Chapter 2: Building Tension
I shook my head, trying to remove the grogginess from my mind as I turned off my morning alarm clock. Why was my head hurting so badly? I'd had a single class of wine last night while reading Pride and Prejudice. It wasn't as if I'd downed a bottle.
I rubbed my temples, stretching out the cricks from my neck. I sat up in my bed slowly, wishing I had a few more hours to sleep before the start of my workday. Alas, the job of a judge gave little room for time off. The weekend was approaching anyhow, I thought, so even if today proved to be a particularly difficult Friday, I'd always have the weekend to recharge.
I stood, making my way to the bathroom to freshen up before starting the day with a cup of hot tea. As I entered the bathroom my eyes met the mirror's gaze, I couldn't help but notice something was amiss. My hair was no longer entirely its original dark brown hue, but now, it appeared to have prominent golden blonde highlights.
These were not visible yesterday, I thought, perplexed. How did this happen overnight?
I shrugged, washing my face with cold water, drying it with a white hand towel.
Maybe I'd been so exhausted last night that I didn't notice the highlights before bed. Though, of course, that didn't make any sense either, but fatigue could be a strange and convincing illusionist, after all, and ultimately I simply didn't have the time to spend all morning fussing over my hair.
Speaking of fatigue, however- looked at my face more closely in the mirror. I'd always thought my eyes were one of my best features; they were deep brown and framed by long, dark lashes. However, they now seemed a bit glossy and dull - unfocused in a way that made me think of someone who had a very late night, except I knew that wasn't the case.
I sighed and scrutinized my appearance more closely. Had I really gone to bed in this outfit? I normally slept in quite conservative pajamas, long cotton pants and a large baggy t shirt. I didn't think I even owned any sleepwear aside from that, but I quite clearly wasn't wearing that anymore.
Instead, I was dressed in a tiny camisole and shorts set I didn't recognize. It looked expensive, and the top in particular left little to the imagination. I blushed at the thought of answering my door in this outfit if someone were to come calling.
I peered at the outfit, looking down as it clung to my skin. It seemed quite expensive. Admittedly, I earned quite a high salary working as a judge, but I would never spend my money on something like this.
For one, I didn't have time for frivolity. Plus, even if I had- I was by no means the flashy or revealing type, given my reserved nature. No, this was not something I would ever choose to buy, let alone sleep in.
I decided it might be best to get into my shower and continue my morning routine. My movements felt slower than usual, and my brain seemed to be functioning in a dense fog, which didn't help the headache that was still pulsating through my temples. Regardless, though, I pushed through and pulled out of my strange outfit, noticing another small change as I did so.
I had a belly button piercing, and a small tattoo sat on my lower left hip.
This doesn't make any sense, I thought. I didn't have any piercings or tattoos. I never would. I was far too practical and level-headed for those types of superfluous things. And yet, there it was, staring back at me from the foggy mirror. Looking closer, I studied the new ink that was etched onto my skin. I wasn't particularly fond the design either.
It was a small, cartoonish heart, with the words "Daddy's Girl" written in looping, cursive letters above it. I had never called anyone Daddy in that way, and certainly not in any sort of romantic or sexual context. I never even had a boyfriend, for Christ's sake.
I stood there, staring at my new body art and feeling a shudder of disgust roll down my spine. I didn't want this, but I didn't know how to make it go away. It was so trashy.
Why the hell would I get something like that branded on my body? I couldn't help but feel a mix of anger and disappointment at this strange turn of events. I didn't want to be seen in public in this state, but I knew I couldn't call in sick to work. I spent too much time and energy climbing up the judicial ladder to let a little thing like a bizarre, uncharacteristic appearance keep me from my job.
So, I took a deep breath, and made my way to the shower.
The hot water felt so good on my aching body. I closed my eyes and tried to ignore the pain in my head. Finally, I began to let go and relax myself. As my shower went on, eventually, I made my way down to my "private area" as I liked to think of it, when I noticed something that I had somehow looked over when I was looking at my body earlier, my vagina was completely shaven.
I frowned, I never shaved my vagina, not only did I find it uncomfortable but I never saw the point of it. I wasn't ashamed of my body hair, and besides, my partners never complained. So why would I choose to do it now, and in the middle of workweek? "What's wrong with my pussy?" I asked out loud before immediately covering my mouth. I never used that word.
It felt crude and objectifying. But suddenly, it felt like the only adequate term to describe the feeling of my freshly shorn pubic area. I was shocked. What had happened to me? I rolled the word around in my head a few times. Pussy. Pussy. Maybe it isn't so bad, I thought.
I had never allowed myself to speak so crudely before, but it was kind of a turn-on. I felt a warm tingle spread through my body and settle between my legs. I closed my eyes, tilting my head back as I let the feeling wash over me. It was unexpected, but I couldn't deny how good it felt.
I let my soapy hands wander over my body as I stood under the spray of water. Slowly, they made their way back to what I had recently taken to calling my pussy, where they felt a wetness that had nothing to do with the shower.
I couldn't believe what was happening to me, and yet, I couldn't bring myself to stop my wandering fingers.
I let out a soft moan as I touched myself, sliding my fingers over my clit and feeling the pleasure build inside me. I'd never done anything like this before, but I couldn't deny how much I was enjoying it. My body was responding to my touch in a way it never had before.
I couldn't believe the way I was feeling, and yet, I couldn't deny the pleasure that was building up inside of me. I leaned back further against the tile of the shower, letting the water cascade down my body as I continued to touch myself.
"Oh God," I gasped, feeling the waves of pleasure wash over me. I had never spoken like that before, and yet the words seemed to slip out of me so easily.
I was becoming more and more lost in the feeling, and it wasn't long before I felt myself on the brink of release.
I closed my eyes, letting out a soft moan as I surrendered to the feeling.
My fingers moved faster and faster over my clit, and I could feel myself getting closer and closer to the edge. I wanted to hold back, to make the feeling last as long as possible, but I couldn't. It was too much, too intense.
With a cry, I came hard, my entire body shuddering with pleasure as the waves of orgasm washed over me. I had never felt anything like this before, and I couldn't believe how good it felt.
But as I came down from my high, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt and shame. It wasn't like I'd never touched myself before. I was a 24 year old woman, of course I had, but previously, masturbation had never really done much for me.
I recalled thinking that it just didn’t feel all that great, and so I had never put too much effort into it.
But that- that was different. Before I had time to ponder this new development though, I realized that I needed to finish getting ready for work. For the most part, the remainder of my morning routine was thankfully unchanged, and I was happy that there seemed to be no further alterations made to my body or my surroundings... until, that is, it was time for me to get dressed.
As I pulled out clothes from my closet, the first thing I noticed was that my usually neat and organized space had been transformed into a jumbled mess. Now, instead of meticulously arranged suits, I saw an array of plunging mini-dresses, tight skirts, and high heels.
I scoffed, shaking my head in disbelief as I struggled to make sense of this strange development.
"What kind of a joke is this?" I muttered to myself, riffling through the clothes. Not a single suit or blouse remained. Instead, I saw a rainbow of revealing outfits that I had never purchased, let alone worn.
I picked up a red dress with a deep V-neck and barely-there skirt, turning it over in my hands as I tried to reconcile this new reality with the one I knew to be true. After looking for nearly another 15 minutes, I was finally able to find something that I could barely consider suitable for work.
The outfit was still more revealing than what I was used to, a fitted pink blazer, tight black pencil skirt, and a black blouse with a plunging neckline, but I didn't have any other options.
I sighed, shaking my head as I prepared to get dressed. Before putting on my outfit, however, I had to put on underwear, which was where I was met with another surprise.
Instead of my usual cotton briefs, I found a lacy, barely-there pink thong. I held it up in disgust, unable to believe what I was seeing.
As I reluctantly slipped it on, I noticed that the material felt strange against my skin. It was like nothing I had ever felt before. It was soft and silky, but it also felt like it wasn't really there at all. I realized with a shock that the thong was made of sheer lace. Ugh, I hated this. Now it was time for the bra.
Of course, I would have loved to have worn my plain old comfort and support style brown bra but, OF COURSE, that was no longer an option.
In its place I found a lacy, pink, push-up bra that looked more like it belonged on a stripper pole than at my judge's chambers. This couldn't be happening. Was this really me, Marissa Thompson?
I shook my head and let out a sigh. "Come on Marissa, just get through today, get through today and you can figure out what's going on later" I whispered to myself. Putting on the bra as well as the rest of my outfit, I took one last look at myself before I left.
My long, dark hair was still styled with blonde highlights, my eyes slightly glazed over, a lingering result of my previous activities in the shower. I looked at the new clothing that hung off my slender frame. The black pencil skirt, fitted pink blazer, and black blouse with its plunging neckline would have been bad enough by themselves, but the pink push up bra made the ensemble even worse. You could see the tops of the lace peeking above the neckline, and it made my breasts look much fuller and more voluptuous than they normally did. I looked, and felt, absolutely ridiculous.
I didn't want to be seen in public like this, but I knew I couldn't just call in sick to work.
I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders, trying to push the doubts and worries out of my mind.
It didn't matter what I looked like right now. I had a job to do, and I was determined to do it to the best of my ability.
I made my way out of my room apartment, careful to avoid seeing any my neighbors, dreading what I would have to do if I did.
For now, though, I had to focus on getting through the day.
I descended the stairs of my apartment complex, feeling an unfamiliar bounce and sway in my hips as I walked. The high heels I'd been forced to wear were much higher than anything I normally kept in my closet, forcing me to take small, mincing steps that resulted in my body moving this way.
I felt self-conscious and exposed, the short skirt I wore riding high on my thighs as I struggled to walk in the heels. I knew it was only a matter of time before someone made a lewd comment about my appearance, and the thought made me cringe.
As I approached the parking garage, I pressed the unlock button on my keys to figure out where my car was, not immediately noticing it in its usual spot.
Confused, I thought that perhaps the car had been moved by the parking attendant. As I pressed the button again, I saw a pair of headlights flash in response, but they didn't belong to the sensible black luxury sedan I was used to driving. Instead, they belonged to a bright pink Volkswagen Beetle with a license plate that read " JUDGE ME."
I stared at the car in disbelief, my heart racing with a mixture of confusion and fear. This couldn't be my car. I didn't drive anything like this, and I certainly didn't choose to have a license plate that advertised my job like some kind of status symbol.
I walked closer to the car, feeling a growing unease wash over me. The door was unlocked, and I pulled it open to reveal a car interior that had been transformed into a neon pink and black nightmare.
There were sparkly decals on the dashboard, and the seats were covered in a black and pink cheetah print material that looked like it belonged in a strip club, rather than in a respectable judge's car.
I shook my head in disbelief. There was no way I would ever choose to drive something like this. I felt a surge of panic as I tried to make sense of what was happening. Was this all some sort of elaborate prank?
I looked around, but there was no one in sight. And I needed to get to work.
I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself as I climbed into the neon pink car. The interior had a strange, chemical smell to it, almost like a strong air freshener or a perfume sample. I couldn't help but wrinkle my nose at the scent.
As I started the engine, I immediately noticed that the car must have been older than what I typically drove, as it didn't have the ability to connect to my phone via Bluetooth. Looking for anything to distract me from the stress I was experiencing, I rummaged through the glove box before I found a CD that had "bad bitch playlist" written on it in what looked like my handwriting. Of course, much like with everything else this morning, I had NO memory of EVER making something like that, but, not having the time or energy left to question it, I just put it in the CD slot.
The first song that came on was "Work" by Rihanna. I rolled my eyes at the trashy pop song playing far too loud for how early in the morning it was, but it was my only CD and I couldn't find the volume controls so I resigned myself to my fate.
The drive to work was far more agitating than it should've been. The car handled very differently than what I was used to.
The steering was loose, and the brakes were far too sensitive. I knew I must have looked like an idiot as I jumped curbs and stopped more suddenly than I intended.
The whole time, the bass from Rihanna's "Work" thumped loudly in my ears, drowning out the sound of my own thoughts. I kept glancing at the other drivers around me, all of whom were giving me disapproving looks or outright stares.
I couldn't understand how I could have ended up in such a ridiculous car, let alone one that drove so differently from what I was used to. When I was about 5 miles away from the court house, I felt a sense of horror creep up my spine as a noticed a pair of flashing blue and red lights behind me.
I pulled my car over anxiously, feeling my heart race as I did so. The sirens continued to scream, and I couldn't deny the sense of embarrassment that crept up on me as I considered that I was driving a bright pink Volkswagen Beetle that stood out like a sore thumb in the sea of black and gray cars.
The police officer approached my car- a tall, ruggedly handsome man who looked at me with a mixture of confusion and suspicion.
"License and registration, please," he said gruffly as he peered into my car. I noticed too late that the song "Toxic" by Britney Spears was blasting through my speakers as I rolled down my window.
The officer's eyes widened at the sight of me, and I could feel my cheeks burning with embarrassment. "Is there a reason you're driving so erratically, ma'am?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
I opened my mouth to reply, but then paused as I realized I had no idea what to say. I still had no memory of buying this ridiculous car, and I couldn't exactly explain that my car had magically transformed over night into a vehicle that I had no experience driving.
So, I did the best thing I could think of- I lied.
"I'm so sorry, officer. I'm just having a bit of a rough morning," I said, fishing around in my purse for my license.
"I had a bit of a late night, and I'm just trying to make it to work on time," I added, trying to sound casual and carefree.
The police officer smirked as he looked me up and down, lingering on my exposed cleavage, before he spoke. " Well, you certainly look like you had a good time last night," he said, his tone laced with innuendo.
I flushed with embarrassment, feeling like my entire being was being torn apart piece by piece. Feeling like I had no choice but to keep up the lie, I responded " Oh, yeah, you know how it is. Work hard, play hard," I laughed nervously, hoping that he would drop it.
The officer leaned in closer to me, his gaze dark and sultry. I could feel his breath on my neck, and the scent of mint and coffee filled my nostrils, making my head spin. "Well, I hope you're not too tired for your job. I would hate if ya had trouble performing today, doll. What do ya do for work anyhow?" He asked, with another smug smile. "U-um I'm a judge, sir" I responded. The words had barely left my mouth before the officer belly laughed and exclaimed. "Yeah and I'm the King of England!
Sure you are, doll. Listen, I'm gonna let you off with a warning this time, but I want you to make sure you're driving a little more safely from now on. Got it?"
I nodded eagerly, grateful for the reprieve. "Thank you, officer. I promise I'll be more careful."
He winked at me, but, to my surprise, he didn't pull away from the window. "Before I let ya go though doll I wanna know what you really do for work. None of this judge nonsense okay?" He said with another chuckle. Feeling like I had no choice but to lie to get out of there, I reluctantly responded. " I'm actually a dancer," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
The officer raised an eyebrow. "Is that right?" he said, looking impressed. "I'll bet you put on quite a show."
I squirmed in my seat, feeling incredibly awkward. The officer was clearly flirting with me, and I had no idea how to respond. "Um, yeah. I guess so," I stammered, wishing the ground would open up and swallow me whole.
The officer leaned in even closer, his breath hot on my cheek.
"I'd love to see you dance sometime, doll," he said, his voice low and sultry. I felt a shudder of revulsion run down my spine, but I knew I couldn't refuse him without arousing suspicion.
"Sure, maybe I'll come by your station sometime," I said, forcing a smile.
The officer grinned, looking pleased with himself. "I'll be looking forward to it, doll," he said. "Now, you be careful out there, okay?
And make sure you drive safe. I'll be watching out for you," the officer said, grinning as he winked at me.
I nodded, smiling weakly as I felt a shudder of disgust run down my spine. What had I gotten myself into? I couldn't believe that I had just lied to a police officer about my job, and that I had agreed to go to his station to dance for him.
I waited until he had gotten back into his car and driven away before I let out a sigh of relief. I couldn't believe what had just happened.
My heart was racing, and my palms were slick with sweat as I put the car in drive and pulled away from the curb. I didn't know if I could even go to work anymore, but I had to. So, reluctantly, I finished my drive, and made my way into the courthouse, thankful that I was only 5 minutes late.
I was happy to see my favorite security guard, Dante, as I walked through the door. He could be a big of a pig at times but he had always treated me with kindness and respect, understanding what I had achieved through my intellect and perseverance alone. Today, however, he had a very different reaction to me, and what worried me most was that it seemed like, from his perspective, there wasn't anything different about it at all. As soon as he saw me he whistled at me as if he had a million times before. "Judge Rissa! Looking fine as usual! And you're only 5 minutes late today! That's five minutes early for you" he said with a chuckle. Immediately, my stomach dropped. Dante never spoke to me like that. Some of the other girls, sure, defendants, secretaries, people like that, but not a judge, and certainly not ME. Even if I had walked in dressed like this for the first day, Dante would have just been more shocked than anything else. No, he was acting like I ALWAYS dressed this way.
As if this was just normal for me.
I couldn't understand it. Was I in some kind of dream? Or maybe I was going crazy? Nothing made sense anymore. It wasn't just my clothes, or my car, or my body that had changed. It was as if all of reality had changed. Wanting to test my theory, I turned to Dante. "Hey, Dante, do you notice anything different about me?" I asked.
Dante looked me up and down, a lecherous grin spreading across his face. "Different? No, doll, you look just as fine as ever. Maybe even a little more so." His words only added to my confusion and growing sense of unease. Was I really looking different to everyone else? Or was it just me? Dante's reaction was just the beginning of a long and strange day. At work, all of my colleagues and even the people in the courtroom seemed to treat me differently. They flirted with me and made comments about my appearance that I found deeply uncomfortable.
It was as if all the respect and professionalism I had worked so hard to earn had vanished overnight. I kept asking myself if I had done something to deserve this, but I knew deep down that I hadn't. I was the same person I had always been, wasn't I?
But the more I tried to deny it, the more it became obvious. To EVERYONE ELSE, at least, I always dressed like a porno's idea of a secretary, drove a garish pink beetle, and showed off my body to the world. I was trapped in some new reality, some new reality where I was seemingly always this way. Wanted to confirm my theory further I went to find Dante again at lunch. "Dante, how would you describe me?" I asked him after I closed the door to give us a bit of privacy in the filing room I'd found him in.
Dante leaned back against the table and looked at me, a sly smile on his face. "Well, Rissa, if you really want me to be honest here, then I'd say you're a real firecracker. A little bit of a wildcat, if you catch my drift. You know how to use what God gave you, and you're not afraid to show it off."
His words only seemed to confirm my upsetting suspicion, but I wanted to push further. "What's your first memory of me?" I asked him. I knew the answer to this well, and I knew that he knew the answer as well. It was August 1st, 2023, I walked in for my first day on the job. Dante had looked me up in down in my smart, conservative pantsuit, said "you have a pretty face for a judge," and then gotten immediately shut down by me. I had proceeded to tell him all of my accomplishments at university and in law school, and ever since that day he had respected me as a peer, not a plaything.
I almost recovered a glimmer of hope as Dante began "well, it was August 1st, 2023," but unfortunately, that was where the similarities in our stories ended. "And I remember you walked through the doors for your first day on the job, 10 minutes late, of course. Your fine ass was wearing this tight blue dress that put them titties on full display, your hair done up in loose curls, your heels clicking as you walked. You were like a dream, Rissa." Dante's words caused my heart to sink, and I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
How could this be? How could my entire life have changed so drastically overnight? I tried to think back to the night before, but all I could remember was my usual routine. I had gone to bed at my usual time, after reading a book and enjoying a cup of herbal tea. "What happened next?" I asked, dread in my stomach. Dante chuckled, " Well you tripped on those fuck-me heels you were wearing and fell right into my arms. You looked up at me with those big brown eyes and apologized, but I could see you was happy I caught you. After that I said, 'iss no problem baby, I live to serve beautiful women like you,' I remember that line." My stomach churned as I continued to learn what was apparently my new history. "And what did I say in response?" I asked him. Dante gave me a wicked grin before he replied. "Well first ya did that cute little giggle you do, I remember you was also twirling your hair around your finger, then you said ' Well, isn't that just what every girl wants, a man at her disposal.' I knew right then and there that you was a naughty one, Rissa."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. It was like someone had taken my entire life and twisted it into something unrecognizable. I tried to imagine myself behaving in such a way, but it just seemed so foreign to me. I had always been a shy and reserved person, not some seductive vixen.
"W-what other memories do you have of me?" I asked before quickly adding "I'm just trying to get a list of everyone's favorite memories of me, ya know, just to brighten my day" in an attempt to make it less strange that I was asking so many questions about my life. Dante just laughed again before answering " Well, Rissa, there's been a lot of good ones. Remember the time we all went out for drinks after work and you started twerking when Usher came on? You looked so hot, and you had everyone's attention. Or how about the time you came into my office and bent over my desk, letting me see all the way up that cute lil skirt you had on? I ain't never forget that view, Rissa." Dante's words made my heart race, and I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
It was like my entire identity had been erased, and replaced with this new, sex-crazed version of myself.
I couldn't believe that I had ever acted in such a way, but Dante's memories were so vivid, so detailed. It was as if I had truly become this person overnight.
My mind was reeling. All I could think about was this new version of myself, this new reality that I had been thrust into. "If you want I could show you the twerking video, doll, I still got it on my phone" Dante said with a smile. "S-sure" I replied, feeling like maybe it would somehow be better if I could see this new version of myself that everyone else seemed to remember. It wasn't better. After Dante hit play, I quickly realized, it was worse.
The video showed a version of myself that I barely recognized. I was dressed in a tight red mini-dress that barely covered my ass, and fishnet stockings that were ripped in all the right places. My hair was wild and unkempt, and my makeup was smeared all over my face. I was gyrating my hips to the beat of the music, running my hands over my body in a way that was both seductive and vulgar.
I watched, mortified, as I turned around, shook my breasts, and then walked up to the camera in the video before seemingly speaking to Dante. I was giggling, and this version of me clearly sounded drunk, as I said " Wanna see 'em bounce, Dante?" I asked, before turning around again to shake my ass in the camera.
Dante chuckled as he watched the video, clearly enjoying the show. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. It was like I was looking at a completely different person, a person that I didn't even recognize.
I felt a growing sense of unease wash over me as I realized that this was always who I had been, as far as everyone else was concerned. I was Marissa Thompson, the wild, promiscuous judge who dressed like a cheap escort and showed my body off to anyone who cared to look. As the video continued I saw this version of myself twist my head around to look back at Dante and say "you know white bitches like me love BBC , Dante" as I pushed my ass against his crotch before I began grinding against him.
Dante's eyes widened as he watched the video, and he let out a long, low whistle. "You never told me you had that kind of video on your phone," I said, feeling a mix of embarrassment and disgust.
"Oh, come on now, Rissa. You're the one who was grinding your ass on me like a damn stripper," Dante replied with a smirk.
I couldn't help but feel a growing sense of disgust as I watched the video. I couldn't believe that this was the version of myself that everyone else remembered, that this was the person I had become overnight. It was like I had been transformed into some kind of sex-crazed monster, desperate for attention and validation from anyone who would give it to me. I felt a surge of anger and frustration as I thought about how this had happened. How had I let myself become this person?
I had always prided myself on being intelligent and ambitious, not some airhead who used her body to get ahead in life. And yet, here I was, grinding against a man like I was nothing more than a cheap piece of ass. I couldn't believe that this was who everyone saw me as now.
I couldn't believe that this was who I had become, and yet, as I watched the video, I couldn't help but feel a growing sense of arousal. My pussy was wet, and I could feel my clit throbbing with need. I couldn't believe it, but I wanted more. I wanted to see more of this wild, promiscuous version of myself. I wanted to know what it felt like to be her, to be desired and wanted by everyone around me.
As if sensing my desires, Dante reached out and placed a hand on my thigh.
I jumped at the sudden touch, but didn't pull away. Instead, I found myself leaning into it, wanting more.
"Come on, Rissa. You know you want it," Dante whispered in my ear, his breath hot and heavy.
I couldn't deny it. I did want it. I wanted to feel his hands on my body, exploring every inch of me. I wanted to feel his hard cock inside of me, filling me up and making me scream with pleasure.
Without a word, I stood up and pulled Dante to his feet.