Dressing Room

Fennec found herself in a luxurious dressing room lit with a soft, pink glow. Mirrors ringed in lights and vanity tables covered one wall, lockers covered the other wall, shelves were stocked with platform heels, feather wraps, and costume jewelry. The air smelled of perfume and hairspray, a stark contrast to the dank alleys outside. She bunched her bare toes in the plush carpet under her feet, a relief to her freezing feet.

The exhaustion and embarrassment of her night hit all at once, and she stumbled over to a padded bench in front of a mirror. She sat down heavily, her wrists aching from the tight cuffs. The woman staring back at her had sticky juice drying on her skin and splotches of oil; her frazzled braid was still smattered with blobs of half dried paint. The reality of her situation was almost too much to bear. She needed to get clean, to find something, anything, to wear, but the room offered little relief.

Voices echoed in the hallway outside, feminine voices mixed with a deep baritone too deep to come from human lungs. She couldn’t let anyone see her like this.

Fennec scanned the room for hiding spots and landed on a large, sleek cylinder tucked in the corner of the room labeled Aesthetic Pod in bold Aurelish lettering. She had heard of but never seen one of these full-body cosmetic device before. These things were reserved for high-end salons or luxury hotels. What was one doing in a Blue Sector club?

On the other hand, the voices were getting closer. Panic flared. She didn’t have time to find another hiding spot. Fennec dashed to the pod, and lipped inside. The pod door sealed shut automatically behind her, muffling the sound of approaching footsteps. She held her breath, praying they wouldn’t come into the dressing room.

A screen flickered to life in the pod beside her. "State profile name or grooming preference," came an automated voice. She tried to shush it, but the pod kept repeating the request.

"Cancel," Fennec whispered.

"Candy record located," the device responded. "Candy Sparkle grooming protocol engaged."

"Candy Sparkle? Don't! Cancel! No! Voice override! Restrain protocol!" she hissed the commands as quick as she could.

"Cancel feature disabled. Voice override disabled," the pod chimed happily and the screen went dark.

The pod hummed softly, and to Fennec’s surprise, the binders cuffing her hands clicked open and fell to the floor. She flexed her aching wrists in relief. Finally good luck, she thought, until the pod sprouted robotic arms to secure her wrists, ankles, and neck. And now she was the prisoner of a crazed grooming machine. Fennec sighed, resigned to her helpless fate.

"Restraint protocol activated," the pod happily informed her. "Commencing full cleansing protocol."

Warm jets of water sprayed from all sides coupled with an array of arms bearing brushes, washing away the oil and fruit residue that clung to her skin in even the most intimate areas. Another arm moved to her head, delicately unbraiding and shampooing the knots of neon paint out before rinsing it clean. As the warm massage of the gentle cascade continued, her muscles relaxed under the treatment, her stress melting away. She let herself enjoy the respite, hanging limp in her bonds.

Then something changed. The water was replaced by a warm, tingling foam that was carefully applied her from her chin to her toes. A slight prickling sensation spread across her skin, and before the foam was rinsed away, leaving her skin completely smooth. She looked down in confusion, noticing that all of her body hair was gone, her skin left intensely sensitive in its wake.

"Commencing cosmetic protocol," said the pod.

"What the kriff does that - muuuupph?" Fennec's question was cutoff by a soft robotic arm that extended directly into her mouth forcing her to look straight ahead. She hung there gagged, bound, and naked; her spine tingling at the thought of being the device's powerless subject.

Fennec could only whimper as a metal device slid forward to encompass her face. She could feel it applying layers of heavy makeup over her face, ending with sharp stings on her lips followed by the cool sensation of a bacta spay. At the same time arms gripped her hair - adding she-could-not-tell what products as it was dried and re-braided and others treated her captive fingers and toes. She swiveled her eyes frantically as the applicators slid away but **** to look ahead she could see none of their work.

"Commencing ornamentation protocol," added the pod as the master assassin whimpered into her gag in helpless anticipation.

A small sting on each ear marked the insertion of large earrings, and her eyes widened in alarm as she felt the pinch of piercings being added to her nipples and belly button as well. A faint mist of bacta spray followed each new piercing, instantly healing the skin around them.

There was a brief stillness, and Fennec dared to hope it was over, until she felt a strange warmth on her lower back. It was quickly replaced by a searing sensation that made her gasp. When it faded, she felt the soothing coolness of the bacta spray again. Her mind raced with dread as she realized the machine had given her a lower back tattoo.

When the machine said, "Error: Required element missing. Recalculating," her heart started pounding.

The strange warmth returned to the side of her neck before the pod beeped. A spray of glitter washed over Fennec before the restraints released her and the slid open.

"Glamour protocol complete. Enjoy your performance, Candy!"

The pod door slid open, and Fennec stumbled out, feeling dazed and disoriented. Luckily there was no one there to see. She caught her reflection in a nearby mirror and gasped. The woman staring back at her was barely recognizable. Her hair was pulled up into neon-pink pigtails on the top of her head and large gold loops danged from each ear. Her face was covered in dramatic makeup - dark, smoky eyeshadow, thick false lashes, and vibrant red lips plumped to exaggerated fullness. The blue disk of a temporary tax medallion shown on her neck. The thought that she had been stamped like property sent an electric thrill through her.

She raised a shocked hand to her face only to discover that impractically long extensions had been added to her nails, painted vibrant pink with swirling gold ornamentation that matched the polish on her toes. The gold matched the twin rings piercing her nipples and the little heart that dangled from a chain in her bellybutton above her utterly hairless crotch. Everything below her neck was hairless and sensitive, prickling at even the slight breeze from the air handler. A twist revealed the decorative tattoo the machine had etched onto her lower back - three delicate, intertwined hearts, surrounded by sparkling stars.

The woman before her belonged on a pole, a denizen of the sex sector, not a battlefield. The sight of herself like this sent a jolt through her, a mix of shock, embarrassment, and an unsettling thrill that she couldn’t fully suppress.

Before she could fully process what had happened to her, voices sounded outside the room again. She had to get out of her, now! No. She told herself. She needs clothes first. But a quick check revealed only one open locker with only one outfit in it.

A moment later, someone hurried out the back door into a night threatening more rain just as three dancers returned to the dressing room. Two made a quick costume change, but the third stared at her locker in consternation.

"What's wrong Candy?" asked the Mirialan zipping on a set of thigh-high boots.

The blonde pouted her plumped lips. "I can find my water soluble outfit."