Game 2Game 2 Outline| Game 2 |
Game 2 Outline |
At the woman's command, you sit down at a makeup table and mirror next to the closet, carefully straightening your skirt and petticoats as you do so. You are surprised to find that you somehow know exactly which color lipstick to apply and how to carefully put on your mascara, eye shadow, and blush. Moving your blonde hair aside, you pin on a pair of small red earrings. You place the blue cowgirl hat on your head to complete the job.
You stand up and walk over to a full-length mirror to see what you look like. What you see in the mirror leaves you feeling somewhat silly, and strangely aroused, at the same time. Looking at you is a beautiful young girl of maybe about 21 years of age. You look at the girl's gorgeous blue eyes, her blood red lips, and her very attractive and well-developed breasts. You go down to her shapely legs which seem to disappear into a cloud of fluff as they go up under her petticoats. She has a pair of white boots on that make her look slightly taller than her actual 5'6" height.
As you stare, a chill comes over you. "That's ME in the mirror," you think to yourself. "How could this happen?"
Along with your sudden knowledge of how to use makeup, you find that other memories have been implanted in your mind as well. You now know that the woman in the childish looking dress is named Brittany, and she is your owner. She's taking you to a game where you'll cheer on the local football team.
"Let's get in the car, Barbie!" Brittany calls to you from somewhere on the other side of the house.
Against your will, your body starts to walk out of the bedroom. You've never been in this house before, but you have no problem making your way out the front door and to the driveway.
That's when things get even stranger . . . and more humiliating.
People from neighboring houses stare at you and Brittany as you get into Brittany's red convertible. A middle-aged woman across the street glares at you and Brittany in disapproval. A young jogger in his late 20s slows his pace and takes a glance at your legs and short petticoated skirt. "I'll bet he's aroused by seeing me in this dress," you think to yourself, your face feeling warm with embarrassment.
Written by an anonymous author
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