Buckle Under the Stare and sign after only reading the Plain English (Manipluated Bimbo sissy path)

The Agreement (rough draft v1)

Her eyes sparkle with satisfaction as you hand back the signed agreement. The intensity of her stare lingers for a moment before she gracefully rises from her chair, extending a delicate hand holding the house keys.

"Congratulations, Mister Soulan," she purrs, her voice dripping with honey. "I look forward to our cohabitation."

You feel slightly unnerved but relieved as you take the keys. "Thank you, Miss Isabelle. I promise you won't regret this."

Her smirk tells you she already knows that.

The process of moving in blurs by, a whirlwind of boxes, peculiar observations, and Miss Isabelle's instructions on where everything should go. Her home is a blend of modern style and vintage charm, but you can't help but notice the subtle hints of femininity in the décor.

"That goes there," she directs, pointing to a specific spot on a bookshelf.

The scent of perfume in the air catches your attention as you place your belongings where she indicates, but you shrug it off. She is a woman of taste, after all.

Dinner feels elegant, and Miss Isabelle's culinary skills are on full display. The fine china and soft lighting add to her ethereal presence.

"So, what are your thoughts on self-improvement?" She locks her eyes onto you.

"I believe in growing, learning. It's part of why I'm here," you reply, feeling the weight of her gaze.

"And what about changing one's appearance?" Her eyes seem to probe into your very soul.

A sense of unease grows within you. "If it makes someone happier, why not?"

Her smile is slow and enigmatic. "Indeed."

As you settle into your new room, you spot a drawer slightly ajar. Inside, an array of skincare products, makeup, and even a guide on female grooming lay neatly arranged. Confused, you wonder why she left these items in your room. With a puzzled expression, you shut the drawer and climb into bed.

Thoughts and questions about the day whirl through your mind as you try to sleep. Her penetrating questions, her intense focus on you, and the feminine touches around the house all come together in a puzzling mosaic.

Your sleep is restless, dreams filled with mirrors reflecting a face that doesn't quite feel like your own.

Sure that you are asleep, Miss Isabelle retreats to her private study. She opens a hidden drawer, revealing an array of medical and psychological research on gender transformation. Her eyes scan profiles of individuals who have undergone such changes, and a smile forms on her lips.

She glances at the contract you've signed, her finger tracing a hidden clause that authorizes her to guide you through an experimental program of 'personal growth and transformation.'

"You're going to be perfect," she whispers to herself, barely containing her excitement.