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kallie-den · 29 days ago

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Lifestyle Takeover Ch. 3

Now that Vivienne has fallen under Mel's sway, she instructs Emma to take the high-powered CEO for a very particular makeover...

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At first, Vivienne was entirely quiet and calm. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so utterly at peace with herself. Normally, her entire life felt like a battle. There were endless pressures, buzzing around her like flies. Not now. She was perfectly still. Perfectly relaxed. Vivienne was conscious of nothing but a gentle, rhythmic purr she could feel throughout her entire body. It seemed to be coming from beneath her.

Then came a noise so loud, urgent, and uncomfortably familiar, it pierced through her calm and dragged Vivienne unwillingly back to awareness.

It took her a long moment to remember that the sound was her phone ringing.

The ringing ceased, but it was too late. Vivienne blearily opened her eyes and, after the blurry haze resolved into a set of distinct images, realized she was sitting in the back of a limo. Somehow, at first, it didn’t occur to Vivienne to question that. It simply seemed right.

“Oh look! She’s, like, waking up.”

“So she is. Welcome back, sleepyhead.”

Vivienne looked up and saw Melanie Adams sitting opposite her. She blinked. She looked to one side and saw Emma sitting next to her, in all her pink, bimbo glory. She blinked again, then blushed.

Emma. It was really her. It hadn’t all been a dream.

Vivienne’s embarrassingly eager adoration for the bimbo hadn’t been diminished by their meeting. If anything, she was more starstruck than ever. The CEO sat up straight and tried to hide her blush by rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“I apologize,” she said blearily, hoping to recapture a little dignity. “I must have… well, I suppose I’ve been putting in some long hours lately.”

“I understand,” Mel replied, offering a sympathetic smile.

Vivienne nodded gratefully, then looked out of the window. She frowned as the realities of the situation began to set in.

“Where are we going?” she asked. She had no memory of getting in a car or agreeing to anything.

“We’re going shopping!” Emma squealed gleefully. “We’re gonna get you, like, a whole bunch of new outfits.”

“That’s right,” Mel added, a strange look in her eyes. “You remember, don’t you?”

Suddenly, she did. As Mel spoke, the memory was lifted out of the heavy fog that seemed to surround Vivienne’s mind. Remembering that, though, only prompted more questions.

“Right,” she agreed slowly. “But… why?”

Mel’s smile was beginning to look faintly condescending. “We were talking about how stressed and overworked you are. About how you need to make some changes and learn to relax. And since we’re friends, we decided I’d help you out by taking you shopping. Remember?”

Vivienne nodded. It was all coming back to her now, and it was just as Mel said. “Right,” she repeated, rubbing her head. “Goodness. I really must be tired.”

“Don’t worry,” Mel told her. “We can fix that.”

As they spoke, another memory was coming back to Vivienne. This one, unprompted, was far less concrete. It was a mere impression, accompanied by a faint, inexplicable sense of loss. Guided by it, Vivienne found herself reaching up toward the pocket in which she normally wore her pocket watch.

It was gone.

“Looking for this?” Mel asked.

Vivienne looked up and, to her shock, saw that Mel was holding her most prized possession, the very symbol of her prowess as a mind controller, dangling between her fingers.

Vivienne frowned deeply. Mel having it seemed right, somehow, but she couldn’t remember why. That troubled her.

“Why do you have that?” she asked warily. Perhaps something was afoot. Some kind of plot to entrap her and weaken her mind.

“Don’t you remember?” Mel replied. “Whoever’s holding this is in charge. That’s how it works, isn’t it? And since I’m the one who’s taking you out shopping, I’m in charge. That means I hold the pocket watch. Isn’t that right?”

“Oh.” Vivienne steadily relaxed. “Right.”

It was all coming back to her now.

“I can’t believe I forgot my own rules like that,” she apologized again. “I just can’t seem to get my head off my pillow today.”

Mel threw a grin at Emma. Her pet bimbo was giggling helplessly. Vivienne couldn’t imagine at what.

“That’s perfectly OK,” Mel assured her. “Just as long as you’re clear on how this all works.” She gestured to the pocket watch again.

“Of course,” Vivienne promised. “You’ve got the watch. You’re in charge.”

Before Vivienne could figure out why that was bothering her so much, her phone started ringing again. Reflexively, Vivienne slipped the phone out of her pocket and made to answer it.

“Stop,” Mel instructed sharply.

Vivienne froze. She flashed Mel a dissatisfied look.

“Don’t answer it,” Mel told her. “You’re not doing any work today. This shopping trip is all about relaxing and having fun with a makeover. No business.”

Vivienne couldn’t help but feel uneasy with that. Her phone was still ringing. She looked down at the caller ID. It was work, of course. Her CFO was calling.

“It could be important,” she protested.

“They can manage without you for one day,” Mel retorted. “But you? You desperately need to blow off some steam, Vivienne. Don’t answer.”

For a long moment, Vivienne languished in indecision. It was true that, probably, her people could cope. Vivienne couldn’t imagine that anything disastrous was happening. But equally, as CEO, her sign-off was needed on all kinds of decisions, and her leadership style ensured that none of her underlings would be willing to move forward on anything without her. By not taking this phone call, Vivienne was likely causing her company a serious headache. It was in opposition to her entire long-held personal and professional ethos.

But Mel had the pocket watch. She was in charge. That was the rule.

“Fine,” Vivienne acceded. She declined the call.

Listening to Mel felt strange. It didn’t sit quite right with Vivienne. After all, Mel was her rival. Vivienne despised what she represented. She was still determined to hypnotize Mel and break her to her will - eventually. But for now, Vivienne had to follow the rules. As scrambled as her memory was, she could at least remember that much.

But it was more than just that. Vivienne was surprised to find that she was taking a strange comfort in following Mel’s orders. It was a novel experience, she supposed. A welcome break from having to decide everything for herself. She glanced across at Emma, giggling happily again. Was this how she felt all the time? Every day? Vivienne wasn’t sure what to make of the fact that she felt much, much more envy than she did contempt.

Maybe her plans could afford to take a back seat. Maybe letting Mel take the lead for just one day wasn’t so bad.

“Wow!” Emma exclaimed at Mel through her giggles. “Oh my god, that thing, like, totally worked, huh?”

Mel couldn’t suppress a grin of her own as she looked back at her girlfriend. “It really did.”

“What did?” Vivienne asked irritably. Mel was in charge, yes, but that didn’t mean Vivienne liked being talked around.

“Nothing,” Mel swiftly assured her. She glanced at the cell phone Vivienne was still holding. “Actually, Vivienne, you should turn that off before it rings again.”

Vivienne pulled a face. The thought of being out of touch filled her with anxiety. She’d already missed half a dozen calls. There was something exciting about it too, though. Like she was a child again, skipping class.

Not that how she felt really mattered. Not while Mel had the pocket watch.

“Very well,” she agreed. Vivienne switched her phone off and tucked it back in her pocket.

“Good.” Mel’s grin widened. “Look, we’re here.”

Right on cue, the limo pulled over to park. Looking out the window, Vivienne could see that they had driven to the city’s high-end shopping district. The kind of place only elite hypnogarchs and their most favored servants could afford to shop. Vivienne had been there once or twice, although mostly she relied on her brainwashed assistants to do her shopping for her. She simply didn’t have the time.

As they stepped out of the car, Mel checked her own phone before turning to Emma and Vivienne. “I hate to bring down the mood, but it looks like I actually have a couple of calls I need to take,” she said. “My mothers. Work stuff. Emma, why don’t you take Vivienne around?”

“Oh-em-gee!” Emma squealed, while Vivienne blinked in surprise. “Really? I can pick out her stuff?”

“Of course,” Mel replied indulgently. “It’ll be a nice treat - for both of you. Besides, I’m sure Vivienne is just dying for the two of you to get a little one-on-one time.”

Vivienne’s heart skipped a beat. The way Mel said that was alarming. It was almost as if she knew. But no. No, that was impossible.

“Well, yes, I’m sure it’ll be lovely to… to get to know one another,” Vivienne replied lamely, fighting to keep her face neutral. Emma giggled some more.

“Yeah!” the bimbo exclaimed. Without warning, she locked arms with Vivienne. “We’ll be, like, besties in no time.”

Vivienne could have fainted from sheer, starstruck joy.

“Oh, before you get going,” Mel added, “Emma, you’d better take this.”

A distinct shiver raced down Vivienne’s spine as she watched Mel hand Vivienne’s pocket watch over to Emma.

Emma was in charge now.

Vivienne could certainly think of worse things than that. It was like a fantasy come to life.

“Come on!” Emma cried out, already tugging at Vivienne’s arm. “Let’s get going! We’ve got soooo much shopping to do.”

It was like being caught in a whirlwind. Pocket watch and rules notwithstanding, Vivienne was powerless to keep herself from being unceremoniously dragged around the shopping district. Emma’s giddy, gleeful, irrepressible energy was impossible to resist. Vivienne found herself breathing hard as Emma pulled her at a jog from one store to the next, from aisle to aisle, gushing over different items of clothing. Suddenly, she had a new thing to envy Emma for: her fitness. Thanks to all that exercise, Emma seemed to have endless breath to spare for gushing over different clothes and how they might look on Vivienne. It was all Vivienne could do to nod agreeably and try to keep her head from spinning.

But there was one thing she couldn’t help noticing: all the clothes Emma insisted on looking at and buying were pink.

“I… I’m just not sure this is really my color,” Vivienne offered diplomatically, as Emma held something up against her body for inspection. She truly hated disagreeing with her idol, but she felt she had to say something.

“Yes, it is!” Emma replied, somewhat indignantly, and with such force Vivienne couldn’t bring herself to argue back. “Pink is the best. It’s everyone’s color. Duh.”

With the matter settled, Emma marched Vivienne over to the cashier to pay for a set of new sports bras and a couple of pairs of leggings - all bright pink. All the clothes they bought - lingerie, workout clothes, a few casual outfits - were so garish and so revealing that Vivienne could never have seen herself wearing them. But she quickly found she didn’t regret any of the purchases. Quite the opposite. Emma’s joy for all things pink was proving truly infectious. The more they shopped, the more Vivienne could sense her own feelings softening.

She couldn’t help it. Emma loved pink, and Vivienne wanted to be like Emma.

It was impossible not to. She had everything Vivienne didn’t. She was joyful, carefree, and completely unselfconscious in her happiness. More and more, Vivienne found herself dwelling on the strange envy and longing she felt toward the bimbo. Maybe Emma and Mel were right. Maybe a makeover was exactly what she needed. A few lifestyle changes to bring everything into balance.

All so she could keep pursuing her corporate ambitions, of course. Eventually.

Besides those deeper ruminations, there was, of course, a much simpler form of pleasure to be taken in their little shopping expedition: Vivienne was Emma’s biggest fan, and she was having her favorite bimbo porn star of all time pick out clothes for her.

It was a dream come true.

Slowly but surely, Vivienne started leaning into it. She joined her voice to Emma’s as they squealed over cute outfits. She started suggesting things for herself - always pink, of course. It was fun. More fun than she’d expected. And Emma seemed so pleased with her whenever she did. Soon enough, the two of them were like peas in a pod, giggling over cute clothes and the flashy new outfits they were putting together. Vivienne was having the time of her life - even if Emma did keep pushing at her boundaries of modesty a little.

“Are… you sure?” Vivienne asked gingerly, indicating a pink pencil skirt Emma had picked out that was far, far too short to be deserving of the name. “There’s got to be a longer one around here somewhere.”

She knew Emma was keen for her to have it, and so she half-expected the bimbo to reach for the pocket watch and assert her authority. Instead, Emma simply leaned in close and fixed her with the most devastating puppy-eyes stare Vivienne had ever seen.

“Aw, c’mon!” Emma pleaded. “Don’t you, like, think it’ll look good?”

“I…” Already, Vivienne could feel herself melting.

“It’s just soooo perfect.” Emma’s eyes were practically glistening. “Please?”

“F-fine,” Vivienne found herself saying. She was helpless to resist Emma.

“Yay!” Emma brightened at once, before marching off towards the cashier.

It always played out that way, no matter how risqué the item. Lacy thongs, slutty bras, ridiculous heels - in the end, Vivienne fell prey to them all. It was a strange feeling. Usually, Vivienne always got her way. She was a CEO. A leader. A hypnogarch. Someone who’d clawed her way up from ignominy. She wasn’t used to being such a pushover. Yielding to Emma’s will just felt so easy. So natural. Whenever she tried to muster an objection to the kinds of clothes the bimbo was picking out, her head turned foggy and hazy, and the right words simply wouldn’t come. Simultaneously, the temptation to giggle and smile and just say ‘yes’ grew and grew.

Now and then, as they shopped, Vivienne wondered if she should be worried about the fact that she felt so hazy, or that she was proving to be so weak-willed. But each time she decided - no. It was just a harmless shopping trip. Nothing more.

Besides, Emma had Vivienne’s pocket watch, and that meant she was in charge - and that was Vivienne’s own rule! How could anything be amiss?

Eventually, after what seemed like hours, once Vivienne’s arms were aching from the now-huge shopping bags she was carrying around, Emma led her to the changing room of a particularly up-market boutique. It was the kind of place where the changing room really was a room of its own, with luxurious couches and soft, flattering lighting, and where the staff would bring glasses of champagne on request.

“Finally,” Vivienne sighed, slumping onto one of the couches. “I could use a moment to catch my breath.”

“Nope!” Emma admonished, still a wellspring of excitement. “No time! Cause it’s time to, like, try on some of these adorable outfits.”

Vivienne groaned, but good-naturedly. Emma truly was irresistible. Vivienne hauled herself back to her feet and, as Emma indicated, stepped up to the mirror.

“Oh, yeah,” Emma giggled. “This is gonna be soooo much better.”

A shiver of anticipation raced down Vivienne’s spine, and the CEO giggled nervously.

“Right!” Emma exclaimed, before scrunching up her face like she was struggling to concentrate. “How was I supposed to do it… um… Vivienne, you should just, like, stand there and let me undress you, m’kay?”

“Oh!” Vivienne blushed a little. “Um. OK.”

“And… let’s see…” Emma had the distinct look of an actress who’d forgotten her lines. It was kind of endearing. “While I’m doing that, I want you to, like, look straight ahead at the mirror. And just, like… look at yourself. Got it?”

“Sure.” Just as Emma instructed, Vivienne turned to face the mirror and looked at her own reflection.

At once, Vivienne was struck by just how radical a departure from her typical wardrobe her new clothes were going to be. The clothes she was currently wearing were, like all her clothes, dark, formal, and classy. That morning, Vivienne had dressed herself in one of her normal work outfits: an expensive, finely-tailored, black suit jacket with matching pants, a white shirt beneath, some stylish but sensible flats, and a few pieces of designer jewelry to accentuate the look.

She looked good. Very good, in fact. Vivienne looked fashionable, wealthy, intelligent and powerful. All-in-all, it suited her perfectly - and yet, Vivienne couldn’t help but be struck by how plain and joyless her fashion now seemed compared to what Emma wore each and every day.

“So, like,” Emma began. She spoke with the air of someone who was about to launch into something they’d rehearsed. “Isn’t it funny how some people say that the stuff we wear is, like, part of our… um… our identities?”

Vivienne laughed a little at the way Emma was struggling. “I suppose so,” she agreed. “I’ve heard people say that, yes.”

“Yeah!” Emma said excitedly. “I mean, Mel always says stuff like that. But I dunno. To me, it just sounds, like, silly. What does it even mean? It’s like… like what clothes you put on makes you who you are, or something?”

Vivienne let out another laugh. She felt lucky just to be here, with her star, Emma, listening to her speak like this. Being able to bathe in her presence was just as wonderful as she could have hoped.

“How does that even work?” Emma pouted. “I mean, c’mon! Like, what, you just put some different clothes on, and suddenly you’re a whole new girl? That’s so silly!”

Her voice was especially delightful. Vivienne felt like she could listen to it forever - that lilting bimbo voice, rising at the end of every sentence, free of even the slightest hint of stress or shame. For a long time now, listening to Emma on her videos or audio recordings had been a source of comfort for Vivienne. In person, it was even more relaxing.

“But… I guess maybe I do kinda get it,” Emma reconsidered, tilting her head. “I mean, look at me! I’m a total girly ditz, and all I wear is stuff that’s pink and pretty! So that makes sense, kinda. And you? You’re like this… this serious, smart, big-time business lady! So you wear suits and stuff. It all matches.” She giggled. “Isn’t it funny when you see it like that?”

Vivienne giggled along with her. It just felt natural. She was in such a good mood. Being with Emma, like this, made her feel so light and fluffy. It helped, strangely, to know that Emma was holding her pocket watch. Emma was in charge. For some reason, that made Vivienne feel very safe.

“Still.” Emma’s brow furrowed slightly. “It’s weird to think about how, like, if that’s how it works, then when you take off your clothes, it’s like… it’s like… it’s like you’re taking off who you are. You know?”

“I’m… not sure… that’s how it works,” Vivienne replied bemusedly, and was surprised at how distant and absent her own voice sounded. It was as if, just by listening to Emma, she’d drifted off into a kind of waking sleep.

“I guess maybe not,” Emma conceded brightly. “But! You never know. Maybe it’s just, like, something for you to think about, while you’re getting changed.”

As she spoke, Emma gave a cutesy little flourish that, it just so happened, placed Vivienne’s pocket watch in the palm of her hand. Vivienne could only watch in the mirror as the bimbo fastened the watch to a gold chain necklace she plucked from her purse, and then clasped it around her neck like an amulet. With Emma wearing the symbol of authority, her words seemed to stroke Vivienne’s very soul.

“Let’s get started,” Emma announced. “Remember: just, like, stand there, and watch.”

Vivienne nodded numbly. She stood on the spot and watched herself in the mirror. Emma’s reflection was behind hers, and her eyes were drawn to the pocket watch around her neck. Its rhythmic ticking was endlessly seductive.

“First, I’ll take this off,” Emma said, reaching for the front of Vivienne’s suit jacket. She unbuttoned the front, then took hold of the collar and started to peel it away from the CEO’s shoulders. “You know, a jacket like this really sym… um… symbolizes you, right? It’s what people in, like, your position wear. Businesswomen. Leaders. Serious people. People in charge.”

Vivienne nodded again as Emma’s words worked their way through her mind. There was an undeniable, powerful truth to it. Whenever Vivienne dressed herself in the morning, putting on her suit always felt like putting on her outer layer of armor. With it, she was ready to face the world.

“But now,” Emma added, as she pulled Vivienne’s arms out of the sleeves and let the jacket fall to the ground, “it’s off!” She giggled. “No more serious business lady.”

A dizzying sense of loss took hold of Vivienne’s gut. Once, she’d been on a private jet that had run into some turbulence, and the plane had dropped a thousand feet in just seconds. It was just like that. For a brief moment, she stirred.

Then, the pocket watch caught her eye again. She noticed how, reflected in the mirror, the numerals around the face were backward. It was all the more captivating for it. Trying to read the watch was like trying to unravel a little puzzle. Somehow, it reminded her:

Emma had the watch. Emma was in charge.

No more serious business lady.

Then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the sense of loss was gone, and Vivienne felt nothing but an incredible, blissful lightness.

But Emma was only just getting started. “Now, your pants,” she said, already unfastening them. “I think these are like… um… I don’t remember what Mel said, actually.” She giggled. “But it makes me think about that expression. Y’know? Wearing the pants? Like, being in charge.” Another giggle. “Well, um, now you’re not!”

Like she was sleepwalking, Vivienne stepped out of her pants. Once more, she felt it: the loss, then the lightness. It was quicker this time. Easier.

Maybe it was something to do with the way she’d been following Emma’s lead all day. Vivienne was completely and totally swept up in her rhythm. If either of them was wearing the pants in the relationship, it wasn’t Vivienne. And somehow, that felt natural. It was like Vivienne didn’t need to be in charge anymore.

It was such a relief.

“Next,” Emma cooed, “your shirt.” She reached around Vivienne and started to unbutton it. “It’s so… so nice. Nice and professional. Nice and modest. I guess you can, like, show a little cleavage, if you want. But besides that, you look really, um, what was the word? Dignified. Yeah. Dignified.”

Once more, Vivienne nodded. She was so relaxed. Listening to Emma was so easy.

“Let’s take that off too.” Emma giggled quietly. “Shall we?”

She slipped the shirt off of Vivienne’s body and let it fall softly to the ground.

Vivienne shivered briefly as she felt the cool air on her bare skin. She looked at herself in the mirror, losing herself to her own image. She was wearing little more than her underwear now. She was so exposed. So vulnerable. That thought brought with it a little spike of adrenaline. A certain unfamiliar thrill.

And yet, it wasn’t bad. It wasn’t unwelcome. Far from it. She sensed that here, with Emma, she didn’t need to guard herself. Didn’t need to project an image. She could simply be.

Vivienne felt free.

“How about your shoes?” Emma suggested next, bending at the waist. “Let me take care of those for you.”

In the mirror, Vivienne saw the bimbo lifting her feet and slipping her soles out of her shoes.

“Flats, huh?” Emma giggled. “I mean, they’re nice! Stylish. Sensible, huh? Just like you. That’s what I always think when I see a girl wearing flats. That she’s so, like, serious.” Another giggle. “Makes me wonder what she’s like when the flats come off, and she puts on something a little flashier instead.”

As she finished removing Vivienne’s shoes, Vivienne found herself giggling absently too. Every time Emma took something off, she felt lighter, and that lightness was only growing, filling her, leaving her euphoric.

She was starting to understand how Emma could be so happy and giggly all the time. In a way, it was only natural.

“Oh! And let’s take care of that jewelry too,” Emma exclaimed, standing up. She reached for Vivienne’s pearl earrings, and then her necklace - silver, worked into a fine pattern. “Oo, fancy! Your accessories are all so, like, dignified. So proud. It’s seriously impressive! But, I dunno, I always get tired of being proud like that.” She giggled. “It’s way more fun to just be like me, y’know?”

Vivienne found herself giggling and nodding in vacant agreement.

Being proud was so tiring. But she didn’t need to be proud. Not right now. Not with Emma. She was private, comfortable, safe. When she looked in the mirror, she didn’t see someone proud or dignified or serious. She simply saw herself, free of expectations.

“Last thing!” Emma announced. “We got you some, like, new lingerie. So let me just take the rest of this off.”

She started unhooking Vivienne’s bra, then, after slipping it off her shoulders, turned her attention to the CEO’s underwear. Vivienne had been wearing a matching set, neither flashy nor frumpy, simply classy and comfortable.

“See, this is what, like, really gets me about all that stuff we were talking about a moment ago,” Emma mused out loud. “If your clothes are your, um, identity, or whatever, then what even happens when you take everything off?” Emma giggled. “You’d be like, nothing. Right? Like a - what do you call it? - a total blank slate!” She seemed pleased with herself for remembering the phrase. “Like there wouldn’t even be a single thought going on in your head.”

Her words sank deep into Vivienne’s mind and echoed within. When, with Emma guiding her, Vivienne stepped out of her underwear, she was left completely naked. Lightness washed through her, and with it a kind of stillness. She was staring at the mirror, and her reflection seemed to echo nothing more than her own blank, tranquil state of mind. She felt nothing. She thought of nothing.

There wasn’t a single thought going on in her head.

“I think I did it! Yay!” Emma cheered quietly, after inspecting Vivienne for a moment. “OK! Now comes the really fun part.” A huge grin came to her face. “I get to dress you up again!”

She started reaching for Vivienne’s shopping bags, rummaging around for particular items. Vivienne remained perfectly still, watching impassively in the mirror. She was a blank slate. There was nothing for her to do but watch.

“Let’s see… Mel had something just adorable in mind…” Emma muttered to herself. “Here it is!” She plucked out a lingerie set and rushed back over to Vivienne, an eager glint in her eye. “Oh my gosh, I can’t wait!”

In a flurry of activity, she dressed Vivienne up in the lingerie. Vivienne was nothing more than a passive mannequin, assisting with the process only as Emma guided her. But she was still obediently watching her own reflection, and the sight of herself wearing those new garments immediately left a deep impression on Vivienne’s hypnotized mind.

They were like nothing she’d ever worn before. The bra was perfectly fitted but tight, clearly designed to push up on her breasts and give her a deep, plunging, visible cleavage. It was unmistakably both slutty and frivolous; pink, and embroidered in lace with little flowers and flowing patterns. Even worse was the thong. A matching pink, it was wickedly thin and hid almost nothing, and was clearly shaped to accentuate the lines and curves of the wearer’s hips and ass.

Once, underwear like that would have offended Vivienne’s pride - but now, her pride was gone. Her mind was primed to accept what Emma gave her, and feel good about it. When she looked in the mirror, she saw a woman who was hot, slutty and shameless.

And she liked it.

“It’s perfect,” Emma purred, admiring her handiwork. “OK. This next!”

The next item was a white blouse. At first glance, it was innocuous, albeit far, far more frilly than anything Vivienne might have usually worn. But once Emma slipped Vivienne’s arms into its sleeves and started to button it up, her design became clear. The blouse was absurdly, obscenely tight. It clung to Vivienne’s figure and, moreover, it was so small around her chest, it couldn’t be buttoned up to cover her cleavage, or even to hide the lacy hem of the push-up bra beneath.

Only one word came to Vivienne’s entranced mind as she took in the look: pornographic.

And that was her, now. Pornographic. A dumb, gleeful, sultry smile came to Vivienne’s face. She looked good. She looked hot. What else was there to say? Clearly, she was meant to be looked at. Stared at. She was meant to enjoy her body, and let other people enjoy it. It was so simple.

“And… here.” Emma was already putting on the next item of clothing. “Careful,” she giggled. “It might be a little tight.”

It was a pencil skirt - ostensibly. In truth, the garment was so outrageously short, it barely deserved the name. The tiny tube of fabric clung tight to Vivienne’s hips as Emma pulled it up, and once it was in place, it covered almost nothing. Vivienne immediately knew that, with every single step she took, it would threaten to ride up and expose the equally slutty thong she was wearing.

And the skirt was, of course, bright pink.

A transcendent fondness for the color was quickly searing itself into Vivienne’s identity. That was what she saw when she looked in the changing room mirror: a girl who loved pink. The color made her feel bright. Bubbly. Giggly. Girly. Euphoric. It was just so right for her. It brought her such happiness. In that way, she was just like Emma.

Black? Gray? No way! Those were boring.

Beyond that, something else about Vivienne was now taking shape. She was an office girl - or at least, a kind of porno parody of one. That was what the blouse and pencil skirt suggested. It made her look like a stereotype of a slutty secretary. That was her role, she could only assume, or something similar. She wasn’t serious. She wasn’t professional. Yes, technically she was a CEO, but that no longer seemed like such a suitable role for a girl like her. Perhaps, instead, she could just be a pleasing little boardroom mascot.

Vivienne giggled at the notion. It felt good. It felt freeing. Nothing to worry about but looking hot. A girl like the one Vivienne saw in the mirror had no cares or stresses besides that.

The next item Emma presented Vivienne with only cemented her new identity. It was a pair of ridiculous, bubblegum pink, stiletto heels, the kind you could barely walk in, polished to an eye-catching sheen. There was no way a serious, proud, stern CEO would wear heels like these. No, Vivienne thought, as Emma helped her into them, one by one. That wasn’t her. Not anymore.

“C’mon!” Emma urged. “Try ‘em out!”

Naturally, Vivienne obliged, strutting back and forth in front of the mirror a few times. At first, she almost fell over with every step, but eventually she started to get the hang of it. As she walked, she couldn’t help but notice how, just to keep her balance, she needed to place her feet in a line and swing her hips back and forth. It was like she was begging people to stare at her ass.

Vivienne’s dumb grin widened. The sheer, shameless, slutty frivolity of that was a delight. It was so refreshing.

“You look totally hot!” Emma squealed. “I can’t wait for the final touch. Here it is!”

To Vivienne’s slight surprise, Emma produced a pair of large glasses with pink rims and pressed them to Vivienne’s face.

Vivienne’s first instinct was to express that she didn’t need glasses. Then, she realized that they were fake. Clear lenses. Just a fashion accessory. And once she looked in the mirror, it all became clear. The glasses fit with the rest of her outfit perfectly. It was just what she needed.

Because, paradoxically, the glasses made her look very, very, very dumb.

Vivienne giggled. Maybe she was. Being dumb didn’t sound so bad. After all, Emma was dumb, and she seemed all the happier for it.

Yes, Vivienne decided. She felt like being dumb. The hypnotized CEO decided to let go of all the big, complicated thoughts that were threatening to intrude on her newfound bliss. She didn’t want to think about those things. Being dumb like Emma seemed like much more fun.

She giggled again. She was dumb, and she loved it.

Looking at her, Emma sighed fondly. “You’re just perfect,” she cooed. The two of them giggled together. “OK! We totally need to go and show Mel your new look. Come on, Vivienne.”

Vivienne was ready to follow her but, after just a couple of steps, Emma stopped abruptly and turned back to the other bimbo.

“You know,” Emma said slowly. “That really doesn’t suit you anymore, huh? You don’t look like much of a Vivienne.”

Vivienne had to agree. Emma was in charge and, besides, Vivienne was now too dumb to think for herself. “I guess not!” she tittered.

“In that case,” Emma decided. “From now on, let’s just, like, call you Vivi!”

***

Hours later, Vivi finally arrived back at her family mansion. She’d spent a little more time out with Mel and Emma, but eventually, Mel had been pulled away by her corporate duties, and Vivi had similarly felt forced to head home so that she could get a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow, she’d need to work twice as hard to catch up on all the work she’d missed out on during their little impromptu shopping trip.

As she thought about that, Vivi’s carefree giggles died away and the euphoric grin she’d been wearing for hours fell from her face.

Now, more than ever, work sounded completely, infinitely exhausting. All of that stuff was just so boring. So joyless. It didn’t suit her. Not anymore. Did Vivi really have to go back to that life? More than ever, it was so desperately tempting to just let it all go. To dress the way she wanted, pink and slutty. To behave the way she wanted, dumb and silly and giggly. Maybe, if she just let go, she could be like that every day.

Just like Emma.

She couldn’t just walk away, of course. She had far too much responsibility weighing on her shoulders. Something would have to be done about Valeyard Solutions, her company. Suddenly, Vivi’s mind went to Mel and her mothers, and their interest. Perhaps she could just sell to them and wash her hands of it all.

Perhaps she could be free.

For the briefest of instants, her mind was made up. But then, as she stepped across the threshold to the house she’d grown up in, Vivi’s mood turned. In those familiar surroundings, once faded, now reborn in grandeur, it all came flooding back. Her motivation. The reasons she had to fight so hard, day after day. It was all for this. To make good on her family name. To prove herself. To prove she could stand on top.

Vivi rubbed at her face. How could she ever have forgotten?

And why had she wasted a day hanging around with that whelp Melanie Adams? Mel wasn’t her friend. She was her enemy. Her rival - not that she deserved the title. Vivi had let hours go to waste shopping when she could have been advancing her plans to see Melanie Adams subjugated and hypnotized.

Hypnotized…

Then, at last, the penny dropped. Cheeks burning red, Vivi - no, not Vivi, Vivienne! - tore at her ridiculous clothes, trying to rid herself of the shame. She couldn’t believe it. She, Vivienne Gilbert, had been hypnotized - and they’d used her own pocket watch to control her, making her act like a dim-witted bimbo for their amusement.

They’d made her act like Emma. That, most of all, was what stained her cheeks with a churning mess of emotions.

Vivienne would never live it down. Being hypnotized like that was unthinkable for someone in her position. If anyone found out that it had happened - or, god forbid, about her weaknesses - Vivienne would be ruined. She was living out her greatest nightmare. And somehow, the very worst part was how genuinely good it had all felt. Try as she might, Vivienne couldn’t seem to banish that memory from her mind.

Instead, she settled for drowning it in fury as she vowed her revenge.

Melanie Adams would pay.

---

I would like to express my gratitude for the generosity of all those who support me on Patreon, and to give a special thanks to the following patrons in particular for their exceptional support:

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Finally, special thanks to Neana for commissioning this story!

#story #lifestyle journalism

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kallie-den · 2 months ago

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Lifestyle Takeover Ch. 2

Vivienne is drawn to Mel's side by her curiosity regarding Emma - but in the presence of her favorite bimbo, will she be able to stop herself from slipping under Mel's sway?

This is a commission from Neana, and a sequel to Lifestyle Journalism! Previous chapters can be found under the same tag

—

Why was she here?

Vivienne Gilbert kept turning that question over in her head as the elevator slowly carried her up toward Melanie Adams’s penthouse. There was nothing particularly strange about the sequence of events that had brought her here. Early that morning, one of her mindless personal assistants had put a call from Mel Adams through. Mel had invited Vivienne to her apartment to continue their talks. Vivienne had accepted - and now, here she was.

But… why?

Why had Vivienne accepted the invitation? Why had she even taken the call? There was nothing for them to talk about. Vivienne had already given that irritating nepo baby her final answer: there was no way in hell she was going to let her mothers acquire Vivienne’s company. So why had she come here?

There were lots of possible reasons, of course. Foremost amongst them was idle curiosity. Maybe Vivienne simply wanted to see more of Mel and the way she lived. Or perhaps she suspected Mel had an improved proposal for her. Possibly, it was a ploy. There were all kinds of ways in which dragging out negotiations could serve her interests.

And yet, deep down, Vivienne knew none of those things had motivated her decision. On the phone, Mel had been insistent - and Vivienne had ended up saying ‘yes’. It was as simple as that. For most people, that might have been completely innocuous. But Vivienne feared it was something as dangerous as it was humiliating: a moment of weak will.

Vivienne Gilbert did not - could not - suffer moments of weak will.

And that prompted another fear: the fear that she had been compromised. Conceivably, Melanie Adams could have found some way to bring Vivienne under her psychological influence. Efforts like that were practically routine between hypnogarchs. Vivienne herself had dealt with more than one rival using mind control. Like all rising hypnogarchs, she had defenses - but all defenses had their potential weak points. So what if…

Vivienne shook her head to snap herself out of it. No. It was impossible. Vivienne was made of steel, and Mel was nothing more than an over-sheltered whelp. There was absolutely no way Melanie Adams had gotten into her head.

Ultimately, Vivienne decided that there had to be a far more benign explanation: she’d accepted the call and the invitation because she was in a good mood. And she was in a good mood because of Emma’s personalized video.

Ever since last night, when she’d received a private, cheerleader-themed thank-you video from her absolute favorite OnlyFans star, Vivienne had been on cloud nine. She couldn’t have asked for a greater gift, or a better way to relax. After listening to that video, the rest of the evening had passed by in a pleasant, stress-free haze. All Vivienne remembered was that she’d spent most of it working out some pent-up physical need.

Not the most dignified way for a high-powered CEO to spend her time, perhaps. But a very, very welcome way.

In fact, Vivienne had done the same thing that very morning, before dragging herself out to Mel’s building. It was a rare indulgence, but one she just hadn’t been able to resist. She didn’t regret it either, even if it had left her just a touch disheveled and more than a touch late. Watching Emma’s video again had put her in a delightfully pleasant, upbeat, relaxed - and slightly horny - mood.

One of these days, she was determined to focus hard enough to pay attention to Emma’s words all the way through.

But there would be time for that later. For now, Vivienne just needed to get her head off her pillow so she could make the most of this little meeting.

By hypnotizing Melanie Adams.

Whatever the reason she’d agreed to come here, Vivienne had made up her mind not to leave empty-handed. She touched her hand to the outside of her suit’s jacket pocket, and felt the familiar outline of her pocket watch within. It seemed only fair. If Melanie Adams wanted to play power games, she was going to find out just how much it was possible to lose. Vivienne doubted the trust fund brat had any real defenses, and having their daughter under her sway would make taking on her mothers that much easier.

She’d hardly be Vivienne’s first conquest. She relished opportunities to get her hands dirty. This one was going to be easy.

Her confusion and doubt set aside, a thin smile came to Vivienne’s face as the elevator arrived at the top floor. She stepped out of it and presented herself at the door to Mel’s penthouse suite. Immediately, it opened, and once Vivienne saw who was there to greet her, her smile dissolved into an expression of open-mouthed shock.

It was Emma.

The Emma. Emma, the OnlyFans model Vivienne adored. Emma, the woman she’d spent all night and all morning frantically getting herself off to. Emma, the glorious bimbo she’d only ever expected to see through a screen, on a website - only now she was here, in the flesh, flashing Vivienne a brilliant, winning, ditzy smile.

“Hi!” Emma said, voice irrepressibly bright and bouncy. “You’re… um… Mel’s guest, right?”

Vivienne nodded dumbly.

“Well, what are you just standing there for, silly?” Emma giggled after a moment. “Hurry up and, like, come in!”

Without speaking another word, Vivienne nodded and followed Emma inside. The whole time, her mind was racing. Half of it was frenzied speculation. Why was Emma here? What was the nature of her association with Melanie Adams? Had she brought her here for Vivienne? How did they know about her fascination with Emma? What should she do? Should she say something? Ask?

The other half was equally frenzied fangirling.

It’s Emma. It’s actually Emma. The Emma. My Emma. Oh god. She’s right there. She’d said ‘hi’ to Vivienne. Vivienne could reach out and touch her if she wanted to. Would she sign something for her? Oh god. She’s so hot. She’s even hotter in person. Oh god. Oh god.

She really was even hotter in person. Looking at her on a screen, in a highly polished piece of video content, it was easy to gloss over Emma’s sheer physical perfection. Her clear skin, her sleek, blonde hair, her perfect, hourglass figure, and the hints of toned muscle underneath - all of it was truly unbelievable. Vivienne found it hard not to be dazzled by Emma’s raw beauty and sex appeal. Her outfit - a simple sundress, albeit one that was cut low and very, very short - was far less salacious than the kind of slutty workout clothes Vivienne usually saw her in, but that didn’t make Emma any less stunning. If anything, it enhanced her allure - plus, there was something utterly precious about getting to see her like this: casual, domestic, offhanded.

Just like the video, it was something none of Emma’s other fans would ever get to see.

Vivienne was suddenly, overwhelmingly grateful for Mel’s invitation.

“Vivienne!” Melanie Adams rose to her feet as Emma led Vivienne into the living area of the apartment. “Thank you so much for coming.”

“Of course,” Vivienne replied, because she didn’t know what else to say.

As she watched, Emma rushed to Mel’s side and stretched up to kiss her cheek, a big, dumb grin on her face. Envy hit Vivienne like a wave - and she wasn’t even sure who she was jealous of.

An instant later, her corporate instincts kicked in. She couldn’t let it show. Her envy, her desire - any of it. Not even the fact that she knew who Emma was.

“Thank you for inviting me,” Vivienne added, before nodding toward the bimbo. “And… who’s this?”

Silently, she prayed her voice didn’t sound as robotic out loud as it did in her head.

“Oh, this?” Mel’s grin was wide and proud as she slipped her arm around Emma’s waist. “This is my lover - and my pet. Emma.”

Emma let out a sickeningly sweet giggle and pressed herself to Mel’s side. Their body language, the looks on their faces - it was obvious they were in love. And from Emma’s videos, Vivienne knew there was only one person Emma felt this way about.

Which meant Melanie Adams, her corporate enemy, was Emma’s mysterious mistress.

For a moment, Vivienne was speechless. Her instincts screamed at her that something was wrong, but she suppressed them. Her security and anonymity were perfect. There was no way that anybody could know, least of all Mel. There was no reason for anyone to even suspect. This was all just one big coincidence.

But, god, what a coincidence.

“Pleased to meet you,” Vivienne said stiffly.

“You too!” Emma sang out, and her voice was so bright and carefree, Vivienne couldn’t help but freeze in her tracks as words from the video came back to her.

One, two, three! One, two, three! Emma’s the only one for me!

Vivienne blinked. She needed to focus.

“Why don’t you have a seat?” Mel suggested.

She gestured to one of their couches, clustered around a coffee table. Vivienne obligingly sat herself down at one; Mel sat at the next couch over, and Emma immediately went to perch beside her owner.

“So,” Vivienne said deliberately. “What did you wish to speak with me about?”

Mel held up a hand. “First things first: refreshments. It’s the least I can do, after dragging you over here. Would you like something?”

Vivienne shook her head. “No, that’s-“

“Hey, doll,” Mel interrupted, turning to Emma. “Bring us out some glasses and a pitcher of water.”

"OK!”

Emma sprung to her feet once more, and headed towards the kitchen. Normally, Vivienne would have bristled at having her objection brushed aside so casually, but the simple sight of Emma walking away from her silenced any complaint she might have raised.

Her ass. It took the words right out of her.

In just a few moments, Emma returned, with glasses and a pitcher set on a tray. She smiled at Vivienne as she set it down on the coffee table before handing out the glasses and pouring each of them a glass of water.

Vivienne’s mouth went dry as Emma bent at the waist in front of her to pour her drink. She could see down Emma’s dress. All the way down. And the bimbo wasn’t wearing a bra. It was all Vivienne could do to keep her eyes from bulging. Emma’s plump, round tits bounced and jiggled with her every slightest motion, and beneath those, Vivienne could even make out the outlines of Emma’s toned abs. The camera truly didn’t do her body justice.

“Vivienne?” Mel prompted. “You were saying?”

Vivienne blinked. She scolded herself for getting distracted. “I was just…” She frowned. “No, you were telling me why you invited me here.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Mel just kept smiling. “Well, it’s simple. Like I told you yesterday, I think we really do have a lot in common. I was hoping I might persuade you to see it that way too, if we spent a little time together.”

“Please.” Vivienne snorted derisively. “You just want to persuade me to sell out to your mothers.”

“I won’t insult you by denying an ulterior motive,” Mel replied. “But I can’t force the legendary Vivienne Gilbert to do something she doesn’t want to do. You have nothing to lose - and everything to gain, if you come to see how mutually beneficial some of our proposals can be.”

“Not likely.” Vivienne pursed her lips. This was a waste of time, and she had plenty on her table. Under normal circumstances, she might have simply stood up and left. But…

Once again, Vivienne found herself glancing at Emma.

“But,” she said slowly, “perhaps you’re right. It’s not often I get to enjoy a casual drink with another woman of our station.”

“Right!” Mel beamed at her. “It should be fun.”

Vivienne nodded as she sipped at her water. Her inner fangirl couldn’t help but want to spend more time in Emma’s presence. And beyond that, she was desperate to know how an inexperienced mind-controller like Mel came to own such a wonderfully trained and presented bimbo.

“Well,” Vivienne said, for want of something to say, “if you have proposals, I may as well look at them. I assume you’ve improved your offer?”

“Of course,” Mel told her. “Anything less would be churlish. Emma, the papers on my desk.”

“Sure thing!” Emma announced, as she bounced to her feet. She soon returned with a stack of papers, but before she could present them to Vivienne, they slipped out of her grasp and ended up scattered across the ground.

“Emma!” Mel scolded, although none too harshly.

“Oopsie!” Emma squealed bashfully. “Sorry! I’m, like, sooo clumsy sometimes.”

Vivienne felt her cheeks starting to glow pink. She couldn’t help it. Emma was just so cute.

“Pick those up,” Mel ordered. “Quickly.”

“Yes, Mel!” Emma chirruped.

She fell down onto her hands and knees, and started scrambling to gather up all the sheets of paper she’d dropped. This time, Emma was largely facing away from Vivienne, but that didn’t make the spectacle any less mouth-watering. As the bimbo bent over, the hem of her sundress rode up over her hips, exposing her ass. Vivienne utterly failed to avert her eyes as it swayed from side to side every time Emma moved.

Somehow, Emma managed to make even picking up papers look both sexy and joyful.

Maybe it was the damp spot of wetness staining her panties.

“Here!” Emma announced after a moment, looking up. “I think I got them all.”

“Oh, babe.” Mel laughed indulgently. “Put them in the right order too.

“Right!” Emma giggled again. “Good idea!”

Emma set the papers down on the floor and started sorting them, peering at each of the page numbers in turn. The sorting, though, wasn’t what had Vivienne spellbound.

It was the way that the damp spot on her panties grew when Mel told Emma what to do.

Vivienne shivered. That kind of pleasure-obedience conditioning was routine. Vivienne herself had done that to dozens of women. But here? Now? It was mesmerizing.

She needed to pull herself together, but instead, she was thinking about last night’s video again. How wet had Emma been under that cheerleader outfit while she’d been chanting?

“Here!” Emma said as she rose to her feet and handed Vivienne the papers. Vivienne took a drink of her water to cover her embarrassment.

“Thank you,” she replied, and made a show of looking at the proposals in her hand. In that moment, she couldn’t imagine anything less able to hold her attention than a bunch of numbers and figures.

“So?” Mel asked, after a moment. “What do you think?”

“I…” Vivienne tried to make herself focus. It didn’t work. All she could think about was Emma. “Well, I’ll have to get my analysts to run some of these numbers for themselves.”

“Of course.” Mel nodded gracefully. “There’s no rush. And honestly, where are my manners? Forcing all this business on you right away. I’m sure we can find something more interesting to occupy us.”

Vivienne nodded agreeably. She made to sip at her water again - only to realize her glass was already empty. Mel noticed right away.

“Emma, please give our guest a refill.”

“Sure!”

“No, that’s really not- oh!”

Instinctively, Vivienne went to wave Emma off, but Emma had already sprung into motion. In the brief mismatch of intentions, Emma’s hand slipped, and she ended up spilling water from the pitcher all over herself.

“Emma!” Mel sounded mortified, although she was still smiling. “You’re so clumsy today.”

“Oh my gosh!” Emma gasped. “I’m, like, so so sorry! Did I get any on you?”

“That’s alright,” Vivienne said faintly. Having her favorite model apologize to her was such a strange experience. “I don’t think you-“

She paused as she looked down and noticed two things. Firstly, a small stain on one of her pant legs. And secondly, the way Emma’s soaked dress was turning translucent.

It made for quite the sight.

“Here.” Emma was already surging forward, a cloth in her hand. “Let me clean you up.”

Before Vivienne could stop her, Emma was on her knees in front of her, lightly patting at her clothing. Vivienne felt faint. It was practically a dream come true. She couldn’t believe that Emma, of all people, was fussing over her like this.

“There!” Emma giggled after a moment. “All good.” She looked up. “Did I, like, splash you somewhere else?”

I don’t think so, Vivienne was about to say. But the fawning, adoring look in Emma’s big, gorgeous vacant eyes stole her breath away. She desperately needed to compose herself. And as soon as possible, she needed to watch that video again so she could work out some of this frustration.

One, two, three! One, two, three! Emma’s the only one for me!

“Amazing, isn’t she?” Mel asked. A strange grin was on her face.

“W-what?” Vivienne started, embarrassed.

“Emma.” Mel nodded to her bimbo as Emma rose and went to sit back down beside her. “You seem quite taken with her.”

“I…” Vivienne’s mind raced as she searched for something she could say. “She’s… a fine specimen,” she grasped, after a moment. “Your handiwork?”

“I had a little help, at first,” Mel admitted. “But I like to think I’ve been taking good care of her ever since.”

“Certainly,” Vivienne found herself saying. She couldn’t bring herself to utter a word against Emma’s condition - and besides, there were a thousand questions she wished she could ask.

“I’m surprised, I admit,” Mel commented. “I noticed your tastes seemed to skew a little more, well, secretarial.”

"It’s true,” Vivienne acknowledged, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate other angles.”

“I’m glad I don’t have to convince you,” Mel said wryly, before looking at Emma with an expression of great fondness. “I think bimbos like Emma are just wonderful.”

"That’s your specialty?” Vivienne asked. She was hanging on Mel’s every word. She needed to know how Mel had made Emma so perfect.

“Yes, I think so,” Mel mused. “I just can’t help it. It’s how happy they are. Know what I mean?”

Vivienne nodded. She’d never cared much about the happiness of her brainwashed peons, but there was something undeniably charismatic about Emma’s irrepressibly upbeat demeanor.

“I think of it like a gift,” Mel went on. “A blessing, really. I love that, with Emma, I could take away everything that was troubling her. Every worry. Every care. Every source of stress or doubt. And in their place? Nothing but simple joy - and one simple purpose: us.”

Emma was just sitting there next to her, smiling and humming, as if the conversation was going straight over her head. Vivienne was captivated.

“Sometimes I wonder about how it must feel,” Mel said. “Don’t you?”

“No,” Vivienne lied. “Of course not.”

Yes. The question had started occurring to her ever since she’d discovered Emma. That morning, it had been on her mind constantly. The mindset of a giggly bimbo like Emma was completely antithetical to Vivienne. The curiosity was only natural.

At least, that was what she told herself.

“I imagine it must be wonderful,” Mel said thoughtfully. “I mean, just look how happy she is.”

Vivienne frowned. “It’s undignified. Humiliating.”

“Not to her,�� Mel countered. “Things like dignity never even cross her mind. She’s just happy. Aren’t you, Emma?”

For the first time, Emma tuned into their words. “Yes, Mel!” she replied brightly.

“That’s part of it,” Mel continued. “Being able to cast aside preconceived values like those. Wouldn’t that be a thrill? Wouldn’t that be liberating, even?”

"I hardly think…” Vivienne hesitated. She found herself thinking about Emma, on the video, jumping and cheering. Hadn’t she seemed so free?

Hadn’t Vivienne felt free, cheering along with her?

“I’m sure it feels amazing,” Mel decided. “Nothing to worry about. No stress. No responsibility. Isn’t that all the more appealing, to women like us? Hypnogarchs, I mean. We have so much weight on our shoulders. We need to be on guard all the time. It’s so exhausting, isn’t it?”

Vivienne really did feel exhausted. She hadn’t had as much sleep as usual. When she spoke, she had to fight to suppress a yawn. “It’s part of the game, Mel. If you don’t like it, all you have to do is give up playing.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Mel just smiled disarmingly at her. “Come on. You can tell me. There’s no one here to listen - well, except Emma, and she’s not telling. It gets to you too, doesn’t it? It must. Beneath the whole ‘woman of steel’ public image, you’re just as human as the rest of us.”

“Of course,” Vivienne had to concede.

She glanced at Emma. The bimbo was just staring at her, eyes wide and eager and guileless. It was like she wanted to hear Vivienne’s answers.

“Then even you can see the appeal.” Mel’s voice was surprisingly nice to listen to; Vivienne hadn’t noticed that at first. “You’re a rising star, Vivienne. Even you must have moments when you wonder if you’re good enough.”

“I…” Vivienne wasn’t sure how to answer that.

“I know I do,” Mel offered. “My mothers have these sky-high expectations of me. It’s crazy. There’s so much to think about and manage. So, sometimes, when I’m watching Emma, and she’s working out, or stretching, or posing for the camera, I can’t help but be a little jealous.”

Vivienne found herself nodding.

“Yesterday, she was recording some video - for her OnlyFans, I guess,” Mel mentioned offhandedly. “And she was chanting something so silly! What was it… ‘One! Two! One! Two! Emma’s the only one for you!’ Something like that, anyway.”

Vivienne shivered involuntarily. Her cheeks started to turn pink.

“It’s kind of embarrassing,” Mel laughed. “But just imagine being able to say something like that to all those people, without a single reservation or inhibition. Without being smart enough to worry. When I think about it like that, it makes me wonder if Emma’s the real winner in our dynamic. You know?”

Once more, Vivienne nodded.

“One! Two! One! Two!” Mel chanted half-heartedly, a bemused look on her face. She rolled her eyes indulgently at Emma, before suddenly turning to Vivienne. “Hey, why don’t you try it?”

Vivienne almost choked. She shook her head. “What? No.”

“Come on,” Mel needled. “I already embarrassed myself with it! It’s more fun than you think. Right, Emma?”

“Totally!” Emma agreed at once. “You gotta give it a try!”

“Well…” Vivienne found herself hopelessly weak to Emma’s pleading. And besides, the cheer was already on the tip of her tongue, begging to be spoken. She already knew how good they could feel. What was the harm in it? “Fine.” She allowed herself a thin smile. “But just once.”

“Yay!” Emma cheered. Vivienne’s smile widened. Emma’s enthusiasm was infectious. As she and Mel watched, Vivienne sat up and cleared her throat:

“One, two, three! One, two, three! Emma’s the only one for me!”

She froze. It wasn’t just the words - although the fact that the other chant had slipped out certainly was mortifying. It was also the sheer, unmistakably excitement that filled her voice as she chanted. She hadn’t sounded like a powerful CEO begrudgingly indulging an acquaintance. She’d sounded like she was having the time of her life.

She’d sounded like Emma.

As Vivienne blushed, both Emma and Mel simply clapped and cheered. That didn’t help with the embarrassment, even if the bright smile on Emma’s face did fill Vivienne with a warm glow.

“’Emma’s the only one for me’,” Mel quoted, grinning. “That’s good. That’s really good.”

“I didn’t mean…”

Vivienne paused. Her denials just made her sound weak. Saving face in front of Melanie Adams didn’t matter. What mattered was getting a grip on herself. Vivienne still couldn’t afford to be so scatterbrained in front of a rival hypnogarch, even a mere wannabe like Mel. It was Emma’s video. It had to be. She’d been listening to it far too much, without enough sleep. It had left her exhausted and distracted. Even now, she could hear the words echoing over and over in her head.

One, two, three! One, two, three! Emma’s the only one for me!

It was ridiculous. Vivienne needed to focus. She needed to assert herself properly. And she knew the perfect way.

Vivienne slipped a hand into her pocket and wrapped her fingertips around her watch.

“You know, Mel,” Vivienne began, pushing Emma’s silly cheer to the back of her mind. “You really do seem enthusiastic about all this.”

“Do I?” A playful look appeared on Mel’s face.

“Oh, yes. Certainly. Your passion is obvious.” Vivienne was relieved at how easy it was for her to find her flow. She hadn’t lost her touch. “But there’s more than just admiration, isn’t there?”

“Is there?” Mel cocked her head.

“Yes,” Vivienne told her. “You sound like you want to be a bimbo, Mel.”

“Want to be a bimbo?” Mel echoed. “Why would anybody want that?”

Vivienne smiled to herself. Mel had taken the hook.

“Isn’t that what you’ve just been telling me?” Vivienne carefully modulated her voice to form a subtle but irresistible rhythm as she spoke. “For the blissful, dumb, mindless relief of it. To be free of all your worries and cares.”

“Free of it all.” Mel nodded agreeably. “Free of stress. Free of inhibition.”

“Right,” Vivienne nodded. She was surprised Mel wasn’t putting up a little more resistance. She really was naive. “If you were a bimbo, you could just… you could… um…”

Vivienne frowned. The words just wouldn’t come to her. That was unusual. For a hypnotist of Vivienne’s stature, weaving an induction out of their conversation should have been child’s play. Instead, Vivienne’s head just wouldn’t clear. No matter how hard she tried to think, she found herself distracted by the insistent, rhythmic chant burnt into her brain.

One, two, three! One, two, three!

“If you were a bimbo,” Mel supplied, after a moment, “you could just worry about looking hot and shaking your pretty little ass for your owner.”

“Right.” Vivienne blushed slightly, both from the images of Emma filling her head and from the embarrassment of needing help from her prey. “No more expectations. No more pressure. Just looking hot. Just exercise, and makeup, and pretty clothes…”

She trailed off briefly. Vivienne was suddenly dazzled by how right Mel had been earlier. In a sense, being a bimbo truly was something to envy. How long since she’d had time to devote a day to worrying about makeup and pretty clothes? Her assistants took care of most of that for her, so she had more time for meetings, and press briefings, and answering emails…

For things that just left her even more exhausted.

“Wouldn’t that be nice?” Vivienne pressed on, through the fog of her own confusion. “To just sink into that blank, blissful, bimbo headspace. To embrace being dumb for a change.”

“Being dumb?” Mel echoed again. There was a strange, keen look in her eyes; Vivienne wondered if she was already going under. “What’s so good about that?”

Vivienne seized upon the opportunity to explain. “It’s simple,” she said slowly. “When you’re dumb - when you can’t think - it only takes one little thing to take up all of your attention. No distractions. No bothersome thoughts. No stresses or worries. Just… um…”

It happened again. Vivienne fell silent as her attention wavered. Once more, Emma’s face and the blissfully dumb way she’d danced and cheered on the video were all she could think about. When she tried to form words, that ridiculous chant threatened to slip out of her mouth again.

“Just a blissful, blank, empty, bimbo mind,” Mel supplied. Her voice was so very soft.

“That’s right.” Vivienne seized her suggestion gratefully. “Just a blissful, blank, empty, bimbo mind.”

“You only need to think about what feels good,” Mel added.

“Only need to think about what feels good,” Vivienne told her.

She frowned. This didn’t feel quite right. It was so frustrating to feel so fuzzy and distracted at such a key moment. But there was nothing to do but press on.

“Here,” Vivienne said. To her own ears, her voice sounded slower. That was strange. “Let me show you.”

Fortunately, long practice proved sufficient to overcome her fatigue as, in a single, slick motion, she whipped her pocket watch out of her pocket and set it into motion in the air between them. Vivienne was pleased to see Mel’s eyes immediately fixed on the swinging object.

“There,” Vivienne instructed. “Look at the watch, Mel. Let it hold your attention. Let it drive all those other thoughts away. Focus on the watch.”

Mel simply nodded. “Focus on the watch,” she echoed.

If Vivienne hadn’t been completely focused on swinging the pocket watch, she might have rolled her eyes. It was astounding how defenseless this girl was. She would never be a hypnogarch. Better she be taken into Vivienne’s care.

“Focus,” Vivienne repeated. “Focus on the… on the…”

Her words died away. She was finding it difficult to keep the pocket watch swinging as she usually did. It was robbing Vivienne’s concentration; between that and Emma’s cheer, she could barely think.

“Focus,” Mel reminded her.

Vivienne nodded. “Focus,” she said slowly. “Focus your eyes on the watch. Let it drive all other thoughts out of your head, so you can focus on your mind on just one thing: you want to be a bimbo.”

“You want to be a bimbo,” Mel repeated.

“That’s right.” Vivienne allowed herself a small smile. It sounded completely backward when Mel said it like that, but a foolish mistake from a hypnotic subject was of no consequence. “You want to be a bimbo.”

She risked a glance at Emma. Emma was still perched next to Mel, seemingly lost in her own happy little world and entirely oblivious to what was happening to her owner. Yet again, Vivienne was struck by how wonderfully carefree she seemed. Vivienne herself felt as though she’d briefly touched upon that headspace while watching Emma’s video. What would it be like to exist like that permanently?

“You want to be a bimbo,” Vivienne insisted, turning her attention back to Mel. “You will be a bimbo.”

“You will be a bimbo,” Mel echoed back to her.

Vivienne frowned. Mel’s rote repetition was really starting to bother her, but she couldn’t seem to pinpoint why. Her head was getting foggier than ever. She was struggling even to string her sentences together. But she had to keep going. Vivienne’s style, as a hypnotist, was blunt and firm. She loved to impress her will upon her subjects. In a battle of wills, she never lost.

All she had to do was keep believing that.

“Imagine it for me,” Vivienne told Mel. “Imagine your thoughts becoming slower and slower. Simpler and simpler. Imagine how hard it would be to concentrate on anything difficult. Imagine…” Her brow furrowed. “Imagine…”

Glancing at Emma had been such a distraction. Suddenly she was having a hard time focusing on Mel. Emma’s presence was such a distraction. She was so perfect. So hot.

“Imagine how good the smallest little things would make you feel,” Mel suggested. “The color pink. Your own body. The beat of some fun music. Imagine how joyful those would be, if you didn’t need to think all the time.”

“Yes,” Vivienne agreed. She let out a plaintive little sigh. “Imagine… imagine that.”

“Imagine all those pressures and expectations, slipping off of your mind,” Mel went on. “Imagine how free you’d feel. Too dumb to worry. Too dumb to care. Too happy to let anything trouble you.”

Vivienne’s brow twitched again. Something was wrong, but she wasn’t sure what. Just keeping her pocket watch swinging was now taking all of her concentration. She couldn’t see the watch’s face, but her gaze was fixed upon its back, on the way the reflection of the lights above glinted and shifted on its metal surface as it swung.

“Yeah…” she found herself saying. Suddenly, everything was warm and heavy. Her voice. Her eyelids. Everything.

“Good,” Mel murmured. “Don’t worry. Just keep focusing on the watch. Keep it swinging. Nice and slow. Nice and even. Letting it take up all of your thoughts.”

“Yeah. Yes. Right. Focus… on the watch.”

That sounded right to Vivienne. Focus on the watch. That was all she needed from Mel. It was nice to think that focusing on her watch was all Vivienne needed to do.

“You… want to be a bimbo,” Vivienne said, after a long moment. She thought that was important.

“You want to be a bimbo.” Out of the corner of her eye, Vivienne could see Mel smiling as she spoke. “That’s right. I know it must be so hard. So exhausting. Being in the lead all the time. Being responsible for so many people. Needing to watch your back every moment of the day. Maybe that’s why you want to be a bimbo. Maybe, deep down, you just want to set it all aside.”

Vivienne twitched abruptly. Mel’s words felt like they were going right through her, setting off a sudden wave of alarm and nausea.

“I…” she bleated. “I… no… that’s…”

Part of her was crying out for the relief Mel promised. But another part of her was screaming that she’d never let it go. Her position as CEO - stresses, worries, responsibilities and all - was her pride. They were part of her, and so was her ambition. For Vivienne, giving any of it up would have been like severing a limb. It was unthinkable.

No matter how good it would feel.

“Calm down,” Mel soothed. “Breathe. Nice and deep. Focus on the watch.”

“No,” Vivienne replied, a little stronger. This wasn’t right. None of it. She needed to find her rhythm again. She needed to hypnotize Mel. Not this, whatever this was. She started blinking, trying to peel her eyes away from her own pocket watch.

“Focus on the watch,” Mel repeated, urgently this time. For the first time during their meeting, she sounded genuinely unsure of herself. That uncertain tone in her voice energized Vivienne. “I need you to… damn it… Emma, could you?”

She gestured, and Emma immediately rose to her feet. Vivienne gasped when the gorgeous bimbo stepped over toward her and sat down beside her on the couch, so close she was practically draped across Vivienne’s lap. She stopped struggling. The simple fact of Emma’s presence, of Emma’s touch, was dazzling.

Emma was so hot. So amazing. So perfect. Seeing her on OnlyFans was nothing compared to this.

“Tell her, Emma,” Mel urged. “Tell her how good it feels.”

“Sure!” Emma let out a light giggle and turned to Vivienne. “Um, well, she’s totally right! Being a bimbo feels fantastic.”

Vivienne whimpered. Her willpower was fading. Somehow, when it was coming from Emma, she just couldn’t fight it. Emma was all of her longing, condensed and made manifest. She was irresistible.

One, two, three! One, two, three! Emma’s the only one for me!

“I, like, don’t really remember too much about how I used to be,” Emma whispered into Vivienne’s ear. “I mean, most times, it feels like I’ve been Mel’s bimbo since, like, forever! But, um, sometimes? I get these, like, bad dreams, about being all boring and stressed out and stuff.”

Vivienne was hanging on her every word. How could she not? Emma was her idol.

“And… wow,” Emma sighed. “In those dreams, I’m always sooo miserable. And when I wake up, I really, like, don’t miss it. Y’know?”

Shivers raced through Vivienne. She’d never really bothered to consider who Emma might have been before her bimbofication. The prospect that she’d been someone much like Vivienne, at least in temperament, was instantly intoxicating.

“It’s sooo much better this way,” Emma drawled. Her lips were so close to Vivienne now, practically kissing her ears as she poured in her words. “Trust me! You trust me, right, Vivienne?”

Vivienne couldn’t help nodding eagerly. Emma, the bimbo superstar, had said her name. She’d actually said her name. Vivienne’s stomach filled with butterflies.

“Yay!” Emma exclaimed. “So just listen to her, m’kay? Mel is sooo smart. So much smarter than us, anyway.”

Than us. A whimper escaped Vivienne’s lips. She couldn’t tell if it was a protest or a girlish squeal.

“You love doing whatever I tell you to,” Mel broke in. She sounded calm again. In control. “Don’t you, Emma?”

“Of course!” Emma replied instantly, eagerly. “Obeying Mel feels sooo good. So much better than, like, having to think for myself. That gets soooo hard. So much better than having to worry about what all those other people think.”

“All you have to think about is me,” Mel said firmly.

“All I have to think about is her,” Emma repeated. She sounded as intoxicated as Vivienne felt. “Looking hot for her. Shaking my pretty ass for her.” She giggled. “Doesn’t that sound nice?”

“Yeah…” Vivienne breathed.

She couldn’t help it. Deep down, she longed for what Emma had. For that simple, dim-witted, obedient, joyful bliss. And now, as her head spun with fog, another element was being added to the mix: Mel. When Emma explained it like that, Vivienne just couldn’t keep it separate.

Being simple and dim-witted, for Mel. Being obedient to Mel. Being joyful and blissful, because of Mel.

“Let’s face it, Vivienne,” Mel told her. “You’re just not good enough.”

Vivienne tensed again. That was the one thing she never wanted to hear.

“But that’s OK,” Mel assured her at once. “Even if you’re not good enough to be a hypnogarch or a CEO, you’re good enough for me. Good enough to be a bimbo.”

“I wasn’t good enough,” Emma whispered to Vivienne. Vivienne was instantly spellbound; how could she sound so happy about that? “I had to try sooo hard, all the time. Until Mel set me free.”

“Don’t you want to be free, Vivienne?” Mel asked.

“Don’t you want to be free like me?” Emma added.

Vivienne paused for a moment. Then, she sagged. She slumped back onto the couch, and the arm holding the pocket watch threatened to drop.

“Yeah…” she sighed dreamily.

She’d never imagined defeat could feel like such a relief.

“Good,” Mel praised. “Then I think this should actually belong to me, shouldn’t it?”

Mel reached forward and plucked Vivienne’s precious pocket watch out of her unresisting fingers. She kept it swinging just as Vivienne had, following the same rhythm, but it was now perfectly clear to both of them who was really in control.

“Are you ready to go all the way down for me, Vivienne?” Mel asked her.

Vivienne knew what that meant, and shivered from hot licks of humiliation - but only briefly. She was done fighting. She wanted to be like Emma. She was accepting that - at least subconsciously. She nodded.

“Then you already know what to do,” Mel told her. “Three… two… one… zero.”

As she counted down, Vivienne felt her thoughts fade. When Mel said ‘zero’, Vivienne went completely limp. Her eyelids fluttered for the briefest of moments before they fell closed. She fell back, letting the soft, comfortable couch catch her. She surrendered, and let a blissful, empty peace settle across her mind.

For the very first time, Vivienne Gilbert was truly and completely hypnotized.

Only after several long seconds could Mel bring herself to let out the breath she had been holding. She’d done it. She’d actually done it. She’d ensnared Vivienne. It was more than she’d dared to hope for - but once the tension passed and it became clear she had won, Mel found herself laughing helplessly.

“Did we do it?” Emma asked breathlessly.

“Yes,” Mel replied jubilantly. “Yes! Oh my god. Yes, we actually did.”

Emma smiled, then pouted at her. “And… did I do good?”

“You sure did, my love.” Mel bit her lip, and beckoned Emma back to her side. “Come here.”

Emma giggled and practically threw herself at her owner, leaving Vivienne slumped and entranced alone on her couch. “So, like, what now?” she asked.

“Well, I don’t want to get ahead of myself,” Mel replied thoughtfully. “I’m not sure how much of this she’ll remember, or how much of it will take. It takes more than one little trance to break a woman like her - but I think she’s ready to take the first few steps into her new lifestyle. At least, once I figure out what those should be.”

“Wow.” As she sat across her lap, Emma looked up at her owner with awestruck eyes.

“Yeah.” Mel giggled. “But before that, I think you deserve a little reward.”

“I do?” Instantly, Emma’s eyes were shining. “Yay!”

Mel put her hand on Emma’s hip and squeezed playfully, provoking an eager squeal.

“Absolutely. You did amazing - plus, seeing my perfect little bimbo help bring down Vivienne Gilbert was incredibly hot.”

They kissed - a long, drawn-out, passionate kiss that immediately threatened to turn into something more. After enjoying the make-out for a few moments, Mel used her grip on Emma’s hip to spin her girlfriend around beneath her, straddling her in the process. Emma submitted to her without hesitation, of course. Mel used her free hand to pin Emma’s wrists to the couch above her head, and let out a throaty, lustful purr as she brought her lips to Emma’s neck.

Hypnotizing Vivienne had seriously gotten Mel in the mood.

But before the two of them crossed the threshold into uncontrollable passion, Emma threw a glance across the room at where Vivienne was still sitting, limp and senseless. Mel paused, curious.

“Hey,” Emma said slowly, breathlessly. “I think I, like, have an idea for what her first step should be.”

Mel drew back briefly, keen to indulge her beloved bimbo. “Oh yeah?”

“Her clothes are, like, sooo boring,” Emma complained. “How about you take her out shopping and give her a makeover?”

—

I would like to express my gratitude for the generosity of all those who support me on Patreon, and to give a special thanks to the following patrons in particular for their exceptional support:

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Finally, special thanks to Neana for commissioning this story!

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