Running On Autopilot

Fuck! This game was _absurd, _punishments were stacking faster than she could even keep up! She looked at the trio of options she had to choose between. One would give her a literal stripper name. The other would turn her newly-inflated cocksuckers to good use by making her obsessed with shoving things into her mouth, which she immediately recognized as the most slippery slope imaginable. No, that wasn't acceptable. The only one of the three that didn't seem like it'd absolutely ruin what little she had left of pride seemed to be the last one, which... maybe it made the game play itself for her? Which could be bad, of course, but surely there'd be some override. Maybe.

There was a faint clack as her pink acrylic nail bumped against the screen, as the fat-lipped misogyny-maker chose her fate.

And immediately had an apparent change of heart. A smile spread upon her face, and Cindy walked over towards the nearby mirror, checking herself out. "Mh.. Good, but not quite it.", she announced, giggling before wandering into the bedroom.

Only, it was indeed not Cindy who did all this. Cindy, as it happened, had just then been shoved into the passenger seat of her own body, unable to do anything but to observe and feel as her body betrayed her, taken over by some - some alternate personality.

This couldn't be happening! This better be temporary...

Cindy rummaged through her closet, pilfering what she could find until she found some suitable attire. Slipping out of what she had on, she instead slipped into one of the sexiest outfits she owned. Which, admittedly, wasn't overly sexy - but it had the perk of not being particularly new, either. It'd been lying in the back of her wardrobe for years, when she was younger - and thusly, more importantly, smaller.

Oh god. THAT? No- Please don't, not- I didn't even know I had that, but PLEASE don't put that on-

Cindy smiled at her reflection, slipping into a slinky black dress, which would've qualified as sexy for the 16-year old version of Cindy who got it from her ex as a 'gift' (which he really wanted to see her in, but never did) - but for the older, present-day Cindy who was both taller and - shapelier - than her former self, the sexy-qualifying length was effectively reduced up to slutty. A set of classic black pumps later (what girl didn't own a pair?), and she promptly moved on in to the bedroom.

Why is she dressing me up...

She plucked out another piece - another 'gift' whom she hadn't even opened properly - a tube of hot, firetruck red lipstick, which Cindy then proceeded to apply in copious amounts, drawing even more attention to her already obscene cockpillows- err, lips - than they did on their own. With that done, she made a pop, before -

No. No no no, please, DON'T

Moving towards the door, and stepping through.

Please don't do what I think you're about to do... Please, I'll do anything, just...

Knock-knock-knock, Cindy's closed fist went at the door. Chris' door. Whom opened it after a moment or so, visibly - there was no other word for it - stunned - as if Cindy had been the ugly girl who just had her glasses removed, to reveal that she was a babe all along. "Uh, Cindy, hey, woah. You look hot. Glad you fixed that up..", he commented, making no effort to disguise the fact that he was checking out her tits - and paying a hefty amount of attention to the sheer area of exposed leg, with the barely-there dress she now wore.

Oh god, this is so humiliating..., Cindy thought - whereas her body, seemingly, didn't mind at all, cocking her hip, leaning a little bit against the door frame. "Yah, right? Sorry, I just, like, could not go out looking like a boring prude, ya know? Anyways, you know where I can find a drink? Something strong?", she asked, letting some of her hot-pink acrylics lightly graze the length of his swollen biceps.

Normally, he'd probably react to this, but normally, he wasn't pumped full of enough testosterone to masculinize every nerd in a mile's radius, and normally, he at least did some of his thinking outside of his dick.

He smirked at her. "How strong we talking? Shouldn't a girl like you stick to the light stuff?", he replied, leaning forwards a bit.

Yes, yes I should, I shouldn't be drinking at all, or I won't be able to-

"Maybe you're right. I've been told I become such a slut when I'm drunk, y'know?", Cindy whispered softly in turn, making a show of sensually, slowly running her tongue along her swollen, pillowy lips, coating the waxy red lipstick in a layer of saliva, giving them that scandalous, freshly-used-looking sheen.

I'm not the one doing this!!! How do I tell him?!

Chris grinned like a wolf. "Why don't you take a seat and I'll get you something strong then, dollface?", he replied, letting and guiding her in.

The apartment looked more or less as she could remember it - a true boy's den. The interior decorating was minimalistic at best, with the greatest investments clearly having been made in the kitchen, where an open pizza box stood, next to at least a dozen empty beer cans. Inside were a total of 3 guys, Chris among them. A dark-skinned, bald dude who looked like the walking stereotypical basketball player - with visible muscles to boot - and a brunette who looked like - well, there's no nice way to say it, but he looked like an actual white guy techbro.

"Hey guys~", Cindy chirped out, reaaaally rolling her hips as she sashayed over to the couch. It could fit three, if the two squished a little to each side. They chimed in response with a near-unison-sung, drawn out hey of their own.

"Chris, why didn't you mention you had a hottie in your building?", the brunette asked - though before Chris could answer, Mr. Basketball let out a woah. "Daaamn girl, hot. What dat mouth do?", he joked, laughing some. Cindy flicked her eyes over, sharply.

"You, if you're lucky.", she simply answered.

Oh god, this is how they're gonna remember me...

"Mind if I sit here?", Cindy asked, while sitting down.

Not on the couch - but on the fucking techbro-guy's lap. "It's just been such a long day. Who're you guys? Up for a threesome?", Cindy then asked, making the boys - in unison, yet again, cackle. "Hell yeah we are, babe..", Mr. Baskeball - or as he then introduced himself, Trent - replied. Mr. Techbro, meanwhile, who promptly identified himself as Brett, was busy feeling her up, precariously close to her crotch.

Oh god oh god no this cannot be happening this can't be real no, please, god...

Chris returned a moment later, with a glass of - water? no-

Oh god that's just fucking neat vodka, isn't it?

"Thanks~! Girls like me are more fun when we can't think straight, ya know?", Cindy giggled - and promptly downed the entire glass in a single chug, evocating numerous comments real-Cindy couldn't bring herself to focus on - too overwhelmed by the burning sensation of liqueur.

Cindy groaned - and promptly dropped the glass. She felt fucking - she felt dizzy.

Oh god...

"Oh god...", Cindy mumbled - then gasped - looking down at herself, wide-eyed, then back up at the sleazy fucks surrounding her. "I'm back! In control!", she exclaimed, undercutting it with a hic.

She heard a chuckle, and looked up and forward - where she saw Chris standing, with a vile look on his face. "Not for long, you're not.", he replied to her - holding up the remaining vodka bottle, guiding the tip towards her mouth...