Mind Control

Lauren wasn't ready for the costume, but she knew it would please Chris, her boyfriend. He had been very much into the idea of roleplaying. She had thought about it for a week and finding the costume was providence.

She stripped to her underwear before pulling the black dress over her head. Her curves were accentuated by a corset built into the dress. Already she was showing a generous amount of cleavage, but she didn't pay attention to the fact the costume just slid on so easily and didn't need to be tightened or zipped up. The old man did say "One size fits all."

She put on the apron and tried to tie it behind her back. The apron tied itself into a giant bow.

"That's weird," Lauren said to no one. She picked up the maid cap and slowly lowered it onto her head. Her hair rearranged itself into a French twist, a little bit haphazardly. The slight disheveled looked very seductive in the mirror.

Last she had the choker, but before putting it on she examined her new outfit. The black dress clung tightly to her body, but poofed out at the skirt. Clearly the dress magically formed a petticoat. Lauren sat down to stroke her legs. Not only did she find herself wearing white silk stockings, but they were held up by a satin garter belt she definitely wasn't wearing before. High heels had appeared on her feet as well black with a silver buckle. As she stood up she found it easy to walk in them. It always troubled her to walk in heels, but now they felt as comfortable as sneakers. She looked into the mirror and saw the perfect picture of a French Maid. Her make up was already completely done, red voluptuous lips and eyes to get lost in.

"I look so sexy," she said, a bit of surprise in her voice. She picked up the chocker and fastened it around her neck. It was a simple black piece of satin ribbon with a single clear gemstone that caught the light beautifully. As soon as it was put on Lauren felt woozy and caught herself on the bed. Her stance had shifted from uneasy to confident and she picked up her feather duster.

"You look zo sexy, Yvétte. Ai cannot wait fair mon mastair." She said to her reflection, "But ai 'ave a lot of wairk to get done."

She began tiding up the place with her duster. It didn't behave like a normal duster. Every thing she hit with it became tidy, even if a duster would have done nothing. The bookcase, for example, rearranged to alphabetical order when she was dusting it. And a sharpie mark on the couch disappeared without a trace.

After an hour of cleaning Yvétte was nearly done. Someone knocked on the door.