Yes. A lot.

The weekend was hell. Despite having been kind of a slob before, you somehow knew exactly how to clean a house top to bottom.


On the other hand, there were definitive holes in your knowledge, locked away by Joanna. Namely, almost anything you had learned past elementary school. Lucia didn’t have an education, as Joanna reminded you often, taunting you with basic knowledge questions that you struggled to understand, let alone answer. Any resistance on your part led to more punishments from Joanna, and as Sunday came to a close you found yourself scrubbing the floors, completely transformed from the previous day. Your hair was thick and wavy, your face covered in makeup that you now had the knowledge to maintain. Your breasts were slightly larger, and you had a more shapely waist, all of this plainly visible through your maid outfit.

It could hardly be called a dress anymore; Joanna had changed it so much it more resembled lingerie—and where it did cover you, it was almost see-through.

And your body wasn’t the only thing Joanna had messed with. She apparently had had great fun playing with the personality editor on the device, staying true to her promise to “play into the stereotypes.” Everything you did was suggestive: you seemed to always be dropping things—you swore you never used to be this clumsy—and always bent at the waist to pick anything up so that your skirt rode up.

When you did have to get on the ground for anything you couldn’t help but press your huge ass into the air, and you were always readjusting your outfit to show as much skin as possible. You got tingles of pleasure now whenever you followed Joanna’s orders, and it was getting increasingly difficult for you to say no to her. This contrasted with how quick you now were to anger, your short fuse the culprit behind several of your more recent changes. You had become a caricature of latina women in mind and body, a culmination of every sexually charged stereotype there was. Your memories were hazier than before, and you had a hard time discerning what was real and what was Joanna’s meddling. You remembered growing up in the suburbs, but you also had distinct memories of living in the slums of Tijuana. Memories of your first video game clashed with equally real memories of picking out slutty outfits, wondering which would draw the most attention.

You couldn’t even remember your family any more, or where your house was. You remembered your classmates, though. Dennis, your best friend. Julia, your crush, thought you no longer found her attractive for some reason. Tyler, the football star who bullied you almost as much as Joanna. You could remember when he had slammed you against the wall freshman year for laughing at his stupid earring. You blushed as you imagined him doing the same thing to you now, reaching a hand up your skirt…you pushed the thought away. You’d be punished again if you didn’t get these floors done before Joanna got home. You had been slow yesterday, and you didn’t want to finish the job naked on your hands and knees again.

You subconsciously shifted your dress as you cleaned, letting the skirt ride up to reveal your ass. You wondered what Joanna would do with you tomorrow when school started back up.