Jumai, who now found Latino men exotic in a new way in the sense that she found them unusually light-skinned, began to flirt with a well built Hispanic man named Alexandro. He was clearly very wealthy and he seemed to be into her. As it turned out, he was visiting Nigeria looking for a new girl as he had gotten a taste for dark skinned beauties. Thinking about the irony of that, Jumai thought that this was not going to work out given her curse but the more she tried to get away from Alexandro, the more interested in her he was. The young man never took no as an answer, on the other hand he was pretty much used to be considered an extremely good dating option by local girls who saw him as an easy way out from poverty. So when Jumai seemed determined not to follow him, he decided to use brute force and to order his thugs to kidnap her.
Jumai woke up several hours later in one of Alexandro’s mansions in Mexico, her skin already lightened and her black hair untangling itself. “Shit” – she told herself – “he really did it!”. On one hand, she was happy she managed to get away from Africa – as she didn’t see any safe way out – and felt happy to be relatively close to home, on the other hand she was in deep trouble now. How would she explain what was happening to her now? Too tired from the jet lag and still feeling the sedative given to her before the kidnap, she fell asleep again. When Alexandro checked her a few hours later she had transformed even further, to the point that he believed his thugs had mistakenly kidnapped the wrong girl. As they could not explain what had happened, Alexandro lost his temper, had them executed and left again to Nigeria to find Jumai. Meanwhile, the real Jumai got dumped on a random beach nearby while still sedated, simulating a hangover from a beach party from the night before.
Jumai woke up late in the morning, luckily the beach was not crowded at all so nobody bothered her for the time being. Quickly guessing what had happened, she checked herself and noticed that she had nothing on herself apart from a bikini they gave her. With ID or wallet, she realized how hopeless her situation was. Had she retained some cash from her savings she could have exchanged it for Mexican pesos and stayed in a hotel for a few days at least but instead she had no time to rest at all. Checking herself in a reflection in a shop window she could see how her ethnicity now seemed to be fully Hispanic. Too bad she never put too much effort in learning Spanish at school. Luckily tourists were swaying in the beach at that time so it didn’t take much to her to eye a handsome blonde guy, definitely American, to approach him and to get invited for lunch. Jumai, who quickly decided to introduce herself as Juanita, impressed him with her looks and with her fluent English – she had been an exchange student in the States for a year, she explained. In this way she managed to get a free meal and a place to stay for the night as the guy was more than happy to offer her to sleep with him. Waking up before him, Juanita surprised herself by deciding to empty his wallet, feeling ashamed for how low she had gotten herself.
The money allowed her to have some rest in a cheap motel and to buy some new clothes. Checking herself in the changing room, Juanita grabbed her now straight hair and let out a moan of pleasure at the feeling of her usual texture for the first time in such a long time. If she didn’t look at a mirror she could even delude herself she was back to her original body, just with a deep summer tan and with her blonde hair dyed black. Her facial features however, had no resemblance with her caucasian traits and were the finest example of Spanish and native American admixture that made Latin American girls so exquisitely attractive. Her tan was there to stay too, for the time being and any attempt to dye her hair blonde would result in an unnatural look, combined with her dark brown eyes and tanned skin. Still, she had to figure out what how to earn her living, so she opted for a job as a stripper in a local club. Quite a demeaning job but at least they didn’t request any ID and promised a good salary. Juanita quickly improved her Spanish and began her life as a Mexican stripper.
Juanita learned how demeaning her new life was but when she tried to break free she learned she was stuck. Her new bosses were aware of her status of an undocumented immigrant with no rights, even though they had no clue about her real origin, and exploited it by paying her the bare minimum and keeping her in a sort of brothel with the other girls. Although she wasn’t technically a prostitute, she often had to entertain men with a private dance to top up her wage. She made an attempt of escaping and reaching the US border but with no documents and with her new ethnicity there was no chance to get through the border checks. She had no other choice that to come back to her bosses and beg them to forgive her and hire her again. They did so, but not without lowering her status from stripper to a full-blown prostitute. After a few months, Juanita had surrendered to her fate. She even noticed how her English was getting more and more rusty when she had to entertain American customers and her Mexican accent getting stronger. After a while, there was no way to tell her apart from a native Mexican girl and she even began to think in Spanish when she was alone. As her memories of her previous life faded in the distance, she learned to only live in the present and to enjoy sex with strangers as her only way out of her miseries.
Rushing through the airport, Jessica, now Jamila found the first flight departing from the Dubai airport hub, luckily a flight by the company she works for. Without even checking its destination, she embarked and managed to escape from the airport police. During the flight, she learned she was flying to Lagos, Nigeria. In order to escape from possible airport controls and to be less recognisable, before landing she changed her uniform for a traditional Muslim dress covering her hair and opted to disembark disguised as a private citizen landing there. Her fake ID still worked so she managed to leave the airport without any problems. She settled for a cheap airport and took some time to rest to recover energies after the stressful escape from Dubai, still with her headscarf on. Before falling asleep, she wondered about what to do next but no clear path is clear to her.
Jamila woke up several hours later. When she finally took the veil off her hair, she realized something was off with her hair’s texture. She tried to wash it and apply conditioner but her once straight hair seemed to have gained a very persistent curly texture. Taking a minute to check herself in a mirror, she noticed her skin had also darkened slightly and even her facial features had lost some eastern traits to gain an unmistakable partial African heritage. Jamila then realised what was happening to her and that it was only a matter of time before the turned fully African. She also realised that her only chance to escape from this destiny would be to leave Africa as quickly as possible but with her fake ID she would be easily caught and anyway her facial features would soon be too different from those of Jamila Bakir. Strangely enough, the blonde American had grown quite attached to her new Middle Eastern features, while it would take some time getting used to what this weird curse had stored for her.
Before long, the metamorphosis was complete and Jessica/Jamila had gained all the physical traits of a sub-Saharan girl: plump lips, broad nose, kinky hair and dark brown skin. She was initially taken aback by the sudden change. She had always been open minded but growing up in a rural area, she had always had the idea that Black people were somehow different so now having a Black girl’s body for the foreseeable future was something she was struggling to deal with. However, she realized she had still plenty of savings from her previous job that would cover her expenses for a while in Nigeria. She left her hotel room unnoticed and found a shady office that made fake ID. She explained she was coming from a neighbouring country and needed an ID to work there. She even let them pick up a name for her, they picked Jumai.
Jumai, as she learned to introduce herself, quickly realized she could have a good time there with her beauty and wealth so she enjoyed the local nightlife for a few weeks. She was highly popular with the local men and her flawless American accent made her even more intriguing as people assumed she was an African-American girl visiting Nigeria, which was close to true in a certain sense. Jumai enjoyed this lavish lifestyle without really thinking of her perspectives, stuck as she was. Navigating the local job market to find occasions to flee the country was hard and risking to be found with a fake ID boarding on a plane was too much of a risk, she really didn’t want to find out how local jails were. So she kept living a good life until her savings became only sufficient to cover a couple more weeks. Then she decided her only chance was to find herself a wealthy man who would take care of her. So one night she hooked up with…
Jessica was finally done with high school and now that the world was going back to normal after the pandemic, she thought she could celebrate the occasion with a good old country-hopping trip. Born and raised in rural US, she was eager to explore something different, so she decided to use all her savings to experience something really extraordinary. She wasn’t used to travelling at all, in fact, she had barely ever left her home State. Her family was also quite conservative and saw no need in getting familiar with cultures other than their own. Jessica’s family was rooted in the German and Scandinavian American communities migrated there centuries ago, so any background different from that was seen with hostility by them. However, Jessica was more curious than afraid of other cultures. She knew that the world was changing itself, countries becoming more diverse and new superpowers emerging globally so she wanted to experience more of that.
She took all her savings and decided not to plan the whole trip in detail, but to decide her next destination from time to time, each single time. Her first flight was to London, but she wasn’t planning on stopping there. She only chose it to buy herself some time in a European country where they spoke a language she knew, so that the could then easily get on a cheap flight to a different European destination or proceed to fly to a different continent for the next step of her trip. Visiting a large airport and a large, multiethnic city like London made her curious about all the different cultures she might explore next, but she took some time before deciding what her next destination would be. Eventually, she settled for…
Dubai! Jessica felt the need for some thrilling experiences in a truly exotic place, so the Middle East was more appealing than some European country. After a long flight she landed there and visited the city straight away. She visited the skyscrapers and the old market and paid attention to how fascinating and exotic the locals were. She loved their dark hair and eyes and how well they matched their slightly tanned skin tones. She loved the experience, but also felt strangely dizzy and tired, so she decided to get some rest. When she woke up, she looked in the mirror and noticed, fascinated, how her blonde hair had turned jet black, her blue eyes had turned deep brown and her skin got tanned. Instead of freaking out, she realised what a gorgeous brunette she was now and enjoyed her reflection. Then she headed out, somehow managing to convince the guy at the reception it was still her, after a hair dye and wearing colour contacts to stand out more and to feel safer.
Jessica realised how she actually stood out less now and loved feeling less of a stranger. However, her facial features had remained pretty much the same, suggesting a possibly south European background to a more careful look. She observed more attentively the local women and realised they often had vaguely Asian-shaped eyes, and a more prominent nose. Although exotic and different from the facial features she had always found beautiful in herself and others, she grew increasingly fascinated by these details and deep down wished to own them herself. After a while, she noticed how shop owners and other locals began to talk to her in Arabic, assuming she was one of them. Starting to worry, she checked herself in a mirror in a toilet and realised the changes went even further: her eyes took a slightly slanted shape, her nose got the characteristic shape of Middle Eastern women, her lips widened and her skin darkened a little more too. She couldn’t pass for anything else than a Middle Eastern girl now, which fascinated, scared but also turned her on.
Jessica realised she had no chances to get back to her hotel with her new face or to be able to use her passport, so she was stuck there for the time being, with little clothes or cash. Again, being forced to stay there and to look like this stirred something deep in her and exited her more than she wanted to admit to herself. She used her last cash to get a more fashionable dress and started looking for shops looking for English speaking shop assistants in the airport area. Luckily for her, there was a huge demand for that given the influx of tourists, her looks did the rest so she quickly found a job in a luxury perfume shop as Jamila, which allowed here to afford a little room in an old hotel where they weren’t too strict about passports. She tried to avoid contact with her family, simply texting them from time to tome and sending them old pictures of herself to gain some time but was clueless about what to do next.
She spent a few weeks there, during which she gained a surprisingly good knowledge of Arabic. It somehow felt natural to her to speak it, and she began to feel a connection to the place, the people, the culture. However, it scared her to think she might even forget who she was and accept a new life as a local Arab woman, so she kept on looking for alternatives and eventually realised she could get a job as a hostess for an airline company. She managed to get a fake ID stating she was a local woman named Jamila Bakir and got the job. After a few weeks, she managed to same a good amount of money and realised she had an easy chance to escape to another country. She was still uncertain about what to do next, until one day during a scheduled personnel check they found her ID to be fake. Fearing to be jailed, she decided to jump on the first flight departing wearing her uniform and to pass as a regular hostess.
Avery had always been a girl with plenty of potential. As a child, she was the rising star of the local courts. Coaches described her “a future champion.” It was more than enough to keep her dreaming. But at some point success seemed to slip through her fingers. As the years wore on, her shine dulled. Minor victories in small tournaments were overshadowed by bigger losses, and each defeat chipped away at her confidence. No matter how many grueling hours she spent on the court, something always seemed to hold her back. Then came the injury, a small tweak in her shoulder, enough to make her miss the most important tournament of her career. Watching from the sidelines as less-talented competitors lifted trophies that should have been hers was torture. She cried until she couldn’t take it anymore. By her mid-20s, Avery was ready to let it go. The plan was to retire quietly, maybe finish her economics degree and find a steady job. Maybe become a part-time tennis coach. It was during a quiet moment of reflection, standing at the edge of the court, that her second chance came.
Avery was startled when her phone buzzed with an unknown number. The voice on the other end introduced himself as a movie producer. He explained that her name had been recommended by her former coach. “We’re working on a film where the lead character is a tennis player. We need someone to coach the actress, help her nail the body language, the movements, everything. Possibly someone her age, with her build. And I’ll be honest, this isn’t just anyone. It’s Zendaya.” The name hit her like a serve to the chest. Zendaya. The Zendaya. “I… wow. I don’t know what to say.” “Say yes,” the producer said with a chuckle. “We’ll fly you out next week if you’re on board.” Avery grinned, her voice steady despite her racing heart. “Yes. Yes, of course.” Avery had been thrilled at the idea of coaching Zendaya, but reality hit like a double fault. Zendaya was… terrible. Absolutely terrible. Despite her efforts, hitting the ball cleanly seemed a Herculean task. After weeks of fruitless practice, it was clear. Zendaya wasn’t going to convincingly play tennis anytime soon, and the producers were against the use of CGI for the movie. “I can’t do this,” she confessed. “I’m not good enough, and I’m ruining this for everyone.” One afternoon, as Zendaya fumbled another backhand into the net, the producer pulled Avery aside.
“Listen, we’ve been brainstorming a solution, and… it’s not ideal, but it might work. We don’t have time to keep training Zendaya. The movie’s schedule is already tight, and the tennis scenes are crucial.” He hesitated, then forged ahead. “What if we made you look like Zendaya, just for the tennis shots? No dialogue, no acting. She’ll handle all of that. You’ll just handle the court scenes.” Avery blinked, certain she’d misheard. “Wait. You want me to… be her? Like, a body double?” “Exactly,” he said, as if her grasping the concept made it sound more plausible. “You’re her size, close enough in build, and with some makeup, tanning sessions, and—uh—a bit of cosmetic touch-up, no one will notice. It’ll save us time, and the shots will look completely authentic.” Avery’s stomach turned. “Oh, God. This is…” “Obviously, your compensation would reflect the additional… commitment.” His voice took on a smoother, more persuasive tone. “In fact, it’d increase by a factor of ten.” he said, letting the number linger in the air.
Avery gulped. A million dollars. For tennis shots. For a moment, the absurdity of the situation faded as she imagined what she could do with that kind of money. Pay off her debts, secure her future… maybe even take another shot at tennis with financial stability backing her. “You mentioned surgery?” she asked hesitantly. “Just a few minor adjustments,” he replied smoothly. “A nose job, a little work on your cheekbones. And we’ll use melanotan to make the tan look natural. Makeup will take care of the rest.” She hesitated, caressing her cheeks as she weighed the decision. Finally, she nodded. “I guess… I could do that.” The changes were slow but effective. The melanotan shots altered Avery’s complexion, giving her natural, sun-kissed tone a darker shade that mirrored the mixed-race woman’s warm glow. A subtle tweak to her cheekbones brought her closer to Zendaya’s profile. Bit by bit, her face morphed into the likeness of the star. It was distressing but fascinating to watch as her identity vanished. She was even instructed to mimic Zendaya’s body language, gestures, facial expressions while playing on the court for training.
One afternoon, Zendaya strolled into the practice court, her usual charisma lighting up the room. She watched Avery for a moment, arms crossed, before smirking and walking up to her. “So,” Zendaya began, a playful glint in her eye, “they told me they’ve officially given up on me. Guess you’ll be paying the price for my failures, huh? Haha!” Avery flushed, embarrassed. “No, I…” she stammered, trying to find the words. “I’m… happy to help.” “Sweet!” Zendaya said, her smile widening as she leaned in conspiratorially. “Listen, I’m sorry they had to change your features, though. You were so naturally pretty, but hey, it’s showbiz, right?” Avery nodded awkwardly, unsure how to respond. “It’s ok… You are so pretty… I am honored to be turned into your doppelgänger!” Zendaya clapped her hands together. “Nice! You know what? I’ll lend you some of my clothes if you need them—after all, we’re basically going to be twin sisters soon!” Avery couldn’t help but laugh. “Thanks, I guess.” As Zendaya turned to leave, she added with a wink, “Just don’t upstage me, alright? Only one of us gets the Oscar.”
After a rather dramatic rhinoplasty giving her the wide, African nose that made Zendaya so ethnic, the transformation was over. As the swelling subsided, Avery stared at her reflection, dreading what she’d see. The wide, African nose gave her a perfect resemblance to the actress. Her lips, darkened and subtly plumped, curled into a small, incredulous smile. “Fuck, I am her now!”. She placed a hand on her face, the altered cheekbones a subtle reminder of the permanence of the changes. The tan wasn’t going to fade, the facial tweaks weren’t going to reverse themselves. “Stuck like a movie star,” she said with a soft chuckle, leaning closer to the mirror. “What a life.” Avery spent hours practicing facial expressions every day. By now she had learned to pose like a diva too. A strict diet also gave her the lithe physique that made Zendaya so attractive. She lost some muscle tone and stamina, but it was worth it. She could still play well, but for shorter sessions, rather than long, real tennis matches. Under the bright lights, wearing Zendaya’s costumes, and moving with the actress’s grace, Avery felt like a different person. Between takes, she lounged with the cast, laughing and joking with actors who barely seemed to notice the lines between her and the real Zendaya. But as the initial excitement ebbed, a thought crept into her mind. What happens after the movie?
Late that night, she knocked on Zendaya’s hotel room door. Zendaya opened the door, her face lighting up in surprise. “Avery! What’s up?” “I just… I need to talk to you. I know the shooting’s almost over, but… I don’t want this to end. I love this.” “Avery, I was afraid this might happen. Look, you’re an amazing tennis player. You have your own career, your own future. I know the dieting has already affected your performance. You can still get your physique back, reclaim your game. And… I know some surgeries are not reversible but we could still make you look a bit different. I would pay out of pocket, I feel responsible for…” “No,” Avery interrupted firmly. “I don’t want that. I like looking like you. I’m done with tennis. Maybe I could do some promotional events. Promotional events. I could pose with a tennis racket, hit a few balls for cameras, and make it a show. We could raise money for underprivileged kids or fund tennis programs in struggling communities.” “Well, if that’s what you want, we can look into it.”
In the heart of London, nestled within the imposing walls of the Ecuadorian embassy, Sophie Wallace, a young American whistleblower, found herself stuck in a labyrinth of political intrigue and surveillance, a life reminiscent of Julian Assange’s confinement. Stepping outside of the embassy would result in immediate arrest and life imprisonment, on the other hand, she was basically serving a life sentence already as it was. On the other hand, she did not want to give up easily, still hoping that her network would somehow find a way out for her, In the meanwhile, her once vibrant spirit, now dulled by the monotony of her forced confinement, yearned for freedom beyond the embassy’s heavily guarded gates. In the midst of her confinement, Sophie Wallace’s days blurred into a monotonous cycle of despair and longing within the Ecuadorian embassy’s austere walls. The American whistleblower, once a beacon of truth and transparency, found herself ensnared in a web of political machinations, her spirit waning under the shadow of her self-imposed exile.
Sophie’s sanctuary, however, was not entirely solitary. Among the embassy staff members she grew close to was Juanita, a young Latina secretary. Juanita, with her rich, dark complexion and curves, moved with an ease and confidence that Sophie admired. It was Juanita’s figure, so strikingly similar yet so distinctly different from Sophie’s own, that ignited a spark of inspiration in the whistleblower’s weary heart. As weeks turned into months, Sophie’s desperation grew, along with her resolve to reclaim her freedom. It was during one of her rare, encrypted conversations with Peter, a trusted ally and skilled cosmetic surgeon, that the seeds of a daring plan were sown. Sophie confided in Peter her wild notion of assuming Juanita’s identity to escape the embassy’s confines. Peter, initially taken aback by the audacity of the plan, recognized the desperation in Sophie’s voice. After a moment of contemplative silence, he replied, “Sophie, what you’re suggesting is beyond risky—it’s unprecedented. But if you’re truly set on this path, know that I’ll do everything in my power to help you.” Sophie’s heart raced as she considered the magnitude of the transformation required. Doubts clouded her mind. Could she really surrender her identity, the very essence of who she was, for a chance at freedom? Would the physical changes be enough to deceive those who knew Juanita? The thought of erasing her blonde hair, her fair skin, and the blue eyes that mirrored the sky seemed like a betrayal of her very being.
Yet, it was the vision of life beyond the embassy’s walls that tipped the scales. “Let’s do it,” Sophie whispered, a mix of fear and determination in her voice. The plan was set into motion with meticulous care. Before the surgery, Peter explained the first crucial step of Sophie’s metamorphosis—a permanent melanin booster. This procedure was pivotal, ensuring that Sophie’s hair and eyes turned a deep shade of brown, and her skin acquired a rich tan, attributes essential for her to embody Juanita’s appearance fully. “This booster will lay the foundation for your transformation,” Peter explained, his tone a blend of reassurance and gravity. “Your blonde hair, fair skin, and blue eyes have to go.” Sophie’s heart was a whirlwind of emotions as she absorbed the weight of Peter’s words. The realization that there was no turning back from this point was daunting, yet the promise of freedom it held was too compelling to resist. “I understand,” Sophie whispered. Sophie watched as her skin gradually darkened under the effects of the melanin booster. Her once fair skin now carried a rich, golden brown shade that deepened with each passing day. Her blue eyes darkened to brown and her blonde hair began showing a black regrowth, soon extended to the rest of her hair with a professional hair dye.
The embassy’s most secluded room was swiftly converted into a makeshift medical facility. Peter and his team, disguised as diplomats, carried their specialized equipment past unsuspecting security, preparing for the procedure that would alter Sophie’s destiny. The transformation Sophie underwent was comprehensive, as the surgery meticulously adjusted her facial features and body, aligning them precisely with Juanita’s, the secretary whose identity she sought to adopt. Her lips became plump and full, her nose bigger, yet attractive. Her face lost its Caucasian traits to gain a strong Hispanic flavour. Her body type, almost similar in stature and overall shape, required a slight breast enlargement and some extra curves down in the bottom too. Awakening from the surgery, Sophie’s initial glimpse of her new face in the mirror was a jolt to her very core. Her reflection, once familiar, now mirrored Juanita’s visage so perfectly that the shock left her reeling. The depth of her transformation was overwhelming, leaving her to grapple with the reality of her new appearance. Even if she would be free, her old identity was now lost, possibly forever, and navigating life as a Latina woman would surely prove different too.
Juanita’s reaction upon encountering Sophie was one of sheer astonishment. “How could this be?” she exclaimed, her eyes wide as she took in the sight of her own doppelganger. “She’s going to be stuck looking like me now” she thought, puzzled and intrigued by the lengths Sophie had gone to escape. The resemblance was uncanny, sparking a mix of surprise and curiosity within Juanita. For Sophie, acquiring Juanita’s mannerisms was a meticulous process, one that required observing and emulating even the most subtle of Juanita’s behaviors. She studied Juanita’s walk, the particular tilt of her head when she laughed, and the way she gestured with her hands when speaking passionately. Sophie dedicated herself to this task with a fervor, understanding that mastering these nuances was crucial for her plan’s success. It wasn’t merely about looking like Juanita; she had to become indistinguishable from her in every conceivable manner. As she practiced Juanita’s mannerisms, Sophie found herself slipping into her new identity with increasing ease, the initial shock of her new appearance giving way to a determined embrace of her role. With each passing day, Sophie’s confidence grew, bolstered by the realization that she was no longer just emulating Juanita; she was becoming her, ready to step into the world anew.
Eventually, Sophie was able to replicate Juanita’s mannerisms, accent and even conversation. Gone was the brilliant conversation that marked the whistleblower, replaced by shallow remarks about fashion and influencers. She was finally ready to leave the embassy as Juanita when an unforeseen twist threatened to unravel her meticulously woven plan. Juanita stopped showing up at the embassy. Her sudden disappearance from the embassy sent ripples of panic through Sophie’s heart. This abrupt disappearance sent shockwaves of panic coursing through Sophie, her mind racing with worst-case scenarios. The possibility that federal agents, already on high alert due to Juanita’s known interactions with the infamous whistleblower, might have apprehended her was a terrifying prospect. The implications were dire, not only for Juanita but for Sophie’s own bid for freedom. Sophie’s fears mounted as she envisioned the collapse of her carefully constructed facade. In the midst of this turmoil, Sophie also grappled with concern for Juanita’s well-being. The thought that Juanita might be suffering because of her own actions weighed heavily on Sophie’s conscience. This complex web of fear, guilt, and determination to proceed despite the odds showcased the high stakes of Sophie’s quest for freedom. It was a reminder of the fragile nature of her new identity and the lengths to which she had gone to secure a chance at a new life.
The situation reached a tipping point when Sophie’s allies confirmed the worst—Juanita was indeed in the hands of their adversaries, likely under duress to divulge secrets. This was not only a blow to their operations but also a stark reminder of the dangers Sophie faced. Her time was running out; federal agents could raid the embassy at any moment. In a decisive move, her team scrambled to find another identity for Sophie to assume. They settled on Carito, a young intern at the embassy whose age and physique closely matched Sophie’s, making her the ideal candidate for Sophie’s next disguise. With meticulous speed, the team altered Sophie’s appearance to match Carito’s. Known for being a bit of an airhead, Carito watched in disbelief as the blonde woman turned Latina now was being morphed into a copy of herself. Carito, who had always admired the poise and grace often associated with blonde, white women, couldn’t understand why someone would choose to abandon such an identity to assume her own, which she considered far less glamorous and significant. “Why would you want to become me?” Carito finally asked, days after the surgery. Sophie, now looking like Carito from the carefully selected clothes to the exact makeup and hairstyle, paused to consider the question. It was more profound than Carito likely realized.”It’s not about wanting to become you,” Sophie gently explained, her tone respectful. “It’s about necessity. This is the safest way for me to stay under the radar and protect not just myself but everyone involved.”
Sophie’s transition into Carito had been executed with such precision that even Sophie’s helpers struggled to tell apart the real and the faux Carito. As soon as she felt confident enough in her new body, Sophie, now masquerading as the young intern, made her escape from the embassy. Stepping out into the freedom she had so desperately engineered, Sophie left behind the identity of Juanita, and with it, the immediate threats that had ensnared her. That same day, federal agents stormed the embassy in a frenzied search for Juanita’s double. The federal agents, arriving in force and ready to apprehend Juanita’s impersonator, found themselves scrambling through a chaos that yielded no results. Their searches were thorough, their questions pointed, but the embassy, a hive of shaken diplomats and staff, held no trace of Juanita or her look-alike. Amidst the chaos, they failed to notice the anomaly of Carito apparently exiting the building twice, allowing Sophie to slip away unnoticed in the tumult. Yet, the fear of discovery never fully dissipated. Sophie knew that the federal agents would continue their search for her. She kept a low profile, avoided frequenting the same places she used to, and was always on the lookout for anyone who might recognize her true identity, although looking like a young Latina.
In her new guise as Carito, Sophie quickly adapted to the superficial traits of the young intern’s personality, maintaining her cover as she navigated the dense urban landscape away from the embassy. Her fear of being tracked by federal agents or other hostile entities forced her to delve deeper into Carito’s identity, far beyond what she had initially planned. Knowing that simply altering her appearance wouldn’t erase the trails leading back to her true self, Sophie knew her days in London were limited, so she made the bold decision to move to Ecuador, Carito’s home country. This was a strategic move aimed at throwing off potential pursuers by embedding herself in a place where Carito would logically be and could easily lose her traces. Upon arriving in Ecuador, Sophie immersed herself in mastering the local customs and accent, painstakingly mimicking Carito’s every nuance to ensure that even those who knew the intern, at least superficially, might be fooled. She rented a small apartment in a quiet neighborhood of Quito, where she hoped the busy lives of the city’s residents would allow her to blend in unnoticed. The constant fear of discovery kept Sophie vigilant. She avoided making close connections, fearful that too much scrutiny might unravel her façade. Her life as Carito felt like a tightrope walk, each step measured and fraught with the potential for peril.
Despite her efforts to remain inconspicuous, the need for a sustainable livelihood prompted Sophie to seek employment, leading her to a surprising yet viable option given Carito’s youthful and carefree background: dancing in local clubs. The nightlife scene offered a blend of anonymity and routine that Sophie found oddly comforting. As a dancer, she could hide in plain sight, her face just one among many in the dimly lit venues, her true identity obscured by the pulsating lights and the rhythmic cadence of the music. This new role, however, was not without its challenges. Each night as she danced, Sophie felt a poignant disconnect from her true self, the intellectual and whistleblower now cloaked under the guise of an airheaded club dancer. The superficiality of Carito’s personality grated on her, a constant reminder of the depth and complexity she had sacrificed for survival. As months turned into a year, Sophie’s routine solidified into a rhythm of cautious interactions by day and vibrant performances by night. As Sophie settled into her life as Carito in Quito, the strain of constantly maintaining her new identity began to weigh heavily on her psyche. Each day, she donned Carito’s persona like a suit of armor, yet the vibrant, carefree mask she wore concealed an internal struggle that grew more intense with each passing moment. The young, carefree Carito was a stark contrast to the intellectual and serious Sophie, and over time, this disparity began to gnaw at her sense of self.
As the economic situation in the area took a downturn, the club began to see fewer patrons, and the income it provided became unstable. Faced with financial pressures, Sophie was forced to leave her job as a dancer. She found herself taking on odd jobs that pushed her even further away from her own identity. She worked as a waitress, a street vendor, and a tourist guide—each new role pulling her deeper into a mundane existence that felt worlds away from her past life as a whistleblower. Her multiple low-paying jobs could not keep up with her living expenses, and in a moment of desperation, Sophie found herself confronted with a harrowing decision. The suggestion came indirectly through a new acquaintance she had made at one of her jobs—a woman who seemed sympathetic to Sophie’s financial struggles. “There are faster ways to make money,” she hinted, lowering her voice. “You’re a beautiful woman, and there are people who would pay generously for your company.” The implication was clear, and it struck a chord of fear and revulsion in Sophie. Yet, as her funds dwindled and her desperation grew, the option lingered in her mind as a last resort. The decision to step into the world of prostitution was not made lightly. Sophie, as Carito, rationalized it as a temporary measure, something she could control and use to her advantage just long enough to stabilize her situation.
However, the reality of her new role was more challenging than she anticipated. Each encounter left her feeling a piece of her dignity and self-worth erode, making it increasingly difficult to separate Sophie from Carito. The mental and emotional toll was immense, and she struggled with intense feelings of isolation and guilt, especially during the nights after meeting clients. She felt trapped not only in Carito’s identity but also in a cycle of exploitation that seemed to pull her further away from any hope of reclaiming her true self. Gradually, the hope of returning to her former life as Sophie seemed like a distant, unattainable dream. The harsh realities of her current existence in the shadows of society, the continuous risk of exposure, and the lingering fear of retribution from those she had once exposed, overwhelmed her. The constant pressure and stress took their toll, leading her to a psychological breaking point. Sophie began to abandon the strict moral guidelines she had set for herself when she first assumed Carito’s identity and descended into a cycle of self-destructive behavior. As Sophie continued down this path, her actions became less about survival and more about numbing the pain of her fractured identity. She started frequenting the more dangerous parts of the city, mingling with dubious characters who further encouraged her moral descent. Her life became a series of transactions—both physical and emotional—where she gave pieces of herself away without the hope of ever reclaiming them. The final relinquishment of her hopes and principles marked Sophie’s full transformation into Carito, or rather, into a version of Carito that she had never intended to become.
Marieke van der Leeuw, a redhead with a fiery spirit to match her looks, lived a pretty comfortable life. Born into wealth in the picturesque city of Amsterdam, her life took an unexpected turn when she met Jiehong, a charming young man from Shanghai, who was in the Netherlands to complete his studies. The sun of a wealthy industrial himself, they seemed a good match from the beginning, with their similar lifestyles and interests. Marieke, with her porcelain skin and eyes as deep and blue as the sky, was the epitome of Dutch beauty. Her love for art and history often led her and Jiehong on adventures through Amsterdam’s museums and galleries, their hands entwined as they shared whispers and laughter. Jiehong, on the other hand, was the embodiment of determination and intelligence. His sharp features and warm eyes mirrored his inner kindness and ambition. The true test of their love came when Jiehong invited Marieke to visit his family in China. The prospect excited her but also filled her with a sense of apprehension. She knew that being accepted by Jiehong’s family was crucial, and the cultural differences she so admired could also pose challenges. Despite her fears, Marieke’s love for Jiehong propelled her forward, and she agreed to embark on the journey to Shanghai.
Marieke’s journey to Shanghai began with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. The invitation from Jiehong to meet his family in China was an opportunity she couldn’t pass up, despite the nervous flutter in her stomach. The thought of being accepted by his family weighed heavily on her, but her adventurous spirit, fueled by love, was ready to face any challenge. Upon arrival, the vibrant energy of Shanghai enveloped her. The sprawling city, with its neon lights and bustling streets, was an exhilarating backdrop to what she hoped would be a memorable visit. However, the excitement of her arrival quickly turned to confusion when she was escorted to a medical facility on the outskirts of the city. Jiehong, ever the reassuring presence, explained that it was a precautionary measure against viruses, a standard protocol for foreign visitors. Despite her reservations, Marieke trusted Jiehong and agreed to the procedure. The medical facility was unlike anything Marieke had seen before. She was presented with a complex face mask and a bodysuit, both designed to disinfect and protect. “It’s just a device to disinfect your skin, throat, and lungs, babe,” Jiehong explained with a comforting smile. Reluctantly, Marieke donned the mask and bodysuit, feeling the fabric cling to her hourglass figure.
Unbeknownst to her, the device began interfering with her DNA, replacing her one with a genetically engineered one. She felt a bit weird but nothing serious. She brushed it off as a negligible side effect of the high-tech procedure. Their journey back to Jiehong’s place passed without incident. Chen appeared somewhat preoccupied, but Marieke attributed it to the stress of introducing her to his life in Shanghai. That evening, they dined at an upscale restaurant where the food, to Marieke’s surprise, surpassed any Chinese cuisine she had previously tasted, attributing its excellence to the authenticity of being in China itself. Chen casually mentioned that his parents were unexpectedly called away on a business trip, necessitating an extended stay until their return. Marieke was a bit surprised, worried about her delayed return home but she told herself that meeting her future in-laws was the main goal of the whole visit, after all. During the night, however, Marieke felt fidgety and weird. The genetic changes are affecting her to a cellular level, reshaping every tissue of her body.
It wasn’t until the following day that Marieke began to notice alarming changes. Glancing in the mirror, her reflection seemed to have acquired a more youthful, almost ‘kawaii’, appearance. Her once blue eyes now were hazel, and her figure seemed less curvaceous than before, giving her a more childish and innocent look. “That procedure” – she thought “”What did they really do to me?”, unease creeping into her thoughts. Compounding her confusion, she found herself locked in her hotel room, separated from Jiehong, who maintained they sleep apart – a traditionality she hadn’t anticipated from him. She tried calling him multiple times, but he wasn’t picking up. As she paced the room, a startling realization dawned on her: she had become shorter. Being a typical Dutch woman standing at 172 cm, she had always had a height advantage over Jiehong, an aspect she knew he found uncomfortable, but now she measured only 162 cm, making her shorter than him. “Fuck, what am I turning into? A teenager?” Her eyes had ben itching all day, and scratching them had no effect. Marieke checked her face in the mirror compulsively, noticing small changes each time.
By late afternoon, her eyes had taken a distinctive east Asian shape, now looking at odds with her freckles and red hair. Her new eyelids flickered open and shut, embodying a charm she had previously only observed in Asian women. Overwhelmed by the changes, she broke down in tears, confronting the stark reality of her situation. It was then that Jiehong, drawn by her sobbing, entered the room. “Oh, it seems the transformation isn’t complete yet,” he remarked, his confusion mingling with a curious fascination at her now hybrid appearance. “What did you do to me? This is so messed up!” – she screamed at the top of her lungs, looking up at him, with an unrecognisable high pitched voice that left her speechless for a while. “You sound so cute now” – he smiled, deviously. “I must be honest with you, I love you deeply and wish for us to marry. but we would have had no chances of having a future together with you being a white redhead with freckles. You were a beauty, but beauty standards are different here. And China is getting more and more close and nationalistic, so you wouldn’t have had an easy time here.” Marieke was still crying, so Chen hugged her, now towering her in height, given her reduced height of 156 cm. “Don’t worry baby, you’ll be fine, and we’ll be happy together”.
Following her transformative visit to a local salon, where her hair was reshaped into a sleek, shorter style and dyed a striking jet black, Marieke’s appearance underwent further refinement. Minor cosmetic enhancements were performed, including a subtle rhinoplasty to achieve a more delicate nose and treatments to give her fuller lips, completing her dramatic makeover. When she finally faced the mirror, Marieke was adorned in a vibrant red satin dress, with earrings and a tiara accentuating her new look, casting her in the image of an Asian princess from a storybook. She was taken aback, a silent protest forming in her mind: “This is so wrong!”. At the same time, she was so intimidated and shocked by the changes, she meekly followed her boyfriend’s instructions. Observing her reaction, her boyfriend reconsidered, “Hmm, I was thinking red would be an interesting contrast now that you’re no longer a redhead, but perhaps it’s a bit too bold. Red is whorish. Let’s opt for something more refined.”
Consequently, Marieke was gracefully attired in a sophisticated white silky dress, which complemented her new look with an elegance that felt more authentic to her transformed appearance and tightly hugged her diminished curves, giving her a very alluring attitude. Gazing at her reflection, Marieke’s mind reeled with confusion and disbelief. The woman in the mirror, with her dark hair and altered features, looked back at her with eyes that were once a vibrant blue, now a brown shade that seemed foreign to her. Her heart pounded as she traced the contours of her new face, her fingertips brushing against the unfamiliar smoothness of her altered nose and the unfamiliar fullness of her lips. This reflection was supposed to be her, Marieke van der Leeuw, but the Dutch identity she had always embraced felt erased, replaced by an appearance that was meticulously engineered to fit into a culture and society that were not her own. The confusion swirling within her was overwhelming.
When Marieke finally find some time to catch a breath to process the metamorphosis she had gone through, she realised she was in no position to bargain right now. Her boyfriend was a psychopath and what he had done to har was awful, but hopefully not irreversible so she had to play along for the time being. Now, for more immediate issues, she just wanted to get rid of the ridiculous outfit she was wearing, which accentuated even more her diminished physique. “I can’t really process what’s happened to me, but first of all, I can’t go out like this, I look like a doll…” “Ok, we’ll go shopping and you’ll pick whatever you want but first need to take a small detour at a local dentist” The dentist actually proved to be something more. He installed a device affecting Marieke’s larynx and vocal box, predisposing her to sound like a native Chinese speaker in due time and giving her a permanently high-pitch voice and a clear Asian accent, eliminating her persistent Dutch accent.
“Aah, what did dat doctol do to me? My sound is weild!” “Well, he wasn’t exactly a dentist babe, but don’t worry, now you’ll play your part even more convincingly, and you’ll make a great impression in front of my honourable parents! You know how important it is for us to get the approval of our family.” Her boyfriend’s response, dripping with a patronizing sweetness, only unnerved her more. It became clear that this transformation was part of a larger plan. Marieke felt like a pawn in a game she never agreed to play, her autonomy slipping further away with each passing moment. “Noo! I sound like I’m Chinese girr!” “Your accent is very cute, sweetie, I’m sorry you are struggling to speak English now but this minor alteration will make it a lot easier for you to speak Chinese and should like a native soon!” After a quick fix at her hair to give it some waves at the end, they headed to downtown to fulfil the girl’s requests in terms of wardrobe.
Resigned but not defeated, Marieke followed her boyfriend to a high-end shopping center, determined to reclaim some sense of self, even if it was through something as superficial as clothing. The outfits she tried on were a far cry from her usual style, designed to complement her altered appearance and play into a stereotype she neither understood nor embraced Marieke tried on a less catchy but still pink outfit, showing her modest cleavage and complete with a chocker. As she looked at herself in the mirror, decked out in an outfit that was both foreign and strangely flattering, a complex mix of emotions welled up inside her. “Hmm, I look lidiculous on dis othufit, but kinda pletty too. It fits well with my bawdee!” Her boyfriend assured her she could buy as many outfit as she wanted and for once, she smiled. Being a pampered girlfriend, showered by presents by her boyfriend was something that never crossed her mind, but she was kinda enjoying this side.
Despite her initial reluctance to embrace the stereotypical hyper feminine image her boyfriend seemed to favor, she discovered an undeniable attraction to that aesthetics. Yet, determined not to fully succumb to the whims of her manipulator, she decided to experiment with a different one. In a defiant mood, Marieke opted for a black outfit that channeled a gothic vibe, complete with a choker that added an edgy touch to her look. As she stepped out of the fitting room, the reflection that greeted her in the mirror was both surprising and unsettling. The outfit, starkly contrasting with the bright and bubbly styles she had been coerced into trying, somehow accentuated her delicate features even more, casting her in the likeness of an anime doll. There was a part of her that reveled in the striking appearance she presented, the way the dark fabric highlighted her pale skin. Yet, alongside this appreciation was a deep-seated discomfort. Marieke was acutely aware of how her appearance, no matter the style, had been manipulated to fit a certain ideal, one that stripped her of her identity and reduced her to a caricature. “I look… lidiculously pletty,” Marieke admitted to herself, her voice laced with a hint of shame.
Consequently, Marieke was gracefully attired in a sophisticated white silky dress, which complemented her new look with an elegance that felt more authentic to her transformed appearance and tightly hugged her diminished curves, giving her a very alluring attitude. Gazing at her reflection, Marieke’s mind reeled with confusion and disbelief. The woman in the mirror, with her dark hair and altered features, looked back at her with eyes that were once a vibrant blue, now a brown shade that seemed foreign to her. Her heart pounded as she traced the contours of her new face, her fingertips brushing against the unfamiliar smoothness of her altered nose and the unfamiliar fullness of her lips. This reflection was supposed to be her, Marieke van der Leeuw, but the Dutch identity she had always embraced felt erased, replaced by an appearance that was meticulously engineered to fit into a culture and society that were not her own. The confusion swirling within her was overwhelming.
Ultimately, Marieke selected an elegant qipao dress, stepping into the fabric that hugged her newly foreign figure with a mix of grace and restraint. If she had to play the part of the Chinese girlfriend, she would do that in style. Accompanied by her boyfriend, she ventured to meet his parents, her heart a tumult of conflicting emotions. The qipao, though beautiful, felt like a costume, a final adornment on a transformation she had never sought. She explained she was a second generation Chinese immigrant in Europe but she felt the need to reconnect with her roots and wanted to learn Chinese as soon as possible. His parents welcomed her with warmth and an unmistakable air of satisfaction, their eyes reflecting approval of what they deemed a good match for their son. Their acceptance was based on the surface, on the transformation that had made her visually one of their own. Marieke met their hospitality with polite nods and a plastered smile, all the while her gaze darting towards Chen Wei, laden with silent communication. Her eyes seemed to whisper, “I’m doing this only for you”.
When they came back home, Marieke’s emotions erupted. She stormed into their apartment, her face flushed with a mix of anger and confusion. “How could you do this to me?” she screamed, tears streaming down her cheeks. “You didn’t have the courage to tell your parents you were dating a white girl! You’re a coward, Chen Wei!” Chen Wei, visibly shaken by her outburst, stood silently, his eyes avoiding hers. Marieke’s accusations echoed through the room, each word a dagger of truth that he could not deflect. Her sobs grew louder, filling the space with the sound of her heartbreak and betrayal. Chen Wei remained motionless, absorbing the weight of her words. After what felt like an eternity, Chen Wei finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll make up for it,” he said, his tone flat and devoid of the warmth Marieke once found comforting. Without another word, he grabbed his car keys and motioned for her to follow. Confused and emotionally drained, Marieke complied, too exhausted to resist.
The drive was silent, the tension between them palpable. Marieke’s mind raced with questions, but the fatigue from her emotional outburst left her too drained to voice them. They drove out of town, the city lights fading into the distance as they ventured into unfamiliar territory. Unexpectedly, they arrived at the same clinic where Marieke had been administered the drug that altered her ethnicity forever. Her heart sank as she recognized the building. Chen Wei parked the car and guided her inside, his grip firm but not unkind. Inside the clinic, the atmosphere was cold and clinical, a stark contrast to the emotional turmoil within Marieke. She was led to a sterile room where a group of medical professionals awaited her. Without explanation, they instructed her to strip down. Marieke hesitated, her body trembling with fear and uncertainty. As she undressed, Marieke felt a profound sense of vulnerability. Her clothes fell to the floor, leaving her exposed not just physically, but emotionally as well. The medical team then brought in a complex device, which they began attaching to her body. Electrodes were placed on her temples, chest, and wrists, linking her neural system to the machine.
When Marieke woke up, the world felt different. The familiar edge of her independent spirit had dulled, replaced by an unfamiliar docility. She felt a strange contentment, an eagerness to follow Chen Wei’s advice. Integrating into Chinese society was no longer a daunting task but a goal she felt genuinely committed to. In her new state, Marieke embraced her role as Mei Ling, Chen Wei’s perfect partner. She seamlessly adopted the cultural norms and expectations, her former identity becoming a distant, fading memory. The internal struggle that had once tormented her was now buried under layers of programmed compliance. She found herself smiling more, her previous resistance replaced by a serene detachment. Her life, once vibrant and steeped in Dutch heritage, had been overwritten by an artificial acceptance of a reality she had never desired.
Suddenly, Mei Ling discovered a newfound passion for karaoke. She adored it and was amazed at how many Chinese songs she knew. Her evenings were filled with joyful singing, her voice blending perfectly with the melodies that once felt foreign. The lyrics, now familiar, rolled off her tongue with ease and enthusiasm. This activity, once unfamiliar, became a cherished part of her new life, symbolizing her complete transformation and integration into Chen Wei’s world. Mei Ling’s transition was evident in every aspect of her daily routine. She effortlessly navigated social situations that once felt alien, bowing respectfully to elders, preparing traditional dishes with practiced ease, and engaging in conversations that showcased her newfound cultural fluency. Her gestures, her speech, even her laughter had subtly shifted to mirror the expectations of her new identity, as she now covered her mouth with her hands while she laughed.
Chen Wei enjoyed taking Mei Ling to photoshoots where they dressed in traditional imperial clothes. They looked stunning as a couple from the Qing dynasty, their elegant attire blending perfectly with the historical settings. The camera captured their regal poses, their expressions serene and content, the perfect picture of a harmonious couple. Despite her transformation, Mei Ling retained memories of her past self, the vibrant Dutch girl named Marieke. However, she had come to accept that those days were gone, like a boat that had long since sailed. This new life, with its cultural nuances and expectations, was her reality now. When Chen Wei proposed to her, Mei Ling felt a surge of genuine happiness. The engagement ring sparkled on her finger, a symbol of the new life she had embraced. Her acceptance of his proposal was wholehearted, not marred by the doubts and fears that once plagued her. As she gazed into Chen Wei’s eyes, she saw not just her partner but the person who had guided her into this new chapter of her life.
Erika, a reserved economics student hailing from rural Texas, found herself grappling with the aftermath of a recent breakup. While her friends aimed to lift her spirits, they recognized that her inner self-doubt was deeply tied to her perception of her own body. Despite her blonde locks and slender figure, Erika’s self-confidence paled in comparison to the allure exuded by the Latina girls who were the majority of the student body in her college, with their curves and exotic magnetism. Determined to boost her self-esteem, Erika’s friends, also mostly Latinas, hatched a plan for a transformative makeover. “Erika, we’re about to redefine your image. Can we count on your trust?” they asked. Erika hesitated before nodding, “Well, alright…” Their first stop was a local hair salon, where they dared to dye Erika’s blonde hair a rich shade of black. The drastic change initially unnerved her, yet her friends gently persuaded her that she looked to innocent with her blonde mane, while being a sultry brunette would give her sex appeal a boost. Next, Erika was immersed in a whirlwind of audacious outfits, a far cry from the conservative ones that her upbringing had ingrained in her.
She couldn’t deny she had more rizz now. Her raven black mane matched her brown eyes and gave her a less innocent look, while her revealing outfit did the rest by showing off her slender body. “I mean, it’s definitely revealing, but I can’t deny that it looks, well, kinda good on me…” – she admitted, blushing. Her friends erupted in laughter. “Kinda good? Girl, you’re dynamite! Your ex will come back begging for you!” Yet, Erika’s friends were far from done. They were having too much fun treating Erika like a living doll and had much more planned for her. “There’s a whole range of outfits you could rock, but let’s be real, you’ve got that classic white girl figure – no curves,” one of them remarked, eyeing Erika’s figure. Erika shrugged, offering a content smile. “I’m actually pretty content with how I look right now.” “Nonsense, Erika,” her friend insisted, a glint of determination in her eyes. “You owe it to yourself to be the best version of you, inside and out. And we’ve got some tricks up our sleeves to enhance your natural beauty.”
She couldn’t deny she had more rizz now. Her raven black mane matched her brown eyes and gave her a less innocent look, while her revealing outfit did the rest by showing off her slender body. “I mean, it’s definitely revealing, but I can’t deny that it looks, well, kinda good on me…” – she admitted, blushing. Her friends erupted in laughter. “Kinda good? Girl, you’re dynamite! Your ex will come back begging for you!” Yet, Erika’s friends were far from done. They were having too much fun treating Erika like a living doll and had much more planned for her. “There’s a whole range of outfits you could rock, but let’s be real, you’ve got that classic white girl figure – no curves,” one of them remarked, eyeing Erika’s figure. Erika shrugged, offering a content smile. “I’m actually pretty content with how I look right now.” “Nonsense, Erika,” her friend insisted, a glint of determination in her eyes. “You owe it to yourself to be the best version of you, inside and out. And we’ve got some tricks up our sleeves to enhance your natural beauty.”
From that day on, Erika had to follow a strict workout schedule, starting with open-air activities like jogging and doing yoga. Under the scorching Texas sky, she engaged in outdoor activities like jogging and yoga. Though her progress seemed modest at first – her thighs gaining a touch more definition, her physique growing more toned – the persistent training under the relentless Texan sun gave her an enhanced tan. With sun-kissed skin improving her appearance, Erika’s friends noticed the change and had an idea. They suggested regular tanning sessions to maintain the bronzed glow that seemed to suit her so well. Deep down, they had always envied the girl’s blonde hair and fair skin and liked the idea of making her look more like one of them.. Erika hesitated, voicing her uncertainty, “I’m not sure about that. I mean, people already sometimes mistake me for being Latina with this tan and hair. I’m not sure if going darker is the right move.” “So what? What’s wrong with looking a bit more like us?” Erika blushed, embarrassed. “They only know one type of beauty – she thought – the sultry, exotic Hispanic beauty. I wish they highlighted my natural beauty more. On the other hand, I don’t want to offend them, and I’m indeed grateful for what they are doing to help me”. So, she accepted their proposal.
Soon later, Erika also started working out in a local gym to quickly gain some curves. One of her friends, a personal trainer at the gym, eagerly crafted a meticulous workout plan and tailored diet to expedite Erika’s transformation. She also suggested her a beauty secret: protein powder that promised rapid muscle gain. “Trust me,” she said with a wink, “you’ll be rocking a killer booty and thighs in no time.” “I… I don’t know, this seems a bit too much. Is it safe?” “It’s perfectly safe! In fact, it’s healthier to support your body with the right supplements in this phase!” Erika embraced the regimen, diligently working out and incorporating the protein powder into her routine. Little did she know, her friend had slipped a subtle enhancer into the mix – a compound to stimulate melanin production that, together with the ongoing tanning session, made her complexion even darker, until people were struggling to recognise her as the pale, blonde Erika they used to know.
Combining the regular workout sessions with the protein powder, her once-slender frame began to flourish. Her hips broadened massively, and her skinny derrière transformed into a luscious, ample booty that attracted the gaze of every man in her gym. Thighs that were once modest now exhibited newfound strength and fullness. To her shock, even her breasts experienced a major change, blossoming from petite B-cups to voluptuous D-cups that swayed with her every move. Soon, she was able to fill even more daring outfits with her new curves! As much as she liked her newfound sexiness, she felt at odds with a body that was oozing sensuality, while being still the same shy girl she had always been on the inside. Men were assuming she was a vixen, sultry Latina looking for adventures when she wasn’t any of that. Erika had always looked younger than her age, looking like a teenager while being in her early 20s, while now her larger breasts and tan skin made her look several years older all of a sudden.
In the meanwhile, the drug subtly blended into her protein shakes was working its magic in tandem with the regular tanning sessions – her skin tone deepened to a rich brown hue. Her aureolas and labias also darkened from pink to brown. Little did she realize, the same drug was responsible for an alteration in her hair pigmentation. Despite the passage of weeks since her last hair dye, her blonde hair displayed no signs of regrowth. She was now a natural brunette. Erika’s friends, determined to see their vision through, orchestrated a final flourish to her makeover. Under the guise of a friendly outing, they whisked her away to a beauty salon. Before she could comprehend the full extent of their plan, she found herself undergoing a series of treatments, including lip fillers and collagen injections. Erika’s thin lips became fuller and exotic. To make it worse, they were permanently stuck in a seductive pout, no matter what. She always looked like she was about to kiss someone. The once-innocent blonde girl had disappeared, replaced by a Latina woman that radiated a newfound allure. With a voluptuous form and a deep, bronzed skin, Erika’s transformation was now complete.
As nobody would now recognise Erika, her friends decided to call her Elena, introducing her to new friends as a new girl who had just enrolled to their college. Emily accepted that decision and soon began introducing herself as Elena. Feeling like she was given a fresh start in life, her once-reticent personality gave way to a newfound exuberance, leading her to forge connections and friendships effortlessly. In no time, she seamlessly integrated herself into the group of chicas. Her journey in the fitness world had grown from a personal transformation to a vocation. Elena had become such a gym rat, that she soon began working part-time as a fitness instructor in the very same gym where she had gained her curves. After a while, she dropped university altogether – after all, economics had never been her passion – and began working full-time as a fitness instructor. Elena’s journey took an unexpected turn when she was introduced to the brother of one of her friends, a Hispanic man named Alejandro, who had noticed the new girl hanging together with his sister. Their chemistry was palpable, and their connection deepened as they spent more time together. Before Elena knew it, they were a couple, and the wounds of her past breakup began to heal. After all, her friends had achieved her goal and made her happy and confident!
I’m happy to announce that I’ve just launched a new Twitter (X) teaser page where I’ll be sharing illustrated previews from my F2F transformation stories.
If you’re enjoying the content I post here — or on DeviantArt and Patreon — you’ll definitely want to follow me on Twitter too. It’s a way to get quick doses of transformation, body-swap, and reality-control visuals, plus occasional polls and announcements.
Lauren was a Canadian young woman with conservative views on many subjects. One day she was coming back home after a long day at work when she casually bumped into a street protest of a group of Inuit activists. “There’s something about indigenous people I can’t really stand! – she murmured – They tend to blame us for their troubles they have now for something that happened hundreds of years ago! It’s ridiculous, can’t they see they are the origin of their own problems?”. Then she added, in a louder tone: “You guys need to understand that world doesn’t revolve around you! Just go get a job!” An Inuit old woman heard these comments and understood the kind of person Lauren really was. She closed her eyes and breathed slowly to calm down her rage. Something had to be don’t to teach a lesson to the young lady. Something that would make her feel a deeper connection to the land her people were inhabiting and to the cultures that originated there. She summoned the spirits of her ancestors and cast a spell on the young lady. Lauren barely noticed the old lady and at first, nothing really happened, but then her blonde hair gradually darkened to a full brown color, and also grew longer.
When she bumped into a friend of her, Lauren noticed an expression of surprise in her friend’s face as she saw her. “What’s the matter, Jane? Everything ok?” “Oh, I was just surprised you decided to dye your hair! Don’t get me wrong, it looks great in you but you have always been the blonde one, so it’s unusual to see you as a brunette!” “What do you mean, I dyed my hair? What…” – as she said so, Lauren grabbed a streak of hair and to her shock the color seemed indeed much darker than it was just a few minutes before, when she checked herself in her apartment. “Uh, weird, it must be the light, I definitely haven’t dyed my hair darker, way would I do something like that?”. Her friend kindly nodded, without understanding the reason behind the apparent lie. That was definitely not her natural hair – she thought – maybe it’s a bet or something like that and she doesn’t feel like talking about it… The two friends separated and Lauren forgot about the whole thing. In the meanwhile, the progress of Lauren’s change was speeding up, with her hair turning dark brown and her face being affected too, her green eyes becoming brown and her facial features shifting to a different person’s.
When Lauren arrived back home, she began getting ready for a tinder date she had been looking forward to for the whole day when she froze doing her makeup. Her reflection was completely off! After all, it wasn’t just the lighting, her hair had indeed turned brown! To complete the look, her eyes had also changed color as she was now sporting two doe brown eyes. “What happened to my hair? And my eyes!” She was still processing what was going on, her mind racing, searching for a possible explanation, when she suddenly remembered the old Inuit lady. “The old hag! She must have done something to me! Oh my Lord, no! Please, forgive me, I’ll donate in support of your people, I’ll do anything to stop this!” – she said, trying to somehow change the old Inuit lady’s mind. Nothing happened. She still looked the same: an attractive brown-eyed brunette. “I don’t really get the meaning of this, I miss my blonde hair but I could always dye my hair lighter, and wear color contacts to cover these dark eyes she gave me…” as Lauren was thinking this, a sudden headache made it clear to her that the changes weren’t over. The headache quickly spread to her forehead, eye sockets and nose.
“My face… It’s shifting into a different shape!” – she screamed, anticipating what was stored for her next. Her skull began to change shape, giving her a broad, flat face and beautiful slanted eyes. On top of that, her hair darkened further to a jet black color and got longer and wavy. Her skin tone got slightly more tanned and slightly yellowish in hue. When she finally checked herself in the mirror one last time, she whispered in disbelief: “They… They turned me into one of them!”. As she saw this, the mirror suddenly vanished, as did her entire apartment, replaced by a simple tent made of caribou skin. “Tupiq” – she inexplicably murmured, without knowing how did she know the correct word for that sort of tent. “Qanuq uqausiq atuqtauva?” – What language is this?- she asked out loud, freaking out at her apparently inability to speak English, or French, or any other language she had ever studied. Her tongue and brain were betraying her. Inuktitut seemed to be the only option available to her. She left the tent to breathe some fresh air and as she did, her outfit changed into a traditional Inuit woman’s festive attire, full with earrings and a necklace.
The landscape around her had changed too, going from the modern city she used to live in to a snow-covered tundra. Other tents similar to the one close to her could be spotted in the distance with her suddenly sharp vision. It looked too beautiful and well-preserved to be any present-day Inuit community. As incredible as it seemed, this was not the year 2023 anymore, but the 19th century at the latest, with little or no way to find that out exactly anyway. On the other hand, after having seen her own body turn into that of an Inuit young woman, she could now believe in anything. As the mental changes sped up, Lauren felt a deep connection to the land, sea, and ice her ancestors had been inhabiting for thousands of years. She recalled the stories of the old people from her village and the close-knit community living there, with the elders teaching all sorts of traditions to the youngsters. The name Atiqtalik gradually replaced hers in her altered memory as the last sign of her lost identity vanished from her mind. A handsome young Inuit man suddenly appeared from the bushes. That sight made her smile in anticipation of her big day coming ahead. Everything clicked in that moment, she was going to start her happy new life as a married woman and she couldn’t ask for anything more from life!
Alexxx's RC F2F stories 