The Scent of Change

Chapter 2: The Scent of Change (rough draft v1)

A week has flown by, and you've found a rhythm in your new life with Miss Isabelle. Balancing college, chores, and cohabitation has become easier. Even Miss Isabelle's idiosyncrasies, like her meticulous placement of furniture and her particular choice of fragrances, are starting to feel familiar.

This evening, Miss Isabelle corners you before you head to your room, holding a neatly-wrapped package. "I noticed you were running low on toiletries," she says. Her tone is matter-of-fact, yet tinged with the inscrutable kindness that makes her so intriguing. "It’s important to take care of oneself, wouldn’t you agree?"

"Absolutely." you reply. Thinking of all the hard work it took just to get back on your feet and in college because years of self-destructive behavior. "Thank you, Miss Isabelle."

She places the package in your hands, her fingertips brushing yours. "These weren't cheap, so please make sure to use them," she insists, her voice firm but polite.

That night, you unwrap the package as you prepare for bed. Nestled inside are bottles of salon-grade body wash and shampoo. The design is sleek, elegant, and unmistakably feminine. It looks like it might be the same as the lotion she convinced you to try, like they were a set.

You hesitate. There’s no room for waste, especially given the clear insistence in her voice earlier. You notice that even if you wanted to put this off, your old bottles are gone, not even leaving you the option to use the 'fill with water and shake the last bit out' trick. Likely they were thrown away as she does not seem the type to allow empty bottles to clutter up the bathroom, you feel a little bad she spent money on you because you didn't keep track yourself, you could have sworn there was at least another week's worth but it wouldn't be the first time your air headedness caused small but annoying issues. A deep breath later, you’re stepping into the shower, lathering yourself with the new products. As the suds cascade down your body, the floral scent envelopes you, clinging to your skin like a silken veil.

The experience leaves you more relaxed than you’ve felt in days. You feel clean, not just physically but almost spiritually, as if you've been anointed in some sacred rite, something about the product lead you to scrub every nook and cranny deeper than normal, you bet you would feel raw if not for the soothing feeling of the product.

Once she's certain you’re tucked into bed, Miss Isabelle retires to her study. She flicks a switch, triggering a set of subliminal messages through the hidden speakers in your room. Soft sounds, almost like whispers, lace the air, inaudible but designed to penetrate the subconscious mind.

She glances at a jar of herbs on her desk. These were the same herbs she'd meticulously mixed into your toiletries; known for their calming and mind-opening effects.

Smiling, she turns her attention back to her research. In front of her is a new array of academic papers, this time focused on the power of subliminal messages and psychological nudges. She’s very pleased; your progression is right on track.

"Sleep well, my pet." she murmurs, even though she knows you can’t hear her.

You slide into a deep, restful sleep. Your dreams are vivid, yet comforting, a swirl of images that feel more like memories than fantasies. In the dreams, you see yourself, but different—perhaps a softer, more harmonious version of you.

As you drift deeper into this dream state, it’s as if the boundaries of your inner world are expanding, making room for possibilities that never seemed feasible before. You don't know it, but it’s exactly the kind of openness that Miss Isabelle has been hoping to cultivate in you.

Knowing you will be ripe for change she heads to bed her self.