Interactive Series — Styled Into Submission (4/?)

Danielle’s slipping deeper, and Nicole’s little playlist might be working too well.
Got thoughts on what should come next? Drop your ideas below!

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Nicole leaned against the reception counter, arms crossed, watching with quiet satisfaction as Dylan teetered past on glossy black heels, broom in hand. His tight little hips swayed with every step, the subtle bounce of his chest forms giving a gentle jiggle beneath the silky pink blouse she’d put him in that morning. He was focused on sweeping up stray bits of hair from the salon floor—lips pouty, brows softly arched, platinum blonde ponytail swinging as he moved.

She had to admit, he looked adorable prancing around the salon. And the clients? They absolutely loved Danielle. Whether it was the way she opened the door with a shy smile, the way her perfect acrylics danced across the appointment book, or just the way her sheer pantyhose caught the light as she pranced around.

What really sealed it, though, was how many new clients he’d brought in… without even realizing it.

Every time they went out—whether it was a casual dinner or a quick shopping trip—Danielle turned heads. Women would stop her to ask where she got her hair done, or to compliment her nails. And each time, she would blush furiously, shift in her heels, and mumble out the name of Nicole’s salon in that cute, breathy voice Nicole had spent weeks coaching her into.

Nicole always watched it happen with a private smirk—but behind that pretty pout and those perfect manners, he’d started getting fussy. Lately, he wouldn’t stop nagging her about when this “punishment” would end and when he could finally go back to being Dylan.

Nicole couldn’t have that. So, one quiet evening after he’d fallen asleep, she set a small speaker on the nightstand and pressed play. Soft, sweet, carefully chosen tracks—whispers threaded into calming music, each one gently encouraging deeper and deeper submission.

After a few days, she could already tell it was working. The complaints had slowly faded. When she gave him tasks around the salon, he moved a little quicker, stood a little straighter in his heels, and answered with just a touch more eagerness than before. He wasn’t just pretending anymore… not entirely.

A few nights in, Nicole made an offhand remark about how helpful it would be if Dani knew a little more about fashion and makeup—just enough to keep up with clients, of course. She didn’t press the idea. But soon after, she began catching him hunched over magazines in the evenings, lips slightly parted in concentration, or quietly watching beauty tutorials on his phone, legs tucked neatly beneath him on the couch.

One night, she lingered by the doorway and caught him at her vanity, mimicking the steps from a video playing softly on his phone. His face was already half-done—light blush on his cheeks, a touch of shimmer on his lids—and now he was finishing with a careful swipe of pink gloss. He leaned in, pursed his lips slightly, then sat back, looking just a little pleased with himself.

Another night, she spied him sitting at the kitchen table, flipping through a fashion magazine with one leg daintily crossed over the other. He hadn’t heard her come in, too absorbed in whatever glossy spread he was studying. His outfit wasn’t one she’d laid out for him—and that alone made Nicole pause.

He wore a crisp white blouse, the front knotted just below his bust to frame the exaggerated swell of his breast forms. The fabric strained deliciously against their glossy curve, practically inviting attention. A black pencil skirt hugged his hips, riding high enough to show off those smooth, tan legs she’d had waxed weeks ago. His nails, long and glossy white, tapped rhythmically against the page as he read. His blonde hair was swept up into a neat little bun, and a pair of oversized glasses perched on the bridge of his nose.

Nicole folded her arms and smirked. He was slipping into the role so smoothly now—quicker than even she’d hoped.

Soon, she’d have the perfect little assistant.