maggie was staring at Claire, not Chelsea, lying unconscious on a velvet couch, draped in a robe that now hung awkwardly on her smaller frame.

Maggie’s hand shook as she held the ring up to the light. The unnatural pink hue frightening and yet captivating at the same time. Maggie almost couldn't turn away from it until the sound of the door opening broke her from its spell.

Maggie turned in horror as Tristan stepped inside the penthouse, his eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses. He stopped as soon as he saw her, the ring in her hand, and the unconscious girl on the couch who no longer looked like his fiancée. He slowly closed the door behind him.

“Well, you’ve made quite the mess.” He said, voice smooth as glass.

Claire stirred with a soft groan, the transformation seemingly made the sleep drops wear off. Maggie rushed to her side. Claire blinked a few times, her brow furrowed in confusion, then her eyes settled on her own hands. She sat up abruptly, the oversized robe slipping from her shoulders, revealing her slim, natural frame. Her hands darted to her chest, her waist, her face.

“What the hell did you do?!” She snapped, her voice sharp and furious.

Maggie stepped forward, confused. “Claire, I… I brought you back. I saved you. You were gone, trapped. That ring was controlling you, it changed you-”

“The ring wasn't controlling me you fucking moron! I wanted it!” Claire snarled, shooting to her feet. Her hair was a mess, her robe slipping, but her fury radiated like fire. “You stupid, sanctimonious little nerd! You think you were saving me? I chose this. I chose her. The blonde hair. The perfect body. The man. The money. The power. I wanted to be Chelsea! I loved being her!”

Maggie flinched. “But… you weren’t you. You were cruel. You were-”

“I was happy!” Claire hissed through gritted teeth. “When Tristan put that ring on me it spoke to me, she spoke to me. Chelsea. The ring made her for me, as my guide, as my aspiration. She showed me the life I could have. The life that I would have! I was worshipped. I had money, beauty, power, a hot fucking husband. I had everything. I didn’t need saving. I had been saved!”

Maggie's eyes were filling up with tears quickly, trying to hold back the deluge of sadness. “No it's not true! You're joking, it's all some sick prank. What about your art? Your dreams?”

Claire crossed her arms and sneered. “My art? Puh-lease, I was sick and tired of painting my shitty little pictures and barely getting by. If my dream was to live on leftovers and stay in a hostel that never had hot water in the pipes then sure I was living the fucking life! Like I said yesterday, I don't do jokes anymore. I knew it was a mistake coming back here.”

Maggie swallowed hard. She couldn't believe what she was hearing but it was clear that this wasn't Chelsea speaking. That it never had been. This had always been how Claire felt. Maggie's voice trembled as she raised the ring in her hand. “If that’s really what you want… then I won’t stop you.”

Claire’s breath caught. But before either of them could move, Tristan stepped forward from the shadows near the door, his eyes glinting with dark amusement and snatched the ring from her hand.

“It’s not so simple.” He said smoothly, voice like silk over steel. “Once it has been taken off, it can't just be put on again. It’s a security feature of sorts. It's meant to ward off indecisive women. No second chances.”

Claire rushed up to him, desperation in her eyes. “Please baby, I didn't do this. You know I am utterly devoted to you, to us, to being Chelsea. Please, there has to be something we can do?”

Tristan seemed visibly put off by her and gently moved her out of his personal space. “Afraid not… Claire.” He said, his nose turning up as if he smelt hot garbage, her original name seemingly disgusting him. “The wedding is off, but think about me! I have to find a new wife now. I will be a laughed at by the guys at my country club for months because of this.”

Claire's eyes were awash with anger, confusion, and desire. She grabbed the ring from his hand and tried it on each finger to no avail. “Maybe... maybe we just need to jump start it. Yeah it just needs-” She said turning on her heel towards Maggie. “A new body.”

Maggie’s eyes widened. “No!”

But it was too late as Claire shoved the ring onto Maggie's finger. Instantly Maggie felt a surge of heat travel from her hand to every inch of her body, igniting every nerve in its path. She cried out, falling to her knees as her body seized with the intensity of it.

“That'll do.” Claire said as she reached towards Maggie's hand to take the ring, hoping that she could hijack the dark magic. However as she reached forward, Maggie's fingers closed tight into a fist.

“No! You stupid bitch, let go! Let-” Claire started before Maggie's newly closed fist rose up fast, clocking Claire in the jaw and sending her falling back onto settee.

“Oh my god Claire, I'm sorry! That wasn't me!” Maggie said as the heat throbbing through her body turned to pleasure. The diamond pulsed on her finger and broadcast a voice that only she could hear.

Don't worry about her. She had her chance. You're mine now.

Then the changes began.

It started with her frizzy, shoulder length brown hair. It shimmered, rippling like silk in a breeze. The color bled away, strand by strand, replaced by a glistening platinum so pale it gleamed white under the suite’s chandelier. Her hair grew longer, fuller, cascading down her back in flawless, voluminous waves, each curl preened into perfect form without a single flyaway.

“No!” She cried, curling inward as her spine arched violently. “Make it stop!”

But you don't want it to stop. I can see into the darkest parts of your soul that you want this!

No it wasn't true, Maggie thought. She was a tomboy. She kept her hair short, practical. She wore hoodies, beat up sneakers, cardigans. She never cared about her hair. She’d rolled her eyes at girls who fussed about contour and lip liner.

Now her lips were swelling into plump, glossy pillows, forced into a permanent pout. Her chest ached, swelling outward with each breath until she could feel the weight of her new breasts strain against her top, except her top wasn’t her hoodie anymore. It was shrinking, changing, becoming something tight, pink and skin baring, pressing and lifting her like she was on display.

Her waist pulled in sharply, her sides collapsing into a cinched, unnatural curve. Her hips popped, her thighs filled, her sneakers vanished, replaced by cruel, towering stilettos that locked her feet into a sexy arch.

Don't fight me darling. Let me inside. Let me free the real you.

“No. No, I’m not this. This isn’t me. This isn’t real.” She choked, trying to raise her hand to her ring finger, to rip off the evil pink diamond, only to be distracted by the pink gorgeous daggers now affixed to the ends of each of her finger tips.

Her nails had always been chipped, half bitten, rarely painted but now they were weapons, instruments for pleasure and pain. She couldn't stop her mind from imagining them digging into some hot hunks back. The fleeting thought was enough to cause a heat to grow between her thighs.

Yesss that's it. Doesn't it feel so hawt to be a bitch like Chelsea?

“No. I’m not her. I’m not that girl.” Maggie gasped, bracing herself against the floor as her center pulsed with growing heat. “I’m not… I’m not Chelsea.” But the thoughts kept intruding. The voice kept whispering. Kept promising.

Of course you're not. You'll be worse. You’ll be me.

“I… no. That’s not me. You’re not me!” She groaned, but her hands were already cupping her new tits, squeezing them as if testing their weight. Her fingers curled and flexed. “God, they’re so big. So hot. Why does it feel so good?”

Because being sexy is powerful, and power is delicious. Addictive.

“I… fuck yesss! Mmmm I feel so nasty! No! Fight it Maggie!” She said to herself trying to resist the immense pleasure she was feeling. It was hard when she could feel how tight her body was now. How flexible and gorgeous it was. How she could feel Tristan’s lustful eyes on her or Claire’s jealous radiate off of her. Both made her feel untouchable for the first time in her life and it was intoxicating. She wanted to see what they saw but deep down she knew it would be the end of her if she did. The end of Maggie.

Just take a little look. I promise if you don’t like what you see, I’ll change you back.

The voice didn't really need to say much to persuade her. Her defensives had been failing the moment the ring was shoved on her finger. The temptation to see her new self was too much, too alluring. Her mind had conjured an image of what she might see, but even she wasn't prepared as she stood up off the ground and looked at the mirror across the room.

Her legs, long and smooth, now tan and toned, gleamed under the lights. Her ass jutted out, impossibly round and proud, like it was made to bounce in a tight skirt or grind on a man’s lap. Her face, her old face, was gone. In its place was a goddess. A smirk curled on her lips before she could stop it. She didn't want to stop it.

Go ahead, get closer to admire your perfection. See the big bad bitch you've become!

Maggie swayed toward the mirror, hypnotized by her own reflection. Her long platinum curls bounced with each step, her heels clacking against the marble like a countdown to damnation. She stood before her own image, breathless, the diamond ring pulsing faintly on her finger. Her lips, glistening and overfilled, parted in wonder.

“Oh my god…” She whispered, tilting her head. “I look like… sin.”

Let me show you the life you’ll have. The life you deserve.

The ring projected visions into her mind where she saw herself lounging poolside in a two piece white bikini that showed off her curves, sunglasses bigger than her face, cocktail in hand. Her skin gleamed like gold. Her nails were deadly and pink. Her mouth smirked at a server who dared to hesitate. Tristan sat beside her, shirtless and perfect, his arm draped over her like property. She was the prize.

“Tristan.” She murmured, eyes half lidded. “Fetch me another drink, baby. This one’s lukewarm.”

The vision shifted.

A massive walk in closet. She walked slowly down the aisle between rows of designer clothes and stilettos, running her talons along the hangers. Every tag read Versace. Balmain. Dior. On a vanity nearby, tabloids lay open with headlines that screamed: MRS STEEL MELTDOWN OVER MAID’S HAIR STYLE. And below: TRISTAN STEEL BUYS WIFE THIRD PORSCHE IN A MONTH.

“I didn’t like the color of the other two.” She purred in her mind, her eyes locked on her reflection. “Is that a crime now?”

Her vision shifted again.

Her lithe legs were wrapped around Tristan's hard body as he pressed her against the wall of a penthouse suite overlooking Monaco. Her hand tangled in Tristan's hair as she giggled wickedly. Her plump lips pushing against his, their tongues doing a sensual dance inside their mouths, while her diamond ring flashed like a strobe with every movement.

“Ohhh, Tristan… I don’t care if it’s the fourth meeting you've missed today, you touch me when I ask you, you kiss me when I tell you and you fuck me when I demand it.”

His voice rumbled low and obedient. “Yes, mistress.”

Maggie’s thighs rubbed together unconsciously, a whimper slipping from her lips. Her pussy ached to have him inside her. Not any man, just him.

“I’ll be his obsession.” She moaned softly. “His spoiled little goddess.”

She saw herself throwing tantrums over the wrong lipstick shade, over assistants who dared look Tristan in the eye, over anything and everything, because she could. Because she loved it. The visions were more than promises, they were certainties. They were her destiny.

Now, my dear, tell me who you are.

“I'm Mrs. Mercedes Steel bitch, a queen, a goddess, a nightmare posing as a wet dream. I’m all that and so much worse.” She purred as the visions evaporated and she was back in the room, staring at her perfectly crafted reflection.

Her tongue wet her glossy lips. Her posture straightened. She tilted her head, admiring her reflection again, dragging a finger down the deep valley of her cleavage. Her shoulders rolled back, tits proud and heaving as her voice dropped into a sultry purr.

“Why did I ever resist this?” She said with a wicked grin as she turned her attention to Tristan. Mercedes' hips swayed as she stepped toward him, her stilettos announcing each step with calculated grace. Every part of her moved like liquid seduction. Every movement designed to ensnare him.

She stopped just inches from him, looking up at him with a coy tilt of her head. “You said you needed to find a new wife.” She purred, trailing a manicured nail down the front of his chest. Her voice dipped low, smooth and slow. “Will I do?”

His sunglasses slid from his face, revealing eyes that were no longer cold and detached, but hungry. Mercedes smirked. He was hooked.

Claire groaned behind them, trying to sit up, but neither of them turned. Tristan reached up and tucked a strand of Mercedes’ flawless hair behind her ear, fingers lingering along her cheek. “You’re not what I expected.”

She let her lips part just enough to tease a breath across his wrist. “Good.” She leaned closer, her perfume wrapping around him like a velvet chokehold. “Wouldn’t want to be boring now would I?”

Claire’s voice cracked through the heat of the moment like a desperate alarm. “No! No, this can’t be happening!” She shrieked, crawling over to Tristan's feet. “Tristan, please, don't listen to her. I can fix this. I’ll get surgeries. I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll make myself Chelsea again, I swear!”

Mercedes rolled her eyes with an audible groan and turned to face her, acknowleging her for the first time since her transformation. “Ugh. Are you still here?” She said, her tone dripping with disdain.

Mercedes stepped in front of Tristan, planting one stiletto heel between Claire and him, her new body radiating dominance and ownership over him. “This isn’t your ring anymore, this isn't your suite anymore, and he sure as hell isn't your man anymore.”

The venom from Mercedes was enough to make her flinch backward but she kept her eyes looked on Tristan and tried one last plea. “Tristan, please! Please, don’t do this! You said I was perfect! Don't give up on us!”

Tristan’s expression didn’t change. Cold. Impossibly detached. He adjusted the cuff of his suit jacket and stared down at her like she was gum on his shoe. “You heard my fiancée.” He said, each word deliberate and cutting. “Get lost, loser. Before I call security.”

Claire froze, eyes wide, mouth trembling. A strangled sound caught in her throat, but no words came. She turned, staggering to the door, tears already spilling down her cheeks. The door clicked softly shut.

Mercedes turned slowly, one manicured hand trailing down her hip as she approached Tristan again, her smirk gleaming like a blade.

“Mmmm Fiancée. Sounds so delicious.” She purred, slipping her arms around his neck. She leaned in close, brushing her lips just shy of his, her breath warm against his skin.

“But Mrs. Steel…” Her voice dripped with promise. “Now that sounds even better.”

The End…?

It started three weeks ago, in their new apartment, a dusty haven where she and Zack had laughed over thrift store furniture and tangled cords, dreaming of their final college year together. They were assembling a lopsided bookcase when Zack tugged at a loose floorboard. He cracked it open, revealing a hidden object.

When he unveiled it, Alex recoiled with equal parts disgust and laughter. It was a large, flesh toned rubber dildo, grotesque and out of place. She laughed as Zack waved it around, dubbing it “Excalibur.” But her amusement turned to horror when he jokingly slid it into his pants.

His eyes widened, then rolled back. He collapsed, convulsing, as his body transformed before her eyes, muscles bulging, jaw sharpening, height stretching. The dildo melted, merging with him, enveloping his own modest dick, becoming real.

When he stood, he was no longer the same nerdy Zack she loved. His soft features were gone, replaced by a chiseled, godlike face with piercing green eyes. And his voice, now cruel and cold, called her an “ugly loser,” a “zero not worthy of him.” He threw her out, slamming the door on her pleas.

Since then, Zack had become a campus legend. A six foot something quarterback, worshipped by the football team and adored by fans. He strutted around with head cheerleader Madison, once a kind, approachable girl who’d organized charity drives and remembered everyone’s name.

Now, Madison was different, vain, cold, her social media filled with smirks and tight outfits, her warmth replaced by a queen bee edge. When once she used to actively defy the mean bitch stereotype of a cheerleader, she now embraced it, embodied it with pleasure.

Alex didn't know how but she knew Madison's new attitude was solely because of Zack's corrupted cock. It had turned him into an arrogant bastard who thought he was god's gift to the world so it stood to reason that he had rubbed off on her. Or more accuracy, entered her. The thought made Alex shudder.

That's why Alex was hiding in the closet now. She had to stop him before he infected anyone else with his darkness. Sure he was with Madison now but what would happen when he moved on to other innocent good natured women. She had to get that thing off of Zack before he made an army of Madisons.

However as she listened to Zack on speaker phone as he emerged from the bathroom after freshly showering her assumption that his new anatomy had corrupted Madison was put into question.

“Baaaaaaabe. Where are you? I want that cock of yours.” Said Madison from down the line clearly tipsy with the sound of a celebration in the background.

Zach smirked. “I just need to change and then I'll be over, everyone knows the party doesn't start until I get there.” He said making Alex's eyes roll.

“Oooookay, but when you get here you're fucking me first! You've promised for weeks you'd bang my brains out. I want the power you promised me! I deserve it don't I?” Madison whined.

Alex’s mind reeled. If they hadn’t had sex, how had Madison changed? And what would happen when they did?

“Yeah, yeah I will. Gotta go.” He said in reply, not even waiting for her to say anything back before hanging up. He threw his phone onto the bed and flexed in the mirror, marvelling at himself. “You're not deserving of my cock. Not yet.”

As he continued to pose and flex, his towel slipped from his hips to display his full godlike body. Despite Alex's new revulsion to his attitude she felt herself get momentarily weak at the sight of him. There was no denying his beauty, his raw power. She shook her head, trying to focus on the task at hand.

“Only I'm worthy of my cock right now.” He growled as he wrapped his right hand around his impressive member. Alex’s cheeks burned, and she averted her eyes, but the sound of skin on skin kept her attention pinned.

He let out a low, self satisfied chuckle, his hand moving with slow, deliberate intent. Alex’s stomach churned as she realized what he was doing. The air felt thicker, heavier, like the room itself was holding its breath. Zack’s breathing grew ragged, his movements more rhythmic, and Alex tried to close her eyes but she was drawn to watching it like a moth to the flame.

Zack’s moans grew louder, more primal. His hand moved faster, but more precise. It was like watching a musician at the top of his game play his instrument. Alex couldn't stop herself from getting a little turned on by what she was seeing. She was transfixed by it. She didn't know how long she was watching before Zach arched his body, a guttural sound tearing from his throat.

“I'm a king! I'm a fucking god!” He yelled as cum erupted from his cock and shot onto the mirror. His grip loosed and his speed eased as he smirked self satisfied at himself. He collapsed back onto the mattress, panting, a lazy grin spreading across his face.

“Goddamn.” He muttered, wiping his brow. “Better every time.” He sprawled naked across the sheets, his limbs heavy with the arrogance of someone who owned the world. His phone buzzed once, twice, but he ignored it, his breathing slowing as the sapped energy became too much and sleep claimed him.

She counted his breaths, waiting until they deepened, steady and slow. Minutes dragged by, ten, maybe fifteen. Finally, she eased the closet door open, wincing at the faint creak. Zack didn’t stir.

She crept toward the bed, her bare feet silent on the carpet. Her hands trembled as she approached. Up close, Zack was even more imposing, his chest rising and falling, muscles taut even in sleep, his face a perfect mask of beauty and menace. And there, exposed, was the source of it all. His cursed cock, resting against his thigh, unnaturally flawless even in its now flaccid state.

Alex’s throat tightened. She had to try. She knelt beside the bed, her breath hitching as she reached out. Her fingers hovered, hesitating, then wrapped gently around it, her touch feather light.

It was warm, like it had a pulse of its own. She gave a small tug, expecting resistance, but hoping it might somehow detach. But it didn’t budge. She tried again, a little harder, her grip tightening. Still nothing.

Zack’s breathing remained steady, his face untroubled. Emboldened, Alex tugged again, then again, her movements slow and careful at first, almost clinical. On the third tug, a single drop of cum emerged, glistening at the tip before sliding down, dripping over her fingers.

She froze, her stomach lurching with disgust, but the sensation was fleeting, replaced by a strange tingling. Her nails began to grow, lengthening into perfect, glossy manicures, their edges sharpening with an eerie precision.

Alex’s eyes widened as she lifted her hand, the drop of cum still warm on her skin, and turned her fingers in the dim light. The manicure was flawless, long, sleek, with a high gloss finish that caught the faint glow. A thought slipped into her mind, unbidden, “This looks hawt.”

She bit her lip, admiring the way the nails made her hand look elegant, feminine, sexy even. She tried to push the thought aside, shaking her head slightly. Focus, she told herself. This is to save him. But the allure was undeniable, a small thrill sparking in her chest.

She swapped hands, wrapping her other hand around Zack’s cock, assuring herself that it was to try a different position but deep down a part of her hoped another drop would spill out to give her hands a matching set of nails.

To the delight of that part of her psyche another drop of cum popped out. It glistened as it dripped over her hand, and she felt the now familiar tingling ripple through her skin. Her nails began to grow, matching the first, long, glossy, and perfect.

The pride swelled, her mind warping further as she admired her hands. “I deserve to look this good.” She thought, the idea feeling foreign yet intoxicating. She shook off the intrusive thought, she was here to save him after all not get a new set of claws.

“Does he need saving?” Said a new thought that slithered into her mind. “This Zack is powerful, beautiful, commanding. Why would I change that?” It continued. Alex felt her mind at war with itself and as she would usually do in stressful situations she raised her hand to bite at her nails.

However in that moment she forgot, or maybe deep down chose not to remember, that cum was still on her fingers. A small amount coated her lips and a tiny drop slipped into her mouth. She swallowed it absentmindedly, the taste sharp and warm, sending a shiver down her spine.

Her pupils dilated and her lips plumped up in an instance. They become fuller, softer, a perfect, glossy pout that seemed designed to seduce. The sensation was immediate, her arousal spiked, a wave of heat flooding her body. Her nipples hardened, her thighs clenched, and her mind fogged with a raw, primal need.

Her thoughts twisted further, the subtle corruption sinking deeper. She stared at Zack’s cock, her mouth watering as the taste lingered on her tongue. “He’s mine.” She thought, the possessiveness startling her.

She tried to shake it off, to focus on her original goal, her hand returning, wrapping around his cock. However her tugs became slower, more rhythmic, almost sensual, as she imagined what it would be like to walk alongside him as who he is now, rather than the nerd he once was

To be the kind of woman who could match his perfection. The good, nerdy Alex who cared about others, who valued kindness and humility, was starting to fell like a distant memory, a weak shadow she was leaving behind with every passing second.

The longer she tugged at his cock the more it began to harden. A strange sense of pride flickered within her, uninvited. She was doing this to him, even in his sleep. She, Alex, the shy girl who always played it safe, was making this godlike man horny. The thought sent a shiver through her.

The desire pulsing through Alex became too much to resist, a relentless tide that drowned her fading resolve. Her mouth watered as she stared at Zack’s cock.

She tried to justify it, her mind scrambling for a rational excuse. “My hands are working, sort of, but I need more leverage.” She told herself. “So maybe if my mouth tries, it could loosen whatever’s holding it to him.” Deep down, she knew it was a flimsy plan, a dumb excuse that wasn’t supposed to work, that couldn’t possibly work.

But the corruption had taken root, her thoughts warping further with every heartbeat. The idea of saving Zack, of restoring the nerdy boy she once knew, felt increasingly irrelevant, almost laughable. Why would she want to undo this perfection? This powerful, beautiful man beneath her hands could be hers, no! Should be hers! The thought sent a thrill through her, her nipples hardening further as a wicked smile tugged at her lips.

Alex’s restraint shattered completely, the hunger consuming her entirely. She couldn’t resist any longer, she needed to taste him fully. Her hands trembled as she leaned in, her enhanced lips parting, and she wrapped them around Zack’s cock, the warmth and texture overwhelming her senses.

The taste exploded on her tongue, rich and intoxicating, sending a shiver of pleasure through her body. Her eyes rolled back, a muffled moan vibrating in her throat as she surrendered to the sensation, her mind spiralling deeper into its subtle corruption.

The act itself fuelled the transformation within her. The good, cautious Alex faded further, her thoughts warping with every bob of her head. She wasn’t just doing this to save him anymore, she was doing this out of pure selfish pleasure for herself.

Her mind painted vivid images, herself strutting through campus, head held high, her flawless body a testament to her new dominance. The old Alex, with her nerdy insecurities and selfless heart, felt like a distant ghost, one she was eager to bury.

She imagined crushing that weak version of herself, her glossy nails tearing through that fragile spirit, and the thought sent a jolt of wet heat through her. Her movements grew more confident, her tongue swirling with a newfound skill she never had before, her lips sliding with a rhythm that felt almost instinctive.

Drops of precum flower down her throat, tightening her body as it entered stomach. Her waist cinched leaving her hips wider, her ass more pronounced as a result. Fuzzy hair all over her body retracted in giving her smooth velvety skin. Her skin took on a golden tan replacing the ghost like paleness she had cultivated to now.

Her mind whispered dark promises. “Make him yours. Become a bitch. Take your throne.” The idea was intoxicating, drowning out the last remnants of her original intent. She wasn't here to save him, she was here to claim him.

Zack stirred, a low groan rumbling from his throat as his body registered the intense pleasure coursing through him. His eyes fluttered open, confusion flickering across his face as the haze of sleep lifted and he realized, despite her changes, that his ex girlfriend’s lips were wrapped around his cock. “Alex?” He rasped, his voice thick with sleep and shock.

She paused, her lips glistening as she pulled back just enough, her eyes locking onto his with a sultry, commanding gaze.

She pulled her lips slowly off of his cock and with a wicked smile she ran her tongue slowly up his shaft, the tip of her tongue grazing the tip of his cock. She savoured the resulting shudder. “Sorry to wake you baby. Want me to stop?” She purred, her voice low and dripping with a new, seductive authority.

Zack’s breath hitched, his eyes widening as he took in her slightly transformed appearance. Her flawless skin, her slimmer body, her glossy nails, the slutty look in her eyes. He managed to shake his head, the motion desperate, eager. “Fuck no!” He groaned.

“Right answer.” Alex murmured, her smile widening with triumph. She dove back in, her mouth working him with renewed fervor. Zack’s head fell back, a moan of ecstasy coming from his throat as she took him deeper, her hands gripping his thighs, nails leaving faint red trails.

Alex felt Zack tense beneath her, his breathing growing ragged, his thighs quivering as he teetered on the edge of release. The sensation of his impending climax sent a thrill through her, but she wasn’t ready to let it end, not yet. With a wicked smirk, she pulled back, leaving his cock throbbing in the cool air. “Not so fast.” She purred, her voice a velvet command, her eyes glinting with intent.

Zack gasped, his hands clutching the sheets, his eyes pleading as he looked up at her, desperate for more. But Alex had other plans. She stood, her flawless skin radiating power, and peeled off her clothes with a slow, deliberate motion, revealing her modest body that was soon to change.

Balling up saliva into her mouth, swirling around the bits of precum still remaining, she let it drool out of her mouth and onto her meagre A cup breasts, rubbing the liquid into them. She moaned in wanton lust as they grew bigger and bigger, becoming flawless C cups, perky and round. An improvement but she wanted more. She desired more.

Her tight pussy glistened with arousal as she climbed onto the bed, straddling him, hovering just above his aching cock. The heat between them was unbearable, a taut string ready to snap.

“Do you want me, baby?” She asked, her voice a sultry whisper, leaning closer so her hair brushed his chest, her nails grazing his skin.

Zack nodded frantically, his voice hoarse with need. “Yes, fuck yes!” He gasped. “More than anything.”

Her smile turned predatory as she positioned herself, her mind fully warped into this new, dominant persona. She wanted more. More proof.

“Tell me I’m a queen, a goddess. Tell me you’ll do anything for me. Tell me you’ll dump that pathetic Madison.” She purred, her voice a sultry command rather than a request.

Zack’s breath hitched, his body trembling with need as he gazed up at her, captivated by her transformed beauty. “You’re a queen.” He rasped, his voice thick with desperation. “A goddess. I’ll do anything for you. Anything! Madison is nothing compared to you, just… please.”

Her smile widened, a cruel satisfaction settling into her features as she savored his words, her mind fully warped into this new, commanding identity that still wasn’t happy.

She cupped his chin and leaned into his ear, her voice barely over a whisper. “Pledge your soul to me, tell me I’m your first, your last, your everything. That this evil cock of yours belongs to me. Then this pussy is all yours.”

She pulled back and for a moment was afraid he might pull a muscle from holding back so much. “Take it! You have it! It’s always been you!” He groaned loudly.

Satisfied, she shifted her hips, lowering herself slowly, deliberately, until her pussy sank onto his cock, slotting together like perfect puzzle pieces. They both moaned, the sound raw and primal, filling the room as the connection ignited.

The sensation of Zack’s cock filling her was overwhelming, a tidal wave of pleasure that crashed through Alex’s transformed body. She groaned deeply, her lips parting as moans spilled from her throat, raw and unrestrained. Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment before locking onto his, a wicked glint shining through. “Fuck me, Daddy!” She gasped, her voice thick with lust. “Fuck me until I’m a blonde alpha bitch, baby! Corrupt me fully with that evil cock!”

Zack responded with a growl, his hands gripping her hips as he thrust harder, matching the rhythm of her dirty pleas. The intensity of their union triggered further changes in her body. Her breasts swelled larger, becoming fuller and more voluptuous, straining against her skin with each movement. Her waist cinched tighter, sculpting an even more pronounced hourglass figure that accentuated her dominance. Her hair, shimmered and thickened, cascading in glossy waves of platinum blonde that framed her face like a crown, the transformation completing her into the alpha bitch she craved to be.

She arched her back, moaning loudly, her hands groping at her new big tits as she rode the waves of pleasure, her words growing more fervent. “Yes, Daddy, harder! Turn me into your perfect wicked queen! Destroy the loser Alex and make me into the slutty Lexi!” The room pulsed with their heat, her body and mind fully embracing the power and pleasure of her new identity.

The rhythm between Alex and Zack built to a fever pitch, their bodies moving in perfect sync as the pleasure reached its peak. With a shared, primal cry, they climaxed together, the orgasm crashing over them like a tidal wave. Alex’s moans mingled with Zack’s groans, her body trembling as the intensity consumed her.

As the waves of ecstasy pulsed through her, she felt the last fragile remnants of the timid, nerdy girl who once sought to save him be wiped away entirely. The final traces of that weak, caring self dissolved, erased by the flood of power and pleasure, leaving only Lexi, the blonde alpha bitch, reigning supreme in her new, untainted form. Her kind brown eyes melted away and formed into cold, icy blue eyes, her lips curling into a wicked smile as she reveled in the completeness of her transformation.

Her joy was interrupted moments later when Madison burst through the apartment door, her heels clicking with purpose, getting sick of waiting for Zack to come to her. She expected to find him alone but instead her eyes widened in horror as she stumbled upon Lexi laying astride her man like a slutty cowgirl, the air thick with the aftermath of their explosive climax.

Lexi’s platinum blonde hair cascaded wildly over her shoulders, her brilliant blue eyes gleaming with a sadistic edge as she savored the last shudders of her orgasm, her transformed body on full, arrogant display.

“You cheating bastard!” Madison shrieked, her voice quaking with fury as she pointed at Zack. “Cheating on me with this filthy whore?!” Her rage turned venomous as she glared at Lexi.

Lexi rolled her eyes, her patience obliterated by Madison’s insolence. With a predator’s grace, she slid off Zack, her flawless skin radiating a menacing allure as she rose, unfazed. She strode toward Madison with deliberate calm, her glossy nails glinting like weapons, her hips swaying with a cruel confidence that promised retribution.

Madison’s tirade continued, her insults growing more frantic. “Who do you think you are? I’m going to make sure you’re black listed across all of—”. Madison’s venom was cut short by a swift hand from Lexi, delivering a vicious slap across her face.

Zack, still sprawled on the bed, watched with rapt attention, his cock hardening visibly, a dark thrill coursing through him at Lexi’s brutality. His breath quickened, his eyes burning with arousal as he took in her commanding cruelty.

Lexi loomed over Madison, her lips curling into a sneer so cold it could freeze fire. “Let me guess, after you first hooked up you saw what the power of his cock could do when you gave him a simple handjob. It brought out the bitch in you, but you wanted more.” Lexi said as she circled Madison like a vulture.

“You ached for the power his cock could give you. That's why you came over here, why you're dressed so slutty. Well tough shit bitch, it's mine now. You’re a pathetic wannabe queen.” She hissed, her voice a blade of ice and venom. “A worthless placeholder, a little toy keeping my man entertained until his true queen returned to claim him. Why do you think he never had sex with you? He knew there was better waiting out there for him.” She smirked as she looked over to Zack who's cock was standing at full attention, unable to hide his animalistic attraction to Lexi.

“But now that I’m back, we and this campus, have no use for your existence, Madison.” She leaned in, her tone dripping with sadistic delight. “Zack is mine again, your friends will soon beg me to lead them, your status as queen bee will fit me like a glove. I’m going to strip you of everything you have... including your designer clothes.”

Madison’s eyes widened, terror creeping into her expression as Lexi’s stalked up to her, her gaze fixed on her outfit, a scandalously sexy, black latex two piece that hugged her curves, the top barely hiding her tits and at the same time exposing her navel, paired with thigh-high stiletto boots that screamed dominance. “Take it off.” Lexi commanded, her voice a whip crack of authority. “My man and I have a party to dominate, and I want that slutty little outfit.”

Madison’s hands shook, her defiance crumbling under Lexi’s merciless stare. She hesitated, tears welling, but the threat in Lexi’s eyes was undeniable. With a choked sob, she peeled off the two pieces and kicked off the boots, the revealing latex falling to the floor as she stood naked, her dignity shattered.

Lexi snatched the outfit with a triumphant, cruel laugh and slipped into it, the fabric stretching obscenely tight over her transformed body. The pieces clung to her like a second skin, the top straining to contain her larger breasts, pushing them up into a breathtaking display of cleavage, the hem riding so high it exposed the curve of her ass.

She adjusted the stiletto boots, the heels elongating her legs into a vision of lethal elegance. She ran her hands over her hips, admiring the tightness, the way it accentuated her bigger breasts and tighter waist, her platinum hair and blue eyes completing the image of a ruthless, irresistible queen.

Zack’s gaze was riveted, his arousal palpable as he groaned, “Holy fuck, Lexi, you’re a goddamn goddess in that.” Lexi turned to him, her smirk widening with sadistic pride, then cast a final, withering glance at Madison. “You can stay here loser and sniff our sheets, me and my man have a party to rule over.” She spat, her voice dripping with contempt. “But if you're still here when we're back later you're going to wish you weren't. Come on babe.”

Lexi strode out without another glance at Madison who was shivering in her underwear. Zack quickly threw on a shirt and raced after his new old paramour. His cock now twitched when he even thought of her. It felt as though it were a homing missile that would always find her. Little did either of them know that the magic cock wasn't a King maker, in reality it was a Queen maker and Lexi's reign was just beginning.

The gate door opened and Maggie waited with a smile, expecting to see the same quirky best friend with her oversized sweaters and paint splattered jeans, her gap toothed grin, that unshakable laugh. The Claire who once swore she'd never wear heels higher than an inch or own a purse that cost more than twenty bucks.

But what stepped off that plane was a stranger.

Platinum blonde. Lips blown up into glossy, heart shaped pillows. Breasts spilling from a too tight white corset top that looked more lingerie than casual wear. Tan legs poured into a skin tight pencil skirt. Long pink acrylic nails clacked against her phone as she typed without even looking up.

Maggie wasn't even sure it was her but she was the only passenger to arrive out of the gate from seemingly a private jet. “Claire?”

The woman looked up, paused, and smiled. But it wasn’t Claire’s old smile. It was perfect, practiced almost surgically smooth. She looked Maggie up and down as if she was examining dents on her car.

Maggie blinked, stunned. “Wh–what happened to you? You look... expensive.”

Claire tossed her hair. “Oh, you mean the glow up?” She held out her hand, flashing a massive pink diamond ring that shimmered like something out of a dream. “Got engaged. To Tristan. Everything changed the day he proposed.”

Behind her, a tall man in a sleek black suit stepped forward, his arm draping possessively over Claire's shoulder. He was almost absurdly attractive, chiseled cheekbones, dark sunglasses, smug smirk. He didn’t say a word.

Claire ran her tongue across her teeth. “One second I was this clueless, artsy girl stumbling around Venice, and the next? Tristan slid that ring on my finger and I just realized what was important in life. Money, fashion, looking hawt. Being Mrs. Chelsea Steel.” She giggled and locked arms with Tristan, eyes filling with lust.

Maggie’s mouth went dry. “Chelsea? You’re joking, right?”

Claire, or rather Chelsea, narrowed her eyes just slightly. “Of course not. Do I look like a Claire anymore? And I don’t really do jokes anymore. Too try hard. Anyway, get the bags will you?” She said flippantly as she and Tristan walked off towards the exit, leaving Maggie with the mountain of suitcases to deal with.

By the time she corralled the bags out to her car, Chelsea and Tristan were speeding off in a private car. A moment later Maggie got a text from Chelsea that was just the address of their hotel. She had been demoted from best friend to servant it had seemed.

The next day Maggie managed to convince Chelsea to grab coffee with her at a cafe they used to frequent often. Claire had loved to spend hours sitting in the rickety wooden chairs talking about her newest obsession. Chelsea however seemed to want to leave as soon as she arrived.

"Ok darling, I have a very small window today between salon appointments and wedding planning so what did you want to talk to me about?" Chelsea said rather disdainfully as she sat across from Maggie and scrolled idly through her phone, occasionally tapping out a reply with those long pink nails.

Maggie cleared her throat. “So… do you remember the mural we snuck into the art building to finish? The one you said was your favorite thing you'd ever painted?”

Chelsea didn’t look up. “God, no. Sounds tragic.”

Maggie tried again. “How about that animation short you used to talk about doing, remember? About those two sisters who time-traveled? You said it was the story you always wanted to tell.”

Chelsea blinked, finally looking up with an arched brow. “Babe, do I look like someone who tells stories about time traveling virgins? Ugh. What is this? A walk down loser lane? You’re embarrassing yourself.”

Maggie finally broke. “No! Snap out of it Claire. I know you’re in there. Somewhere. You loved those things. You were funny. And awkward. And kind. You're-”

Chelsea snapped her phone shut and leaned in slowly, eyes cold. “You’re delusional.”

Maggie’s voice cracked. “I just want my best friend back.”

The smile vanished from Chelsea’s face, replaced by a slow, cruel smirk. She sat back in her chair and crossed her arms under her inflated chest. “Wow. This is actually pathetic. You've always been a loser but this is a new low.”

Maggie’s breath hitched.

Chelsea leaned in, venom in her voice now. “Tristan was so right. You’re just a jealous, bitter nobody. You always were. Clinging to me like a parasite because I was talented, because I left this dump of a town to find myself while you stayed here to haunt it with your mediocrity. It’s actually kind of gross.”

Maggie flinched as if slapped. “Claire… please…”

“It’s Chelsea.” She snapped, with icy precision. “Claire is dead, Maggie. She died the second Tristan slipped that ring on my finger and I became his. You can cry, you can beg, but she is never coming back.”

Maggie’s eyes welled with tears. “I don't believe you! There's something evil going on and it's all Tristan's doing! You have to fight it!”

Chelsea grinned with an icy intensity. “My god, you have lost it haven't you? You just can't stand that my life is about to begin while yours is withering on the vine like a rotten tomato. You even look like one right now with your puffy eyes. I feel embarrassed just sitting here.”

Maggie’s cheeks were slick with tears now. “How can you be so cruel?”

Chelsea’s smile widened. “Because your sadness is just so delicious. You look like a kicked puppy. God, I should’ve recorded this. Tristan would love it. Actually...” She reached for her phone. “Smile, Mags.”

Maggie stood, knocking over her chair.

Chelsea didn’t even flinch. She simply uncrossed her legs and stood with regal, effortless poise. “Coming back here was a mistake. Tristan said it would be beneath us. I just wanted to see if there was anything left to miss.”

She leaned in close, lips almost brushing Maggie’s ear.

“There wasn’t.”

She turned and strutted out, heels clacking like gunshots on the tile. At the door, she paused, looking over her shoulder with a look of complete, glossy indifference.

“We’re leaving town tomorrow. Forever. Try not to get in the way.”

Then she disappeared into the street, all curves and confidence, leaving Maggie alone in the ruins of what used to be their friendship. How had her kind hearted, artistic best friend turned into such an ice queen.

Her walk home had her questioning everything. Had she simply imagined a different version of Claire all this time? Had Chelsea always been there, trapped under the paint covered overalls?

By the time she got home and collapsed onto her bed she was nearly convinced that Claire had just been a figment of her imagination. Some imaginary friend that she projected onto Chelsea. That there could be no way that someone could change so quickly, so sharply.

Her gaze drifted over to her notebook laying on the ground, its cover destroyed with doodles. She reached out and picked it up, flipping through its pages, the drawings inside bringing a wave of memories. Reaching the back cover she looked at the picture of her and Claire, the day she left on the trip that would change her forever.

No fake tits, no bitchy blonde hair, no expensive outfit, no extravagant ring. It all started with Tristan and that stupid ring, she thought. It was a throwaway aside but something about it gave her pause. Something Chelsea said at lunch suddenly came back and hit her like a ton of bricks.

“Claire is dead, Maggie. She died the second Tristan slipped that ring on my finger and I became his.”

Maggie had taken it as a metaphor in the moment but maybe there was more to it.

She sat up on the bed and pulled up Claire’s Instagram. For months, the posts had been quiet. An odd picture here and there, always of art, rarely was Claire featured herself. But then, three months ago they stopped completely. Getting curious, Maggie then searched for Chelsea Steel, Claire’s soon to be married name, and was attacked by a deluge of posts.

“Queen for a day? Try Queen for a lifetime!” Chelsea captioned one, as she lay on a beach in a skimpy two piece.

Maggie winced.

In the next post, Chelsea was in a dozen different outfits. “Couldn't decide which one I like the most. So, I had my man by the store.” The caption read.

Another post. “You should feel bad for being less beautiful than me. But I won’t judge you for it. I just don’t relate.”

In three months she had posted nearly 300 pictures and videos that all were about her. However as Maggie rolled back to the very first post it became clear what kicked off her new personality, what had birth the bitch Chelsea.

It was a simple pic, a close up of her hand, wearing the pink diamond ring. Its caption reading “Everything changed today. Thank you, my love, my king! I finally feel perfect.”

Claire had told the truth, everything had changed three months ago but the speed of the changes is what unnerved Maggie the most. It was what made Maggie suspicious that the ring was more than just an ostentatious piece of jewelry.

Maggie zoomed in, eyes narrowing. The ring was ornate, baroque almost, with curling metalwork shaped like vines strangling the central stone. It was beautiful in the way a spider’s web was beautiful, delicate, shimmering, and ominous.

She right clicked the image and selected reverse image search. It took a only a few seconds but what appeared surprised her.

It showed a very old image of what was clearly the same ring, it's name listed in Italian as L’Anello della Contessa, The Ring of the Countess.

Intrigued, Maggie clicked deeper. History blogs, Reddit threads, ghost hunting forums, even a translated fragment from an old book of occult jewelry. The deeper she went, the colder her skin felt.

Maggie swallowed hard and clicked back to Chelsea’s post. Same twisted band. Same bleeding pink gem. It was the same ring. She sat back in her chair, heart pounding.

It seemed beyond impossible, crazy even, to think that her best friend had been corrupted by some magical ring but it was hard to dispute the evidence in front of her. Claire hadn’t just changed, she had transformed. Rewritten.

Maggie looked at the screen, at the way Chelsea posed, ring proudly thrust into the foreground. She remembered the laugh, the cruel, mocking thing it had become. She couldn’t let Claire be erased by this thing. She had to get the ring off her finger.

Whatever it took. Even if she had to play the fool to do it. She took a deep breath, then began typing. She stared at the message. It made her slightly sick to the stomach to read it. She hoped it would be enough fawning to entice the drama queen. The response came almost instantly.

Maggie’s heart thudded like a drum. She raced to the kitchen. From the back of a drawer, she retrieved a small amber bottle. Sleeping drops. A leftover from her insomnia days.

“Hang on, Claire.” She whispered. “I’m going to get you back.”

His assistant, Claire, had assured him that everything would be fine in his absence. But as he listened to her voicemails, a growing dread gripped him. Something had gone wrong.

At first, her messages were normal but they got increasingly... odd. He had listened to them in the car on the way to the lab and with each subsuquent message he sped up faster.

VOICEMAIL 1 Monday, 8:32 AM

"Hey, Doctor! It’s Claire. Just wanted to check in and let you know everything’s good here. The samples are stable, no unexpected changes. I’ll keep logging their activity and make sure nothing gets near the containment units. No need to worry. Enjoy your time off! You deserve the break."

VOICEMAIL 2 Wednesday, 10:17 AM

"Hi, Doctor. So… small update. One of the samples, Sample B, showed a bit of activity. It pulsed for a second, almost like it was… alive. Weird, right? Anyway, it’s back to normal now. Probably some environmental fluctuation. I’ll keep monitoring it, just to be safe."

VOICEMAIL 3 Thursday, 11:43 PM

"Doctor… something’s happening. Sample D started moving on its own. And B, it’s… growing. It’s not contained to its chamber anymore. I tried to secure it, but it, it touched me. I feel… strange. My skin’s warm, almost buzzing. I don’t know what it’s doing to me. I need you to call me as soon as you get this."

VOICEMAIL 4 Friday, 2:27 PM

"Hey, Doctor. You know what? I was totally overreacting. I think… I was afraid of something I didn’t understand. But now, I see it. The samples… they’re not hostile. They’re… welcoming. When Sample B made contact with me, it didn’t hurt. It felt incredible. Like it was… part of me. I feel connected to something bigger, something extraordinary. You should experience it too."

VOICEMAIL 5 Saturday, 8:19 PM

"Doctor… The samples, they’ve helped me so much. My skin is softer, my body… enhanced in ways I can’t describe. I look in the mirror and barely recognize myself… but I love it. My lips are fuller, my boobs are big and perfect. I feel… powerful, seductive, radiant. Every inch of me hums with energy. The samples made me better. That’s why I’m going to release the rest of them. I can feel their eagerness to touch me."

VOICEMAIL 6 Sunday, 6:00 AM

"Evan… come to the lab. They’re waiting for you. I’m waiting for you. We’ll be whole, together. I’ve missed you… so much."

-

Evan’s breath quickened as the last message ended as he stood in front of his lab door. He hesitated. Something was clearly wrong with Claire and the samples but maybe he could help her. He threw open the door and rushed toward the lab. But just as he stepped into the hall, he skidded to a stop.

Claire stood there, waiting for him.

Her once-pristine lab coat had now morphed into a tight and shiny black dress that barely clung to her body. Speaking of her body, it was now the most perfect female form Evan had ever seen. Her skin was flawless, her breasts envious and her curves made Evan feel weak. Her eyes were now black pools of liquid light, swirling with alien energy. She smiled, her lips impossibly perfect, her voice honey-sweet yet filled with something darker.

"We’ve missed you, Doctor." She said softly, stepping closer.

Before he could react, she reached out and pressed her hand against his chest. The black goo slithered off her fingertips and onto his shirt, spreading like liquid fire across his skin. Evan stumbled back, gasping as the substance soaked through his clothes, cold and burning all at once.

He tried to scream, but the goo surged upward, a wave of darkness pouring into his mouth and down his throat, silencing him. He thrashed, struggling to resist, but the alien substance had a mind of its own. It moved inside him, rewriting him. His muscles bulged, growing stronger, leaner. His skin tightened, taking on a flawless sheen. His features sharpened, transforming him into a figure of striking beauty and power.

Claire watched with a wicked smile as he convulsed, his body remade in the image of something far beyond human.

Evan fought against the alien organisms infecting his body and mind. He couldn’t give in.

“No! This is wrong. We have to fight it Claire!” He said trying to plead with her humanity but she wasn’t human anymore.

“Shh…” She whispered. “Don’t fight it. You’re becoming what we need you to be. What I need you to be. We have been chosen for a great purpose Evan, we will birth a new race to conquer this worthless planet. You and I are will be the first. I will be the queen and if you give in, you shall be the king.”

Evan tried to fight the pleasure now coursing through his body. He felt strong, powerful, alive. The alien organism showed him images of a world that he controlled, of an army that bowed before him. It was an intoxicating sight but what tipped him over the edge were the images of Claire, his wicked queen, moaning in carnal pleasure as he fucked her with a new more massive cock.

Evan’s body stopped trembling. His breath steadied, his eyes snapping open, jet black, swirling like Claire’s. His lips curled into a slow, hungry smile as he looked at her, desire and power coursing through him.

“Yessss…” He hissed, his voice thick with newfound strength. “Give in… I want to give in!”

The black goo solidified, wrapping around his body like armor, transforming his vacation wear into a sleek, obsidian suit that clung to him as tightly as Claire’s did to her. His hands flexed, marveling at the raw power that surged through him. He stepped toward Claire, his eyes burning with lust and purpose.

“My queen.” He said, his voice like velvet. “There’s much work to do.”

Claire’s eyes gleamed with delight. She traced her finger down his chest, her touch electric.

“So much glorious work, my king.” She whispered. “And we’ll make this world kneel before us.”

"This world is merely an appetiser. Once it is under our heel our destiny awaits out in the stars." He said with a dark and triumphant laugh that Claire soon joined in on. Their reign was about to begin.

“Are you trying to make me look like some frumpy senator’s wife?” She snapped, jerking her shoulder away from one poor stylist who had dared to suggest a more “classic” neckline. “This is a wedding, not a funeral for my cleavage.”

“Sorry, ma’am!” The girl squeaked but that was just the start of her troubles. The entire staff in the room went quiet.

“Ma’am?” Mercedes said, turning around slowly, coolly, towards the girl who was shrinking by the second. “Do I look like a sixty year old who needs help getting off the bus? You will address me as Mistress Steel!”

“Of course, my mistake, Mistress Steel!” The girl said, pleading with her eyes for forgiveness but Mercedes wasn't in a charitable mood. 

She rolled her eyes, clicking her fingers causing one of her helpers to appear suddenly with a glass of pink liquid. She took her time to sip her rosé with a long, slow smirk. “Bored now. Get lost and go back to whatever shanty town you're from, I don't have time for mistakes. Someone remove her.”

At that, one of the makeup artists dropped a brush and rushed over to remove the girl who was starting to cry. Mercedes didn’t flinch. Instead she felt a wave of satisfaction wash over her like it always did in these situations. It made her wet to dress down others, wetter than even Tristan's big cock.

She let a silent moan escape her lips as the girl was led out of the room forever to be forgotten by Mercedes. “God, you’re all so exhausting, leave me, all of you. Now.” Mercedes snapped. The stylists scattered back like dancers trained to avoid their queen’s wrath. They scurried out quickly while Mercedes stalked to the mirror, heels echoing across the marble, and looked at herself, placing one hand on her hip.

She was perfect. Her gown hugged every curve, cinched so tight that her hourglass figure defied physics. Her makeup was a masterpiece.  Smoky, sultry eyes, lashes like knives, lips in a luscious nude gloss, pouting just enough to say come worship me. Her staff had done an excellent job but she would never tell them that. There was a knock at the door, interupting her self admiration.

“Enter and make it worth my time.” She said sighing, sightly irritated.

Callie, her default maid of honor, slinked in, clutching a clipboard while looking pale and sweaty. Mercedes barely knew Callie, she had simply plucked her from the various stores she liked to frequent and spend lavishly in. Callie was far from being a called a 'friend'. Mercedes didn't have any friends, had no need for them. Callie had been one of the few shops girls Mercedes hadn't made cry and so she thought she could make a competent personal assistant and glorified doormat.

“Um, Mercedes? The caterer needs final approval for the hors d’oeuvres selection. Also, the pianist just said he won’t play the rearranged Beyoncé version of the bridal march unless he gets a written arrangement, and-”

“No.” Mercedes cut her off, walking up close. “Do I look like I’m in the mood to approve canapés? Do I look like I manage sheet music?”

Callie stammered. “N-no, it’s just-”

Mercedes leaned in. “If I hear one more word about food, music, or anything that doesn’t involve how stunning I look, you’re going to be scraping glitter and acrylics off the bathroom floor with your teeth. Clear?”

Callie nodded, eyes wide.

“Good girl.” Mercedes smiled, turned away, the rush of of being a bitch sating her once again. She flicked her hand in dismissal. “Now vanish.”

As the door shut, Mercedes gave a soft giggle and twirled once in her heels. “God I love being the center of the universe.”

A soft creak of wood echoed from behind the full length velvet drapes. Mercedes didn’t turn. She only smiled, her eyes locking with her pair in the mirror. “I’m surprised it took you until now to get to me.”

From the shadows, Claire emerged, pale, and dressed in black. Her hair was a mess, her face drawn and furious.

“I’ve been trying to reach you for months.” She said, her voice ragged but steady. “But today felt… appropriate. I was supposed to marry Tristan today.”

Mercedes turned slowly, tilting her head with an indulgent grin. “The key word being was. What are you even doing here? You know the ring is a one time thing. You had your chance and you blew it.”

Claire stepped forward. “I didn’t do anything! You meddled and stuck your nose where it didn’t belong and you got rewarded for it!”

Mercedes looked at her nails almost like she was bored. “Yes it’s all very tragic, do you have a point?”

“My point is that I know I’ll never get it back. The power. The beauty. Him.” She bit the inside of her cheek. “But just because I can't have it all doesn’t mean you get to either.”

Before Mercedes could reply, Claire lunged.

Her hands went straight for Mercedes’ left hand, fingers clamping around the glittering ring. Mercedes gave a gasp, stumbling back with a theatrical wince. “No! Stop, please!” She cried, eyes wide, breath coming fast.

Claire twisted the ring violently and yanked it free. It slid from Mercedes’ finger, tumbling into Claire’s palm.

“No! I can’t go back to being Maggie! I can’t, I… I…” Mercedes said clutching her head but then started to cackle darkly. “…I can’t believe you thought that would work.”

Claire frowned. “Why… why aren’t you changing back?”

Mercedes straightened. Her back arched with practiced elegance as her arms folded slowly across her flawless chest. She smiled.

“Oh, sweetie…” She purred. “That little trinket doesn’t have the power anymore.”

Her eyes flashed bright pink, glowing for a moment like embers. Claire flinched. “I do.”

Mercedes took a single step forward, and Claire stumbled back.

“You really thought I was just going to let some loser like you or some do gooder like I used to be, take away this delicious power? Turn me into a pathetic nobody again?” Mercedes hissed, voice low and rich like melted honey over steel.

She advanced slowly, each step deliberate, the train of her gown dragging behind her like royalty on the warpath.

“Other women throughout the centuries never fully embraced the ring. Not like me. I let it fill every inch of me. Let it feed on my soul until we were entwined fully.” She smirked.

Claire’s hands trembled around the ring. “You’re lying.”

“Am I?” Mercedes said, her voice dipped in cruelty. “Then why do you look terrified?”

Claire staggered back, staring down at the gem. Its pink glow was gone, dull now, cloudy, like cheap glass. Her jaw clenched as her fingers wrapped tight around the inert ring. “You think you’ve won. Maybe you’ve absorbed whatever power it had, maybe you’re stronger now, but I’ll find a way to take it from you. Even if it takes years.”

Mercedes rolled her eyes with a long, theatrical sigh. “Ugh. The worst part is I believe you. You’ll be this little gnat, buzzing around my perfect life. Clinging. Plotting. Interrupting photo ops. You'll be quite the chore.”

She stepped forward, slow and measured, her heels clicking like punctuation. “Of course, I could always have you killed. A woman like me needs only to snap my perfectly manicured fingers and you'll be little more than a memory.”

Claire stiffened, breath catching as Mercedes closed the gap between them. But then Mercedes smiled like a cat sizing up a mouse. “But where’s the fun in that?”

“There are few things I miss about my old life.” She continued while circling Claire like a vulture. “But having a bestie is sadly one of them. Girls like Callie and my other so called bridesmaids are a joy to push around and torture but it would be so much more delicious if I had someone to enjoy it with me.”

“What I need…” She purred. “Is a maid of honour.”

Mercedes eyes shone pink once again and with lighting speed her hand shot up and grabbed Claire's forehead.

The reaction was instant. A pulse of hot, electric pink surged from the point of contact and blasted through Claire’s body. Her back arched as if hit with divine lightning, a moan tearing from her lips. Her legs buckled, her fingers spasming open as the dead ring tumbled from her grasp.

Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as a loud moan escaped her mouth, signalling the start of her changes. Mercedes watched on in evil glee, shaping her with her wicked power.

“Mmm you should be thanking me babe, you’re the first person I’m trying my new power on. Is it as good for you as it is for me?” Mercedes said as her eyes glowed even brighter, the pink light casting an unnerving pall over the two of them.

The air around Claire rippled, bending to the magic flooding her system. Her black dress writhed like it was alive, seams squirming, fabric reshaping with indecent haste. The dull black turned soft, then blushed, bursting into a shiny, unapologetic hot pink. The hem rose higher to show off as much skin as possible. Likewise the neckline plunged as her chest began to swell beneath the tightening fabric.

Claire let out a breathless moan. “Ohhh… god… yessss! This feels so fucking good! Make me her again!”

Her hands ran down her sides as her waist shrank dramatically, the contours of her hourglass figure redrawn in real time. Her breasts surged, pressing high and proud against the pink latex bodice.

“Mmmm, yes! Yes! Make me a perfect little bitch again!” She cried. “Tighter. Higher. More.”

Her skin flushed, turning luminous, kissed with a flawless tan as her fingernails lengthened into sharp, gleaming pink talons. One foot lifted involuntarily as her black boot vanished, replaced by a pink stiletto that grew up her ankle like a vine. The other followed suit with a snap.

Her hair shimmered, roots brightening, bleaching outward like a spreading fire of beauty. Within seconds, the rats nest she had moments ago gave way to a lush waterfall of platinum curls, bouncing around her shoulders with obscene volume and shine.

Her face transformed next, brows arching into a catlike frame, cheekbones sculpting high, lips swelling into juicy pillows coated in glistening pink gloss. Her lashes thickened into dark fans, framing eyes that rolled back, no longer dull with bitterness but gleaming with delicious vanity.

Mercedes removed her hand from Claire's head and took a step back to admire her handiwork. Claire ran a hand over every inch of herself that she could, like she was admiring the craftsmanship of a sculpture. She took a step towards the mirror, her face awash with awe but then broke into a wicked grin. “Oh fuck, I feel like champagne and sin.”

Mercedes tilted her head. “You’re welcome... Chelsea.”

Chelsea turned from the mirror, posing “Mmm I know I should still hate you for what you did but look at me! You didn’t just bring me back, babe. You improved me. Look at this body. Look at these lashes. I’d fuck me if I saw me walking down the aisle.”

Mercedes smirked. “A tempting offer, but don’t forget who made you darling. I’m still the alpha.”

Chelsea sauntered over with a sway in her hips and a devilish smirk on her lips. “Absolutely babe. Like God, you look… devastating. That dress, that hair, that attitude. No wonder Tristan practically drools when you speak.”

Mercedes let out a soft, amused breath. “He does more than that.”

“He better be worshipping that pussy of yours like it’s the holy grail. God knows I would.” Chelsea said as their eyes locked. For a moment, the room went still. The tension was thick, hot, electric, pulsing between them.

Chelsea’s smile softened slightly, as she stepped slowly closer to Mercedes. “You know what got me off the most when I first had the ring?” She murmured, “It was seeing myself in the mirror, seeing how hot I was, seeing how fucking evil I was. I used to stare for hours getting myself off while Tristan was working at the office.”

Mercedes stepped in, closing the gap. “Oh I know my pet. Tristan is only worth keeping around for the money he provides. In a few months when I get bored, I’ll divorce him and his fortune will be mine. Women like us know there’s nothing hotter than a bad bitch who does and gets what she wants.”

Their lips were inches apart now. Breath mingling. Eyes flicking between lips and eyes. Chelsea’s voice dropped to a whisper. “And what do you want… Mistress Steel?.”

Mercedes lunged first.

Their mouths met in a kiss that was part challenge, part worship. Soft at first, just the brush of lips, heat exchanged like secrets, then deeper. Fiercer. Mercedes gripped Chelsea’s waist, nails digging into pink satin, pulling her flush. Chelsea’s hands tangled in Mercedes’ ponytail, tugging it with a gasp as their bodies locked together, two perfect bodies forged from magic and spite.

They stumbled together, pressing against the vanity, the clink of crystal perfume bottles scattering across the marble.

Mercedes broke the kiss with a purr, her lips swollen, breath fast. “Careful, kitten. If you mess up my lipstick before the ceremony, I will make you redo it.”

Chelsea smirked, biting her bottom lip. “Well then let me kiss some lips that won’t smudge.”

Chelsea sank to her knees and disappeared under Mercedes dress. Her hands were greedy, her long, pink taloned fingers clawing up Mercedes’ thighs with a hunger that left faint red trails on her flawless skin. Mercedes’ slick, aching pussy was on display like a moment to sexual perfection.

“Mmmm, make it quick but make it dirty.” Mercedes growled, her voice dripping with command as she leaned back against the vanity, her manicured nails clawing into the marble. Chelsea didn’t answer with words, instead her lips crashed against Mercedes’ pussy, wet and ravenous, her tongue diving in, plunging deep, curling and twisting to taste every inch of her.

Mercedes’ hips bucked, a guttural moan tearing from her throat as Chelsea’s mouth went to work, sucking hard on her swollen clit, teeth grazing just enough to send a jolt of filthy pleasure spiking through her. 

“That’s it, you little slut, worship your mistress.” Mercedes hissed, her platinum waves spilling over her shoulders as she arched back, one hand gripping the vanity, the other yanking at her own hair. Chelsea’s tongue was relentless, flicking and swirling with a frenzied pace.

“Don’t forget to give yourself a helping hand.” Mercedes moaned and to her delight she could feel Chelsea’s smirk against her clit, loving the suggestion.

Chelsea’s hand dropped under her own pink dress, and slipped into her own eager pussy with a satisfying slurp. Chelsea moaned wantonly into Mercedes’ slick box. Chelsea’s other hand was just as depraved, gripping Mercedes’ thigh to spread her wider, nails digging in like she was claiming territory.

Mercedes’ moans turned to sharp, desperate cries, her body trembling as Chelsea’s tongue pistoned faster. “You dirty little bitch.” Mercedes gasped, her eyes half rolled back, her body teetering on the edge. 

“Eat me like you fucking mean it.” Chelsea obeyed, her face buried deep, her nose pressed against Mercedes’ clit as her tongue fucked into her,m. The pleasure was overwhelming, a raw, primal assault that had Mercedes’ body arching as she chased the release that was barreling toward her.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum!” Mercedes groaned, her voice breaking as the pleasure coiled tight, her pussy clenching around Chelsea’s tongue. Chelsea didn’t let up, her tongue lashing faster, her lips sucking harder, her fingers slamming into her own wet pussy with relentless rhythm. 

The orgasm hit like a tidal wave, Mercedes’ body convulsing as she screamed, her juices flooding Chelsea’s mouth, dripping down her chin as she kept licking, kept sucking, drawing out every shuddering pulse until she herself started to vibrate from an orgasm so good it made her fall out from under the dress.

She licked her lips slowly, savoring the taste, then wiped her chin with the back of her hand, rising in her pink stilettos with a sway that screamed sin. “Did I make you cum hard enough, Mistress Steel?” She purred, her voice thick with wicked satisfaction.

Mercedes steadied her breath, smoothing her gown with a lazy flick, her composure returning like a queen stepping back onto her throne. “You’re a filthy little pet.” She said, her tone cool but laced with dark approval. “I think I’ll keep you around.”

Chelsea laughed, a low, dirty sound that matched Mercedes’ own. “Oh, babe, I’m just getting started.”

“Well for now you can serve me by finding that useless bitch Callie and taking over her duties. You are my maid of honor after all.” Mercedes said, smiling wickedly.

Chelsea smiled back and sauntered to the door, her hips swinging, her dress clinging to every curve. She paused, glancing back with a smirk. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Mercedes met her gaze in the mirror, her lips curling into a dangerous smile. “Don’t get cocky, kitten. You’re mine, and you’ll stay that way.” Her eyes flashed pink to emphasis her point. Chelsea didn’t know if it was a threat or a promise but either way it made her wet. She couldn’t wait to further ‘serve’ her mistress.

Mercedes turned back to the mirror once Chelsea had left. She studied her reflection. The silk veil. The dramatic gown. Her posture wasn’t that of a nervous bride or a trembling romantic, it was the stance of a woman who was untouchable.  Her smirk curled slowly as her fingers ran down the side of her waist, admiring the cinch. Admiring the control.

She leaned in slightly, her voice a whisper, just for her reflection. “You’re a goddess now. A weapon in heels. A queen maker.”

Her eyes glittered. “Chelsea was just the first… and god, didn’t she turn out deliciously?” She spun slowly, admiring the curve of her hips, the weight of the train behind her, then faced herself again, more intimately now.

“I could make a dozen Chelseas. A hundred. A sisterhood of bad bitches. Glossy, cruel, unstoppable. All loyal to me.” She leaned in, whispering directly to her reflection now, like a prayer.

“Today isn’t my wedding day.” Her eyes flared pink again, brighter this time.

“It’s my ascension.” She said with one last loving look at herself before she sauntered out of the room.

Hi it’s Maddy again and this is day three of taking Power. Not seeing much difference yet. I think maybe my ass has gotten smoother and bigger? Let me know in the comments.

Hi it’s Maddy and this is day seven of taking Power and I’ve been feeling more confident and assertive. Thanks for all the compliments on my butt in my last video, that’s really helped my self esteem. Also maybe related but I seem to need my glasses less and less.

This is two weeks of being on Power and I think I’m really starting to feel a difference now. Like check out this cute outfit, I would have never had the confidence to wear something like this before. Comment below with a score out of 10 for how I look.

Maddy here and this is one month using Power. As you can tell it’s had some major physical side effects. My boobs are bigger, my skin is clearer and my lips are more full. It’s certainly been a hit with my boyfriend who suggested I up my dose. I’m not sure if I should but what’s the worse than can happen?

It’s me, Maddy, and this is what two months of Power looks like. I’ve never had the confidence to own a sun bathing suit before but now, well, I think this little number speaks for itself. My boyfriend was right, the double dose makes me feel and look even better. Other guys have noticed too, but don’t tell my boyfriend he has competition.

It’s me, Madi, naturally, and here I am looking like perfection after three months of Power. I’ve had a few changes in the last month. I got new clothes, new makeup and even a new car thanks to biggest change in my life, my new boyfriend Chad. He’s rich and handsome and knows how to treat a woman of my stature, not like my loser ex. Message for all you queens out there, don’t settle for frogs.

It’s Madison here to update you all on my four months of having Power. I’d also like to address the comments from my last video. The comments that say that I’ve become bitchy and superficial lately. I’d like to apologize to all the babies out there who are envious of me and want to take me down. You’re never going to take me down. Which reminds me, today I hit a milestone of 1 million subs!

Listen up, Madison is speaking. I know plenty of you jealous bitches have signed a petition to get CC Industries to cut off my supply of Power and somehow you losers won them over but I have plenty of Power stocked up. You think I’d give up this feeling after just five months? I might even start upping my dose!

I have big news for all my loser followers, your Queen is getting married. Not to Chad, I dumped him last week for my new man. Well not new exactly, it’s Alex my ex. I was burning through my supply of Power more than I thought and I knew Alex could get me more, but he was too moralistic and lame so I spiked his drinks over a few weeks with my remaining doses. He’s so fucking hawt and mean now. Power gave him the drive to take over CC industries so now I get all the Power I could ever want but I don’t like to share so we won’t be releasing it anytime soon. If I could do all this with only six months of Power, imagine what I’ll accomplish in the next six.

Its face, despite being lifeless, nevertheless seemed to have a bitchy confidence that Holly found intimidating.

“Put it on Holly then you and I can rule this school as it’s king and queen. Remember your dorky friend Lawrence? Well guess who I used to be before I found my suit.” Zane said grinning manically as he turned around to show her a zipper that was sticking out of his neck.

Holly’s eyes went wide. Could this really be Lawrence? The kind and nerdy boy she used to have lunch with every day until he suddenly moved without warning? Zane did appear around then. Could a suit really change someone that much? Regardless, Holly wanted none of this.

“Even if I believe you, I’m never putting on something so slutty and mean. Get lost!” Holly said defiantly.

“Fine. If you insist. Maybe I’ll just ask Lisa to be my Valentine, I’m sure she’ll say yes. It’s a shame because the suit really wants you, I can tell.” Zane said half heartedly turning around to leave.

Lisa was Holly’s friend, a shy girl who Holly knew would fold under pressure from an intimidating presence like Zane. He was going to get a girl to wear it no matter what, could Holly let that happen to some innocent girl when she could take the bullet right now. At least that’s what she said to justify her following actions.

“Stop! Ugh fine, give me the stupid suit.” She said exasperated. Handing her the suit Holly felt its soft skin with a mixture of wonder and repulsion. Stripping down to just her underwear she slipped her bare feet inside the feet of the suit. She expected a feeling of moisture but instead it was warm and cozy like a blanket.

“See this isn’t so bad is it? Nice toned and tanned legs, sure makes a change from those pale chicken thighs of yours.” Said a voice suddenly inside her head that wasn’t her own and yet she nodded in agreement.

The suit clung to her skin and she felt an immediate sting followed by a wave of pleasure as the nerve endings of the suit latched onto to her own. She ran he hand down her new legs and was amazed at how they felt like they were really apart of her.

“Don’t think of them of them as the suit’s, think of them as your own because they are yours now. Perfect slim and flexible legs. You know what goes well with that? A flat and toned tummy.” The voice continued with a sultry purr and Holly eagerly grabbed at the suit and pulled herself more into it.

The stomach connected to her belly with a satisfying slurp and she surpressed a moan as the suit’s bare pussy sucked onto her own. Involuntarily her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she felt the clit’s merge into one.

“Mmm can you imagine a stud like Zane going to town on your new pussy. His big cock would feel incredible inside you wouldn’t it?” The voice whispered and Holly could only manage a little whimper as she imagined the encounter. Only minutes ago she thought of Zane as nothing more of a bully but as she eyed him up and down watching her with increased lust she couldn’t stop thinking of his sweaty body rubbing up against hers.

“Not your pathetic body though, he doesn’t want those flat tits and flabby ass against his Adonis of a body, he wants a queen’s. Keep going!” The voice urged but Holly was already lifting the perfectly rounded rear end onto her meagre set. It instantly magnetized onto her own. She slapped it to test out the feeling and with a sly smirk approved.

Next she lifted the big boobs of the suit onto her own and for a moment worried the nerve endings wouldn’t reach other but as soon as it was in place she felt the suit fill in the difference. Her nipples immediately grew hard and she couldn’t help but touch them which proved to only excite her more.

“Imagine how much better they’ll feel with a permanent French manicure on your hands but where will you find those?” The voice said sarcastically. Holly slipped her hands into arms of the suit, slowly making her way to the fingertips, enjoying the sensation. She turned her new hands over and over, looking at her new nails in delight. They were long, sharp, and dangerous.

“Mmm these are perfect for tapping on a table while you watch a clique of mean girls loyally follow your every order, doesn’t that sound so fucking hawt?” The voice added and it filled Holly’s head with images of being the new queen bee at high school.

Holly couldn’t help but smirk at the thought. The idea of wielding that kind of power, of being someone everyone looked up to—or feared—was intoxicating. She had always been more of a background character, someone who blended into the margins of high school life. But this, this could be her chance to rewrite her story, to be the one in control.

“But wait,” Holly thought, a sliver of doubt piercing her daydream, “is that really what I want? To be feared? To be someone who leads through intimidation?” She pondered the voice’s seductive offer, the promise of instant popularity and power. Yet, as she did, she remembered the times she’d been on the receiving end of those glares, those whispered judgments. It wasn’t a good feeling, being on the outside looking in.

The voice seemed to sense her hesitation, its tone shifting ever so slightly. “Think of it, Holly. No more being ignored. No more being overlooked. You can have it all: the friends, the status, the power. Zane. All you need to do is say give in.”

As Holly envisioned herself surrounded by a loyal entourage, commanding attention and respect (or was it fear?) with every tap of her nails, a sense of exhilaration washed over her. This was it—this was what she wanted. To be powerful, to be envied, to be the epitome of beauty and authority. The idea of becoming the queen bee, of leading with an iron fist in a velvet glove, was making her unbearably wet.

“Yes I want it. I want it all!” Holly thought, the voice’s seductive promise igniting a fire within her. She could almost feel the power coursing through her veins, fueled by every admiring and envious glance thrown her way. The thought of being at the top, untouchable, and making the rules was all that mattered.

“There’s only one thing left to do. Put on your new face, become the bad bitch you long to be.” The voice said echoing in Holly’s mind. Holly shoved her face into the suits pretty but cold and calculating face. She felt the big bitchy lips settle onto her thin pursed pair. Long eyelashes wrapped around her eyes given her a darkly intense stare.

The suit’s zipper magically rolled up and under her now long gorgeous blonde mane. As the zipper closed she let out one final gasp as if the last vestiges of her pure soul was squeezed out and an evil blackness enveloped her heart.

“My god, Holly, you look even better than I had hoped.” Zane said looking at her hungrily. However she reacted to him calling her by her name like she smelt something foul.

“Holly? Do I look like a Holly?” She said in mild disgust.

“Of course not babe, what should I call you then?” Zane replied knowing the disgust she felt.

She turned to the nearby mirror and looked at her new form, waiting for inspiration. She needed a name dripping in luxury, one that was both elegant and powerful. Then she remembered what day it was and a smirk crossed her lips.

“Valentina.” She uttered. As soon as she said it, it was if her new persona solidified in her mind. Striking her hair she knew exactly what kind of mean bitch Valentina was and would be.

“Valentina? A perfect name for a perfect woman.” Zane grinned as he stalked up next to her. She turned and wrapped her arms around his neck. He smelt good and she couldn’t wait until he treated her like the queen that she now was. However the voice instead her head returned with some wicked words.

“I’m sure he’ll be a perfectly fine king by your side but think of how much hotter it would be to put a true bully in his suit.” The voice whispered and Valentina found herself getting aroused at the idea of betrayal. So much so that her hand was already toying with the zipper on his neck. The question was would she fuck him first or just fuck him over. It was her day, she could whatever she wanted.