Taylor made

Taylor Swift’s heart pounded in her chest as she stepped off the stage, the final notes fading into the night. The energy of the crowd still lingered in the air, but a sense of unease weighted on her spirit. Lately, her once illustrious star seemed to wane, its brilliance dimmed by the emergence of new talents that captured the world’s attention.
Taylor Swift’s agent, Catherine, called her into a meeting right after the concert, with an air of gravity that made Taylor’s heart race. Catherine was known for her strategic thinking, always seeking the next big move to keep Taylor on top.”Taylor,” she began, “we need to face the truth. Our ticket sales have been declining for a while now, and it’s becoming increasingly challenging to maintain your position in this ever-evolving industry. We’ve been brainstorming ways to recapture the public’s attention, to reignite the spark that once set you apart. And we believe it’s time for a radical change” she said, leaning forward with a knowing smile, “A complete physical transformation.” Taylor’s eyes widened. What did Catherine mean? Did she envision a transformation along the lines of Miley Cyrus’s evolution? Or something else? There was something in Catherine’s gaze that hinted at the enormity of what lay ahead. Catherine showed her a few photoshopped pictures of Taylor to show her what they had in mind. They had envisioned a bold transformation—dark hair cascading in ebony waves, brown eyes, and bronze skin. It was a vision that both intrigued and unnerved Taylor, a leap into the unknown that would redefine her very image. “Imagine the sensation it would make, Taylor Swift going from a Blonde beauty to a hot ethnic bombshell!” – Catherine added

Taylor Swift stood before the mirror, her reflection mirroring the turmoil within her. The fame she had garnered over the years had brought her immense success, but now, a new challenge lay before her.
As the mirror reflected Taylor’s puzzled expression, she contemplated the weight of her decision. The world knew her as the girl-next-door with golden locks, a storybook princess who poured her heart into melodies. Wasn’t her signature blonde hair and blue eyes a part of her identity? Now, Catherine’s proposition called for a different Taylor, one that would take her fans by surprise and leave an indelible mark on the music industry. She thought of her loyal fans, those who had sticked with her through the highs and lows of her career. Would they accept this new Taylor, or would she lose them in the process? The fear of alienating those who had come to love her as she was teared her heart. Yet, deep within her soul, Taylor felt a deep curiosity. The idea of reinventing herself, of stepping into a new realm, held an intoxicating allure. It was a chance to break free from the expectations and stereotypes that had accompanied her rise to stardom. She could shed her old skin and emerge anew, a phoenix rising from the ashes. Taking a deep breath, Taylor glanced at the mirror once more, her reflection urging her to embrace the unknown. The decision weighed heavy on her, but she knew deep down that life was a series of metamorphoses, and this was hers to undergo. Yes—she told herself—this was the right decision to make.

Taylor Swift stood in front of the full-length mirror, her eyes widening as she took in her transformed reflection. Her signature golden locks had given way to short, chestnut brown hair that gracefully framed her face. The reflection staring back at her showcased a pair of deep, mesmerizing brown eyes—a result of a groundbreaking technology that darkened her iris without the need for traditional contacts, giving her brown eyes a very natural look. The price to pay was that her natural blue eyes were now forever gone. Completing the metamorphosis was a moderate tan that graced her complexion, lending a subtle sun-kissed glow. She ran her fingers through her newly brunette locks. As she traced the outline of her darkened eyes, a surge of anticipation coursed through her veins. This was just the beginning—a mere glimpse of the possibilities that awaited her.
As news of Taylor Swift’s transformation began to spread, a wave of curiosity and anticipation rippled through the general public. As Taylor stepped into the spotlight with her darkened locks, mesmerizing eyes, and sun-kissed skin, the reactions varied across the spectrum. Some embraced the changes wholeheartedly, while other fans clung to the image of the “old Taylor,” the one they had grown to love over the years. They voiced their nostalgia, expressing reservations about the departure from her signature blonde hair, blue eyes, and fair complexion. To them, the metamorphosis seemed like a betrayal of the familiar, a departure from the essence that had initially drawn them in.

Overall, Taylor successfully managed to regain a central spot in the competitive music industry and briefly regained the no. 1 spot in the charts with her latest album. It might have played a part the fact that in the cover picture and in the videoclip she was sporting her sensual new look.
After a few weeks, when the hype had faded and the general public had gotten used to the new looks, it was time for the following step.
Her journey of transformation had taken yet another captivating turn. The rich chestnut brown hair she had just embraced gave way to a lustrous, jet black mane that touched her shoulders like a waterfall of darkness. It framed her face, accentuating her exotic features. Her moderate tan had deepened into a bronzed radiance, infusing her complexion with a sun-kissed vibrancy that spoke of distant shores and untamed adventures. The sensual brown hue of her eyes was highlighted by her darker complexion. They held a depth and intensity that her old blue eyes could never achieve.
The transformation had unveiled a Taylor Swift unlike anything the world had seen before—a vision of exoticism and allure that radiated from her every pore.

As the public caught wind of Taylor’s latest transformation, the response was electrifying. Some hailed the metamorphosis as a bold embrace of her newfound exoticism that ignited their imagination and stirred a deep fascination. Others, however, voiced their surprise and disappointment. Taylor looked like yet another Kardashian now, nothing like her authentic self. Moreover, having previously been something of an Alt-Right icon with her iconic blond hair and blue eyes, a part of her fanbase was disoriented by this dramatic change in looks that seemed to acknowledge that the beauty standards for women was now black hair, brown eyes and dark skin. Not surprisingly, researches showed that she had gained popularity among Latino and Black people, while her popularity faded among whites, once the core of her fanbase. Debates ignited and opinions clashed as the world attempted to navigate the uncharted waters of her evolution. Yet, amidst the divided responses, a common thread emerged—an acknowledgement of Taylor’s fearless exploration and her ability to continually push boundaries.
The newfound popularity, however, faded away with time, and soon people had gotten used to Taylor’s new look. Addicted to the feeling of being at the centre of attention, Taylor agreed to yet another transformation, even more drastic than the previous ones.

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END OF PART 1

The veiled beauty

Victoria, a young American woman, was finally done with her office job for the day, so she left the bounding and waited for her boyfriend Jacob, who always picked her up. Fuel was so expensive recently that they had decided to sell the other car and make it work with a single car for the two of them. Jacob arrived, a few minutes later than usual, and greeted Victoria with a kiss, explaining that he had to park a little far away because he couldn’t find a single empty spot. He had also a very long and tiring day at work. As a patrol officer, he was exposed to violence and crime on a daily basis and a particularly busy day dealing with illegal migrants further increased his stress levels.
It was no wonder that when he noticed that his car was stuck behind a black Bentley, his mood only got worse. He started swearing and asked around who was the owner. A tall Arab man who had just arrived replied kindly but firmly that his driver had temporarily parked the car there to drop him for a business meeting but he would leave right away. Jacob muttered a racial slur directed at the man and pushed him away, heading for his car.
“Weren’t you a bit too mean with that man, earlier” – Victoria asked him, once in the car.
“Nah, these sand n deserve it. I wonder how did he get so rich, by the way.”

Jacob had wronged a powerful and proud man, Ahmad, whose wrath knew no bounds. Consumed by the burning desire for revenge, Ahmad meticulously noted the man’s license plate and plotted a sinister plan to teach him the hard-earned lessons of respect. Patiently waiting for the opportune moment to strike, he studied every aspect of Jacob’s life, until, on a fateful day, Ahmad’s henchmen executed his meticulously devised scheme. They stealthily infiltrated Jacob and Victoria’s apartment, moving with the precision of trained assassins, their faces concealed by masks. With chilling precision, one of the thugs unleashed a dart from a concealed tranquilizer gun, striking Jacob’s frame. The potent drug coursed through his veins, rendering him helpless and immobilised on the floor. His body betrayed him, as he couldn’t do anything to stop them form methodically tying Victoria. A tight blindfold obscured her vision, plunging her into a world of darkness, while a merciless gag muffled her cries for help. With ruthless efficiency, they scooped her up and whisked her away. Hours later, the tranquilliser’s grip on Jacob loosened, allowing him to regain control over his body. With every ounce of determination he could muster, he forced himself upright and dialled the emergency line, his voice wavering with desperation. Unbeknownst to Jacob, Victoria’s fate had taken a treacherous detour, far from the familiar grounds of American soil. Her captors, acting on Ahmad’s nefarious orders, had whisked her away to a secluded Arab Emirate, where Ahmad was a rather powerful figure.

Victoria woke up in an unknown basement. The first thing she noticed was the unfamiliar feeling of wearing a hijab. As her fingers instinctively reached up to brush against the foreign fabric that now graced her head, she searched the room, looking for clues. Eventually, someone noticed she was awake and entered her room.
“You must be confused now, my dear.” – the Arab man Jacob had previously cursed told her. She was so afraid of him she couldn’t even say a single word.
“I wanted to teach your man a lesson he will never forget. What better way than turning his girlfriend in what he hates the most?”
“I… I don’t know what you mean, but I’ll do whatever you want, please don’t hurt me!” – she said, kneeling in front of him.
“Of course you will do! First of all, we need to make you more knowledgeable and modest. It is expected that you wear a hijab when you are with strangers, as it is a symbol of modesty and adherence to Islamic principles. You will also learn to lower their gaze and avoid prolonged or inappropriate staring to maintain modesty and prevent temptation or immodest thoughts. When you will be ready, you will pronounce your shahada and you’ll become a muslimah.”
Victoria was so scared she followed the man’s instructions without ever showing any sign of rebellion.

During her sleep, Victoria was subject to unconscious imprinting of a submissive personality. Unbeknownst to her, a subtle imprinting took hold, weaving its influence through her thoughts and beliefs. Slowly but surely, her psyche was shaped into a state of profound submission towards men. This transformation manifested in her actions, causing her to instinctively lower her gaze when in the presence of a man. It became an automatic response, a manifestation of the deep-seated obedience ingrained within her.
In the meantime, she frequently visited a local mosque, where a scholar introduced her to the Quran. In the terrible situation in which she was, this was the only moment of peace she had, so she felt naturally very open to the teachings she was receiving. At the same time, she was forced to undergo an intense training in Arabic. Ahmad used a special drug which made her brain more malleable and receptive to learn the language. Once the medicine was in her system, Ahmad’s voice seemed to penetrate her brain. After a while, it seemed that Arabic words were deeply planted into her memory, while English words seemed to be slipping away. What Victoria didn’t know was that the medicine and the process weren’t just meant to teach her Arabic, but were also affecting the parts of her brain that had learned English in her childhood.
When she was proficient enough to study the Quran in Arabic, she renounced her Christian faith and pronounced the shahada, then becoming a Muslim.
“This is great, I can tell that you have changed your heart about Islam. This, however, is not enough.”

One morning, as Victoria’s consciousness emerged from the depths of her dreams, her eyes immediately noticed that something was off. As her vision adjusted to the ambient light, a startling revelation gripped her heart. Strands of lustrous brown hair cascaded around her face, a stark contrast from the familiar blonde hue that had characterised her reflection in the mirror countless times before. Her once vibrant golden locks were gone, replaced by a dark brown mane.
Shaken by the unexpected transformation, Victoria’s gaze shifted downward, focusing on her arms. What she saw sent shockwaves through her soul, stealing the breath from her lungs. Her skin, once marked by a delicate paleness, now had a mesmerising bronzed tone, an exotic and sun-kissed hue that no white woman could ever reach, even after a long vacation in the sun. Was this a mere illusion, a trick of the lightning or had something irremediable happened to her? As she started to stand up, heading to the bathroom, she noticed how her whole body felt different. She felt heavier in some areas. She took off her night clothes and saw how her once small breasts had inexplicably expanded to an much larger size! She put on the first dress she found, afraid to be seen by chance by Ahmad in her underwear, and rushed to the bathroom.

“What the…” – as Victoria’s bewildered voice trailed off, her gaze fixated upon the mirror, her eyes widening in disbelief. A beautiful girl of Arabian descent with a hourglass figure was staring back at her, with no resemblance to her former self.
In place of her familiar blonde tresses and piercing blue eyes, cascades of black, thick strands framed a face that now emanated an undeniable Arabian allure. Deep, dark brown doe eyes, adorned with a hint of almond shape, held a depth of expression that only Middle Eastern women have. The very essence of her facial features had been irrevocably altered. High cheekbones and well-defined eyebrows, combined with a slightly altered nose shape added an extra hint of Arabian flair, harmonising with the fullness of her lips. Her once fair skin was indeed gone, replaced by a rich and warm hue, matching her darker complexion.
Her body shape had also been altered: the A-cup breasts that once adorned her chest had given way to voluptuous, silicone-enhanced D-cups, her buttocks had been filled with implants and her waist looked unnaturally thin, courtesy of surgical intervention. She looked like an Arab curvy model.
A tempest of emotions consumed her fragile soul. Victoria fought desperately to make sense of the radical transformation that had stripped her of her former self.

Victoria was shocked at the extent of her transformation and barely spoke or ate for the whole day. She put on a more covering blue dress and stared for hours at her surgically enhanced face, hiding it partially with her tanned hands when she felt too overwhelmed. The dark brown eyes staring back at her were completely alien to her. She felt like her whole identity had been replaced by a stranger’s, as if she inhabited someone else’s body. Her face, her skin, her body were gone. Even her ethnicity had been altered, perhaps permanently.
She found a letter in her room when she came back to it. In chilling detail, the letter unveiled all the steps that made her physical transformation possible. Specifically tailored nanobots, able to target precise interventions at cellular level, had been released in her bloodstream, programmed to permanently increase the melanin production in her skin cells and hair follicles. She gulped. This was no ordinary tan or hair dye. Her brown skin was there to stay, and the strands of her hair, once a cascading cascade of golden locks, were now condemned to grow eternally silky and jet-black. Plastic surgery took care of the rest, including her realistic-looking silicone breasts, the butt job, a small nose job and the lip fillers. They even coated her blue eyes in dark brown pigments to make her look more genuinely middle Eastern. “As I promised you – the letter continued – I have turned you into the very thing Jacob hated the most. An Arab, and a muslim.”

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COMING IN JUNE

Diversity hire

Natalie was a spoiled white American girl whose ancestors had been inhabiting the American continent for multiple generations, being among the early settlers who colonised New England in the ‘700s. She was proud of being of purely English and Scottish heritage and didn’t hide her contempt towards immigrants, non-white people and generally anyone who was different from her and her social circles. She was also a practicing Methodist and was very judgmental against people of different creeds.
Her father was a very influent businessman with many connections in the state senate so she never had any problems landing any job she wanted. Things, however, were slowly changing. Lately, most companies had pushed for more diversity in the working place so oftentimes being a WASP girl wasn’t an advantage but actually more of a burden.
Once, she had set her eyes on the position of spokesperson of a prestigious fashion brand, it was her dream job, as it would allow her to further improve her social position and finally be recognised as peer with movie celebrities.

However, the company management was pretty clear about hiring a woman of colour. It would do wonders for the public image of the business and it would help expand its client base to a more diverse demographics.
Natalie was furious. How dare they do that to her? She tried everything, asking her father to remove the stupid rule but with no avail. Times were truly changing.
Eventually, Natalie opened up about this with her best friend, Steffy. She mentioned a new device, able to temporarily change people’s ethnicity.
“You can’t be serious!”
“Absolutely! It basically makes you look like an exotic cousin. You’s still look like yourself, just with a different ethnic background!”
“That’s sick! Why would people want to do that to themselves?”
“Well, lots of different reasons, you know…”
Natalie, who had always been secretly curious about other ethnicities and jealous of their sexy ethnic flavour, decided to give it a try, begging her friend Steffy to keep her secret.
Her friend was eager to help her and promised she would keep silent. Steffy had always been secretly envious of Natalie’s beauty and found the perspective of changing her appearance very exciting.
Natalie rented the device, which was extremely expensive, and called Steffy back to help her operate it.

Natalie sat down and Steffy attached the electrodes and needles to her friend.
“We can try and see how you’d look like with different ethnicities…”
Let’s begin with Asian!
“Haha, you make such a cute Chinese girl!”
“Jesus! This is freaking me out! My skin looks so weird!”
“How about a hot chica Latina?”
“Don’t you dare!”
“Hahaha I can’t believe it’s you!”
“I… don’t even want to see myself. Oh, my arms are brown, gosh! And my face feels so weird! My nose, my lips! That’s freaking me out!”
“Can I try to make you Black for a minute?” – asked Steffy, who was having the time of her life turning her hot blonde friend into all sorts of ethnicity.
“I would cut you into pieces!” – said the Hispanic-looking girl.
“Ok, ok, forget about it!”
“I’m sorry, it’s too much to take, I can’t do this…”
“Wait, you don’t have to be that exotic, how about mixed? Maybe with native American? Or maybe Arab or Jewish?”
“Jewish? Yes! I… could give it a try!”
“Hmm I didn’t expect so much enthusiasm!” – said Steffy with a smirk.
“No” – blushed Natalie, who had always admired the beauty and charm of Jewish women. They somehow managed to retain their ethnic flavour despite becoming well-integrated and successful members of the American society.

“I… just think I could enjoy being Jewish for a while”
“Hmm, who would have told you had such specific desires?”
Natalie continued to blush.
Steffy carefully selected a genetic profile that would match Natalie’s preferences. She went for a Sephardi Jewish ethnicity, which would imply a more exotic genetic makeup compared to Ashkenazi Jewish, who has intermarried with white Europeans for generations and who would arguably not qualify as people of color. A mix of Jewish, Spanish and North African genes replaced the girl’s Anglo-saxon ones. She made sure to give Natalie a very exotic appearance, to help her get her dream job but also for the sheer pleasure of turning her blonde, frigid girl into an exotic Jewish girl.
Once selected the genetic profile, Steffie initiated the transformation and admired the result. She handed Natalie a top crop and some shorts to cover herself and let her judge for herself. Natalie was positively impressed. She looked like a more determined, smarter and hotter version of herself. Her brown skin was clearly not the result of tanning but of her new heritage, her dark hair and eyes together with her elongated face shape gave her a completely different, fascinating vibe. She liked her new appearance more than she was willing to admit and could hardly hide her satisfaction. She had always been the pretty blonde, now she was eager to see how it felt to be the sultry, hot and exotic brunette.

“Yeah, I… guess this could work!”
“Great! I love your new you! How about a new name now? How about Naomi, or Miriam? Or Esther? ”
“Hmm Esther, yeah, I like the sound of it!”
“Ok then! We’ll take some pictures of you and then contact that friend of your dad who fabricates fake IDs! This is so exciting, I love it!”
“I know you do! You’re the best, Steffy, haha!”

Natalie decided to present herself as Esther Benaim, a more fitting and exotic name for her new self. She came up with a full backstory about her family history where she would still have a very wealthy background.
She dressed in a professional suit and headed to the headquarters of the company for the job interview.
The interview seemed to go very well, thanks to her confidence and experience in the field. Sure, her new heritage would make her the top candidate for the job, she thought.
A few days later she got a feedback from the company. To her surprise, Esther’s application was rejected. Furious, she demanded to talk to the HR department of the company.

When she met with the employee in charge of the hiring process, she was shown that being Jewish did not qualify her as a person of colour, therefore she encountered the same issue she used to have as a WASP woman.
“I’m sorry Esther, our idea is to favour disadvantaged minorities. As a wealthy Jewish woman, you don’t qualify for that.”
“That’s crazy! I did all of this and now you…”
“What do you mean?” – asked the confused HR employee.
“Ehm, it doesn’t matter anymore” – said Esther, who almost admitted her dirty trick to get the position.
Esther was shocked her plan had failed but there wasn’t much she could do. She quickly headed back and called her friend Steffy to update her.
She entered the coffee where she was supposed to meet with her friend and noticed a blonde woman was the only client in that moment. She approached her and asked “Excuse me, have you seen my friend S…”

To her surprise, the blonde lady turned around and revealed Natalie’s face.
“Oh my God Steffy? Is that you?”
“Surprised, huh? Well, the device had your body features backed up so I thought I could give it a try and transfer them on myself!”
“I… wasn’t expecting that! That’s sick, you really look like me!”
“I do! And as I know you very well, I managed to fool everybody and convince them I am actually Natalie! I thought I should cover for you while you get your dream job!”
“Ahem, sure, that’s nice of you, otherwise people would have worried for me but that’s not necessary anymore, those idiots didn’t hire me” – and went on to describe her what had happened at the company.
Her friend listened to her with a weird expression on her pretty face.
“Hmm, that’s a bummer! See, renting the machine was very expensive so I terminated the contract expecting that we wouldn’t have needed it for a few months!”
“What? So are we stuck like this now?”
“We can rent another device but it’s in high demand right now right now, the waiting time is about six months!”
“What? You can’t be serious!”
“Don’t worry Esther, I’ll help you around, I’ll buy you clothes and give you money, we’ll be friends as always, only this time I’ll be the blonde and you the brunette!” – added Steffy, who had always envied her friend’s blonde mane. Well, that was hers now.

“But.. I don’t want to be stuck like this for months, I…”
“Lower your voice, Esther!” – replied the blonde in a different tone.
“Stop calling me like that, you know I’m Natalie!”
“Sure, but nobody else does! Remember when you asked me not to tell anybody else? I could in any moment pretend I didn’t know you and you would be effectively locked away from your true identity. Isn’t that exciting?”
“Steffie, I… I can’t believe you are doing that to me!”
“Call me Natalie from now on, please!”
“Yes, Natalie!”
“Good, then let’s have a deal, do as I tell you and you’ll have your body back in six months. I’ll provide you with a constant flow of cash to support your lifestyle and you’ll live out your fantasy.”
“My fantasy?”
“You’ll be a vapid Jewish American princess who only cares about her appearance and getting laid with wealthy men. No more worries about your career, let me take care of that! I’ve already chosen for you a penthouse in Manhattan where to live. You’ll enter the finest social circles of the Jewish community in New York and find your new boyfriend there.”
“I…” – the former blonde couldn’t find the words. It was indeed a fantasy of hers but living out for real was scary. And for so long! Living as a Jewish Princess for six months was going to mess up with her brain in a massive way!

Following her friend’s advice, Esther began working on her posture and speech patterns so match the personality of a spoiled brat who had never worked a day in her life and who was on her way from being daddy’s girl to a trophy wife for a wealthy man.
She also began accustomed to show her body more and to ooze sexuality.
As soon as the joined the first parties, everybody saw her as the embodiment of a Jewish American princess, making all girls mad at her for bringing back old-fashioned stereotypes about women and making all men fall for her.
Soon enough, she also fell for one of those wealthy Jewish American men, Aaron, further cementing her new persona. Eventually, it became second nature to her, and even when she met Steffy, now presenting as Natalie, she would keep the same vapid speech patterns and refer to herself as Esther.
One day, when she was supposed to reveal the truth to her new boyfriend, Esther received a surprise visit by Steffi disguised as Natalie.
“What a surprise… Natalie!”
“I was eager to meet your new boyfriend, Aaron! Oh, you’re a lucky man! My friend Esther is a bit of an airhead but she’s really sweet!”
“Haha Nathy my dear, you’re so good with words!”
When Aaron left for a minute, the brunette asked the blonde if there were any news about the device as the six months had already passed. The blonde, by now fully into her Natalie persona, dismissed her concerns with a smile and told her “Let’s forget about that silly thing my dear! I bought you something better! You are clearly enjoying your new life a not and you would never break your boyfriend’s heart! I cancelled that order and bought you a pink Lambo as an engagement present! Haha, he told me he’s going to propose soon, there he is, I can see him coming back with the engagement ring! You are going to say yes, aren’t you?”

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The queen of rap

I’ve always been an excellent singer, I was the top of my class in music school. I also had the good looks to succeed in the music industry, but I never had the personality and charisma that could make me stand out. Eventually it became clear that I would never be able to become a successful singer, so I found my niche doing musical impressions of famous singers and spent days listening to every song of a certain singer to be able to mimic their voice tone and accent to perfection. I knew this was my last chance to earn a living with my voice and I wasn’t going to waste it. I was regularly invited at clubs, parties, any sort of events to sing famous songs by Ariana Grande, Taylor Swift or Beyonce. Sometimes the resemblance of my voice was just passing, other times it was so striking people in the audience thought they were listening to the original singer herself. For some blessing or curse my vocal cords seemed to be able to adjust particularly well to the voice of a particular singer, Nicki Minaj. I didn’t even like her songs that much and rapping wasn’t my favourite but my imitations of her were always a phenomenal success. As my unusual career was taking off, I got more and more calls and decided to focus on what seemed to be my best chance to fame: imitating Nicki. I eventually dropped all the other imitations and began learning by heart every single one of her songs, mimicking her intonation and accent.
This seemed to be paying off as I was getting bigger and bigger gigs, until one day I was contacted by Nicki’s entourage.

I initially freaked out, fearing some copyright issue. I told my agent (I could finally afford one now) to see what they wanted and he told me they seemed to have an offer for me. Expecting some minor role in an official Nicki Minaj concert, I eagerly accepted, hoping for a breakthrough.
A panel asked me to perform a couple of Nicki’s songs, which I did with the usual fidelity to the original, and they seemed to be very satisfied. Their leader said: “I understand that the offer we are making you is very unusual so please take your time and listen to the full proposal before answering. As you know miss Onika Tanya Maraj, alias Nicki Minaj has been prioritising her family these days so she can devote very little time to her fans. We are very impressed with your skills and we have to admit that our sound engineers have detected very few detectable differences between your voice and Nicki Minaj’s, so we are asking you to replace her during her concerts. You would earn five million dollars a year.”
I felt dizzy hearing that. “Wow… I’m a bit taken aback, I’m very humbled by such an offer! So, are we talking lip sync?”
“We’re talking about more than that. You would undergo surgery to look like a twin sister of Nicki Minaj. At that point you would replace her on stage and sing at her place, as well as impersonate her in public events, meet with her fans, do photoshoots, you name it. With the proper training you could even be able to impersonate her in any social situation.”

“What? You can’t be serious? How would the public react to this?”
“They would never know. All your appearances would be uncredited and a clause in the contract would prevent you from talking to the press about this.”
“Oh wow, well I guess this makes sense. Still, I look nothing like her! I’m white and my body shape is completely different!”
“We have already assembled a team of some of the leading experts in plastic surgery and we can assure you that it is absolutely possible to turn you into an exact replica of Nicki Minaj.”
“I… I can’e believe that!” – as I said that I instinctively touched my face, afraid they would suddenly start to alter it.
“You already have brown eyes and hair, and with your olive skin, a small increase in the amount of melanin in your system will be enough to match your skin tone to Nicki Minaj’s. As for your body shape, there are plenty of rather common techniques to give you a hourglass figure, like breast implants, Brazilian butt lift, and so on. This is all absolutely well tested and safe. All surgical expenses would be covered of course.”
I was speechless, they were serious about this. I had never even considered lip fillers, let alone a whole set of plastic surgeries like those. I kept asking questions to gain some time to think about it.

“How about my face?”
“That would also be feasible with a nose job, lip fillers and a few other minor touch-ups. We would scan your face and accurately plan every step to replicate Nicki Minaj’s face. As you can understand, the implications of ethnicity-changing plastic surgery could be ethically sketchy, however, so we need to ask you to sign a non-disclosure agreement.”
“Wow, this is a lot to take, I need to think about this, it’s a life-changing transformation.”
“Absolutely… Please, take your time, get back to us when you’ve made up your mind!”
Was I really willing to become a full-time Nicki Minaj impersonator? I could finally fulfil my dream of singing in front of large audiences and be rich and successful but I would lose my own face and in a way my identity. Was that too high a price to pay for success?
I looked at myself in the mirror. As a brown-eyed brunette I had always envied the beauty of blonde, blue-eyed women. Now I was considering going at the opposite side of the color spectrum. Wasn’t that ironic?
Honestly, I told myself, I wasn’t too happy with my life and I knew I could never forgive myself had I missed this chance, so after much consideration I accepted and signed the contract.

I was very nervous about getting plastic surgery, but they reassured me by telling me that they decided to split the procedures in multiple rounds, to give me time to recover from them and to adjust to my changing appearance.
I had a soft start, with rather common plastic surgeries: lip injections and breast implants, so that for the time being I could get away with the changes saying that I had decided to improve my looks, without making it too obvious that I was actually radically changing my looks.
When I woke up from the surgery, I was shocked at how massive my new breasts looked, way too big for my frame. They made me look like a hypersexualized, plastic beauty-style version of myself, with fake-looking orbs. I looked like a pornstar and started regretting my decision, but it was too late to back off, so I tried to make the most of it and dyed my brown hair blonde to go full “Blonde bombshell” mode.
I started borrowing custom-sized tops from Nicki as half of my wardrobe was useless. Unfortunately, all her outfits were very revealing.

A few weeks later, I was told it was time to work on my complexion. I gulped when I heard that. My days as a white woman were coming to an end.
Again, we began with baby steps. I started regular tanning sessions, combined with a drug that increased melanin production in my body. I quickly gained a deep tan I had never achieved before. The same molecule affected my hair color, turning it from brown to jet black, as it showed in my regrowth, and my eyes, which and darkened to a dark brown.
One day, I bumped into a girl from my old music school. She was very pretty and we used to call her “airhead” and “bimbo” because we were young and stupid, and also a bit envious. She suffered a lot form it but she kept going and as she had real talent and eventually became a successful songwriter. I ignored her but she recognised me and, after the initial shock, talked to me.
“Oh my God, I can’t believe it! You went full plastic! Who’s the bimbo now?”
My heart was pounding. I wished I could disappear or at least hide my implants but my dress was designed to expose my cleavage.
“Hehe, Sharon, come on, everybody is getting plastic surgery these days!”
“Haha, how the tables have turned! Well, what can I say, we all know what sells in the showbiz! Some people have talent, some have to make up for it!”
I didn’t know that to say, everything about me suggested exactly that. I quickly excused myself and left, trying to hide some tears.

I felt so ashamed and humiliated after that encounter, I didn’t leave my house for a few days. To make it worse, Sharon posted some pictures of me on social media, so that everybody now thought that I had decided to become a plastic beauty to boost my career. Many of my friends contacted me, wondering why the dedicated artist they knew so well decided to earn fame the easy way. I knew everybody loves the downfall story of a school genius who fails later in life, but it still shocked me how many of them seemed to enjoy my humiliation. Although I felt ashamed by my plastic look and I was afraid of being judged, I had no other choice but to keep living a normal life and performing regularly, after all it was my only source of income before I could work for Nicki once the transformation was complete.
As my reputation was ruined anyway, I decided to step up my game and started performing in revealing outfits inspired to those used by Nicki in her concerts. As weird it was to wear pink wigs, colourful outfits and gigantic heels, I knew I had to get used to this fashion style sooner or later.
I was very self-conscious about flashing my boobs in public but the public seemed to love the changes. I was getting significantly more requests to sing at large events, and the crowds were cheering me like never before. For once in my life, I felt like I had finally fulfilled my dream of becoming a star in the music industry. I hated that people now paid more attention to my cleavage than to my singing skills, just like Sharon and my haters said, but I enjoyed it nevertheless.

As the tanning sessions continued, I kept getting darker and darker, which freaked me out a bit. I contacted the team monitoring my progress but assured me all was going according to plans. After all, my natural complexion was several shades lighter than a Caribbean woman.
The black roots of my hair continued to grow, so I decided to dye all my hair jet black and got matching extensions. Black was the only hair color that would look natural on me from now on, I realized. Even the brown hair that used to be my natural hair color would look like a dye from now on. I checked myself with black hair and I had to admit I made a great raven-haired beauty. My new hair and complexion gave me some sort of middle eastern flavour. I also noticed how my entire body was affected by the change in pigmentation as my pink aureolas and vagina turned dark brown, giving my naked body a strong exotic flavour. That’s when I realised I was truly becoming a different woman. It freaked me out so I avoided looking looking at my naked body when I was showering.
On a positive note, I was getting a lot more attention from men than before, so I decided to have some fun and went on a few dates. At first, I didn’t update the pictures on my dating profile but then when I met in person my dates often didn’t even recognise me. So I updated my profile with more recent pictures but then most men I matched with thought I was a hooker hunting for clients. My life had definitely changed with a body like this.

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END OF PART 1

The good wife

Claire was the beautiful and wife of Anthony Patch, heir to his family multimillionaire business. She was a rather poor, although popular instagram influencer when they met. Her charme and beauty did their magic on Anthony who fell for her and asked her to marry him. On the other hand, she didn’t see anything else in Anthony apart from his immense wealth but that was sufficient for her to accept his proposal. She had dated better men but he was the best one to get her into the right social circles and to improve her economic status.
Her lack of passion became clearer and clearer when she demanded for more money every month to buy the most luxurious clothes and join gala dinners while her husband was working, on the other hand spending less and less time with Anthony.
He realized all that but every time he felt determined to talk with her about their relationship, her seductive pose and eyes were enough to send Anthony’s brain ko. She’s a beautiful and independent woman, he told himself, there isn’t much I can do.

A few months later, however the situation degenerated as Claire, who had in the meantime met somebody else, told him she wanted a divorce.
Anthony was initially heartbroken, but then when he realised she had already had contacts with one of the most prominent lawyers in the field of divorces between rich couples, he realised she had planned this all time along and only saw him as an instrument to get rich.
He felt very angry about that, but then calmed down and started to plan his revenge. Among the several divisions of the business empire he inherited from his family, there was a medical division specialised in cosmetic surgery, so Anthony starts to devise a strategy to punish Claire and at the same time keep her around him for his pleasure. Sure, it would be a waste of beauty but those lustful blue eyes had already been associated to a painful memory for him.
So one day, he went to talk to her, made her angry, then when she turned her back to him he injected her something under her skin to sedate her. Minutes after, his medical secret team entered the room and began its operations.

Claire’s face was entirely remodelled, to the point that not even her close family would recognise it was her, or even a Caucasian woman. Anthony considered several possibilities but decided that turning his ex-wife into a Japanese girl working as a maid for him was the most satisfying option.
Her beautiful blue eyes were covered in dark pigments and made larger. Her eyelids on the other hand were given a typical East Asian shape. Her beautiful blonde hair was eradicated and replaced by real Asian black hair transplanted onto her scalp. Her cheekbones were altered in a radical yet natural way and her whole skin tone and body frame were also adapted to her new persona. She was also rejuvenated by a few years.
Later came the mental training. A team specialised in experimental neurology worked on her brain to selectively destroy most of the memories of her previous life, apart from a vague association to Anthony, a good English proficiency – she was later going to be told she was a second-generation Japanese immigrant who had lost the ability to speak Japanese – and some general knowledge necessary to get around their villa. The whole process lasted several weeks, during which all traces linked to Claire were hidden. When the police came to search for her, they couldn’t find anything. Also, Anthony was too wealthy to be bothered by the police.

Once recovered from all the procedures, Claire was dressed in a cute Japanese maid outfit and left on a bench in the garden of their villa. Anthony had mixed feelings contemplating the new kind of beauty his ex-wife had acquired, one the one hand he missed her old self, on the other one he was sure the new Claire was not going to hurt him anymore.
“Anthony” she said as the woke up, jumping in his arms, still very confused – “Hey hey Kumiko, I’m glad you feel ok again now but please remind to keep your distances, after all you’re just my maid!”. Claire was extremely confused but in all honestly she couldn’t remember anything precise about her relationship with Anthony, apart from a strong connection, and her outfit seemed to agree with what Anthony had just said. “Of course Mister Patch, I… I apologise. What… What’s happened?” “Apparently you’ve had a seizure, you are still recovering from a bad accident, don’t you remember? Your head was hit hard but as I am a caring boss, I paid for your medical bills and didn’t fire you. Instead, I promoted you to my personal maid in my main villa to spare you from tiring tasks. Not bad as a treatment for a poor Asian girl without much wealth or education right?” ”What? Me, Asian?” – she replied. “Take your time to recover, I’ll see you later, I hope you’ll feel better by then.”

Claire ran to the nearest mirror and felt completely shocked seeing her reflection as a young Asian girl. She didn’t exactly remember how was she supposed to look like but she was pretty sure she wasn’t a minority. On the other hand, the evidence was just in front of her in form of jet black hair and brown doe eyes. She looked so… foreign to her! She tried to pull her hair but it hurt, she tried to scratch her eyes but they weren’t color contacts and her face looked and felt absolutely real.
After all, Mr. Patch was probably right, the accident, the memory loss, she had to be grateful to him, she should show him some gratitude, right? Hmm, how could she do that? Oh yeah, there was something she had not forgotten, and that was to be sensual and to please men. She fixed her outfit, brushed her black hair, applied some makeup to make her eyes look even larger, then she contemplated for a moment how cute and doll-like she looked like. Something was still off but it would probably top away with time, she told herself. Time to give Anthony a good time!

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Finding love

I’m Franziska, a German girl in her late 20s. I work as a lawyer in a big studio and I’m really satisfied with my career.
I’ve got short blonde hair and pretty blue eyes I’m very proud of but I’ve never let my identity revolve about my looks, I always cared more about my brain.
I was obviously pretty popular as a teenager and got married at 22 to my high school sweetheart. Unfortunately, we weren’t ready for marriage and we divorced at 24, it was pretty rough being so young. Dating has been difficult since then. It took me a long time to recover from that relationship and here I am, struggling to find love again.
One Sunday afternoon, I was having a tea party with one of my closest friends, Duru, a Turkish-German girl who owned a beauty salon. We came from very different backgrounds and had very different lifes, me being more focused on my career and Duru having a husband and two children, but we still were very close friends.
I opened up with her about my struggles with dating and how I felt like my life was incomplete only revolving around work, as much as I liked my career. Duru told me she understood me and that she had just what I needed.

My friend Duru gave me a gift card for a makeover at her salon. I was a bit doubtful, I’ve never been a big fan of makeovers and beauty salons, I’ve always been more the tomboy type. Moreover, I was a bit skeptical of her Turkish-style beauty salon, I had previously seen some girls with very a heavy makeup leaving the place and always thought their idea of femininity was a bit too old-fashioned for my standards.
“You’ll love it, my dear!” – she encouraged me – “We take care of everything from hair and makeup to styling. All you need is a new style and you’ll find love again, we guarantee you’ll get married soon!”
“Haha, that’s a bit too much to offer but sure, a new style, why not?” – I replied, still skeptical but more intrigued.
“You should embrace your femininity more – Duru insisted -“ Why are you keeping your hair this short? “
She had a good point, I guess. “Well, I was mourning my previous relationship and felt like I needed a change.”
“It’s been a few years Franzi, you might need a change again.”
“You’re probably right.”

The following week I took a day off work and went to the salon. “Time to pamper myself a bit” – I thought!
I noticed how all the other customers were Turkish or Arab and felt a bit unease as the only German girl there.
A couple of Turkish girls took care of me. Their German was correct but heavily accented. After I told them why I was there, they guaranteed me that I would be satisfied with the result and then began chatting in Turkish with each other.
They began washing my hair and soaking it in what appeared to be hair dye. I couldn’t see much but I trusted them. After a long wait, they blew my hair dry and began applying extensions to it.
To my shock, when they showed my reflection in the mirror, I noticed they dyed my hair black!
“Why this dark?” – I asked
The two brunette girls felt embarrassed “Most of our customers have dark hair, we don’t have hair products for blonde hair, I’m sorry.” – said one of them.
I looked kinda good, I had to say, but this was really unlike me. I didn’t want to embarrass my friend Duru but I made a mental note to dye my hair back to blonde within a few days.

Then they suggested I tried on dark color contacts for my eyes to “Make my smile warmer” and told me to keep my eyes closed while the contacts settled down. I wasn’t used to wearing them so I did as they told me. I felt something stinging my lips and when I opened my eyes I had thick lips.
“Why did you that to me? How dare you inject something in my lips without asking for my permission?” – I bursted out.
I started screaming at the girls, who ran away scared. I didn’t care, I was a lawyer and I had an image to protect. What would people think of me if I showed up in the court with cock-sucking lips, let alone the long dark hair?
The girls came back with a tall, handsome man with black hair and green eyes who turned out to be Duru’s brother, Mesut. He seemed angry while walking toward me but as he got closer, his face showed a mix of awe and surprise as he got closer. He told me he was initially thinking about something different but on a second thought he was willing to offer me some sort of refund it was something that was going to change my life for the better, he said. I followed him in his office, where he offered me a cup of delicious Turkish tea. As I talked to him I felt more and more tired. I asked him for more tea to wake me up but it didn’t help, quite the opposite. A few minutes later I couldn’t keep my eyes open and collapsed on the chair where I was sitting.

I realised something was off when I woke up. The first thing I noticed was the smell of makeup. It was extremely intense and close. As I opened my eyes, they felt heavy and I could clearly see fake eyelashes had been applied on top of mine. They were black, thick and coated in mascara. “Did they really have to tart up my face with makeup? I bet I look like a whore now.” – I thought.
A strong light had been turned on in the room, my eyes weren’t used to it so I had to keep them closed.
“Where am I?” – I asked, noticing the unfamiliar setting.
Mesut’s voice replied “In a safe place, don’t worry about that.”
“The last thing I remember is discussing about a refund for what you have done to my lips, what happened next? The tea… Did you drug it?”
“I had to. But I kept my word about the refund. I will give you the greatest gift of your life. See, as soon as I saw you I felt that there was something special about you. Duru told me about your struggles with dating, I understand you, I also felt like that after my first marriage.”
“Oh shit, here we go” – I thought – “a marriage proposal!”

“Let me stop you right there, you’re quite attractive but I don’t even know you. Also, I don’t know if you’re used to do this to Turkish girls but you can’t simply kidnap a woman to make her your wife. We Germans don’t do that.”
“Really?” – he smiled “You don’t even look German!”
“What do you mean?” – then I recalled my hair dye. “Oh, the hair, well it’s just a dye, I don’t know what do you mean.”
“Not only that. And the color contacts. And the lips. I saw the good raw material in you and had some more work done on your face. Wanna give it a look?” – he asked, handing me a mirror. A nose job! The fucker gave me a nose job to make it rounder! And my eyes looked somewhat oriental now, they had also been touched! Even my face shape had been remodelled. Eyebrows reshaping and extra lip filler completed my transformation. “You make a pretty good Turkish girl for a German!” “You’re crazy” – I said with a weak voice. This was overwhelming. “You won’t get away with this, I’m a lawyer and I’ll make you pay for this!”
“I doubt it my dear. You’re currently thousands of kilometre away from Germany, in a remote village on the Turkish coast. Duru spread fake rumours about you leaving the country for a long journey so that nobody will be looking for you.”

“Duru, she’s also part of this?” – I asked, sounding desperate. I realised they were serious about the whole thing.
“She wants the best for both of us and I managed to convince her that this was the best choice. Isn’t it sweet, that you two could be sisters-in-law soon?”
“But… why did you have to change my appearance so much?”
“You needed a change in style, and what better than a Turkish look to embrace your femininity? You German girls might be pretty but you have a lot to learn about being feminine. I had a preference for brunettes, so it worked for both. Besides, this way you’re locked out of your old life. Enough chit chat for now, you need to get ready!”
“For what?” – I asked, in vain. He left the room as an assistant I recognised form the beauty salon joined me. She swiftly slipped me out of my cocktail dress and helped me wear a white wedding dress. “Hey, stop! This is crazy!” – I said, but I was feeling too weak to fight. She adjusted the bridal dress on my back to make it tighter and then slowly untied my hair, which was now long, black and wavy, cascading on my shoulders in silky curls. I could feel it caressing shoulders, a new feeling for me. She sprayed it with jasmine fragrance and crowned it with a white tiara. I was starting to look like an Arabian princess from a fairytale.

Then she gave me long earrings to match my tiara. To complete the look, a white bridal veil partially covered my hair. I looked like a Middle Eastern bride, with no resemblance with my old self.
I was playing with my veil as Mesut came back, in a black suit. “Looking gorgeous, my dear! So, are you ready, are we doing this?”
My heart was pounding like crazy. Indeed, were we really doing this? Was I really going to start a new wife as a devout housewife, forgetting about my old life and career? The thought of it was scary, but was I really happy of my life before? Maybe Duru was right after all, this is really the best option. He was so handsome, and I felt really pretty as a bride. I slowly grabbed his hand and nodded.
After a few hours we were husband and bride. I was now Feriha Kılıç, I took my husband’s surname and I received a new, Turkish name. I liked the sound of it!
We had a happy honeymoon and soon afterwards I was expecting my first baby. When I met Duru, I couldn’t be more grateful to her for my new life! “I told you that you were going to get married soon! You look so beautiful, my dear!”

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India by Raji

DISCLAIMER: not my own content

The original story (text only) by Raji can be found here: https://www.thechangingmirror.com/phpbb/viewtopic.php?f=11&t=1595&p=3300#p3300

When Mary awoke on Thursday, she never imagined it would be her last day as a White suburban housewife. She married Sudhir in college and at the time, her Indian boyfriend seemed so worldly and cultured. It was only that character that let her get beyond her white toast upbringing which looked down on other ethnic groups. When they were married, she discovered that he had a very rich fantasy life which invaded their bedroom. Mary was used to dressing up as a maid, dancer or tens of other costumed roles when it came time for sex. But this week had been very strange. Sudhir had been planning a trip to India to visit the factories that produced his high fashion garments sold in department stores. Over the last years, Sudhir had gone to India about once a year to keep track of the business. He seemed very agitated since last week when he said that his parents were expecting to meet Mary on this next trip. Mary had always thought it strange that Sudhir’s parents did not make it to their wedding and hadn’t visited in the last years. Nor did they socialize with any of his relatives in the states. But she had never seen him like this before.
Sudhir sat her down when he came home from work and asked her whether she really loved him. Mary replied “Of course I do”. He asked whether she would do ANYTHING for him if it was really important. Mary thought and said “yes, you know I would do anything for you”.

Sudhir explained that his parents were really traditional and would be shocked if Sudhir revealed that his wife was not Indian. He had thought about having someone pose as his wife on the trip but told Mary that it would be unfair to her. What he was asking instead was whether Mary would pose as an Indian during the trip. As she looked at her 5″4″ curvy whited skinned, blond haired body, she laughed at the prospect. “I could never pass” Mary said. “You leave that to me” Sudhir said ominously.
That night Sudhir said he was taking her to a salon where a friend of his was going to help with the plan. Mary imagined that she was getting her hair dyed and getting hair extensions so she happily got into the car with her loving husband. She had no idea what was in store for her.
When they arrived, Mary was surprised to see that the “salon” was in a non-descript warehouse in the industrial part of town. Sudhir brought her inside and introduced her to a pleasant looking Indian woman in a lab coat named Anuja. The woman looked her up and down and said “we have a lot of work to do. When is the trip”.
Sudhir said “10 days”. The woman said” Well, then we had better get started”. Sudhir gave his wife a kiss and left her with the technician.

Mary stepped into the next room which was set up with all kinds of audiovisual equipment. Anuja explained that this was advanced equipment to teach Mary to speak Hindu. Because of the timeframe, they were going to use a special medication which makes the brain more receptive to learning language. It actually turns the biological clock back to permit learning the way we learn when we are children. The hardest part would be teaching Mary to respond to her new name Marwa naturally. Mary awkwardly pronounced the name and Anuja laughed. You will see, the teaching process is VERY effective.
Anuja sat Mary at one of the stations which had a large screen in front and put headphones on her. She also started an intravenous line and told Mary that it would only have sugar water in it at first. A voice came over the headphones and said repeat after me Marwa. My name is Marwa. This went on for some time and Mary really didn’t notice when the medicine started to flow into her arm. Once the medicine was onboard, the voice seemed to really penetrate her being. It was then that it began to only speak Hindu. It would show and image of something and then repeat the word in hindu 10’s of times. With each cycle, it seemed that the only word that came to mind when that picture came up was the Hindu word. The english words seemed to be slipping away. What Mary didn’t know was that the medicine and process weren’t just teaching her Hindu, they were erasing the identical parts of her brain that had learned english in her youth. Even worse, images of her youth were being replaced.

When the voice talked about her childhood home, she didn’t see a street in suburbia, but rather a village in southern India with a small house. When she saw the house, another medicine flowed into her veins giving her a warm happy feeling. Of course that is home and how she misses it. Then with the words father and mother, her mental images of her parents were changed to pictures of an older Indian couple in the village. The second medicine filled her with love and longing to see her Indian “parents”.
The process continued like this for 8 hours. By the end, Mary was only answering to the name Marwa which seemed to be the only name she knew. It was then that the program changed. Marwa began to see pictures of herself with Sudhir, but in picture after picture, her appearance was morphing. One image focused on her blond hair and as it became long and black, she felt a tremendous calm descend over her. In another image, her skin slowly darkened from pale white to dark chocolate. A rush of excitement filled her helped by the medicine flowing into her body. Then her body began to change. Her Aereolae became fuller and darker, her breasts more pendulous and her little button nose grew a sharp hump. Finally the fine hair on her body became more prominent especially her shaved bush becoming full and dark. At the end, the image of the young Indian woman on the screen rotated around and around and the voice imprinted this image of Marwa to her brain. This would make the coming days of surgery much easier for everyone.

Now still images became movies and Marwa absorbed a life she never led. All shot from the perspective of the viewer, she saw her grade school, her high school, witnessed conversations with her friends. She saw herself meeting Sudhir at college but as an exchange student from India. Their wedding was very different with rituals that replaced her catholic upbringing. Finally, a series of movies modeled for her how an Inidan woman acts with her husband. She felt the sense of submission flow into her and had her fashion sense remolded to Saris and Sandels.
When Marwa left the cubicle, she was tired and happy to be led to sleeping quarters. She showered and her western clothes were taken from her. There were no mirrors in the bedroom. She dressed with traditional Indian clothing as if she had done so her whole life. While she slept, melitonin stimulators flowed into her veins. By the time she awoke, her skin was very dark and her hair was now growing at an accelerated rate straight and black as it would for the rest of her life. Marwa didn’t notice that Anuja was now speaking to her only in Hindu. She would have been shocked to hear the broken english that remained in her memory.

Anuja took her to the surgical suite. She told Marwa that they were going to make her beautiful for Sudhir. This made her feel happy and submissive. During the operation, her breasts were enlarged and stretched to become more pendulous. An implant was placed in her nose to give her the hump she identified as pleasing to her face. Cheek implants changed her appearance significantly. Her delicate feet were roughened to those of a woman who spent her youth barefoot. And more delicately, her lithe body shape was modified through fat and hormone implants to become rounded over the next week. When she returned to her bedroom, she was sore but happy. The last thing she saw as she went off to sleep was her image in the new mirror in her bedroom. It looked so much more like her!
When Marwa awoke a week later, no friend or family member would ever have recognized her. Sudhir was there and told her it was time to leave for India. Marwa looked at him blankly until her repeated himself in Hindu. She then threw herself into his arms and kissed him passionately. Sudhir smiled. His new Indian wife was going to be a great hit with his parents in Mumbai.

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Once you go black

Kathy had planned something really special for her boyfriend of 4 years. They were young but they had been together for a long time already and the novelty of the thing had worn off. So Kathy thought about something her boyfriend Chris told her once. He had apparently a thing for Black girls and, before meeting Kathy, he had dated a few. He was completely happy with her, he had reassured her, but he couldn’t deny he still found them charming. Being a gorgeous blonde, blue-eyed girl, Kathy found this a bit disturbing at first but she had to admit, Black girls can be pretty hot too.
So, when Kathy heard about the revolutionary bodysuits produced by SkinTech®, she immediately planned a very special night for their anniversary. Thanks to cutting edge technology, their skin suits gave the illusion of a complete new body to those who used them. Obviously it couldn’t do much to change body shapes, although bigger breasts and curvier bosoms were achievable but it did wonders to change skin color, facial features and hair. They even came with special color contacts to give customers a more natural eye color to match their new skins.
She selected a dark-skinned girl’s body with African facial features and long curly hair. When the parcel finally arrived the day before their anniversary she could barely resist the temptation to open it.

“Oh my God, Chris is going to be so happy with this!” – the told herself heading to the living room.
“Sweetie” – she told him “How about we go out for dinner on our anniversary tomorrow?”
“I’d love that! Last year we didn’t do anything special so I thought you were in the mood for something chill this time around too but I’d love to celebrate it properly!”
“Cool, I’ll meet you downtown after work then!”
Kathy actually took the whole day off to try on the skin suit. She was very excited to try it on so as soon as he left the house to go to work, she got naked and rolled the suit skin on. It was, as requested, a very dark skin, complete with attached real human hair and a pair of color contacts. Dark brown, of course. The fake skin was very thin and felt natural once on. The part of the bodysuit covering her face required some special care to make it fit her mouth and eyes but once on, it felt like real skin. Once fixed her hair and put on the color contacts, Kathy looked at her finished look.

“Hey, who would have guessed it, I make a pretty hot Black girl haha!” – Cathy told herself, filled with joy in anticipation of what her boyfriend was going to say about it.
“It feels unreal to look like this” – she thought, checking herself in the mirror “The details are spot on, the inside of my hands are lighter, my lips look fuller, the hair looks absolutely real, I really am a Black girl right now! I’m not half as hot as I usually am right now but I could live with this for a day or two!”
She got ready and left for the meeting point. It felt exciting to visit her hometown looking as someone else, although the could tell people looked at her differently, especially the old ones. “I guess that’s what Black folks have to go through every day.” – she thought.

By the time they were supposed to meet, but Kathy and her boyfriend were standing there, but obviously he didn’t recognise her.
She smiled and called him. Hearing her voice both at the phone and coming from the Black girl standing next ti him was very confusing for Chris but as soon as she explained him what was going on, he absolutely loved the idea. They went on a dinner that felt like a date and made out on their way back home.
Needless to say, as soon as they got there, they had the best sex of their life, such was the attraction Chris had for Ebony beauties. He loved everything about that body, the hair texture, the skin tone, even her scent was different! Besides, it felt even better knowing it was actually her beloved Kathy in there. She was equally happy to see him fulfilling one of his fantasies without cheating on her and she had to admit, it felt pretty exciting to have sex in a different body.

After long hours of passionate lovemaking, the young couple finally fell asleep.
As the night progressed, Kathy’s bodysuit began feeling itchy, especially on her back, until she woke up early in the morning, feeling that something was off. Chris was still sleeping, his head lying by Cathy’s gorgeous Afro hair.
She smiled when she noticed that. “Such a perv, I bet he really enjoyed playing with my hair too! God, sex was great last night, we might do this again in a few weeks!” – she thought with a smile. “Well, it has been fun while it lasted but this bodysuit is starting to feel a bit uncomfortable now, better taking it off now. Also, I need to go back to my old self. I’m starting to miss my light skin and blue eyes!”
She headed for the bathroom, her Afro hair swinging here and there “Gosh, is that what Black girls always feel when they have long hair? I hate this tickling on my skin, this hair is so kinky! I really miss brushing my smooth blonde hair right now!”

“Wait a moment, why am I feeling this tingling on my shoulders?” – she asked herself – “That’s weird, the bodysuit is thin but not that much…”
She looked at her face in the mirror. Again, the illusion was perfect. She was a convincingly natural Black girl right now. She gave one last look at herself before searching for the seals, by the neck. “Ok, this is getting weird” – she thought after a few seconds – “I’m pretty sure it was here, how is this possible?”
For a split second, a mental movie played in her head. “I’m stuck in this bodysuit, forever. I have to live as a Black woman for the rest of my life.” She felt a chill down her spine, together with an unexpected wave of arousal. The idea terrified her because, well it was fun to be a Black girl for fun for one day but what the heck, she was a Nordic beauty and didn’t have anything to do with those people. The arousal ashamed her a little. Was she into this? What a weird fetish was it, identity loss? Beauty loss? Degradation? She definitely had superiority complexes towards coloured people but did she find them sexier than whites deep down? Did she like to play with the idea of being turned into one of them? She shook these thoughts off her head and headed for the bodysuit box. She put on a sweater and began scrolling through the instructions.

“Ok, here’s a drawing… Ok, the seal is supposed to be on my neck, what the hell?”. Then she noted a few lines in fine print, stating:
[…in some rare cases malfunctions had been observed, including and not limited to: itchiness, bonding to skin and risk of damaging tissues upon removal. Please get in touch with our customer service as soon as a feeling of itchiness arises.]
It continued stating that customers were using the skin suit at their own risk and that safety regulations had to be followed very strictly.
“Ok, this is really freaking me out…” – she thought – “The itchiness is almost gone now, apart from my face and my hands but maybe I should still call customer support. Oh God tell me that this is not real!”
She grabbed her phone and while dealing the number she couldn’t help but notice how alien her dark hands looked like. Could this be her body now?

“Thanks for reaching out to SkinTech customer support service” – a female voice replied her on the phone – “How can we help you?”.
Kathy explained her situation trying to keep calm and providing all the necessary information. “I see” – replied the female voice with a serious tone – “How long has the itching going on?” “A few hours, but it’s mostly gone by now…” – replied a worried Kathy. “A few hours? Why didn’t call us earlier?” “Well, I was still half asleep when it began, I called when I realised I couldn’t find the seams…” “Well, I am sorry to tell you this but this is a sign that the bodysuit has already significantly bonded with your skin. Can you feel though it?” Kathy frantically tested how sensitive her skin was in various parts of the body, finding out that in some areas the bodysuit already felt like touching her own skin. Her face and her hands, however, gave her a rubbery sensation upon touching them. She reported tall of that to the lady at the phone who replied: “Again, I am sorry to inform you about this but it looks like the bodysuit has already bonded to most of your skin. Your hands and face will follow soon and by then removing the skin suit could result in serious injuries.” “But surely there must be a way to fix this!” – replied Kathy, who was really freaking out.

Chris woke up hearing Kathy’s loud voice and checked up on her. The phone call had just finished and Kathy was nervously reading the user manual of the skin suit when he entered the room. He was surprised by seeing her still wearing it that late and suspected that something was wrong with it.
Cathy explained him what had happened since she woke up as she was just beginning to realise what she had done. Chris, who had a Law degree, quickly went through the Terms and Conditions chapter and laconically commented: “Oh my God Cathy, you really screwed up big time!” – before leaving the room.

Kathy began hyperventilating. “This was only supposed to be an adventure, I don’t want to be stuck as my boyfriend’s living sexual fantasy!” – she told herself. She instinctively touched her hair with her hands, feeling the kinky texture of the afro hair that was becoming her own. She realised with horror that pulling her hair gave her a muffled yet detectable feeling of pain. Her hair follicles were rapidly connecting with the skin suit’s hair and it was only a matter of time before she could only grow healthy black, curly Afro hair.
Chris decided to call a doctor friend of him who arrived as quickly as he could only to confirm the obvious: the bodysuit was now permanently attached to Cathy’s body and attempting its removal would result in injuries similar to those of a burn victim. On a more positive side, the new skin had not been rejected by Kathy’s immune system, which meant she could expect to live a regular, healthy life even wearing the skinsuit 24-7 from now on.
To top it off, even her brown colour contacts had merged with her body. No more baby blues, Kathy was now going to watch the world around her through brown doe eyes.

Next came a phase of realisation of what had happened and consequent depression. She was going to be trapped in a Black girl’s body for the foreseeable future. She would have to live life as someone else.
Her life quickly fell apart, her boyfriend, despite feeling partially responsible, left her as he couldn’t overcome the shock of seeing his blonde girlfriend being forever turned in a sexy Black girl, her family rejected her and her friends made fun of her.
Her company simply didn’t believe this Black girl claiming she was actually Kathy and she quickly found herself lonely and jobless.
All she could do was cry with her sexy brown eyes. And feel her kinky curls tickling on her skin whenever she bowed her head to cry, a feeling she would never get used to.

Eventually, she decided to start a new life, burning bridges with her past, in a new city as Kayla, a young Black woman with no past.
She learned the hard way how much harder it was to succeed professionally and relationship-wise as a Black girl despite having the same CV and being the same person as before.
Eventually, she was hired as a waitress in a dirty restaurant in a ghetto area and got used to long commuting trips by bus and to be groped by the customers, mostly old Black men. She grew used to it and began expressing herself in Ebonic as she was told she was sounding too white. Eventually, she was lucky enough to be introduced to a nice guy, the son of one of the customers, a handsome Black guy, whom she started dating.
Soon enough she realised that was the best she could do and settled down with him. Her main worry now was having a sufficiently dark-skinned baby not to raise any suspicion about her true ethnicity. Luckily, her boyfriend was extremely dark-skinned so genetics would play its part and give her a pretty dark-skinned baby. At that point Kayla had completely accepted her new identity and had started to see her past life as a privileged white girl as an illusion.

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Becoming family

Liz was a stunningly beautiful girl, proud and confident. She defied the stereotype of the silly blonde and became a successful athlete and an excellent student. Her dream was to follow her father’s footsteps and to became an FBI agent.
Indeed, her father Greg was more than a simple agent as he was one of the top tier agents involved in the fight against drug trafficking and was close to deal a fatal blow to one of the main drug lords importing drugs to the USA: a ruthless Colombian man named Marco Gutierrez.
At a certain point, Marco felt he had little chances to escape his fate so he put all his energy into a plan to kidnap Liz. He waited until Greg was out on a mission and sent out his best thugs to get her.
He still had no specific plans about what to do with her once he got her but he was running out of time and that seemed to be the perfect occasion.
The girl was at home, following her online classes and was wearing headphones when the thugs broke into her house.

As soon as she realised what was going on, Liz grabbed a baseball bat and tried to show them that she was a brave girl and the worthy daughter of her father. The thugs however were not very impressed and easily overpowered her. They put her to sleep and took her with them heading to Colombia.
Meanwhile, the drug lord had perfected his plan and decided that she should marry his only son, Juan. In that way harming the Gutierrez clan would mean getting Greg’s daughter in serious trouble so the agent would stop any effort to uncover their illegal business and would instead be forced to divert the investigations away from them to save his daughter.
Marco agreed to this plan at one condition: the girl had to drastically change her appearance. He definitely wasn’t into blondes and to be more specific he wanted this girl to look like an exact replica of his ex-girlfriend, Ana. Marco thought it over and conceded that this would make it harder for the police to recognise her so he handed her over to a surgeon, a friend of him, who worked on Liz’s features to make her unrecognisable and to give her the required look.

The surgeon knew how powerful Marco was so he spared no efforts and had Juan’s ex kidnapped so that he could swap their hair, permanently removing Liz’s gorgeous blonde mane and transplanting Ana’s thick black wavy hair in its place. Then he measured Ana’s melanin production and tuned micro melanin stimulators to be surgically inserted in Liz’s body to permanently alter her natural skin tone. Finally he covered Liz’s blue irises with dark pigment and remodelled her facial features after Ana’s, until Liz looked exactly like Juan’s ex.
When Liz woke up after the surgeries she looked like a very different girl. Gone were her nordic features, replaced by tanned skin, black hair and eyes and different facial features. She looked unmistakably latina now. They even gave her a boob job to give her a curvier body shape, matching Ana’s.

Liz was devastated by her identity loss but wanted to put on a brave face and asked him what did they want from her now.
Marco explained the shocked girl that she had no reasons to worry as long as she obeyed them. She would be given a new role in life as the partner of Marco’s only son. “It’s a great honour, young lady, there are plenty of pretty Colombian girls lining in to be my daughter-in law. You can only imagine the prestige and wealth you will acquire. I had to sacrifice many good candidates to chose you, a gringa, but now your father and I will be family and I’m sure he’ll do anything in his power to prevent the FBI to destroy my empire. Obviously I had to adjust you to my son’s aesthetic preferences as you must have noticed. Also, you will receive a proper training to teach you how a young lady should properly behave around men.”
Liz struggled to accept the training given to her as her natural tendency was to be assertive and confident, as she was taught women should be. However, hours of forced demeaning behaviours combined with a mixture of hormones and aphrodisiacs given to her on a regular basis made it difficult to be rebellious. After a few weeks she eventually gave up and began feeling increasingly submissive around men.

Liz was eventually introduced to Juan, Marco’s son and her future partner. As soon as she saw him, her nipples became suddenly hard and she had to admit to herself that he was a total hunk. Even if she hated being so attracted to the son of her father’s worst enemy, she couldn’t resist him and quickly began undressing and caressing him.
Eventually, she managed to resist him and pushed him back after a sudden surge of pride. She was the proud daughter of an American FBI agent after all, not the Latina girlfriend of the son a of a Colombian drug lord!
Starting from that day, they increased the hormones and aphrodisiacs given to her as well as the intensity of the training sessions until she succumbed to them and gave up to the excitement.
The next time she saw Marco she jumped to his arms and began caressing him while moaning for the excitement. They kissed and make love while Marco caught everything on camera to have evidence that they were indeed a couple.

Liz found her new role to be extremely fulfilling and erotic and even got sexually aroused by the idea of having been turned into a dark-haired Latina to please her man. She crashed mentally and wanted to begin Spanish classes soon to play her role even better. She even took the Spanish name Ana after the girl whose appearance she was given. She did everything requested to her to give her father evidence that she was held captive and that he had to divert attention from the Gutierrez clan if he wanted to save her.
While the old Liz would have attempted escaping, Ana accepted her new role and put all her effort into looking good for her man. She spent lots of time getting her nails and hair done, getting tanned and buying luxurious dresses and jewels. Not that she ended up wearing them often as she spent pretty much all of her time with Juan in lingerie or naked. The sex was amazing and she would not give it up for anything on Earth. Greg was forced to save the Gutierrez’s clan and soon his daughter married Juan, taking the name of Ana Gutierrez and living her new life to the fullest!

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Egyptian holiday

Amy was a rich American girl in her early 20s on vacation in Egypt. It was a solo trip planned after breaking up with her boyfriend of 2 years. She needed a change of scenery to forget about her ex and possibly to meet somebody. She was from a very Christian family in rural Texas but became very superficial and arrogant growing up. In her eyes all that mattered was being attractive and confident, and she had the whole package.
She was casually strolling along the beach in a very crowded area wearing a skimpy black bikini to show off her toned body when an old local man who was sipping some tea in the shadow began complained about the lack of decency these foreigners were showing when visiting the country and addressed in his poor English: “You must show less skin! Women modest here!”.
“Get lost, old man!” – replied to him Amy – “I have no time to waste listening to you! You’re just envious women don’t look that good in this shithole country!” – needless to say, she was also quite racist. “I can’t stand these towel heads!” – she thought.
The old man, angry and humiliated, walked away cursing the young woman and headed to the nearest Mosque. There, he asked Allah to teach a lesson to that arrogant infidel woman, who showed no respect to the glorious country and people of Egypt.

The old man’s prayers were not unnoticed by the Almighty.
Amy kept on walking along the beach when she began feeling a little weird. Unnoticed by her, her hair turned brown and her skin tanned slightly. Her eyes also gained some pigment, becoming green. She still looked like a white girl but nobody would have recognised her for who she was. The curse was starting to have effect although she was still oblivious to it.
She thought she was just a little dehydrated so she sipped some water she had with her and laid down on the sand to have some rest. The dizziness waned a bit while a sense of fatigue took over her. She laid down on the sand and dozed off.
Meanwhile, the old man was still praying in the mosque. “In the Name of God, the Infinitely Good, the All-Merciful. Make this infidel woman one of our sister and take the arrogance and sinful nature away from her.”
While laying down, her skin tanned even further, until she was much more than she had ever been. Her hair darkened to a rich jet black color and curled up to become frizzy. Her eyebrows quickly darkened too to match her hair. Her tiny nose grew more pointy, giving her a distinctive Arab look. To complete the transformation, her green eyes became hazel, then brown and finally black and took a vaguely oriental shape, her lips became fuller while still looking natural.

Amy, now looking 100% Arab, woke up feeling much better and decided to walk back to her hotel. Still under the influence of an odd daze, she didn’t notice most of the changes occurred to her, she only realised how tanned she’d become, and thought “Wow, the sun is so strong down here! I’m going to look gorgeous with my new tan!”.
To complete his prayer, the old man added “Open her heart to the Quran and its language! Glorious is my Lord the most great!”. He stood up and left the Mosque, confident that his prayers were not left unanswered.

Indeed, the changes weren’t over yet though as Amy’s brain was beginning to replace her native English with Arabic, until she had the Arabic proficiency of a native speaker and only the basic English knowledge a local girl could have learned at school and from movies.
On her way back to the hotel, a group of young Egyptian men complimented her on her looks with whistles and loud comments.
“How dare they? Wait, were they talking in Arabic to me? How did I understand that?” – she thought, not realising that she was even thinking in Arabic now. As she regained more mental clarity she began noticing how her frizzy hair was tingling her shoulders. Initially she thought the sea humidity had affected her hair but when she grabbed it she was shocked at noticing how completely different it looked compared to her usual hair.
Freaking out, she rushed to her hotel, where the receptionist looked at her, surprised to see an Arab girl dressed like that. She entered her room and rushed to the bathroom to inspect herself.

She stared at herself in utter disbelief. Staring back at her was a complete stranger, a young woman with very distinctive Arab or North African features. Moving her head and body and seeing a brown girl’s reflection in the mirror moving accordingly was a surreal experience. She spent several minutes staring at her reflection without being able to utter a single word. She took her bikini off to inspect her intimate parts, to find that her aureolas had become dark brown and her pubic hair black and curly.
She was not only shocked by her identity having been stolen but also by the fact that she had been turned into one of the Arab women she used to look at with arrogance and prejudice.
“Kayf hadath hadha?” – she asked herself loudly- how did this happen? Hearing the harsh Arabic sounds coming out of her mouth instead of the smooth valley girl English accent she was accustomed to shocked her. She brought her brown hands to her mouth and tried to speak English again. “My English is corr… corrupted?” – she said, mortified at how thick her Arabic accent was. Great, she also sounded like a local now.
She tested her English knowledge and found it to be very limited. For many words she only knew the Arabic version now, to the point that she could only think in Arabic first and the translate in English later.

She slowly dressed up again and sat at the desk, without knowing what to do next. She noticed a copy of the Quran which was always present in hotel rooms in the Islamic country and felt compelled to open it randomly, just to distract herself from her situation. She suddenly realised she could even read the Arabic script now. Her dark eyes got caught by a very specific surah: “Indeed, Allah will not change the condition of a people until they change what is in themselves.” With a gasp she closed the Holy Book and thought “No, that can’t be possible! Dear God help me, I don’t want to become a Muslim!” She tried to recall any Christian prayer from her childhood but as she began to say one of them she realised that even those had been replaced by Surah from the Quran. In fact, everything she knew about Jesus now was from the Quran, where he was describes as Isa. Funny enough, for an all-American party girl like her, she had the knowledge of a practicing Muslim. She felt so violated even in her thoughts she felt like not much of her was left intact by this incredible curse.
She was still struggling to accept what was happening to her but she had to concede that something supernatural was going on. One does not change ethnicity naturally. Maybe Allah was indeed real and she had offended him with her behaviour.

She grabbed her curly hair and tried to think through her situation. She recalled the old man and realised he must have cursed her or something. She thought that maybe leaving the country would make the curse vanish, so she anticipated her return fight to that afternoon, put on some sporty gear and headed to the airport. In order to not get caught by the hotel receptionist, who had already looked suspiciously at her, she left most of her luggage in the hotel room and left with a light backpack.
At the airport, she tried to casually go though security showing her passport but as she now looked completely different from the picture, they rejected her and took away her passport, assuming it had been stolen. In fact, she was lucky they didn’t arrest her. Still, hesitation was very precarious. Stuck there with no documents and little money left, Amy sat in despair, wondering what to do next.
As the clothed had gotten dirty, she changed into the other outfit she had brought with her and took the subway back to the city, where she would figure out what to do.

On her way back from the airport, Amy noticed the old man who had cursed her from the subway window. She got off at the next stop and began searching for him. She finally managed to find him and told him “’ana alfatat fi albikini! aunzur madha hadath lay!” – I am the girl in bikini! Look what has happened to me!
The old man smiled and laconically commented that Allah is the best planner. As he was about to leave her there and walk away, she sat aside all her pride, went down on her knees and begged him to help her as she had lost her passport and was almost out of money. The old man felt sorry for her, told her to show up in the same place the day after at the same time, this time dressed in decent Islamic covering and he would see what he could do to help her out.
Mortified, Amy spent her last money on a coat covering her body shape and a headscarf and headed back to her hotel, where she spent the evening learning how to style it. Never in a million years she thought she would ever have to cover her hair with a headscarf.

Amy had to admit that now she could fit in much better with the local population as nobody would notice one more Arab girl dressed in an Islamic fashion.
The man was waiting for her at the same place as the day before.
She humbly bowed her head and told him, in Arabic: “I’m sorry for what I said. I’ll do as you wish, please help me!”
“I’m happy to see you have truly changed. Moreover, you look much more beautiful now. Now, I understand that you have no money or identity to support yourself here and obviously you can’t leave the country right now, so here’s what I can offer you. My son is struggling to find a woman, marry him, be a good Muslim wife and you we will provide for you. You will have a honest, decent life and won’t need to work.”
The perspective of being stuck in that body and becoming a housewife for life terrified her but she didn’t see any other way out. She learned to adapt to her new life and became a devout Muslim. She would always ask the Almighty to be able to accept her new life.

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