sissifyme220

“It’s a damn shame that Nichole girl called and cancelled her appointment. No worries, I’ll get my talons on her eventually. At least I have the rest of the day off just for me now.” Francesca commented about her recent cancellation as she was tidying up in her salon, The Queen’s Palace. Her last client had left, and the curvy drag queen wore a gauzy leopard print body suit over a black leather corset and matching pantie combo. Today she wore a fully teased long curly black wig, looking like a classic New Jersey stereotype. Her fake tan and heavy bronze and beige makeup with a Smokey eye complemented it, as much as makeup that heavy could complement it. She was just about to turn out the lights and lock up, when she spied a poor unfortunate soul just outside her shop’s front window. A short woman with auburn hair sipped a pumpkin spice latte while scrolling on her phone. Her long gray sweater, distressed jeans and Ugg boots showed off the unofficial uniform of that class of women Francesca despised the most: “Ugh, how many shades of basic can one bitch be?” she said aloud “Intervention time, sweetie.” As she walks to the front door an evil grin dominates her face and she thinks to herself, “This will be a much better way to spend my afternoon.” She reaches the front door and opens it dramatically, causing the woman out front to turn at the sound of jingling bells. Before she knows it, a large hand with 2-inch long curved acrylic nails wraps around her shoulder and turns her around. A truly Amazonian yet thicc drag queen stands there, smiling as though she’s just won first prize. “Good afternoon, sweet thing. I unfortunately just had a cancellation, and was wondering if you’d enjoy a complimentary blowout or restyling?” The unsuspecting 26-year-old had been scrolling on her phone and hadn’t even processed what this intimidating creature said to her before Frannie’s large arm was wrapped around her shoulder and turning her into the salon’s exterior. “What? No! I’ve got-“ “Other plans? Well I’m sure you can cancel or reschedule them, Sweetie.” Missy tried arguing, but found her hand in Frannie’s massive talon-tipped mitt. “Here, strike a few poses for me, honey.” As the large flamboyant woman spun her wrist, she released as Missy twirled in place several times stopping occasionally as her body struck several basic white girl Live Laugh Love poses worthy of Instagram. “Hmmmmmmm…just as I suspected. No flash, no pizzazz, no va-va-voom at all. Well have no fear, Frannie’s here!” “Why can’t I move?!” demanded the redhead whose hand was currently on her hip with her coffee held out in the other. “Because we’re just getting started, sweetie. I have a special talent of finding bland women and turning those poor unfortunate souls into stunning creatures of immense class, taste, and beauty!” As she talks, she shows an album filled with dozens of before and after photos. On the left side of the page, a fresh-faced young 20-something smiles in her new waitress uniform. Professional black slacks with a short-sleeved white button-up, black satin vest, and a black bow tie. Her black hair shines healthily in loose waves to her shoulders. On the right side of the page, a late-40s chubby cocktail waitress in a skintight gold dress is perched on matching 6 inch heels. She shows a lot of creamy thigh and her garter belt as her generous tits practically spill out of her top. Her makeup is heavy, and can’t hide the wrinkles around her eyes and lips, but the true masterpiece is her voluminous jet black bouffant. It looks like 3 of Elizabeth Taylor’s classic hairdo combined, and is set off by a tacky golden headband. Which matches her many gold bangles, hoop earrings, and a large gaudy necklace which rests in her soft, saggy cleavage. Frannie is standing beside her smiling widely, while the woman’s own smile is obviously plastered on (like her makeup), and does not reach her eyes. On the next page a scrawny brunette with glasses in frizzy hair wearing jeans and a fluffy sweater looks confused in the left photo. In the right photo a woman 10 years older and at least 40 pounds heavier stands in a bright pink sequined gown. Her brown and caramel highlighted hair swirls and twirls high above her head in a beehive while her chubby hands are clapped to her pudgy face in shock. She takes care not to stab her 2-inch long stiletto tipped nails into her heavily made up face. Her eyebrows are high and arched, her eyeshadow generously applied, and her lashes long and glittery. Her mouth is covered in several coats of lipstick and gloss, and is in a perfect O from shock. Missy feels sick in her stomach as she turns through pages of beautiful young women turned into older, chubby, gaudier caricatures of the women they were before meeting this crazed esthetician. A bride looking fresh-faced with a soft glam makeup and her honey blonde hair falling in soft curls down her back mirrors an older, more jaded looking woman whose melon-like tits are barely contained in a white rubber halter top. A matching micro skirt does nothing to contain her pudgy belly or massively swollen ass. A heavy Smokey eye covered in rhinestones attached to her eyelid and large butterfly like false lashes dominate her tired eyes. And several layers of makeup have been absolutely painted into her wrinkles and crows feet. A swirling platinum blonde bouffant that looks an ice cream cone rises from her head. A tacky tiara covered in rhinestones holds her veil several inches above her forehead, affixed in her beehive. Her mouth goes dry as Frannie turns to the last page, and Missy’s own photo is there. Sitting on the left side of the page, waiting for her own twisted after photo she stares at herself, the confusion and minor amusement completely gone from her real visage. “No no no no no no no no. I’m a teacher. I can’t look like those….women.” She swallows the last word she was going to say as Frannie was glaring at her. Not wanting to upset this clearly powerful character, she tries sweet talking instead. “What I mean to say is, you clearly are a mistress of your craft, and a…makeover like these would surely take up TOO MUCH of your valuable time. So please, don’t waste it on little old me.” Frannie pauses and looks at her thoughtfully. “Hmmmm…maybe you’re right.” She flicks a finger and Missy can move her own body again. She slowly adjusts her purse strap on her arm and takes a slow step toward the door. “Nahhhhhh! And while you may look a little older, there certainly won’t be anything LITTLE about you! You’re gonna look gorgeous when I get through!” She snaps her fingers and Missy begins spinning in place, faster and faster until she is only a blur. Frannie holds up a trash can as clothing flies from the mini tornado, and catches each item in the bin. A tunic, top, jeans, socks, shoes, even bra and panties land perfectly in the open metal canister. Frannie holds up a fluffy Terry cloth robe the size of a comforter, and throws it onto the spinning woman. Within seconds she comes to a halt, the robe perfectly wrapped and belted around her body. Frannie’s newest client sways unsteadily, her eyes unfocused. She watches dumbly as Frannie places the bin containing her outfit on the ground and snaps her fingers. Flames erupt from the can for a solid 5 seconds, and afterward, the inside looks shiny and brand new as though nothing had happened. Frannie takes her dizzy charge to the styling chair in the center of the salon and firmly seats her upon it. “Now the real fun begins, sweetie. Here, you look a little peckish. Have some snacks.” Frannie steps to the side, and suddenly, magically, several small tables are there, covered in doughnuts, bonbons, eclairs and chocolate covered fruits. Frannie hands her a glass of sweet sparkling wine as Missy takes a bonbon and tucks in. Moving behind her, Frannie lowers the chair to a reclining position. She gathers her long hair and grabs several bottles, adding them to the basin as she washes her new toy’s hair. As her fingers wash the auburn locks, she is pleased to feel it growing longer and thicker as the color fades from a dark vibrant red, to a pale yellow overdone blonde. She sneaks a peek at her client’s progress on the treats, and is pleased to see that nearly a whole tray of bonbons are gone gone, as well as half a dozen doughnuts. She can see that Missy’s face is already chubbier, a second chin obvious. And her breasts are clearly bigger too. If the robe weren’t so big and roomy, she would have a better idea of the fattening. But that’s part of the fun! The grand reveal at the end of the makeover. She turns off the water as she squeezes the excess from Missy’s long bleached locks. She uses several towels to dry her head, and opens a nearly endless bin of pink curlers. At first, rolling the hair tightly herself, she wiggles her fingers and the curlersbegin moving on their own and continue the pattern she’s started. Sneaking another glance at the snacks, she’s thrilled to watch Missy start on the second dozen of doughnuts, while alternating with chocolates from a large box of assorted cremes and nut clusters. “They never realize how much they’re packing away until they’re suddenly a lot more than they used to be” the devious beautician thinks to herself. She looks down fondly as her client is clearly in some kind of trance, stuffing her face on autopilot as Frannie’s magic prevents her from getting full, or noticing how much they’ve eaten. Soon enough Missy’s chubbier face is crowned by a tower of bottle blonde hair held together by dozens of plastic pink tubes. Frannie takes a bowl filled with a thick sticky green goo and liberally applies the mask to her new mentee’s face and chins. When she’s satisfied that she’s thoroughly applied the mud mask evenly, she places 2 cucumber slices on her eyes. Missy sighs contentedly, the salon’s magic having taken full effect and made her much more agreeable. As Frannie looks to the refreshments table, she sees that 2 lbs of fudge, 3 dozen doughnuts, and 2 dozen cannoli have been eaten. Currently a tray of 5 dozen raspberry jam thumbprint cookies are disappearing regularly into the now-jowly face of the (still-for-now) young teacher. Frannie lowers a giant chrome dome style hairdryer over Missy’s cranial curler tower. Considering her client’s limited movement, she moves a tray loaded with pastries in grasping distance. Turning on the heat, she steps back and watches the formerly resistant woman docilely stuffing her face as her hair is baked into a trashy blonde. Frannie shakes her head and realizes she shouldn’t waste time. Grabbing a nearby cart, she sits on a chair next to Missy and takes her left hand. Working quickly and efficiently, she creates 2-inch long acrylic stilletto nails and paints them turquoise. Just as she finishes her left hand, she sees that Missy is nearly finished with her current tray of treats. “Ooooh, she’s going to be so thicc!” Frannie squeals gleefully. She can see that Missy’s breasts have grown considerably, and are much jigglier than before. As she moves her supplies over to Missy’s right side, she brings out an angel food cake, a tub of clotted cream, and sliced strawberries. Taking a large bowl, Frannie tears the cake into chunks, then covers them all with the cream and strawberries. She places a spoon in Missy’s left hand and watches her begin to mindlessly shovel the strawberry shortcake into her double-chinned face. Frannie works quickly to make her right hand match her left, carefully adding the acrylic on each finger, then shaping it into the long rounded dagger shape, and painting them turquoise. She finishes and is cleaning up as the timer on her hair dryer dings. Frannie removes the empty trays of fattening foods and raises the hood. She gently shakes Missy awake. “Hey Baby, you’re looking good. But it’s time to wash off your mask, and then we’ll brighten up your tan.” The disoriented client tries standing, and struggles. She blames it on having been asleep, not realizing that she now carries an extra 75 pounds. Frannie’s eyes pop at her thicc thighs, bulging belly, and titanic tits and ass. She gently presses her shoulders to keep Missy from standing just yet, and runs a salon cloth under the hot water. Excitedly she begins wiping away the magic mud to reveal a much more mature face than previously. Light wrinkles crease her forehead and around her eyes. Several sets of crows feet being evident. Missy’s skin seems to sag more, and lines around her lips and her double chin give her the appearance of having aged 20-30 years. Keeping her excitement at bay, she guides her new charge to a tanning bed, wrapping a dark towel around her head and spinning Missy in place. As before with her clothing, the robe flies off as Frannie throws a bikini (scandalously tiny at her new bulging beauty body). Several seconds later, a dizzy Missy doesn’t have enough time to take in her full body before Frannie shoves a pair of goggles on her eyes and guides her to the tanning bed. “Hey! What’s going on now?” She finally finds her voice as she attempts to process what is happening to her. “The last thing I remember was sitting down and you washing my hair…..” “Oh honey, worry not, your makeover is coming along SPLENDIDLY!” Frannie’s voice purrs in delight as she pulls a large tanning glove on her right hand, and opens a bottle of tanning cream with her left. She squirts a large glob of the thick brown liquid onto the glove, then immediately slathers the dark goo into her charge’s skin. Suddenly, Melissa’s head clears and she remembers everything. As she tries to run, Frannie snaps her fingers again, magically immobilizing her in place while she continues costing her in the tan accelerator. “Just think of me as your fairy drag mother, sweetie. And we can’t just quit halfway through. Now come on, your fabulous new self is nearly finished.” “Why is my vision blurry? What happened to my contacts?” “Oh, uh….” Frannie looks around and sees a pair of chunky white plastic cat eye glasses on the counter. “I remember you taking them out before we did your hair, they must be around here somewhere. I’ll look for them while you bake.” Frannie was lying, as she knew that her makeover magic had provided the tacky new eyewear for Missy. Things like that tended to happen during her makeover sessions. Frannie pressed a few buttons on the bed and slipped on a pair of sunglasses with leopard print frames. A blinding flash that temporarily flipped the entire world into film negative erupted from the opening of the bed, and ended just as abruptly. Frannie whips open the lid and grabs the flabby arm of her latest project. Missy despairs as she tries to make sense of the fact that her skin’s tone has shifted to a simultaneously dark golden brown/bright orange. Frannie pulls her to her feet and back to the styling chair. “Just a few more minutes, hon. Only your hair and makeup left, and then we’ll get you into something more….fitting (she laughs coursely) for the new you.” Missy is spun in the chair one last time as the curlers all fly from her massive cloud of bright yellow hair. Welll…mostly. Her dark roots are evident and there are spots where the blonde isn’t quite as bright as others. Before her victim, er, client can see anything, she gestures as a curtain draws itself across the mirror. “Don’t want to ruin the surprise, dearie.” Frannie’s arms move in a blur as Missy’s head is yanked and pulled as the sassy stylist lifts and sprays, teases and blasts her head with somehow multiple cans of hair spray at once, but somehow never ceasing the rest of her actions. Soon, Missy feels the tugging cease, and the perpetual cloud of hairspray clears. Frannie takes a step back and gleefully claps her hands. She walks around you in a full circle, primping and patting stray hairs into place. “Oh, my love, you’re going to love your new look.” “Fat chance” Missy mutters as she gazes down at her corpulent new form that’s dyed orange and holds back tears. She gently pokes her much larger, squishier belly and shifts on the giant cushions Frannie must have put on the chair before she sat down. Frannie wastes no time as she opens a cabinet that is filled from floor to ceiling with makeup. Tubes of lipstick and mascara, dozens of eyeshadow and makeup palettes, lip kits, fake lashes, and more stock the shelves as Frannie begins grabbing products and stacking them on the counter by Missy. When she seems satisfied with her choices, she returns to her fretting client and takes her chins in one hand, turning Missy’s fatter, more mature face in various angles to form her plan of attack. Missy feels a thick warm substance being spread on hee forehead above both of her eyes, then 2 quick yanks and her eyebrows disappear completely. Frannie holds up the two strips showing the perfectly shaped eyebrows that no longer adorn Missy’s face. “It’s much easier to draw them in!” Without another word, she begins spreading a thick foundation on her new leathery orange skin. Francesca’s grin turns manic as she smooths a heavy layer of pale foundation, concealer and pressed powder onto the chubby face of her client. She repeats this to make sure that her ‘canvas’ is completely blank then begins contouring and adding blusher. She draws 2 pencil thin arches high on her forehead, giving a perpetually surprised expression to the chunky bimbo. She fills in the empty space with several shades of eyeshadow and thick eyeliner coming out to a cats eye. Frannie takes 3 pairs of fake lashes and glued them together, attaching them to her right eye. She then repeats for the other eye and moves onto her lips. Frannie takes a large syringe from nowhere and stands like a mad scientist, squirting liquid from the needle. She plunges it 4 times into Missy’s lips, 2 in each. Watching the lips inflate, Frannie slathers dark contour and blinding white contour around Missy’s face. As she blends the cakey makeup, the crows feet and slight wrinkles deepen and are made more obvious. Heavy blusher comes next in wide swaths, then returning to her lips, she overdraws the already pouty smoochers with dark lip liner then fills them in with a shockingly bright red. As she slathers on lip gloss, Missy feels her lips plumping further as Frannie chatters. “I just love this shade, it’s called Cheap Tramp. Kinda fitting.” *She chuckles as she steps back to survey her finished work. Missy can only sit in silent dread as she watches a jubilant grin dominate Frannie’s chubby face. Her multiple chins jiggle with excitement as she grabs a large powder puff and sets the grotesque mask of makeup by smacking the powder puff over and over sending up a large cloud of dust. Missy’s vision is totally obscured, and the sandstorm-like cloud sets her coughing. Frannie uses the distraction to spin the chair one last time. She spies a pile of clothing that had not been there moments before, and throws them at the spinning powder cloud. A similar pile of cheap, tacky jewelry has appeared beside the glasses as well, all of which are tossed into the magical spinning vortex that’s finalizing Missy’s horrendous slutty makeover. Her coughing increases, and the longer she continues hacking, the lower and huskier her voice becomes. As the cloud slowly dissipates, Frannie positions a wide mirror and readies her camera. The fat of her upper arm wobbles as she reaches out and smacks her latest creation on her backside, just above her gelatinous ass, finally stopping her spinning. She snaps several pictures as the poor unfortunate soul sees her new self for the first time. Shock, confusion and despair fight for dominance as she stares at her sky high bleached blonde hair teased out into a flip. She sees the uneven dark roots, the massive bangs, and moves down to her newly tattooed eyebrows. She gets right up to the mirror as she bemoans her new wrinkles and fat face, covered in enough makeup for 2 drag queens. The thick cocksucker lips, the giant fake gold hoops, and matching faux gold necklace that now proclaims her as Mitzi. Her leathery orange skin and chunky bingo wings wobble as she notices her HH jugs that replaced her sensible C cups. Through the thin leopard print halter top (with no bra) that barely keeps her titanic tits in place the outlines of nipple piercings are clearly evident. She nearly scratches her face as her trashy talons fly to her face. Her exposed jelly belly and muffin top continue down to a pair of turquoise stretch capris, and the exposed whale tail of a lacy red thong. Several bangles and anklets jangle from her left wrist and right ankle respectively. When she realizes she’s perched on 5 inch lucite stripper heels with a 2-inch platform, she turns around and tries to deny that this older, fatter, sluttier woman is her. One last wail erupts from her throat when she sees her massive dumptruck sticking out behind her, and the tramp stamp right above it that reads Trailer Park Queen in a flowing attempt at “fancy calligraphy.” “No no no no no no no no no” the new trailer park resident repeated. “Oh yes yes yes yes yes yes yes, sweetie.” Says Frannie as she steps up and shows Mitzi the album with her after photo now on the right side of the page. The young redhead from the before photo a distant memory. “But I can‘t look like this! I’m…” “A teacher. I know. Well, not anymore. Not exactly. I have a feeling you’ll be teaching a different sort of education on now.” Frannie opens a large turquoise clutch with Mitzi’s new ID showing her as a resident of Happy Acres Mobile Home Court. A foldout photo book shows 2 photos of her with different young men that looked just old enough to not be minors. In each photo they smile dopily as she leers into the camera. Another photo shows Mitzi wearing a scandalously revealing minidress at a cosmetology school graduation, and a fourth with Mitzi standing beside another trashy woman outside her pink trailer with a sign proclaiming it her beauty parlor’s grand opening. New memories flood Mitzi’s skull, but the old ones remain as well. After a minute, the part of her brain that was Missy is still there, but trapped within a consciousness, Mitzi, that seems to be appreciating her new look. She trembles as her new voice purrs out, “Oooh thanks for fitting me in today, Frannie. You know how it is for us, we pamper everyone else and sometimes need it too. You do fabulous work! Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a new client coming in 45 minutes, and Freddie Johnson showing up 30 minutes after that to, ahem, check my pipes.” The two laugh knowingly as Frannie hugs her new friend close and then says goodbye with a cheeky slap to her ass. EPILOGUE: 5 DAYS LATER “Hey, Chrystal, right?” “Um, no, Christine actually.” The college grad had just moved into Happy Acres as a temporary solution until she was able to save enough for a decent apartment. “I’m starting at Houghton, Pennington, and Byles as a paralegal next week and want to smarten up a bit.” Mitzi guffaws as she looks at the skinny brunette with modest curves wearing just eyeliner and concealer and replies, “Well honey, you must be pretty smart enough to work there. A WHOLE LOT smarter than most folks around here. But don’t worry, Chrystal, I’m sure you’ll fit right in before too long. In fact, I’ll guarantee it!” Christine gulps as Mitzi’s long nails grab her arm and pull her up into the glaringly pink trailer that smells of bleach and perm solution. The next 20 minutes pass in a blur as Christine finds herself drifting off under a dome hairdryer, her head coated in foils of all colors, adding streaks throughout her long formerly healthy hair. A tray of purple rollers waiting nearby for the next step of Christine, er, Chrystal’s makeover. Mitzi smiles as she looks at the clock and walks to the door to let Tommy in. He hasn’t even bothered to bring his tools as a pretense and smiles wolfishly at the sexier older woman who promised to teach him what he really needs to know to be a man. “Is she….?” “Completely asleep and not a problem for at least the next….20 minutes. Come on, stop staring. You can have fun with little Miss Chrystal in a few weeks when she’s fired from that legal job and sucking dicks here in the court. I might make her my own little assistant too if I like her enough.” Mitzi walks to the back and drops her hot pink miniskirt to the ground, showing off a metallic blue zebra pair of panties that cover almost none of her dimpled ass. “Now come on, big boy. Class is in session and I’ve got A LOT to teach you.” Mitzi watched lewdly as the young stud swaggered toward the back of the trailer, and thought she heard a distance voice screaming, but then shook her head dismissing it.

Eufauxria is Born “Alright, so I’ve got all the material I need for my next cosplay. Now I just need some LEDs and foamcore to start molding the headpiece...” Amber was an adorably nerdy girl who loved making her own costumes for conventions. The self-described geek was distractedly thinking about her next piece of wearable art as she left the craft store and ran smack into a large sparkly green wall. The impact made her drop her fabric and knocked the glasses from her face. She dropped to her knees and was feeling for her spectacles when she felt a tapping on her shoulder. A large blurry hand with long green nails was holding out her glasses to her. Amber took them and returned them to their rightful place atop her nose as the hand engulfed her own, and pulled her easily to her feet as though she weighed no more than a rag doll. “Are you ok, sweetie? It looks like you went down hard.” A low husky voice purred from the large woman she had run into. Well, maybe not a genetic woman, but this drag queen had curves for days. Her large frame was corseted, girdled, and practically poured into a shimmery, rhinestone and sequin-covered green dress that brought to mind mermaid scales and matched her 2-inch long curved claw-like nails. Her face was made up heavily in shades of gold and brown. Her plump chocolate lips pursed in amusement while her gold shaded eyes and pencil-thin eyebrows narrowed as she took in the girl with the piles of fabric. “I’m f-fine.” Amber sputtered, driven speechless by the sheer amount of glamour and EXTRA standing in front of her. “Um, th-thank you.....?” She paused waiting... “Francesca. Francesca Sugarlips” she held the s at the end and made a kissing sound as she stared Amber up and down, her expression becoming slightly devious. Amber thought of Ursula the sea witch right before Ariel signed the contract. Amber wasn’t quite sure what to say as she stood there mouth agape. “Well aren’t you...sweet...” the large glamorous queen said as she took in Amber’s baggy jeans, bulky long-sleeved shirt, and lack of makeup beneath her glasses. The way she said the word ‘sweet’ sounded like the way southerners say ‘bless your heart.’ “...and you, darling, need some help.” She patted her highly teased blonde bouffant with one hand as she clamped the other around Amber’s wrist, “It looks like we’ve both got a project to work on today.” Before Amber could object, she was being dragged along by the steel grip of this living force of nature. Within seconds Francesca had marched/dragged her down past several storefronts to one that Amber had never noticed before, The Queen’s Palace. “I believe the world needs more glamour in it, so I have made it my life’s mission to find those who need some...pizzazz in their sad boring lives.” Francesca crossed the salon and struck a ta-da pose. Amber stood transfixed as she took in the interior of the salon. A single old-fashioned beautician’s chair sat in the middle w/ a classic “silver bullet” chrome dome hair dryer. The walls were painted a bright fuschia w/accents of gold and animal print. The design style flirted with the line between glamorous and gaudy, and Amber felt a slight panic as she tried to politely make her exit. “I really should be going, I don’t have...” Suddenly, the queen-sized Queen was standing right beside her again. Amber wasn’t sure how she had crossed the distance so quickly, she must have blinked. But surely she would have heard the click clack of Francesca’s high heels on the white and teal tiled floor. She shook her head as Francesca took the bag from the craft store from her and placed the fabric on a nearby chair. She gave Amber a look like the cat who caught the canary and drew her tight against her jiggling cleavage as she giggled (only slightly evilly), “You’re gonna look gorgeous when I get through.” There was a tap on her forehead as she saw Francesca was now holding a slender wooden stick like a conductor’s baton. Amber realized that maybe the easiest way out of this would be to just let the crazy queen give her a makeover and get out of here. She was yanked from her thoughts as she was literally yanked to a small changing area where Francesca handed her a luxuriously soft bubble gum pink robe. Francesca twirled her in a circle, causing her head to spin. When she regained her balance, she was wearing the robe and all of her clothing (including underwear!) were folded in a neat pile. “Now we can get rid of those...unfortunate garments” Francesca sneered, no longer trying to hide her disgust at the blah garments. A nearby garbage can’s lid raised as the clothing landed nearly inside. A second later, flames came out of the garbage can and died just as quickly. Amber shrieked in surprise and ran to the trash can, but it was sparkling clean and empty as though it were brand new. “Now come along, darling, we’ve a lot of work to do.” Francesca guided her to the beautician’s chair and Amber sat down, surprisingly calm. “Such gorgeous hair, it’s a pity you haven’t taken the time to style it to its full potential.” The chair reclined and Amber’s head was laid in a sink as she heard water turn on and felt Francesca’s long nails moving through her hair, shampooing and conditioning her long brunette tresses before turning off the water again and towel drying her hair. As Amber lay there, her glamorous captor went on “Too many women today deprive themselves of the fully glamorous feminine life, and I think that’s a terrible practice which needs correcting. After your makeover today, you’ll never want to go back to your boring old self.” Francesca picked up a pink curler and rolled Amber’s hair onto it. “I know you’re already a curly girly, but better safe than sorry.” She continued rolling Amber’s hair tightly, and after a few minutes walked away. The strange thing was that it still felt like rollers were being put into her hair. She turned her head to see what Francesca was doing, and felt a sharp tug at her hair as another curler was rolled onto her head. Francesca smiled from across the room seeing Amber’s confusion and walked back slowly carrying a bowl of thick green goop. “Just think of me as your Fairy Drag Mother” Francesca laughed deeply and started thickly applying the green mud to Amber’s face. She covered all the way from her hairline to the bottom of her neck, finishing just as Amber felt the last curler roll onto her head. “Now you look like you’re on the right path to a more glamorous existence. Francesca holds up a large square handheld mirror that previously had not existed and hands it to Amber. A slightly different reflection stares back. Of course her hair isn’t normally in curlers, nor does she walk around in green face; however her expression shows a much more relaxed, and a playful almost mischievous grin reflected back. She realizes that she’s enjoying being pampered, and is having trouble remembering why she was so upset before.... “A little treat during your treat, my dear.” Francesca holds out a tray covered w/ pastries, bonbons, tarts, and other sweet delicacies. She holds a dark chocolate bonbon up to Amber’s mouth “They’re simply divine.” Amber eats the proffered chocolate and her mouth is filled with the most sumptuous rich velvety chocolate flavor. A spike of pure seratonin releases into her brain as Francesca chuckles lovingly and places the tray (which is roughly the size of a car tire) on a small table that magically appears just as Francesca let’s go of it. Amber grabs a chocolate covered strawberry as Francesca partially reclines the chair and takes Amber’s left hand in her own. “Lay back and nosh while the mask dries and I do your nails.” Francesca partially reclines the chair while making sure the tray is within easy reach. Amber feels her hand being massaged, exfoliated, and lotioned before she feels her individual fingernails being worked on. In less than a minute Francesca’s exquisitely-contoured visage appeared beside Amber’s own face. “Other hand now, sweetie.” She snaps her fingers and the half-eaten peanut butter creme filled doughnut that was in Amber’s right hand is now in her left, being held by long fuschia talons identical to Francesca’s in all but color. She takes another bite of the thick sweet dessert and marvels at her new nails. “But how did you” “And done!” Francesca declares as she raises Amber’s right hand that now sports a matching set of 2-inch-long bright fuschia acrylics. “I see you’ve enjoyed those goodies” Francesca says with a meaningful look at the dessert tray. Amber looks down and is shocked to see that the platter which had been filled with towers of danish and bouquets of bonbons was now completely empty save for a few chocolate-covered cherries. “They’ve certainly done wonders for your figure.” Before Amber could decipher what Francesca meant by that, her chair was fully reclined once more. She saw Francesca’s own claws coming towards her face and felt them start to pick away at the edge of the now-dried mudpack. With one swift yank, the entire mask came away from Amber’s face and was promptly thrown into a nearby trash bin. Francesca’s own face was a mask of glee as she started removing the curlers “Oh this color looks wonderful, and there’s much more body to your mane now. No frizz either.” Amber could feel the curlers continue to be removed even though her self-proclaimed Fairy Drag Mother was once again across the parlor. This time she was looking at a rack of sparkly evening gowns. She proclaimed one to be perfect; however, her curvaceous form hid the satisfying garment from view. Immediately she was back beside Amber removing the curlers herself. “And that’s the last one!” Francesca exclaimed excitedly as she placed a pink plastic curled onto another tray and pulled over a cart filled w/ brushes, hairspray, styling wands, and more. Amber felt her hair being pulled, tugged, sprayed, and teased into place as her head was moved roughly by large yet loving hands. She felt the tugging and back combing continue as Francesca moved in front of her once more and opened a small Kaboodle that unfolded, and unfolded, and continued growing and unfolding and expanding until there was a large turquoise and silver vanity. Francesca selected a container of liquid foundation and dipped what looked like a small paintbrush inside. “Now close your eyes, dearie.” She instructed as she started “painting” Amber’s face w/ the thick, spackle-like base. Within seconds Amber felt a tugging around her eyebrow area, followed by her lashes. She felt the thick “painting” continue slowly down her face, followed by a flurry of brushes on her eyelids, cheeks, and nose as the foundation was slowly but meticulously spread all the way down her neck. Amber’s sleepy contentment was slowly wearing off as she felt her makeover coming to a finish. Her hair was being tugged less and less, and was currently being assaulted by an unending mist of hair spray. She felt unseen hands push and primp the hair into place as she felt the hundreds of invisible makeup brushes slowly diminish until she opened her eyes and Francesca was using a large powder brush to remove any fallout from her face. Francesca puts a hand to her generous chest as she chokes back an imaginary tear. “Oh, sweetie, you look SO much better now!” She leans forward and purses her large glittery lips and plants a cartoonishly loud smack on Amber’s own lips. Amber is stunned and she blushes, a warm feeling beginning in her lips and spreading throughout her face. She looks down and expects Francesca to hold up a mirror, but instead she grabs her by the wrist once more and pulls her up from the chair. As Amber looks about for any reflective surface, she is dragged across the room to the rack of dresses. Francesca holds up a sparkling fuschia dress that looks much too big for Amber. Francesca spins Amber in a circle again and this time the robe is left neatly folded in a circle, and she is left standing in a bra, pair of panties, corset, girdle, garter belt, and stockings. Francesca bends over and fiddles with the stockings, “Got to make sure those seams are always straight.” She stands back up and spins Amber once more, and the sequined dress is now adorning her. Amber waits for the room to stop spinning, and she finally comes fully to her sense for the first time since stepping into this magical transformation palace. As the temporary vertigo fades, Francesca pulls Amber in front of a large wall-length mirror that had not existed until this moment. Amber’s eyes go wide in shock as she takes in the stranger before her. Where before there had been a mousy brunette w/ baggy clothing and frizzy hair now stood a glamorous over-the-top curvy Queen! Her brunette hair was no longer frizzy, but swirled up and away from her head in a towering bouffant filled with caramel and honey highlights. Her face was absolutely SLATHERED in makeup. Her bushy eyebrows had been reduced to pencil thin lines that rested above eyes that positively glowed w/ neon green eyeshadow and butterfly-like lashes. Amber could swear that she felt a small breeze ever time she closed and opened her eyebrows. Her lips felt thicker and certainly looked bigger under their coating of bubblegum pink lipstick that sparkled w/ glitter specks. Bright pink blush irradiated her chubby cheeks and the contouring of her face made her look elegant and a little older. It also helped draw attention away from her double chin. “Wait, double chin?!” She brought her hands to her face and shrieked as she saw that 40 lbs. had added themselves mostly to her boobs, butt and thighs, w/ a small tummy pooching the front of her dress. “I told you those goodies did wonders for your figure. You look much better now than you ever did before, darling. You came in Amber, but you shall leave as my new daughter, Eufauxria! Trust me, doll, it’s for your own good.” “But...but what will Nichole think?” “Nichole....?” Francesca asked questioningly while raising an eyebrow in interest.