Interactive Series — Styled Into Submission (3/?)

That was such a close one. Danielle’s makeover and her hypnotic training were neck and neck right till the very end, but the makeover just managed to slip ahead. Poor thing… Danielle’s about to get even more helplessly feminine. Got ideas for where the story goes next? Drop them below, maybe it’s finally time for a little hypnosis to have its moment, hmm?

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Dylan’s first week had been a waking dream—and not the good kind. Every time the salon bell chimed and another client stepped through the door, he found himself straightening his posture, adjusting his skirt, and silently praying they wouldn’t pay him much attention. Instead, they noticed Danielle instantly—and couldn’t stop talking about her.

“Oh my God, Nicole, your new girl is such a doll! Look at her lashes!”

“Does she always look this put together?”

“Gosh, I love how polished your staff is.”

Nicole would just smile sweetly, hand delicately poised on Dylan’s lower back as she guided him toward the front counter, making sure every client got a proper look. And whether it was the way the sunlight glinted off his pantyhose, the curve of his hips in that too-tight miniskirt, or the soft bounce of his platinum hair as he scurried to fetch a towel—one thing was painfully clear: Nicole’s clients adored Danielle.

So when Nicole was suddenly booking more appointments than ever—many of the glowing reviews mentioning Danielle by name—Dylan should’ve known something was coming. And sure enough, one morning, Nicole decided it was time for a little upgrade.

“Mmmnn... salon’s closed today,” he mumbled sleepily, squinting up at her as she yanked the sheets back.

She gave him a slow, wicked grin. “Closed to clients, sure… but I’ve got Danielle down for an appointment.”

Nicole didn’t give him a chance to argue. She brought him straight to the salon, settled him into a chair, and snapped a pink cape around his neck. “Time to make you the face of the salon,” she said, brushing his bangs aside.

The first piercing caught him off guard—a sharp little prick followed by a faint, traitorous gasp. Then the second. “Wh-what are you—?” he started to protest, only to be silenced by the delicate clinking of a pair of dangly silver earrings that swayed gently as she turned his head. Before he could gather another thought, Nicole had lifted his blouse and tapped just below his belly button. “Something a bit... flirtier,” she murmured, and before he could stop her, the needle was in and a sparkling little charm was locked into place, drawing a soft, disbelieving whimper from his lips.

He was still catching his breath when Nicole turned back to the tray and picked up the next tool. His heart skipped. “Y-you can’t be serious, Nicole.” She didn’t even look at him as she tilted his chin up again, lips twitching with amusement. “Of course I am. You’ve already got the pout, baby. Let’s make it pop.” And before he could pull away, she was working with quiet precision, plumping his lips into a swollen, glossy bow that trembled with every shallow breath. By the time she stepped back, they sat high and full—obscenely pretty, and impossible to ignore.

“Still with me, Danielle?” she teased, eyes twinkling as she picked up the acrylics. “Now for the nails.” She took her time attaching each long, glossy nail, then gave them a sharp French tip that gleamed under the vanity lights. “You’ll need to come in every week for fills, obviously. I won’t have my assistant looking sloppy.”

By now, Dylan was nearly breathless—his lips swollen, his belly faintly aching, and his hands looking like they belonged on a magazine cover. He barely noticed when Nicole vanished into the back, until she returned with a glint in her eye and something large cradled in her hands. He blinked, lips parting in a confused little pout as his eyes flicked between them. “No. No, you can’t be serious.”

Nicole just arched a brow, slowly wiggling the two large, hyper-realistic breast forms with one hand. “Blouse up, sweetheart.”

“But—” he started, voice catching on the softness of his own lips, but that was all she needed. In one smooth motion, she lifted the hem of his dainty top and slipped them into place, adjusting the bra with quick, practiced tugs until the weight settled against his chest. He cupped them gently in his hands, unable to stop himself. They filled his palms, soft, heavy, and unnervingly real-looking.

Nicole let her eyes roam slowly over him, a smug little smile curling her lips. “Perfect,” she murmured. “You’re practically a sexy little display piece for the salon now.”

The next morning came with a fresh outfit and no room to argue. Nicole pulled him into a barely-there white knit crop top that tied just under the bust, showing off every inch of cleavage the new forms could manage. The pink-and-white miniskirt clung tight around his hips, low and snug, leaving him feeling more exposed than ever. With matching patent pink pumps, sparkling earrings, and his freshly glossed lips in a permanent little pout, there was no escaping what he’d become.

As they stepped outside, the early morning sun caught the shine of his glossy nails. His chest jiggled beneath the crop top, the forms bouncing with a weight that felt more obvious now than ever. He tugged at the waistband of his miniskirt in a desperate attempt to pull it higher, trying to hide the little charm just below his belly button—only to realize he’d hiked the hem so far up it barely covered his ass. His cheeks flushed hot as he hurried after Nicole, the sharp click-click-click of his heels chasing every bounce and sway, drawing lingering glances from passersby that made his skin crawl. He leaned in, voice low and anxious. “N-Nicole… everyone’s staring.”

Nicole didn’t even glance at him—just kept walking, smiling to herself. “Oh, they’re definitely staring, princess. And when they ask where you got those pouty lips or that perfect manicure, you’ll smile pretty… and let them know exactly where to book their appointment.”