Interactive Series — Styled Into Submission (1/?)

Here it is, the first part of our interactive TG caption series! Let me know what you think in the comments and leave your suggestions for part 2 as well!

Try to keep your suggestions focused on things that can fit into a single part. Smaller steps, growing pressure, or interesting complications will help us take our time and really dive into each stage of the transformation. Also remember, Patreon polls have a 140-character limit, so if your suggestion is longer, I’ll have to trim it.

I’ll be posting the suggestions in a poll this Thursday, so try to have yours in before then!

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“Need a strong man for that, babe?” Dylan smirked as he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching his girlfriend haul in a heavy supply box for her salon. She grunted, more annoyed by his smug tone than the weight itself.

“Please,” Nicole said, letting the box drop with a soft thud on the tile floor. “You’re not exactly ‘Mr. Muscles’ yourself. I’m probably stronger than you.”

That hit a nerve. His smirk stiffened, and he let out a short laugh. “There’s no way a dainty little thing like you is stronger than me,” he said, shaking his head. “How about we settle it with an arm wrestle? Come on—prove it.”

Her gaze sharpened as she crossed her arms. “Alright. Since you wanna run your mouth—loser does whatever the winner says. No arguments.”

It wasn’t even close. Nicole slammed his arm down like she was swatting a fly. When he claimed he “wasn’t ready” the first time, she just rolled her eyes—and then crushed him again, just as easily.

The next morning, Dylan was dragged—grumbling and still nursing his pride—into Nicole’s salon. He figured she’d make him sweep hair or clean footbaths for a day. Instead, she guided him straight to one of the chairs.

“Before you start helping, I need you to look the part,” she said sweetly, tying a pink salon cape around his neck.

“Wait, what do you mea—”

The gloves snapped on. She started by parting his long brown hair, carefully sectioning it before slathering it in a cool platinum cream. He sat frozen, too stunned to argue as she foiled each strand, humming to herself like this was any other client. While the bleach set, she threaded his brows, shaped them with terrifying precision, and began buffing his face with primer and foundation.

“You need definition,” she muttered, contouring his jawline with ease. “Honestly, it’s almost a shame how soft your face already is.” Her fingers worked fast—smoky eyeshadow, bold eyeliner flicks, a few coats of mascara to lift his lashes, and a matte nude lip. She finished with a spritz of setting spray and a soft giggle.

When she pulled the foils free and dried his new platinum blonde hair into a sleek, straight style that framed his freshly made-up face, she stepped back to admire her work.

“There,” she said, spinning his chair to the mirror.

His mouth dropped open. That face in the mirror—it was flawless. The smoky eyes, the pouty lips, the sharp brows… all framed by sleek, platinum blonde hair that shimmered under the salon lights.

“Babe… what have you done to me?” he finally choked out, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Nicole’s lips curled into a coy little smirk as she leaned over his shoulder, her fingers lightly brushing his freshly bleached hair.

“I needed my new assistant to look presentable,” she said sweetly. “You think I can have a man helping me around the salon? What would my clients think?”

She leaned in closer, her voice soft but dripping with condescension.

“No... I need a dainty little thing tottering around to help me. Someone like you. Someone like Danielle.”