Of course not. Not while something’s pulling the strings.

But just as she tried to walk off the stage to the dressing rooms, she was distracted by the sudden noise of an unknown origin. Just as she met the curtain’s edge, she heard a loud set of strings twanging. Thinking it may have come from the orchestra pit, due to all the instruments, she glanced over to spy not even an errant flute was placed there, let alone a string instrument, but it wouldn’t take her long to realize that the strings that were to be played were going to be hers.

She attempted to continue her travels, but her body had another agenda, and turned on a dime on a tall heel, and strutted seductively to center-stage. Mary was panicking, her legs moving on their own in large hip-swinging arcs in their travel, as she tried using her still free arms to push them around to cease their journey, worried that something may be wrong with her.

Though a curious note was that as she had acknowledged the empty orchestra pit beforehand, suddenly some saucy jazz piped up from said pit, still barren of musical paraphernalia like a ghostly jazz lounge. They seem to be aware of the timings of Mary’s traitorous legs doing their sultry mincing, as the “ba-boom, ba-boom” of the drummers were matching her sashay of her finely feathered fanny.

Her efforts were in vain to stop herself, as her hands no met the same fate of mutiny on the good ship Mary, as they began helping accentuate the strut, holding her hands on her hips as her legs now arch forward as a lazy leg-showing prance. She was looking for whatever was causing this as she still had head control, looking every which way, and spying a light shimmer of something thin. It seemed to extend out from her body, and her struggles felt an odd pinprick tug of roughly where the lines were heading. “What the fuck? Are these puppet strings?”

She reached the front of the stage again, all imaginary eyes on her as she hurriedly looked up before her neck might no longer obey her, to see whatever puppet master was controlling these ridiculous strings. “Th-this is ridiculous, there’s no such thing of controlling a person in such a manner!” She argued to her senses as she laid eyes up to the rafters. All she saw was nothing but two floating crosses of puppet controllers manned by an unseen phantom. “What kind of entity is making those things move?!”

A shiver ran up her spine as she stood straight, arms up in a showy form, and a voice in her head, answering back. "N-Titties? If you insist~"

All of a sudden, there was another couple of twangs as she felt a pair of itches on the top of what cleavage she had. Great, another set of strings. But these lines weren’t just staying immobile like the others, these were actively vibrating, making Mary’s chest tingle uncomfortably.

Then, with a mighty, “BWOING!” Her chest exploded outwards into some seriously massive mammaries. The corset cups stretched out to match, but their massive perky roundness did not need the cup support, and only served to hide her nips. These things were massive, like N-Cups in size, perhaps.

“Grr…” Miss Chase growled annoyedly, the spectral presence now annoying her more than driving fear into her, “Look, you dumb spook, you stop this reckless playing around and let me go! Do you hear me?” As if in defiance, the strings of her tits pulled up and down, bringing her to a humiliating wobble of titflesh into her made-up face and making her blush.

“I demand you turn me back at once, you wretched menace! I am Miss Mary Chase, you hear me? I will ruin you!”