Not his type

Robin was a young Canadian woman working in New York. She was a bright and successful young professional, an IT technician, specialised in data security. She also happened to be a stunning redhead, so she was used to get lots of male attention but never seemed to find true love.
One day, however, she fell crazy in love with one of her customer, the head of a small finance consulting firm, Ken. Ken was a tall, muscular man with blue eyes and brown hair. She tried to flirt with him, with no avail. Eventually, she dared to ask him out. She loved going out with him but something seemed off. Eventually, he broke the bad news to her. “I’ll be honest with you, I love hanging out with you and I think you’re very pretty but… You’re just not my type.”
“Oh, I… I understand. What would your type be, I… I could change style a bit!” Robin had always been a bit tomboyish, despite her beauty, and never felt too comfortable in skirts and heels.
Ken smiled “Don’t say that, you’re perfect as you are, it’s just… It’s me, not you.”

Robin was heartbroken on her way home but she was determined to fight for love. In an unprecedented breach of professional conduct, she remotely logged in Ken’s personal laptop and checked his browsed history. She immediately found what she was looking for: his search history was full of key words like “hot latina” “brown girl” and hispanic singers and actresses. Robin gulped. This was going to be harder than she thought.
She sat on her sofa and took a strand of her red hair in her hands. She looked nothing like Ken’s type, in fact she couldn’t look more different. With red hair, light eyes and freckles, together with a completely flat chest and a somewhat tomboyish vibe she couldn’t compete with the sultry feminine Latinas Ken was apparently after.
Robin cursed her destiny and began weeping. Eventually, however, she resolved not to give up and to take action. “Does he want a Hispanic girl? Fine, he’ll have one!” – she told herself.
First of all, she headed to the priciest hair salon in town and asked the shocked hairdresser to dye her gorgeous natural red hair brown. The lady made clear to her that the dye she was asking for could not be removed and that she’d have to wait for her natural hair to regrow to look like she did before but Robin was adamant.

She looked so different after the hairdresser was done! The dark hair made her eyes pop and her skin to look healthier! She completed her new look with a few tanning sessions and the week after, she managed to join a work meeting with Ken, who at first didn’t even recognise the brunette smiling at him. “Robin” – he told her when the meeting was over “You look magnificent but I hope this isn’t related to our… encounter!”
“Don’t worry about, why don’t we discuss this in front of a glass of wine instead? Tonight at the same place as the last time?”
“You’re inviting me to a second date, aren’t you? Well, I won’t say no!”
Robin forced herself to dress in a more feminine way, picking up an elegant black dress and went to the date.

The date was as friendly as the previous one, but she could tell that he was more interested in her now. After a few drinks, while the two were walking downtown, she leaned in for a kiss and the two started making out. They headed for his place and began undressing. Robin was very excited to be finally about to have sex with him, but things didn’t work as she hoped for. He couldn’t seem to get excited for her, despite everything she was doing to excite him.
Embarrassed, Ken said: “Listen, Robin, my dear, you are a lovely woman and I appreciate your efforts to make this work but… I don’t know how to explain this to you, in fact I’m ashamed of it but the thing is, I grew up in Florida, surrounded by Cubans and Mexicans so my first girlfriends were all Hispanic. I… think I got a pretty strong imprinting back then, because I have only had sex with Hispanic women since. I’m so sorry, I wish it could work between us!”
Robin didn’t say a word, dressed up and left, hiding her tears.
She knew he wasn’t lying, otherwise she might have thought it was only an excuse. Now that she was so close to having him, she was more determined than ever to succeed. She withdraw all her savings and resigned from her job. She then took the first flight to South Korea, where she instructed the finest cosmetic surgeons to perform unprecedented procedures on her.

Robin combined all the jerk off material she had found in Ken’s browser history into a single, composite image she handed to the surgeons.
The medical team was quite suspicious at first and suspected that Robin was changing her looks because she trying to escape from somebody but she paid upfront so they turned a blind eye on the while thing and accepted the task.
When they were done and the swelling was gone, Robin took a deep breath and looked at herself in the mirror. She wasn’t disappointed. With a shiver she realised that any trace of the Caucasian woman she used to be was completely ripped from her, and nobody would believe that she was anything else than a Latina woman. Her green eyes had been permanently soaked in brown pigments, her hair didn’t need any dye anymore, and would always grow dark brown. Her body was producing melanin at an unprecedented rate for her, turning her white skin brown, even without tanning. Her lips were inflated, her facial features softened and realistic breast implants gave her a very feminine figure.

Once back in her apartment in NY, she set up a profile on every dating app until she eventually matched with Ken. When the notification arrived, she smirked. She knew she was exactly his type. In fact, she was his living wet dream.
Before the first date, she hugged herself nervously, still not used to the feeling of squeezing her brown breasts and, checking her reflection in the mirror among two strands of dark hair, wondered whether she had done the right thing. She’d given up all her savings, her job and her ethnicity for love.
The date went very differently from the previous ones. This time Ken was clearly into her. Robin, presenting herself as Raquel, used the Spanish accent she had been practicing and describes herself as a waitress of Mexican heritage. She knew he preferred women with humble professions.
The sex was fantastic, but when the horniness was gone, they struggled to have a connection. Raquel’s new fake persona made it harder for them to connect on a deeper level. One day, Ken even mentioned a Canadian friend he dearly missed. The poor girl began worrying she had done the wrong thing. She had no way out of this though, so she doubled down on her Raquel persona instead.

She took dancing classes and began a part time job as an exotic dancer, just to fit even more into his fantasy. She would always strip for Ken at home before sex. She tried her best to sound like the pretty airhead he seemed to be so attracted to. This slutty side of her new persona brought their sex life to new heights for a few months but eventually the novelty began to wear off, as Ken was clearly looking for something deeper.
One day, when the Latina girl returned home from her dancing classes, she found a letter for her on her bed, reading like this:
“Dear Raquel,
As much as you’re the most attractive girl I have ever met, our relationship has to finish here. At this point in my life I am looking for something more than physical attraction.
I wish you the very best with your life.”
Of course, he would never marry a girl like the one she was impersonating, that was only a fantasy of his!

The Latina girl sat on the side of her bed, crying. She had lost the love of her life, and was left with no money and a body made for sex.
Having lost all hope in love, she grew very nihilistic and embraced her new life as a model and pin-up girl, where her looks made her extremely successful. Her pictured appeared on Playboy and several other magazines. She would have been horrified by the perspective of ending up like this but she didn’t care anymore at this point.
Eventually, she began dating a famous Afro-American rapper who seemed to have lost his head for her and before long she was married to him. Her new role as a celebrity distracted her from her unhappy destiny, until she was so focused on arguing with other divas on social media and presenting a fabricated idyllic life with her husband that her Raquel persona took full control of her mind and she fully became a shallow, self-obsessed social media queen.

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Great leap forward

Fen was a brave Chinese girl who was an activist denouncing the ruthless acts committed by her country against minorities and other violations of human rights.
She knew she was being followed by authorities but didn’t expect them to do anything serious to harm her.
However, times were changing so when she crossed a line, the Party decided to take appropriate measures against somebody who wasn’t respectful against their country. Perhaps, if they cared so much about minorities it was appropriate to join them.
She was kidnapped one day coming back from campus and taken to a secret medical state facility where a team of surgeons began to operate on her. They began by darkening her skin, ruining the light skin tone every Chinese girl sees as a mark of beauty and already giving her a foreign appearance. Next, then curled up her hair to increase the effect. They also slightly modified her facial features to make her less Chinese, although still Asian. She could pass for south-east Asian now, maybe Vietnamese or Thai.

Most importantly, she now didn’t look like her ID card picture anymore, therefore she lost her identity. She was given a new identity as a Vietnamese immigrant girl working as a waitress and was threatened to be punished further if she dared to continue with her anti-national propaganda.
When released, she realised she couldn’t even go back to her university as the facial recognition softwares wouldn’t trace her to any known profile present in the database. With no chances of getting any education, given how strict was the entrance examination test and how low were the fake grades edited on her new ID profile, she had no choice but to keep the waitress job given to her together with her new identity.
She also noticed how differently people treated her. However, instead of giving up, the doubled her effort and kept on speaking up, even publicly revealing what they had done to her. This was too much for the authorities, who kidnapped her and completely remodelled her features this time. Her body type was forever changed, making her lose her lithe figure, her skin was darkened to a mocha colour and her face was given an unmistakeable African flavour.

Gone was her figure, her fair skin and her East Asian eyes and facial features. She looked like a curvy Black girl.
“Why did you do this to me? ” – she cried out in tears.
“You didn’t seem to appreciate belonging to our Nation, this punishment fits you well.”
“No, that’s unfair, I was just trying to improve things, of course I love my Nation! What am I going to do now?”
“You have a choice, if you don’t want to help your country you’ll be sent to America with fake immigration documents. So you’ll get used to be a minority, in a foreign country, speaking little English. Otherwise, you’ll serve your country as we ask you to.”
“What would that be?” – she said, frightened.
“You’ll move to Zambia, in Africa, where we are expanding our influence. You’ll be a socialite and you’ll seduce businessmen and politicians thanks to your new assets – he explained with a smile – then you’ll report to us any kind of useful information we need to gain more power there.”
Fen had to bow her head and to accept this last chance, knowing what they were able to do to her.

Despite efforts to lose weight and at least regain her body shape she kept the curvy body shape the surgeries gave her. In order to disguise her naturally straight hair, she was forced to keep her hair in dreadlocks all the time. She was also given some lip fillers to give her natural looking plump lips.
After a few months she had settled in her new life. Thanks to her looks, was indeed having considerable success as a local high class socialite, despite hating that. She had even picked up the local English accent and was currently studying the local language. She was given the name Landisa. Her cover story as a Zambian girl grown up in China explained her fluency in Chinese, which couldn’t be kept hidden as she often talked to the local Chinese representatives of the government.
With time, she learned to accept her new body and ethnicity, together with her new role as secret agent for the Chinese government. She stopped questioning what war right and what was not, she simply followed the orders given to her. Landisa eventually married the son of the local prime minister and settled in for the best life available to her given the circumstances.

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Shifting demographics

Maggie was the classic very conservative girl. Not exactly alt-right, she didn’t have the confidence to defend such extremist views, but she still hated anything “woke”, liberal and vague socialist. More than anything, she hated immigrants, especially Mexicans. They were invading the U.S., she claimed, and the government wasn’t doing enough to prevent that.
She recently began protesting against the narrative pushed by liberal media, joining public manifestations and so on. She initially found it too “civil rightsy”, but later she realised it was a great way to make her voice be heard. Sometimes, she would argue with people with different ideas or make friends among like-minded people.
Once, she joined a particularly conservative manifestation, where not too many people showed up. As the mic was available for anybody who wanted to express their opinions, she mustered the courage and walked to the stage, where she made her point clear, especially about immigration. She was a bit nervous at the beginning but she really enjoyed expressing her opinion loud. This was a free country, after all, fuck the media – she thought.

“Could we ask you some questions?” – a group of hispanic people looking like activists asked her. “Shit” – she thought – “Here comes trouble.” “We have noticed you have something against current immigration policies , could you be more specific?”
“I… I think America is for Americans!”
“You know America is a continent, right?”
“I mean, the United States! We Americans were here before! I get that people want to enter our country, it’s the greatest country on Earth, but we can’t let them enter in massive numbers, they would change what we are!”
The activists nodded to each other, to signify that they were not mistaken about the girl’s opinions. They were actually a team working for a Mexican TV program which had devised a very controversial social experiment. Their goal was to find a conservative, all-American girl with a hard stance against immigration and see how she would behave in a very different context. They offered her a drink to thank her for her participation to the fake survey, then they waited for the tranquilliser to take effect, and they gently carried her away with them as soon as she stopped being able to make any resistance.

When Maggie regained conscience, she was inexplicably holding on to a fence. The first thing she noticed is that her hands seemed unnaturally tanned. With a glance she also noticed that her light hair had inexplicably turned brown too. Still confused, she realised that a policeman was walking towards her. Scared, she asked him what was the problem. “Stay away from the fence, young lady!” – her replied. “Why? What is this?” – she asked, wondering why this policeman was targeting her. “Don’t play dumb with me, I’m a border patrol and this is the US-Mexico border!”. “Wait, what?” – said the girl, shocked. “But I’m American, here is my passport… What?” – the document stated “Julieta Martinez, nacionalidad Mexicana”. The pictured showed an attractive, hispanic woman around her age. “This is not me, I…” Caught by a terrifying doubt, she grabbed her phone and checked herself on the camera. A pretty exotic face with brown doe eyes stared back at her. In that moment she recalled the people who had drugged her at the manifestation. “Oh my God, they did this to me! They turned me into a Mexican girl!”. The guard laughed at her and commented “Nice one, I still hadn’t heard that one!” – and walked away.
Meanwhile, the troupe was secretly following every move of hers.

Still shocked, Julieta found some keys in her pocket, the key holder having an address written on it. She also had a wallet with an indecipherable amount of money, in Mexican currency. She called a taxi and got to the address she found, not knowing where else to go. Maybe she’d finally meet the people who did this to her.
It was a small, dirty apartment in a town near the US border. Nobody was there, and she couldn’t find any other messages for her. For some reason these people didn’t seem to want to get in touch with her anymore. They simply took away her identity and life, that was it. She found a good collection of clothes and makeup and a fridge stuffed with Mexican food. After having cried her sorrows out and stuffed her stomach with great Mexican food, she made a plan. She had to enter the US at all costs, and that border guard was her only hope.
Julieta came back the following day with a different outfit and began shamelessy flirting with the border guard. The guy was not used to such attractive women trying to sneak into the US, so the advances of the Latina girl sorted some effects. They settled that if the girl would have sex with the man twice a week for one month, he would turn a blind eye on her and let her sneak in.

After the humiliating experience of selling her own body in exchange for entering what she felt like was her own country, she managed to cross the border on a night and to spend her last money on a bus to San Antonio, Texas. As incredible as it sounded, she was so happy of having made it back to the States. The treatment she received was very different, however. Her status as a poor Mexican girl was apparent and she could tell by the looks she was getting that people didn’t really like her. Especially white people. Well, she used to be one of them so she could understand how they felt.
Anyway, she still had a long way to go to her home state of Ohio. To support herself as an illegal immigrant, she had to use her exotic charm to get around. She would ask for a lift to lorry drivers in such a slutty way, it was clear she was offering sex in exchange for a lift.
At first it was tough but eventually being a slut became second nature to her. When she finally made it out of Texas, she was a completely different person. Gone was the stuck-up conservative American girl she used to be. Being a feisty Mexican girl was her only option, she found out.
The TV show couldn’t but conclude that regardless of our opinions and ideals, external circumstances are really what shapes us into who we are.

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Smoking changes people

Ingrid was a Danish college student eager to try new things, so as soon as she had saved enough with her part-time student job, she went to Iran to visit the country in a solo trip. She had met some guys with a middle Eastern background in Denmark and even hooked up with one of them so she was curious to see the country they came from. She was generally very interested in other cultures but also fundamentally close-minded and too proud of her Scandinavian heritage to see other people as her peers. Everybody on the other hand clearly saw that she was a rich European tourist and therefore acted very politely with her, which only increased her self-perception.
When she noticed somebody smoking hookah she immediately wanted to try it. She entered a traditional cafe, where numerous people, including many women, were smoking it. She asked the owner about the hookah and tipped him generously. The man warned her that they followed an ancient recipe to mix the tobacco with other herbs and as a result it could be quite strong. He added that it was only meant for locals and the last time a Westerner tried it, he never left Iran. Ingrid laughed it off and insisted. She was quickly instructed on how to use it and began smoking.

She loved it instantly, the aroma was intoxicating and the tobacco was making her feel very relaxed.
Unnoticed by her, the smoke began triggering a series of changes in her appearance. Her eyes darkened from blue to brown and her blonde hair took a darker hue too, turning her into a brunette. She still looked white but not anymore like her old self. She noticed that her hair looked darker but she thought it was due to the scarce light inside the building where she was.
It wasn’t until she returned to her hotel that she realised something was wrong with her. The lady at the reception didn’t want to give her the key of her room, until Ingrid showed her the booking number she had received via email.
When she saw herself in the mirror her heart skipped a beat: she didn’t look like herself anymore! Hair could change color due to sunlight, although it usually became lighter, she thought, but a change in eye colour didn’t make any sense! It could be a symptom of something serious happening too her, moreover she loved her blue eyes and couldn’t accept the fact that she was stuck with boring brown eyes.

The following day, still shocked by her change in appearance, she was wandering in the streets of the city, looking for a doctor, when she walked past the place where she had smoked hookah the day before. She needed something to calm down her nerves, she thought, so why not? The owner didn’t recognise her and repeated the same warnings as the day before, but it was all in vain. Ingrid needed it.
As she began inhaling the aromatic smoke, her appearance changed further and this time the changes became more evident: her hair turned jet black and her body began developing new curves. She had always been a skinny girl and now she suddenly had a very curvy figure, to the point that her clothes barely managed to hide her breasts. Freaked out by these new changes, she left immediately. When she walked out of the building, she looked like a Mediterranean girl and could have even passed for an Iranian or Kurdish woman. As she was wandering around the city, she noticed people were starting to scoff at her. While a few days before all they saw was a foreign tourist walking around, now some of them assumed she was a young Iranian woman indecently carrying herself without a decent Hijab like every other woman. Moreover, she was showing off her curves as a prostitute.

Eventually, the owner of an underground strip club, one of the few ones remained since the Iranian revolution of 1979, saw her as a potential hire and invited her inside. Ingrid was confused but her addiction was getting stronger so she gladly accepted the invitation and asked him for the hookah. This time the owner didn’t say a thing to her, as he assumed she had already done it before.
Her skin immediately began tanning, while her hair curled up. Her tiny nose grew larger, giving her a common Persian look. To complete the transformation, her lips became fuller while still looking natural. She also aged a few years, now looking like a beautiful woman in her late ‘20s.
But the changes weren’t over yet though as Farsi words began popping up in Ingrid’s brain, at first she thought she had picked up some local language without realising it but then it began replacing her native Danish and fluent English, until she could express herself fully in Farsi and didn’t know a single word of Danish or English.

Realising she now looked like a middle eastern woman, she gave up all hopes of ever fixing this curse and seductively sat on a sofa, pondering over her destiny.
“چرا این اتفاق برای من می افتد؟” – murmured the girl, “Why is his happening to me?” – without noticing she had fully switched language. “I’ve changed even further, it does’t make sense but it must be the smoke having this affect on me. I should have stopped before, but I needed it so badly…”
Even more impressed by the beauty of the girl and by her proficiency in Farsi, the man offered her to work there, an offer the former blonde considered seriously, realising that her old life was effectively locked out from herself with her changed ethnicity. Then she finally asked him if she could have free access to hookah at work. The man considered it and realised that she would look sexy so he accepted. Accepting her new destiny, the girl signed a contract that would make her an exotic dancer in an underground club for the next few years. It was only then that she realized she could read the Arabic script and understood Farsi like a native, while any other language was unknown to her. Saddened by this additional loss of identity, she began changing into a shiny black dress.

With the new stage name of Iqala, ironically meaning modest, the girl started her new career on that same day, dancing in front of a small audience of horny Iranian men and resting on large sofas while smoking her beloved hookah. She eventually realized that the changes stopped, apparently the ancient recipe was meant to turn strangers into local Persian people, so once that had been achieved, it stopped having any effect on them. Now being effectively a local, she indulged in her passion for middle eastern men and started actually enjoying the positive aspects of her new profession.
Without a care in the world, Iqala was living life by the minutes. “من عاشق زندگی جدیدم هستم” – said the girl, “I love my new life!”.

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Daughter of Shiva

Late 1800s. Margaret was the daughter of the British governor of India, the Jewel of the Crown of the British Empire at its peak. She grew up spoiled and used to a life of luxury based on the exploitation of the native people of that glorious land.
A powerful religious leader, one of the few remaining independent authorities remained in the hands of the Indians, began working at a powerful potion that would show her and her father the true power of India.
He began working on this project as soon as Margaret’s father, the Governor, decided to destroy an ancient Hinduist temple in order to build a new railway, ignoring the protests of the native people of India.
He decided to target his daughter to gain control over him instead of directly eliminating him as in that case he would simply be replaced by another one sent by the United Kingdom.
He summoned all his powers to produce a potion able to mold everybody who ingested it into any appearance he desired.

Margaret was notoriously addicted to sweets of any kind so one day the religious leader lead a delegation at the palace of the Governor to advocate for his people’s rights. As a present, he brought among other goods a good amount of fine pastry and biscuits baked with the potion, which he was sure would end up on Margaret’s table.
Indeed, after having been refused to be seen by the Governor, busy elsewhere, the biscuits were eventually served during an official ceremony to mark the anniversary of the coronation of queen Victoria and caught the girl’s attention. She grabbed a whole bunch of them and began enjoying their flavour. She felt weird and decided to retreat into her private rooms. Maybe she had eaten too many of them, she thought.
That night, she slept deeply while her appearance changed quite dramatically. Her complexion darkened significantly and her face became unrecognisable. In the early morning, one of the Indian servants working in the Palace took her, dressed her up in a traditional Indian attire and sneaked her out of the residence, while she was still sleeping. She had been altered beyond recognition so nobody recognised her as Margaret and assumed she was just an Indian servant girl who was feeling sick.

Margaret was carried in a Hinduist temple and finally woke up feeling groggy. She quickly realised something had gone wrong. Her nostrils had been pierced by a ring, following the fashion used among Indian women, and her elegant dress had been replaced by a Saree.
“Good grief, what have those barbarians done to me?” – she cried – “What do you want from me?”
The high priest smiled and replied “Such arrogance, you are not the daughter of the British Governor anymore. You are just a daughter of Shiva, and as such you need to learn modesty and good behaviours if you want to get married one day!”
“Stop with this nonsense please, of course I am and will always be by father’s daughter. Now you mention it, he’ll most certainty find me any time soon, so you had better free me if you don’t want to face his ire! I would escape myself but I can’t be seen wearing such garments, even my hands are decorated with rings… Why is my hand so brown?” – she noticed, alarmed.
“You are finally starting to realise more than your attire has changed. This happens to those who disrespect the temples of Shiva. Present her an ample mirror, so this young lady will be able to see her new beauty!”

Margaret was too shocked to speak for a while. Not only her pale skin was much darker now, like a native Indian girl, but her red hair had turned dark brown and even facial features had shifted to match her new Indian heritage.
“I’m… I’m one of your people now.”
“Precisely, you are a Hindi girl now and you will have to follow our traditions and customs. You will write a letter to your father the Governor where you will explain him that our power is real and that he should listen to us from now on.”
“But… My father will never believe this, he would think the letter is a forgery! Maybe I ought to return to the Palace in my new form, although I’m dreading to be seen like this by everybody…” – replied Margaret and began weeping at the mere thought of that.
“Wise words, young lady, I will consult the high Council and we will deliberate on our next move before the sunset. In the meanwhile, our women will instruct you on your new lifestyle. Please, escort her in her new room. It’s not as magnificent as what you are used to but it’s a honest accomodation.”

When they tried to make contact with the Governor, he sent in a small division of British troops which found where his daughter was held prisoner, slaughtered the high priest and with him everybody who was aware of what had happened to Margaret.
Not seeing any Caucasian girl around, they searched elsewhere for Margaret and when she tried to convince them of what had happened, they thought the poor Indian girl must had been drugged by the priests.
She begged them to bring her back to the city where the governor’s residence was and they complied, feeling bad for the girl who had clearly gone crazy.
She tried to get in touch with her true father but he was too heartbroken for the loss of his daughter and the people around him didn’t want to let this crazy Indian girl to give him false hope with her strange ideas.
She was hosted for a few days in the governor’s place as they felt pity for the lonely crazy girl but seeing how she was constantly trying to speak in the Governor’s rooms they eventually kicked her out of the palace.

Living on the streets was a brutal experience for the poor girl. She had to sell her precious garments and jewels in order to have enough rupees survive but after a few days she got robbed and was left with little choice.
Growing up in a very wealthy family she never had to worry about her income but now she was faced with the harsh reality. Her looks attracted many glances from the men around her, especially now that she was showing some skin.
She stopped for a moment to reflect on her chances. She could either prostitute herself, there were plenty of girls doing that on the streets, and she had the body for it, or she could return to the governor’s palace and beg them to keep them as a servant. She would just ask for food and a place to stay and she would never try to contact the governor again. Being so close yet so far from her former life was going to be hurtful but it was still the better option, so she approached the palace and humbly asked to be readmitted as a servant.

Margaret was now obliged to dress modestly and to cover most of her head with a headscarf not to distract the men working in the governor’s palace.
She eventually picked up some Hindi from the other maids and slowly integrated in the local society. Of course, not having a family behind her and having such a humble mansion as being a servant meant that her social status was very low in the Indian society but she could still hope to marry into a somewhat wealthier family thanks to her good looks.
Being used to the perspective of marrying into the British nobility, the idea of marrying the son of a local carpenter was not very palatable at first but she realised it was probably the best to hope for. At least, as a married woman she wouldn’t have to work the whole day as she was doing now!
Margaret took the Indian name Manya and accepted her new role as a traditional Indian wife and mother.

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Brunettes have more fun

Lera was a naive young girl from Eastern Europe, who moved to the US hoping to be discovered by the modelling industry and become a big movie star or fashion model. However, she learned the hard way that success is never easy. After being turned down countless times she got so desperate she tried an audition as a porn actress just to survive as she did not want to come back home as a loser. However, even the porn industry was extremely competitive and Lera, as a plain blonde girl did not have great hopes of success. She was told by her agent that if she wanted better roles she would have to alter her appearance.
She was offered a package of cosmetic surgeries in exchange of a binding contract for a few years. Lera was so desperate she signed the deal. In a few years she would be able to have a real career in the modelling industry with a better appearance, she told herself.
However, it turned out not to be how she had hoped. They began modifying her basic appearance. With a new technique, Lera’s real blonde hair was replaced with long, wavy black hair. In keeping with her darker look, her eye color was changed as well to a very deep brown hue. A slight tan, a general remodelling of her facial features did the rest to give her a Hispanic appearance.

She was so shocked at how different she looked, she tried to avoid looking at herself in the mirror as much as she could. She had always received compliments on her blonde hair and fair complexion and couldn’t understand how her darker complexion would make her more attractive.
They had made clear that the surgeries were expensive and that she would be required to pay them back, however it was not clear to her that her new main source of income would come from being a high-class escort rather than an actress, even if a porn actress.
Lera threatened them to call the police but was told that they had taken her passport away from her and that she was effectively an illegal immigrant from now on, so calling the police would result in an immediate expulsion from the country..
She made an attempt to get a job in the modelling industry but she soon discovered that her darker appearance now made a career in modelling more difficult as ironically they were primarily searching for blonde girls.
Lera reluctantly agreed to the demeaning role of high-class escort just to realise that she would start her new career as a street hooker, to eventually earn the position of call escort if she was popular enough.

Lera was so ashamed of what had become of her. What would her family say to her if they knew she was now a call girl? She still couldn’t believe this was her real life!
Lera used to be a shy, cute and a bit boring blonde girl who grew up in the Easter European countryside so she struggled to impersonate the role of a confident, sensual Latina she was required to play from now on. Her first clients complained about that so her boss decided to make her smoke some weed to relax her a bit.
The drug helped to make her less tense, her looks and skimpy outfits did the rest so she eventually began to satisfy her clients and to earn some decent money. It was intoxicating how much she could earn by performing oral sex or anal sex and she also became more and more talented in pleasuring men in all sorts of different ways. She accepted her situation more and more as time went on, until she had to admit to herself she didn’t mind being a prostitute.

With the new name of Valeria Garcia, the girl grew more and more confident in her body and role. She learned to turn her Slavic accent into a Spanish one and eventually began acting like a Latina prostitute the whole time, even when she was with her new friends. Her new mannerisms came natural to her now, slutty outfits were all she ever wanted to wear and even during her free time nobody would ever doubt she was a call girl.
Her income grew as she fit more into her role, until one day she realised she was close to paying back all her debts.
At that point she would have been free to pursue the career of her dreams but was that still what she was dreaming of?

Valeria looked at herself in the mirror and realised that there was no going back to a normal life. Even if she were to make it as an actress she could never hide the slutty attitude that was now second nature to her. She managed to get a fake Mexican birth certificate that would grand her at least a passport for the time being but if she were to became famous, her identity would get questioned and her shameful story would be all over the news. So Valeria preferred to stay in the shadow, alternating small parts as a porn actress and being a high class escort like she was supposed to.
As for her new appearance, she had to admit that it turned out to a definite upgrade, being an exotic brunette was definitely more fun that being the boring, plain blonde girl like she was used to be.
She eventually completely forgot her old identity and embraced being an Hispanic whore.

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Trapped

This is the story of Debbie, a young reporter specialised in gender-related social issues such as gender gap in wages, low literacy rates for women in developing countries, etc.
She felt very passionately about topics involving feminist issues, so when she was told about the possibility to investigate the living conditions of women in difficult areas of Latin America she jumped on the opportunity.
She was sent to the Dominican republic, where the general poverty of women was aggravated by the plague of prostitution, which many girls saw as the only way out from poverty.
She talked to some of the girls and managed to reconstruct how the network to trick girls into prostitution with vague promises of a career as models or actresses worked. She had managed to film inside some brothels and to put together a brilliant piece of journalism documenting the living conditions of these girls when her activities were noticed by some local pimps. They reported the news to their boss, Diego, one of the most prominent men in the prostitution racket there, who feared possible connections between Debbie and the police. Realising how small her team was – basically herself and some technicians, he ordered his men to kidnap her.

They brought her to a hidden medical facility where her body was extensively remodelled. Her veins were flooded with melanin, to make her skin quickly darken. On top of that, they implanted into her body a few micro capsules that would release the same substance for her whole life, so that she would never have pale skin again, no matter how long she avoided the sun. Her hair would also start so grow darker now but to speed up the process, they eradicated her hair including the roots and transplanted on her head long, curly black hair. They permanently covered her irises in dark brown pigments and modified her facial features to give her an exotic look. Finally they gave her massive breast and butt implants, giving her a very curvy figure.
When Debbie woke up, she suddenly realised something was off. Her nails were extremely long and her skin was tan, like really tan. “What’s wrong with my body… Oh shit, my breasts are huge!”
Then the boss, Diego, entered the room to give Debbie some explanations. “I know this will be a bit shocking for you sweetie, but there is no need to panic, you’re alive and healthy right now. Calm down and listen to me now.”

“Son of a bitch, what did you do to me? This can’t be my hair! Ah shit, it hurts! Did you dye it?” “I’m afraid it will never grow blonde again, señorita! I ignore the science behind it, I pay those nerds enough to take care of that for me, but I’m pretty sure your hair follicles will only be able to grow hair as black as night. The same goes for your eyebrows and body hair, including down there, haha!” “But… why? – asked Debbie, shocked at the realisation that her body had been permanently altered – Why didn’t you just kill me?” “Kill? I’m a pious man, I always do anything I can to avoid getting that far to solve problems. You were about to reveal to an international audience the details of the structure of my business. I had to prevent that, so ve decided to destroy all your recordings and notes, to alter your appearance and to stage your murder with a burned body wearing your clothes and documents. We left there enough of your real hair for DNA samples in case they bothered to check. Anyway, I’ve read on the news they’ve already celebrated your funeral.” “Oh my God” Debbie said, covering her face with her brown hands. “Why did you give me this appearance?” – asked her, still struggling to accept her new appearance – “Well, I thought we could use a new girl and I have a personal preference for busty brunettes. Moreover, you are less noticeable now. Nobody will notice a new pretty Dominican girl in town. And don’t even think about reclaiming your old identity at the embassy or something like that, nobody will believe you. You’re just a pretty pair of tits, ok? Here’s your new ID btw”

Her new ID said: “Sofia Ramirez, 24 years old, native Dominican.” Debbie ran to the room that had been assigned to her to cry alone.
When she felt better, she picked up the least revealing outfit she found in the closet and left her residence. She tried to be unnoticed but her outfit left little to the imagination. She noticed that her complexion and features matched perfectly those of the average local girls, so that the people who saw her had little doubts she was anything else than a Dominican escort girl. She reached the US embassy and demanded an appointment with the ambassador himself – she had talked to him a few weeks prior. Knowing that nobody would believe her story, she introduced herself as Sofia, an escort girl who wanted to get in touch with the team lead by the recently deceased American woman to help them collect more information about that story. Her colleagues would believe her and help her out, she thought. However, she was told that after what had happened, her agency had decided to drop any such projects and to send her colleagues to work on safer topics. Any contacts between her team and the Dominican republic were lost. Then Debbie panicked and told him the truth in tears, begging to be brought back to the USA, but it was too late. They had already registered her fake ID as Sofia Ramirez and her story seemed just a poor attempt to get a green card to the States.

After having failed another couple of desperate attempts, she was banned from the US embassy and, for what mattered, from the US altogether for having attempted to claim somebody else’s identity with little proofs, so she was left with little choice. As any other pretty Dominican girl with no money or connections, prostitution was the only way to get around. “It’s only temporary” – she told herself “until I figure out how to get out of here”
She inevitably came back to the man who had turned her into a Latina girl and begged him to hire her in his brothels. She was hired with a few conditions. She could only speak Spanish from now on and only serve Dominican customers, to avoid any chance of meeting some old connection who might believe her story. A microphone was hidden in her earrings, so that they could always keep her under control. Reluctantly, Debbie agreed and so her new life as a Dominican escort girl began. Her Spanish was already pretty good for professional reasons but now, being forced to speak it all the time, she learned it like a native, even mastering the local dialect. With time, she began thinking in Spanish as that was the only language she spoke now, until her native English became pretty rusty, in a final blow to her and identity.

Nowadays she has given up any hope of escaping and has fully embraced her new identity as Sofia Ramirez. She’s became a lot better in bed and had come to enjoy her sessions with customers, making her really popular in her brothel.
Sofia has a few recurring customers who really like her, sometimes she thinks she could settle down with one of them, preferably a decently wealthy one, who could buy her freedom from her boss and give her a new life as the housewife of a hunky Latino man. Despite all her past feminist views, she has come to accept that in the society she lives now, women play a more submissive role in society and if she wants to fit in she has to accept that. At that point, being a respected and free Dominican woman, although subordinated to her man is everything she can hope for.
She still has flashbacks to her old life as a strong, independent woman living in the States but that seems so distant right now she had begun to see it more as a dream than as real life memories.

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Into the wild

Laureen was a spoiled white American girl with a passion for travelling in underdeveloped countries as a travel blogger, without showing much respect for locals. She only did it to enjoy her time and to get more followers but never shower a real interest in the local cultures.

During a trip to Ethiopia, she went for a provate safari on a jeep with a professional driver. However, they accidentally took the wrong turn at some point and ended up in an unmapped area. The GPS couldn’t do much to help them as there were no signs on the map. After a while, her driver left for a quick exploration searching for any sign of the road they were on.

While Laureen was alone on the open jeep, some local tribesmen who had been observing the scene from the distance took the occasion to quickly run to the jeep from behind and kidnap her. She was so busy checking the pictures she took with her camera to realise what was happening until they had already got her.

A stocky very dark skinned tribesman named Kioko carried her on his shoulders.

She screamed a lot at first but quickly realised how hopeless her situation was. The driver was still far away and there wasn’t anybody else to help her there. Her best hope was to wait a few days until some rescue expedition would find her, maybe paying a ransom to the tribe. As soon as they arrived to a hut village, she was fed with some raw fruits and put to sleep with a herbal potion.

After Laureen fell asleep, the tribesmen dipped her blonde mane in a jet black natural ink made with some local seeds and covered her skin with a brownish mud. Together with the herbal potion they gave her this was going to produce some effects during the night.

When Laureen woke up, she realised they had somehow covered her in the mud so she quickly cleaned herself with some water left in her bottle. Then she checked her reflection in a mirror she always carried with herself in her backpack. To her shock, she found her complexion to have visibly shifted, making her look Latina. “WTF – she thought – what did they do to me? I’m so tanned, my hair is dark and my eyes… How did they make them dark brown?” She tried to wash it all off with the water left in her bottle but the pigment seemed to be there to stay.

She was particularly distressed by the loss of her baby blue eyes which were her most attractive feature and couldn’t tolerate seeing dull brown eyes in the mirror now.

She wasn’t only shocked by the change, she was also afraid they might not recognise her anymore if they were going to search for her.

She rushed out of her hut, demanding explanations but nobody paid attention to her.

When she found the man who dragged her there, she screamed and pointed at her hair and her eyes. Kioko laughed, summoned his henchmen and tied Laureen to a stone.

As soon as they extracted an urn containing more brown mud, she knew what was going to happen to her. The mud was darker this time, and instead of covering her hair with ink, they rolled locks of her black hair around metal bars heated on fire.

While all covered in mud they forced her to drink even more herbal potion.

After the ritual was completed they left her tied to the stone and left her there under the sun. Laureen eventually passed away from the hear and woke up in the evening, when they took her for a bath in a pond nearby. As soon as she saw her brown hands and felt her now curly hair she knew what they must had made to her this time but as soon as she was set free she nevertheless run to what now was her hut where she could assess the damage to her. The result exceeded her fears: not only her hair was kinky and her skin had a deep brown colour now, but her facial features had somehow been remodelled to make them more exotic. She was now a light-skinned black girl.

It was now clear to her that they were planning to make her one of the tribe.

Laureen tried her best not to give in to desperation and planned an escape. As soon as darkness came, she left the village with her backpack. Her now dark skin and hair made her even more invisible. However, after a few kilometres of wandering in the savannah under a full moon she realised she had no escape. What was better, being killed by wild animals or living like a tribeswoman until somebody hopefully found her? How would be her life though? After a long reflexion she realised she preferred to live. She slowly walked back to the village, where she arrived around dawn. By then, most of the inhabitants were already active and as they saw her coming, they started to scream, infuriated by her disappearance. As a punishment, Kioko tied her up again and gave her une last dose of the mud, now in a black pitch variant.

Meanwhile some tribeswomen started working on her hair. After a few hours, they washed her as usual, leaving her speechless and staring at her new dark brown skin. She could also see her dreadlocks in front of her hair.

What she couldn’t realise yet was how full her lips were and how deeply exotic her facial features were now.

As the days went on, Laureen, now Lawa, started to lose hope to ever be found as no rescue party showed up. In the meanwhile, she was truly becoming part of the tribe. She was forced to dress like them, to style her hair like them and even forced to wear increasingly big lip plates and to have some teeth removed until she looked just like any tribal girl looking for a husband. At that point, she was desperately aware that not even the most advanced surgery would have restored her to her original looks but was still hoping for a way out of her desperate situation.

Weeks later, a search party finally showed up with pictures of Laureen. When she saw them, she run as fast as she could towards them, half naked and making unintelligible sounds with her deformed mouth. They were visibly horrified by her appearance but tried nevertheless to hear what she was saying, not recognising the tribal dialect she was expressing herself in. After a while they gave up and, although distressed by her sounds and tears, left the village with no information at all about Laureen.

After seeing them leaving, she fixed her lip plate which had been displaced by her efforts and meekly returned to her new home. Lawa was here to stay.

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Joining the party

2030, Andrea is a young but very skilled CIA agent employed for the ongoing “soft war” between the USA and China, soon to escalate to a fullblown conflict. Raised in a small town in the South, she ended up climbing the career ladder at CIA, to become a fully-fledged field agent at the young age of 25.
She has been deployed on a mission in China to gather some information in a very risky mission. To keep her identity and role protected, she was given a fake one as a US ambassador to the PRC, very few people are actually aware of where she currently is and what her role is there.
However, during the mission her cover as a US diplomat is eventually discovered by the enemies, and she gets cornered by local police forces.
She does what she can to hold her position but eventually realises she can’t escape. They give her a chance to be safe by answering some questions, which sounds like a polished way to describe collaborating with them. Andrea feels deeply guilty but accepts, promising herself to hide the most classified information the knew. The Chinese agents escort her to a dungeon where she is kept prisoner.
Andrea is well aware of the risks coming with her profession and is ready to face any situation with bravery and pride.

She proves to be a more difficult client than usual for her jailers, as after sharing some very general and irrelevant information, she refuses to further collaborate with them. After realising that is not going to talk easily, the jailers discuss about what is best to do and opt for a different strategy. They don’t make use of torture to get her to talk, and instead court her into joining them with benefits and promises of keeping her role as a double agent hidden from the States. They are apparently in desperate need of secret agents to infiltrate American intelligence agencies and Andrea is the perfect candidate for the job. Perfectly fluent in English and Chinese, with a deep knowledge of the American intelligence network, she can provide them useful information.
She seriously considers it but loves her country too much to give up. She would end up being caught anyway, she tells herself, better to put on a brave face and resist.
When faced with a “no”, the Chinese agents don’t lose their temper. Instead, they simply tell her “Then you leave us no choice. You’ll join us anyway, but at our conditions.” “What do you mean by that?”.
As her jailers leave her room, she starts to wonder what did they mean by that.
They can’t force her to actively cooperate with them by brute force, she would have countless ways to signal her true condition to her colleagues as soon as she’d be back in contact with them.
Actually, her team is probably already actively working to rescue her as she was supposed to give them an update about her mission status hours ago – she tells herself to calm down a bit.

Soon after, the prison where Andrea is kept is filled with gas. As she
feels she’s losing conscience she tries to hold on but with no avail. Soon
afterwards then they drag her out of it and begin with the procedures.
Thanks to their recent advances in genetic engineering, Chinese labs
are now able to fully replace a person’s DNA, being able to select the
desired characteristics. In her case, they want to make her appearance
match that of an ethnically Chinese young woman. This procedure has
the double advantage of making her unrecognisable by her old
colleagues in case she tries to escape to contact the headquarters of
American intelligence agencies and makes it easier for her to become a
loyal Chinese subject.
The process takes several months to have full effect but the results are
flawless. The roots of her hair darken from natural blonde to a jet black
colour, her irises slowly take a dark brown hue and even her skin cells
take a slightly different coloration.
At the same time, her face slowly morphs into that of a young East Asian
woman, first the eyes, which develop the characteristic epicanthic fold,
then her cheekbones change in a carefully engineered way, until
nothing in her body resembles the original Andrea anymore.
When the results are completed and the DNA replacement settled, the
new Andrea is ready to wake up.

When Andrea wakes up, she is aware something serious must have
happened to her. She barely remembers what happened in the last
days before losing conscience, then it all comes back to her mind:
being caught, resisting their offers and then feeling suddenly very
sleepy. As soon as she regains full control over her heavily altered
body, she notices her now dark hair.
She rushes to the closest mirror in the room and what she sees
confirms her biggest fears. These people have turned her into an
Asian woman! There seems to be no trace of surgery, Andrea
notices, shocked to the point of wondering wether she’s dreaming.
Andrea nearly faints at the realisation of the enormity of what has
done to her. Her identity has been stolen, and she couldn’t feel more
violated.
As soon as her jailers notice what’s happening they rush into the
room to explain her what has been done to her. When she is told
what has been done to her she realises her situation is even worse.
Her genetic heritage itself has been altered to match her new
origins, so not even a DNA test could proof her real identity. In fact, it
would make things worse, conferring she is indeed a young Asian
woman. Any attempt to return to her old life, job, community is
forever gone. The gravity of her situation falls on her and she cries
herself to sleep.

As weeks and months go, her new reality sinks in, first with
despair, then with resignation.
Andrea, who has been given the new name Lian, has been
attending “cultural re-education” lessons for some time. She was
already proficient in the language, now she’s also well versed in
the culture and history of her new country. Seen from outside,
she has apparently adapted to her new life as a loyal Chinese
citizen, she’s bright and managed to distinguish herself in her
studies.
In fact, doesn’t have much of a choice and although broken
inside she has to put on a brave face and do what she is told to.
Even worse, when she’s told to, she has to join the army, even
pretending to be willingly doing so to avoid raising suspicions.
The high ranks are fully aware of her true identity so she is
constantly monitored in case she tries anything suspicious.
Anyhow, she knows very well that at this point she might risk
being mistaken for a Chinese spy trying to infiltrate the US
intelligence agencies even if she tried to.
The “soft war” is soon going to escalate into a real conflict and
Andrea will have to actively fight against her real country. Her
fighting and linguistic skills are going to serve the cause of the
PRC from now on.

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The Russian gambit

My name is Kayla, I’m an American spy and I was sent on a mission to Russia. My goal was to uncover the vast network of corrupted oligarchs to understand which ones had ties with the government. The CIA needed me to get provide that information to NATO so that sanctions could be more effective. I had already been on a mission to Russia so I was fluent in the language and I had my connections there. I knew it was a dangerous mission but a positive outcome would certainly result in a promotion for me.
I managed to develop connections with different oligarchs in competition with each other. Eventually, they carried some background checks on me and my cover as a journalist was blown.
They revealed my true identity to the police, who started hunting me down.
One day, I got caught in the airport’s parking lot as I was about to leave the country. I was encircled by several police officers. I made a desperate attempt to break free from the encirclement but I knew I has few chances.
When I felt something piercing my leg I had lost. However, instead of an excruciating pain, I suddenly felt numb and sleepy. I had no idea why would the police use tranquillisers instead of normal bullets but I knew something was fishy. Did someone want to hold me captive?

I woke up in an unfamiliar room, comfortably resting on a comfortable bed. My heart started pounding. I immediately reached out for my gun but it wasn’t there. All my weapons and clothes had disappeared, replaced by black lace lingerie and a silky black nightgown. The bastards dressed me like a prostitute. Nobody seemed to be around for the time being. With no immediate dangers, I tried to calm down and understand the situation I was in. I had no idea why but apparently they had decided to spare me. I had no access to classified information nor was I very relevant within the CIA so I was pretty as a hostage. Anyway, a microchip implanted under my skin was constantly transmitting my location to CIA headquarters so I hoped they would eventually manage to rescue me if I didn’t manage to escape myself. I just had to gain some time.
My outfit seemed to suggest that one of my enemies had decided to turn me into his concubine. I smiled. Maybe I could get away from this whole mess by seducing the right man to regain my freedom – I thought. It wouldn’t be the first time my sexual appeal helped me escape a difficult situation. I inspected my body. I felt a bit weak, but I seemed perfectly healthy and even clean. They even took the time to spray perfume on me. I found a pair of matching black stockings and put them on. It wasn’t much but that was as dressed as I could be.
The room I was in was small and the furniture was essential but everything was clean.

I stepped out of the bed to explore the room but as soon as I tried standing up, I felt a sharp pain spreading from my soles to my calves. I started swearing. Those bastards had done something to me after all! I inspected my feet and calves under the stockings and noticed a barely noticeable surgical scar. Did they make me unable to stand? I desperately tried to stand up a few more times, to find out that I could actually manage as long as I was standing on my tiptoes. I noticed a pair of matching black high heels aside my bed and tried them on. I could now stand without any effort. The bastards had shortened my tendons to prevent me from walking on my bare feet or on flat shoes. I was forced to walk in high heels for the foreseeable future. I felt a mix of rage and humiliation.
I tried walking around the room as fast as I could but strutting across it on my high heels was the best I could do. This obviously meant that running was out of the equation for me. Despite my toned physique, any attempt to run away from even the most out of shape of pursuers would be laughable.
The view of my window gave me mixed feelings. It was a trafficked road of a rather large Russian city. In normal conditions, climbing down from the window and running away would be a piece of cake for me but even if I managed to climb down the wall, and with my weakened tendons even that could prove impossible, I could only slowly strut in high heels. Almost naked, to make it worse.

I groaned in frustration and turned away from the window.
A grey-haired man in his early 50s entered the room. I knew him already, he was Ivan Sidorov, one of the wealthiest oligarchs in the country. He was behind all of this.
“Why did you spare me?” – I asked him abruptly, in Russian.
“My dear Kayla, beautiful women are my weakness. I liked you and I couldn’t stand that such a beautiful, sensual body was wasted on an American spy. I decided to give you a second chance at life. I’ll teach you how to be a good Russian woman.”
I gulped. The psycho wanted to make me his trophy wife.
“This means being feminine and submissive. And of course loyal. I’m sorry for your tendons but I couldn’t risk having you run away at the first chance. Also, wearing high heels all the time will make you feel more feminine. Same for your outfit.”
“Do you expect me to surrender that easily?” – I asked, defiantly.
“I like challenges. It will take some time to tame your rebel nature but we’ll eventually turn you into a soft, feminine creature”

I tried to resist him at first, but Ivan eventually managed to break my resistance. We had sex regularly. They hadn’t only altered my calves, somehow my whole muscle tone was much weaker than before. I wasn’t able to fight anymore and I felt completely overpowered by a man for the first time in my life, so I reluctantly accepted my position as his lover. I had to play along for the time being, hoping to find a way out of this madness or to be rescued.
During my free time, I could do aerobics on a yoga mattress to keep my body slim and flexible, while power training was impossible with my weakened tendons. My diet was also studied to keep me slim and weak, mostly consisting of salads and smoothies. The only reading material I was provided with were Russian magazines about gossip, fashion and makeup trends. Obviously I had no access to the internet.
As I seemed to became more docile, Ivan told me “You have been making progress, Kayla, but you still have a long way to go. Also, you’re beautiful, but my standards in women are very high. We need to touch up your appearance to be a real Russian beauty.”
I started hyperventilating. “Please, don’t do this to me!” – I begged him. I could tolerate being held captive and even being his lover for a while but not surgeries altering my body.

I was terrified but I had no other options. He drove me to a plastic surgeon who gave me lip injections. My lips looked plump and fake and I had trouble pronouncing certain words correctly from that day on. Another procedure altered the pigmentation in my irises turning them from brown to green. Finally, an experimental procedure aimed at my scalp altered my hair follicles to make me a natural blonde. Extensions were applied to make my hair longer.
I could barely recognise myself in the mirror. I couldn’t believe this had happened to me. I tried to convince myself it wasn’t too bad. Hopefully the lip filler would eventually be absorbed by my body and, as much I hated being a green-eyed blonde because it made me look like a doll, I could always dye my hair black and wear color contacts.
Ivan, instead loved the changes “You look much better as a blonde! Hmm, those lips are going to make me really happy tonight!”
I was his personal property and he could play with me like a doll.
After a while he complained again: ”This is good but not enough, see, I love women with some meat on their bones!”
I knew what would happen next. My flat chest was about to go. I had always liked it, as it made me more agile, so I could only hope the implants wouldn’t be too massive.

The next trip to the plastic surgeon gave me realistic-looking but large D-cups. I was given a new set of crop-tops and other revealing outfits to highlight my figure.
“There is my girlfriend!” – Ivan said when he saw me. “You don’t look like a spy anymore, do you? You’ll be Alina from now on, my sweet girlfriend.”
He was right. I looked like a wealthy man’s trophy wife. I still had no luck at finding a chance to escape and my rescuers were taking too long. Was the microchip still working?
At least, I could now leave my prison. I was officially Ivan’s trophy girlfriend and I could live an almost normal life. He liked to parade me in public areas, sometimes we would go shopping together and he would always buy the most revealing outfits. A bunch of security guards were always following us so I still had no chance of escaping. I felt like everybody in his entourage knew who I really was, I could see it in their eyes. This made me feel even more embarrassed and ashamed of myself.
While Ivan was busy at work, I sometimes waited for him in the lobby, chatting with his secretary Inessa, the classic blonde bimbo type he seemed to prefer. She was a airhead who always talked about her clothes and makeup. One day, she left early to pick up her kids from school. I was waiting for Ivan to take me home for yet another exhausting sex session when I noticed she had left her laptop switched on. My plan was working, I let him gain trust in me until an occasion would have presented!

I seized the opportunity and began tapping on her laptop. I cursed the fake nails I got at my latest forced salon trip for the noise they made and tried to be as quiet as possible. I used a VPN to avoid being tracked and logged on a CIA webpage we were instructed to use in cases of emergency. I explained my situation and they asked me to turn on the camera so that they could verify it was really me. My heart was pounding like crazy. The AI algorithm scanned my face and recognised me.
In that moment, I heard Ivan’s steps approaching and quickly shut down the laptop.
“What were you doing Alina?”
“Nothing, Inessa has just left, I… I was just…” – I stammered, nervously playing with my hair.
“You may look like a blonde bimbo but it’s still you on the inside, right? I might have underestimated your resistance. You probably tried to send a message to your friends, we need to act fast before they rescue you. Too bad, I liked that pretty face of yours!”
“Please don’t disfigure me!” – I begged him, panicking.
“I have a weak spot for beautiful women, I told you already. Your beauty is paramount for me, don’t worry about that!”

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END OF PART 1