Vignette "Mirror of Transformation" The Night Unremembered (Patreon)

Setting: The next morning in Barbara's bedroom.

Barbara wakes up, feeling disoriented. The room is dimly lit by the early morning light, casting soft shadows across the plush decor. She feels a strange sensation, a weight on her chest that's unfamiliar. Slowly, she sits up and glances down, her eyes widening in shock. There, nestled between her newly augmented breasts, is the sex toy from the night before. Its placement is suggestive, indicative of use, though Barbara has no recollection of it. Her heart races, a mix of confusion and fear coursing through her. She picks up the toy, her hands trembling. The realization that she might have used it without any memory is deeply unsettling.

As Barbara stood, there was a soft knock at the door. Her heart skipped a beat, a mix of dread and anticipation flooding her. With a deep breath, she called out a hesitant, “Yes?”

The door opened, and Ms. Lacey entered, her presence dominating the dimly lit room. She carried with her an air of knowing, her eyes scanning Barbara with an almost predatory precision. “Good morning, Barbie,” she began, her voice smooth and eerily calm. “I trust you had an... interesting night?”

Barbara’s face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and confusion. How could Ms. Lacey possibly know about the toy, about the turmoil she’d been through? She clutched the fabric of her robe tighter around her, a feeble shield against the invasion of her privacy.

Ms. Lacey continued, unfazed by Barbara’s discomfort. “It seemed like you were having quite the fun last night. The walls in this house are thin, dear. Very... revealing.” Her lips curled into a knowing smile, the implications of her words sending a shiver down Barbara’s spine.

The realization that Ms. Lacey might have heard her, or worse, assumed her engagement with the toy, was horrifying. Barbara’s mind raced, trying to recall any sound, any moment of weakness that might have betrayed her. But her memories were blank, a void that offered no solace.

“I... I don’t remember,” Barbara stammered, her voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know what happened.”

Ms. Lacey’s expression softened, but the predatory gleam in her eyes remained. “Oh, Barbie, there’s no need for modesty here. Embracing your desires, even subconsciously, is a part of your transformation. It’s a sign of progress, of letting go of the old Barbara and welcoming the new.”

Barbara felt a lump form in her throat, her internal scream of protest silent against Ms. Lacey’s reasoning. The thought that her body and subconscious could betray her, aligning with Ms. Lacey’s vision without her consent, was a new level of violation.

“But don’t worry, my dear,” Ms. Lacey continued, moving closer to place a reassuring hand on Barbara’s shoulder. “These are just the steps along the path to becoming the perfect bimbo. Every aspect of you, inside and out, is blossoming beautifully.”

With those words, Ms. Lacey turned and left the room, leaving Barbara in a state of shock and confusion. The door clicked shut, echoing like a final verdict in a trial Barbara didn’t remember attending.

Standing alone, Barbara looked at her reflection in the mirror once more. The woman staring back at her was trapped in a narrative she hadn’t written, her autonomy slipping away with each passing day. The sex toy, now a symbol of her silent capitulation, lay on the bed—a testament to a night she didn’t recall but was told she enjoyed.

As she left her room, heading towards another day of training, Barbara felt the weight of Ms. Lacey’s words. The journey she was on was not just reshaping her body and demeanor; it was infiltrating her very psyche, rewriting her desires and memories. The distinction between Barbara and Barbie was not just blurring; it was being systematically erased, leaving behind a persona that danced to a tune Barbara no longer controlled.to a tune Barbara no longer controlled.