Sexy trophy wife

Your dizziness slowly fades as you take in where you are and what you look like, helped by the presence of a large mirror in front of you. You are certainly stunned by your looks as you slowly take in what the mirror shows you your body looks like. You gasp, and shocks you when a femenine voice comes out. Did your voice change too? What the hell did that gun do?

You take in the sight before you. You are a sexy blonde with a pair of fairly large breasts. You are wearing nothing other than some white panties and an almost entirely see-through white dress. You have full red lips, doubtlessly with some lipstick on them, a gold bracelet and a gold ring in your hand, which worries you.

Your surroundings are also radically different. You are no longer in your apartment. This one is incredibly larger, with fancy furniture everywhere. It is also far higher up, seemingly near the top of a very large and tall building, with large, open windows allowing large amounts of sunlight in and giving you an impressive view of the city around you.

You try to spot any landmarks to see where you are, but you suddenly can't remember any large city's landmarks. In fact, you feel kind of dumbed down, as if your mental capabilities were slowly being sapped away by some unknown ****. You try to fight it to no avail, and you are distracted from doing so by a sudden surge of memories about who you ar- no, who you turned yourself into. You have to fight its attempts a normalizing this.

Anyways, you are Marcy, a hot blonde trophy wife to Steve... Wait, what? Trophy wife to Steve? That can't be right, how did the gun change so much? It's just a dumb toy, right?

Your sudden outburst is calmed down by other memories of how amazing Steve's dick, and how much you love to please him. You also feel your intelligence as it continues to drop, and you realize the stereotype the gun turned you into. A sexy, dumb blonde, the kind that tends to end up a dutiful trophy wives for rich men. Then Steve is rich? You are very confused, and it becomes harder and harder to think as your intelligence continues to fall, and you start to forget the gun.

In one last **** attempt to keep ahold of yourself, you take then gun, on a fancy cushion next to you, and aim it at yourself, ready to fully believe it is real if it can save you from this hell you accidentally brought yourself into. You are ready to think of your past life and shoot yourself to return, but something stops you. A sudden love of this life, of being Steve's dumb blonde wife, of wanting nothing more than for Steve to arrive and fuck your brains out.

You struggle against the feeling, trying to conjure images of your past life, and struggling to aim at yourself, fighting against your rebelling mind and body that want to remain as Marcy. You even hear a different, sexy female voice in your head, discussing with you.

Think about it, Marcy… A rich, pampered life with a strong, rich man that will fuck you well and hard on a daily basis. Who wouldn’t want that? You know you do, Marcy. You love being you, a dumb blonde with no worries in the world other than buying ex pensive clothes and getting fucked by your man.

You try to resist the voices allure, and the struggle over your body and the gun continues, you still determined to return to being Mark.