The Dictaphone at the Mall

Disclaimer

Hello, Hexxet here,
I'm a professional digital comic author writing tales about Magic, Fantasy, Mind Control, and Transformations. The Dictaphone at the Mall is one of my comics, and I intend to slowly turn it into a story here at Chyoa. I hope you'll enjoy that. The Dictaphone is a flimsy device. Anything recorded upon it becomes reality, but only the person holding the Dictaphone while recording can remember the reality as it used to be... This offers a lot of fun story potential, so feel free to add to the story wherever you feel like it. You can find the first two comic chapters of this story for free on my homepage over at HexxetsMagicComics.com. If you like what you read, maybe consider joining up with my Patreon or SubScribeStar Adult to access further chapters and many more MC/TF/RC-themed comics. :)

Now, let the story begin!

Chapter 01

The sun hung high in the clear blue sky, casting warm golden light over the bustling town as Debbie made her way toward the local shopping mall. It was one of those perfect spring days where the air carried a soft hint of blooming flowers, and the gentle breeze ruffled her hair as she walked through the maze of parked cars. The familiar hum of chatter and distant laughter echoed faintly from the mall entrance, filling her with anticipation. Today wasn’t just any day — she was looking forward to catching up with her boyfriend and her best friend, Jessie, a reunion she’d been eagerly awaiting.

As she reached the mall’s entrance, Debbie scanned the parking lot, stepping carefully over scattered leaves and the occasional discarded receipt.

The gleaming glass doors slid open silently, welcoming her into the bright, cool interior. But before joining her friends, a quick stop was necessary — a visit to the ladies’ room.

The corridor to the restroom was quieter, lined with potted plants and the soft echo of footsteps. Debbie pushed open the door marked with the familiar feminine icon and stepped into the women’s restroom, a small, single-occupancy room tucked discreetly off the main hallway of the mall. The door was solid, heavy, with a sturdy lock that clicked securely behind her, ensuring she had the space and privacy all to herself.

She took a moment to appreciate the quiet sanctuary from the bustling crowd outside. The faint hum of distant conversations and footsteps was muffled behind the thick door. Debbie moved to the toilet and relieved herself, grateful for the solitude.

Finished, she approaches the basin to wash her hands. But as she bent over the sink, her bag slipped from the edge of the counter. With a sudden clang, her keys spilled onto the smooth tile floor. "Woopsie. Clumsy me!", Debbie blurts out and squats down to pick them up.

But what is that? Under the basin on the floor, right next to her keys, Debbie’s eyes caught sight of a small device — curious, unfamiliar, with several buttons and what looked like a tiny microphone.

She picks it up to take a closer look, fingers trembling slightly with intrigue.