Cherry Part 2

Cherry stood trembling in the recording room, her reflection in the vanity mirror nearly unrecognizable. The long, blonde hair, the smooth, dainty face, the curves—it was all so foreign. But the worst part was the dread pooling in her stomach, knowing she had no choice but to submit to this new reality.

The autocloset whirred to life behind her, its mechanical arms extending toward her with an eerie precision. Cherry flinched as the cold metal touched her skin, but there was no escape. The arms worked quickly, stripping her of the denim shorts and pink crop top she’d woken up in, leaving her naked and vulnerable.

She gasped as one of the arms sprayed a warm, sticky substance across her legs, her arms, and her stomach. She realized with a jolt that it was wax. Before she could react, the wax was ripped off in quick, painful motions, leaving her skin smooth and hairless. She bit back a cry, her eyes watering from the sharp stings.

Next, the arms dressed her in a black thong, the thin fabric barely covering anything. She shuddered as another arm presented a white, sleeveless crop top. It was nearly see-through, clinging to her new breasts and exposing the outline of her nipples. A small, pink bow sat right in the center, adding a disturbingly cute touch to the humiliating outfit.

More arms moved in, applying makeup with an expert touch. A brush dusted her cheeks with blush, a soft pink that made her look even more doll-like. Mascara darkened her lashes, and eyeshadow was applied with meticulous care. The final touch was a tube of cherry lip plumper, which made her lips tingle and swell slightly, giving them a plump, kissable look.

She was then given a necklace with a small cross that rested just above her cleavage, and finally, a phone was thrust into her hand. The case was pink, decorated with a teddy bear—just another reminder of the girlish prison she was trapped in.

Rachel entered the room, her eyes scanning Cherry from head to toe. "Perfect," she murmured, though Cherry could see a flicker of something in her gaze—satisfaction mixed with a hint of something darker. "Now, it's time to get to work."

Cherry swallowed hard, her throat dry. "What do you want me to do?"

Rachel crossed her arms, her expression stern. "We need the perfect picture to start your new account. So, you’re going to spend all day getting it right. And I won’t be satisfied until it’s perfect."

The hours that followed were grueling. Cherry awkwardly posed in front of the pink backdrop, the phone held up to capture endless selfies. She tried to look seductive, as Rachel instructed, but every time she reviewed the photos, Rachel shook her head in disappointment.

"No, you’re still thinking like a guy. You need to embrace your new self, Cherry. Be cute. Be sexy."

Cherry tried to comply, arching her back, pouting her lips, tilting her head just so. But no matter how hard she tried, Rachel found fault with every attempt. The light wasn’t right, the angle was wrong, her expression too stiff. With each failure, Cherry’s frustration grew, but Rachel remained unyielding, her eyes cold and calculating.

By the time the evening rolled around, Cherry was exhausted, her nerves frayed. She took one last picture, tilting her head, smiling sweetly, lips slightly parted. When she showed it to Rachel, she held her breath, hoping for some sign of approval.

Rachel studied the photo, then finally nodded. "This will do," she said. "For now."

Cherry exhaled in relief, but it was short-lived. Rachel’s smile returned, sharp and knowing. "Remember, Cherry, this is just the beginning. Tomorrow, we’ll do it all over again. And you’ll keep getting better until you’re perfect."

As Rachel left the room, Cherry collapsed onto the frilly bed, tears welling up in her eyes. She knew this was her new life—an endless cycle of posing, preening, and trying to meet Rachel’s impossible standards. And there was no escape.