The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Adriana Manuelovna Garcia Rivera was not the kind of girl you’d expect to be standing outside of a strip club at noon in the early summer sun. The young woman simply didn’t come off as the kind of babe who’d find her way to a place like this. Anyone walking by would have seen a practically formless young person wearing a loose hoodie, baggy jeans, no makeup, old sneakers and a backpack instead of a purse. It didn’t matter that Adriana would have been considered without her outfit—that plenty of people would have done a double take at her flat tummy, her long, shapely legs, her ample butt, and her perky, surprisingly large breasts. She had decided she wasn’t much to look at and dressed for what she saw as her part.

Adriana’s outfit and her attitudes on her appearance were an extension of her personality. The young, mixed Russian-Latina had always been on the shy, quiet side. But growing up with her gregarious younger sister Anastasia made her recede further into the shadows. As she grew into a woman, Adriana shunned social circles she assumed would reject her. She fell in with the geeks, the nerds, and the loners. Throughout her teens Adriana spent Friday nights gaming, either on her PC or at a local game store, while her peers were partying. She wrote fanfiction while her sister and the other girls dated boys. She sat in the corner at whatever school dances she went to and focused on her studies to the exclusion of any sort of social life.

Adriana’s reclusiveness had allowed her to build a good academic profile and had gotten her scholarships to college. But her self-doubt had left her with few people she could call friends. At Protean University, the 21 year-old only enjoyed the company of her younger sister, her younger brother Michael, and a few gamer friends she’d met. And she insisted she was just fine with how things were.

And yet here she was, standing in front of the Lounge Erotic with her phone in her hand. A “HELP WANTED” ad was glowing on the screen. The ad had said applicants should come by around noon while the club was setting up. So she had. The young woman looked at the bare brick facade of the strip club and its pink neon sign. She swallowed. Was she really going to walk in there?

Adriana knew that was a rhetorical question. She didn’t really have a choice. Adriana had gone to Protean University on a scholarship. While she had kept her grades up, the money for the scholarship had suddenly run out. Adriana knew her parents couldn’t make up for the loss in her budget. And loans just wouldn’t cut it. She needed to get a decent amount of income over the summer. At least enough to pay for her tuition in the Fall. She had tried to get a job everywhere within walking distance of her, but they’d all turned her down. She seemed nice, the interviewers told her. But she didn’t have the experience to work at a desk. She was too nervous to work at a cash register or waiting tables. Every single business had some sort of reason she wouldn’t work out.

Now the Lounge Erotic was the only option Adriana had left. The ad she had found promised jobs for women 18 and up, with no experience required and a guaranteed interview. Adriana couldn’t imagine herself being a stripper. That would be preposterous. But her internet searching had told her that strip clubs made food. Maybe with a distracted clientele she could talk her way into being a waitress or a busser or a dishwasher or a cook. Anything that would get her the hours and the pay she needed to make rent and cover her tuition for the coming semester. She could just pretend she was surrounded by naked women and horny men. She could pretend it was any other restaurant job.

Adriana checked her phone. She had already been standing across the street from the Lounge, just staring at it, for five minutes. She had been trying to muster her courage. By now, though, she had to look weird gawking at a strip club from the outside. This was exactly the sort of behavior that kept her from getting her other jobs, Adriana chastised herself. She needed to just barge walk in. Take charge for once in her life. It was weird that applying for a job at a strip club was the moment that she chose to stand up, she realized. But it was the difference between attending school and going home in defeat. Adriana knew she had no future without college, so she stared ahead, crossed the street, and marched inside the Lounge Erotic.

Adriana wasn’t sure what to expect of the Lounge. It wasn’t as though the young woman had ever been inside of one before. But her first impression of the Lounge Erotic was that the club looked surprisingly comfortable. Adriana walked into a dark, hardwood interior accented with curtains, lighting, and decorations all in blood red and dark purple. There was a catwalk in the front of the club ending at a brass pole. There were two smaller stages with poles on one side of the club. And a few large booths in the corners seemed to also be sporting their own poles. The space in between was filled with tables and chairs. Adriana looked around the dimly lit room, trying to figure out where to go until she heard a voice.

“Hey there!” Adriana turned her attention to the bar to see a short, pale. middle-aged woman with curly red hair and a mess of freckles walking out of the kitchen door. She was wearing a tight, black t-shirt and jeans, and she gave Adriana a friendly hello. “Are you here for the Help Wanted ad, I assume?” Adriana quickly nodded, trying not to betray her anxiety to the woman. If she did notice, she didn’t say anything. She just flashed Adriana a smile. “Hop on the stage and I’ll give Anthony a call. He should be down here to interview you real quick. You need something to drink while you wait, sweetie?”

“No,” Adriana said, shaking her head. “But thank you.” She walked briskly towards the stage in the front, trying not to think too much about being on the catwalk at a strip club. She was just going to find out if they had any service positions open, she told herself. She was just going to see if they needed a waitress or a cook or a busser. And if they didn’t…

…if they didn’t…

…Adriana wasn’t sure what she’d do. She bit her lip and looked down. If they didn’t, she’d just go broke? Give up on college? Go back home? If she really needed the money…

No. That was a stupid thought. Even if Adriana wanted to strip—and she didn’t—it would never work out. She knew some strippers might be old or trashy or gross. But she doubted those strippers worked at a place like this. The Lounge Erotic looked like the kind of place that hired beautiful women. Talented dancers. Girls with charisma and charm. The kind of girls everyone wanted to either be or be with. And Adriana knew that wasn’t her. If they weren’t hiring service jobs, she was screwed. Whether she wanted to be a stripper or not.

Adriana’s face must have given away her feelings. “Hey, buck up girl!” the redhead at the bar called out with a smile. “I’ve seen plenty of interviews here and I’ve never seen them turn away a gal who really wanted a job. Anthony says that if someone wants it enough, he’ll make it work. And sure eventually some of the girls move on. But if you’re willing, the boss can make anything work.”

Adriana gave the woman a tepid smile. Her reassurances helped a little bit. If nothing else, pouring over the negative possibilities would not put Adriana in the right headspace for a job interview. She sat at the edge of the stage and kicked her feet back and forth while she waited for this Anthony person to arrive.

Adriana didn’t have to wait long. A pair of footsteps—no, two pairs—came from behind the door backstage a moment before it opened. Adriana jumped up to her feet and stood up straight. Adriana just managed to straighten herself up when the door opened and a man she assumed must have been Anthony walked out. Anthony was tall, with slicked-back blonde hair and a full, close-cropped beard that was a shade lighter. His face was pointed and angular, set with hazel eyes and a small mouth. Anthony’s tall frame was thin, and he dressed in a navy blue blazer with matching slacks. Anthony looked crisp and professional without seeming overbearing.

Behind him, though, was someone who was none of those things. Anthony was followed by a short, pale woman with a pixie bob dyed black and red. Her eyes had dark red contacts in them, and her face was full of cold, steel piercings. Two were in her eyebrows. Another two studs were pierced beneath her lower lips. A septum ring hung in her nostril and gauges hung from her ears. And, of course, there were the two in her nipples. The woman was naked save for a black g-string and high heels, and her enormous breasts jiggled prominently as she strode out with Anthony.

The two glanced over Adriana as they walked out. There was no way they didn’t see her blush red. Adriana couldn’t quite look away from the woman’s exposed breasts. Her chest was exposed. Just right out there for everyone to see! And she wasn’t dancing or doing anything strippers do! Her boobs were just out and about. Really, really about. All over the place! The mostly-naked stripper seemed to notice. She flashed Adriana a big smirk. “Like what you see, honey?” she asked, stepping closer and giving her boobs a shake. Adriana almost fell over, and the woman barked out a laugh. “Oh come on!” she said. “You’ve seen boobs in the mirror.” She looked down at Adriana’s chest, hidden behind her hoodie, and back up at the Latina with a quizzical look. “...you have seen your own boobs, right?”

“Down, Crim,” Anthony said with a chuckle. He put a hand on the stripper’s shoulder, and she smirked back at him.

“I was just teasing,” she protested playfully.

“I don’t think she appreciates it,” Anthony said. Adriana looked pale as a ghost. Her face had drained of color from her nerves and she felt like she was about to puke.

“Alright, alright,” the woman said with a dismissive wave. She turned back to Adriana and offered a hand. “Crimson,” she introduced herself as. “What’s your name, sweetie?”

The tall, nervous geek mouthed silently for a moment. “Adriana,” she finally choked out. “Adriana Manuelovna Garcia Rivera. It’s nice to meet you.” Adriana steadied her voice and quickly took Crimson’s hand, shaking it as firmly as she could manage. It wasn’t much, but it was her best. “I’m looking for a job.”

Anthony and Crimson looked at each other at Adriana’s declaration that she was looking for work. The Lounge’s owner spoke first. “Are you certain this is the place for you?” Anthony asked skeptically. “No offense, but there’s going to be more naked women in here than Crimson.”

“I…” Adriana stuttered. “...I can get…I can get used to it.” She swallowed her nerves. “I’ve never worked in the service industry before. But I’m sure that I can wait tables or bus or seat people or wash dishes.” Adriana took a deep breath. Anthony’s and Crimson’s gazes had turned to each other once again. “I know I can do a good job. And I need the money.”

“Bussing, waiting, washing dishes,” Anthony said. He looked at Adriana with a gaze of concern. Despite the man’s swagger, his eyes were soft and even caring. Crimson, too, oozed with as much sympathy as she did sexuality. “Ms. Rivera, the help ad we put out wasn’t for service staff.” He looked seriously at her and crossed his arms. “It was for strippers. Exotic dancers. Live Nudes.”

Adriana went white again. She felt a sinking feeling in her stomach that grew stronger. “You must need someone else,” she muttered. “You…you couldn’t use another waitress? You couldn’t use…I don’t know…I…” Adriana babbled. Tears began to well in her eyes. This had been her last chance for a job. The last place hiring for miles. Adriana couldn’t be a stripper. Even if she wanted to, she didn’t have the skills. She didn’t have the looks. She didn’t have the charisma. She was a meek, nerdy, loner loser. “You must have something,” she protested. The tears in her eyes began to sting. They fell down her cheeks. Now she was crying. Who would hire her now? “I just…”

And the dam broke. Adriana let out a sob and covered her face. “I’m so..so sorry,” she pleaded. She expected to be told to leave. To get out and never come back. But instead she felt a hand on her shoulder. Crimson stroked the young woman in an effort to comfort her.

“Hey, Adriana,” she said soothingly. “Calm down, honey.” She waved to the bar. “Gloria, get me a sadgirl special. Ms. Rivera needs a drink.” bartender complied and brought over a small glass of something strong. The redhead offered it to Adriana with a tender smile.

“Drink this,” she told Adriana. “It’ll calm you down. I promise.”

Adriana looked up with bleary, red eyes and obediently took the drink. She’d never been much of a drinker. Certainly not a day drinker. But she wasn’t about to turn down a bit of kindness. She sipped at the concoction. It was minty and alcoholic, burning her throat and soothing it after. After a few sips Adriana had managed to compose herself enough to speak again. “Thank you,” she managed to choke out to Gloria. “And thank you,” she said to Crimson. “I should…just go, shouldn’t I?”

“Hey now,” Anthony said. “Nobody said that!” The club’s owner walked over next to Adriana and clapped her shoulder. “Why don’t you take a seat on the stage and tell us what got you so worked up you burst into tears in an empty strip club.” Anthony’s comments were a bit biting, but Adriana could hear the good intentions behind them. Anthony wasn’t what she had expected from a strip club owner. And Crimson wasn’t what she expected from a stripper.

The two got up and grabbed chairs from a nearby table, sitting in front of the stage and letting Adriana tell her story. They remained stoic as Adriana told them about her financial problems. About how much she needed a job. About the possibility she might drop out of college without one. That she might lose her future. Throughout it all Adriana kept sipping at her drink, and with every sip she felt a bit more calm and collected. Anthony and Crimson both nodded along. They looked at each other a few times as Adriana spoke, like they were having some unspoken conversation amongst themselves that Adriana wasn’t privy to.

When Adriana finished, the two gave each other one last look. Anthony smiled, Crimson followed suit, and the two turned their smiles to Adriana. Adriana felt her spirits lift. Were they going to toss her a pity job? Did they need someone to work a terrible shift?

“Ms. Rivera,” Anthony said, leaning back casually in his chair. “The bad news is that we really don’t have any service positions open.” Adriana’s face fell, but Anthony held up a hand to indicate that he wasn’t done. “But Crimson and I would like you to audition for a job as an exotic performer. As a stripper.”

“A-a-a stripper?!” Adriana’s voice quivered and her jaw dropped. “But I can’t dance,” she fumbled. “I don’t have any confidence on stage. I don’t like people looking at me. Nobody but my mom and my sister have even ever seen me naked, and—”

“All irrelevant,” Crimson interrupted. “The Lounge Erotic isn’t an ordinary strip club. And even those places don’t give a fuck if you can dance as long as you’re hot and you smell right. But here it’s like Gloria probably told you. We’ve never turned down a woman who really wanted the job.”

“But I don’t,” Adriana said bluntly. “I mean uh…” she swallowed. “No offense to you, Ms. Crimson. Or your business, Mr. Anthony. But I don’t think stripping is right for me.”

“And it might not be,” Anthony admitted. “But I have a feeling about you. Call it a sixth sense.” Adriana looked skeptical, but the strip club owner seemed unphased. “Tell you what Adriana,” he said. “If you audition for me, I’ll give you five hundred dollars.” Anthony reached into his pocket for his wallet. He pulled out five crisp hundred dollar bills and flashed them to an impressed Adriana. “No strings attached. Pass, fail, or walk out. It’s yours as long as you sit down for the interview.”

Adriana hesitated for a moment. But only for a moment. $500 wouldn’t solve her problems, but it was a lot of money to make in an afternoon. She didn’t even have to take the job. After that moment of consideration, Adriana held out her hand. “I’ll do it,” she said. Anthony placed the money in her hand.

“In that case,” he said. “Let’s begin.”

Adriana climbed back to her feet, standing at the edge of the stage and looking at her two interviewers. “So how does this work?” she asked. “Do I uh…do I suggest a song? Dance?” She blushed red. “Take my clothes off?”

“Only if you want to,” Anthony said. “Like we said—the only thing you need to get a job stripping at the Lounge Erotic is to want it. Not be desperate for it or feel forced into it. But to want to be a stripper. We can take care of the rest.”

“Though,” Crimson added with a sly grin. “I’d kinda like to see what’s under that hoodie.”

Adriana looked between the two. Her eyes lingered on Crimson’s still bare boobs. If she was really doing this, even just for the payout, Adriana figured she should try to be a good sport. She raised her arms and began to slide the oversized hoodie over her head. She dropped it to the floor, showing off the plain t-shirt she’d worn underneath. “See?” Crimson said. “Was that so bad? Why does a cutie like you cover up like that?”

“Cutie?” Adriana asked. “I’m not really all that cute. I’m too tall. Too pale. Kind of gangly.” Adriana shrugged. “I’m just awkward. Thanks for trying to be nice. But I am what I am.”

“And when did you decide you were awkward?” Anthony asked curiously. “When did you decide that you just weren’t very attractive?”

“I didn’t decide it,” Adriana mumbled. “Everyone else did. All the guys wanted girls with curves. Girls with…breasts. Girls with big butts. Girls who dress sexy. Girls like my sister. Like my brother’s girlfriends.”

“And how do you feel about that?” Anthony pressed.

“It was whatever,” Adriana replied curtly. “Why be mad or worry about something you can’t change?”

“It doesn’t sound like whatever,” Anthony replied earnestly. “You sound a little bitter, Adriana.”

“It is whatever,” Adriana objected, waving a hand and looking off to the side. “I was fine. I am fine. I have a few friends. I game. I collect stuff. I’m perfectly fine.”

“Fine,” Crimson spoke up. “Just fine?”

“Just fine,” Adriana confirmed to her.

“And you’re happy with that? Being just fine?” Crimson asked. “You don’t want to be good or great or happy or ecstatic just to be yourself? You’re okay with just being ‘fine’?” Adriana opened her mouth to reply, but her words died in her throat. When Crimson put it that way, yeah. It didn’t sound very good. It didn’t sound like Adriana was having a fun, happy, fulfilling life. She looked down, shuffling her feet.

“I’m fine,” she finally said weakly. “And I guess I’m fine with being fine.” She looked up. “What does this have to do with stripping anyways?”

“I told you,” Anthony replied calmly. “We’ll hire anyone who wants to be a stripper. And I think stripping could be fun for you. I think it could be something that makes you happy.”

“How could stripping make me happy?” Adriana replied defensively. She took a step back on the stage, her back now to the brass pole. “Flaunting my body for a bunch of strange men to lech at and gawk over…” Adriana paused. “...or ignore, just like always.”

“Which of those prospects actually upsets you?” Anthony asked. “That guys will gape at you? Or that they won’t?”

Adriana looked away from Anthony and down at her feet. She blushed bright red. “I don’t know!” she said, raising her voice. “I guess…look I’m fine with how things are for me.” Adriana looked back up. “But I guess I’m curious about what it’s like to not be some awkward, geeky, plain, shy white girl.” Adriana paused. White girl? She wasn’t a white girl? Where had that come from? But after a moment of thought she started speaking again. She looked at Anthony and Crimson and scoffed. “Like…that’s what people see when they look at me,” she said. “They don’t see a saucy chica like my sister. I’m not exotic or erotic or special. I’m just…” Adriana threw her arms out to her side. “...this. I’m just me.”

The room went quiet for a moment. Crimson and Anthony looked at each other again. Despite the emotion in the room, the two shared another smile. “And if you could be someone else,” Anthony asked. “Who would you be?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Adriana asked bitterly. “You can’t just become someone else.”

“Bullshit,” Crimson said. She gave Adriana a bright smile. “The first time I walked on that stage, my life changed forever.” Adriana gave Crimson a confused look, and the topless stripper flashed her a grin. “I wasn’t born Crimson. I wasn’t born with that name or looking like this.” The stripper stood and did a turn. “I became this the first time I stepped on that stage. And I decided not to go back.”

Adriana looked at Crimson with confusion, prompting Anthony to cut in. “Really that’s true of any performative medium,” he mused. “Actresses. Singers. Musicians. Even public speaking. Nobody goes on a stage as themselves. They go on stage as a version of themselves they want other people to consume. Strippers aren’t any different. When a woman takes the stage, she puts on a stage name, a cute outfit, and becomes something she thinks her audience wants. And at least at the Lounge Erotic, someone she enjoys being.”

Adriana looked down again. But not in shame this time. Her face was contemplative. She’d never thought of performing like that. She’d certainly never thought of strippers that way. She hadn’t even really considered them performers. But it all made sense. Nobody was just their job. Why would exotic dancers be? And she had to admit to herself that the vision Anthony and Crimson offered was compelling. The chance to pretend to be someone else. To be someone you really liked. And to make enough money to cover her expenses. The way Anthony had just casually thrown her $500 led Adriana to believe the money for stripping was good. Really good.

Adriana took a deep breath and looked back up. “I just don’t think I can,” she said sadly. “Even if I want to—”

“Do you want to?” Anthony cut in.

“I don’t know if I want to make it a job…” Adriana replied uncertainly.

“Do you want to try stripping?” Crimson asked. That question caused Adriana to go silent. The young woman looked contemplatively at her shoes again.

“...yes…” she said sheepishly. A mix of nerves and excitement welled up within the young Latina. She had just admitted she wanted to try stripping. Getting naked for money! “But I don’t think I have the confidence or the looks or—”

“Don’t worry about that,” Anthony said. He rose to his feet and clapped his hands. “Adriana, it’s like I told you. If you really want to dance here and there’s something about it you’d enjoy, we’ll make it happen. And if you want to step into someone else’s shoes, we can make that happen.”

“How?” Adriana asked.

“I can’t tell you that until you sign on,” Anthony explained. Crimson smirked and Gloria leaned over the bar. “It’s a bit of a trade secret. If you agree to give dancing a try tonight I’ll share it. But I need a commitment from you.”

Adriana went quiet again. She locked eyes with Anthony and pursed her lips. “What am I agreeing to if I do?” She asked.

Anthony nodded. “Good question,” he said. “If you agree to work here tonight, I’ll be putting you on stage as a guest headliner.”

“A headliner?” Adriana protested. But Anthony didn’t stop talking.

“You’ll work shifts from 7 to 10, get a break until 11. And then finish out a midnight to 2 AM shift. You’ll need to pay cover to the DJ and to the bouncers. And you’ll have to pay taxes on whatever you get in tips. But after that, every cent will be yours. Plus, just for you, I’ll throw in free drinks.”

“You weren’t this nice to me when I got signed on!” Crimson said, putting her hands on her hips and mock-pouting.

“You didn’t need as much encouragement,” Anthony said back, giving Crimson a swat on her bare butt. The stripper squealed with delight.

“Douchebag,” she playfully said.

“Bitch,” he replied equally playfully.

“But how am I going to be ready to be a headliner tonight?” Adriana asked. “I’d need to get my hair and makeup done. And like…I’d need to at least practice walking in heels, right? I know that much. Strippers need heels.”

“Crimson would show you the ropes,” Anthony explained. “I brought her with me precisely because she loves the new girls.” Crimson blew Adriana a kiss, clearly eager for the opportunity to teach the college geek how to dance. “So…what do you say?”

Adriana looked at Anthony’s hand. Some part of her knew she should have said no, taken the $500, run home, and played video games. This wasn’t the person she was. Adriana was a geek, a nerd, and a loner. Not a stripper.

But the person Adriana was wasn’t who Adriana wanted to be. For just one night, she wanted to be someone different. She reached out to Anthony’s hand and shook it firmly. “Deal,” Adriana said.

“Woot!” Crimson called out. Behind the bar, Gloria clapped.

“Then let’s get started,” Anthony said as he finished the handshake. When he and Adriana parted their grasps, the Lounge’s owner headed for the bar. “Have you been listening, Gloria?” He asked.

“Always, boss,” the cute ginger replied.

“Good girl,” Anthony said. He leaned over the bar, looking at the bottles behind it. “Obviously this will be one of our special drinks.” He looked back at Adriana for the stage. “Oh, right,” he said. “Adriana, dear. We’re going to start your training with a drink to help you get into the right headspace. Also…you’re going to want to strip naked.”

“Strip naked?” Adriana protested. She almost went on, but she stopped herself. She had just agreed to spend a whole night getting naked. Anthony probably wanted her to get used to it. “Of course,” she said. Her nerves were plain in her voice, but Adriana wanted to make this work. She needed the money. And she wanted a chance to experience being someone else. To capture that feeling Anthony and Crimson had made sound so compelling.

Adriana didn’t jump down from the stage at first. She turned around, trying to hide her soon-to-be-bare front and her blushing. She started by slipping off her sneakers and socks and dropping her baggy pants. A cackle from Crimson made Adriana suddenly self-conscious of the plain, beige granny panties she had worn today. She reacted by shoving them off quickly. The panties sliding down fully revealed Adriana’s legs—long and well-sculpted—and her pert, full butt. She looked back just in time to see Crimson wolf-whistle next to a more passive Anthony. “I thought you said you were plain and lanky!” Crimson called out.

“I am,” Adriana insisted. Crimson almost objected, but a gentle touch from Anthony quieted her. She turned back away and started to pull her shirt over her head. She dropped it to the floor, undoing her plain, white bra right after. The garment was about a size too small for her. Adriana exhaled as it fell, not even realizing that a comfortable bra shouldn’t feel constricting. She stretched her arms, kicked her legs, and did everything she could think of to delay turning around. But eventually she had to face the two. Adriana dropped her hands over the source of her embarrassment—the thick, unruly, unkempt pubic hair covering her crotch. “Plain and lanky and hairy.”

Crimson almost spoke up, but Anthony put a restraining hand on her shoulder. “I don’t think you’re going to win this battle today,” Anthony told her. Crimson sighed and nodded. “But don’t worry about how you look, Adriana. We’re going to handle that.”

“But how?” Adriana asked. “I’ve kept asking and you haven’t answered me.”

“Let’s talk about it over a drink,” the club owner said. He turned to Gloria. “Barmistress,” he said. “You can make me a vodka soda. As for Adriana, whip her up a special blend. Something for a bombshell. Curvy. Brown. Latina. And nothing too complicated. Part of Adriana’s problem, I think, is overthinking things. This drink shouldn’t be something she can ponder too much.”

The redhead pulled out a glass and began mixing the vodka soda for Anthony “Define ‘Latina’,” Gloria requested. “She’s already Latina, isn’t she?”

“Yes, but she doesn’t seem to feel it,” Anthony said. “She straight-up called herself a white girl. Adriana is looking for something foreign. Exotic. Something fit for a Spanglish-speaking island beauty with a thick, sexy accent. That’s what you had in mind, right Adri?”

Adriana blushed. But she was already naked and had agreed to strip for these people. What would be the point of lying? What would be the point of holding back? “Those girls always got guys,” she said meekly. “I guess I was a little jealous.” Gloria nodded in the affirmative.

“And what kind of Latina are you, sweetheart?” she asked.

“Cuban,” Adriana answered. That earned another nod. “Well, half-Cuban. Half-Russian. Which isn’t Latin.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Gloria interrupted her. “You are what you want to be, sweetheart.” Gloria finished Anthony’s vodka soda and pulled up a taller glass for Adriana. She mixed brown rum with a few other fluids that Adriana wasn’t familiar with. “A little lime for some kick,” Gloria mused. “A little coconut to make it round and brown. Rum for that Caribbean spice—and high-proof to discourage thinking too much…” Gloria mixed each ingredient as she spoke, and at the end produced a little vial of fluid. As if reading Adriana’s mind, she opened it up and put a drop on her own tongue. “Just a little flavoring,” she reassured the young Latina. She poured a drop into Adriana’s drink. The liquor fizzled briefly when it hit the liquid. Once the bubbling subsided, Gloria offered it to Adriana.

“My take on a mojito,” Gloria explained. “I made it a little extra spicy for a spicy little Latina girl.” Gloria gave Adriana a wink, holding it out until the nervous woman took it. After a moment’s hesitation Adriana did so. She put the drink to her nose and sniffed it. It smelled strong. But it also smelled good. And there was a certain energy to it that Adriana couldn’t quite place. She could just sense it would be refreshing. The naked woman lifted her glass to Anthony, who gladly clinked his to hers, before taking a drink.

Adriana perked up the moment the cocktail hit her tongue. It tasted incredible. Sweet, with a bit of sourness and an extra kick of spice from the rum. Adriana licked her lips and took another drink. She could feel a pleasant, tingling sensation spread from her tummy as the liquor went down her throat. She took another drink and the sensation got stronger. She was vibrating all over. In a different state she might have wondered if the cocktail had been drugged. But that wouldn’t even make sense—a drug wouldn’t have acted quite so quickly. The pleasant tingling grew stronger still as Adriana finally drained the mojito to its dregs. She looked at Gloria. “That was amazing,” she said breathlessly. Gloria smiled and took the glass. She gave Adriana a knowing smirk.

“You haven’t even gotten to the best part, sweetheart,” the bartender said. Adriana looked at her questioningly…

…and then she fell from her chair.

Adriana’s body had suddenly gone limp. She would have hit the floor had Anthony and Crimson not caught her. The two set her face-up on the floor as she mumbled up at them. “What’s happening?” she asked, receiving no answer. Adriana felt the buzzing, tingling feeling turn into a wave of pleasure rocking her body from head to toe. Adriana curled up and closed her eyes in an attempt to cope with the overwhelming sensation, which was soon joined by others.

The first thing Adriana noticed was an itching sensation that spread from her head down her body. As the itching spread, Adriana’s lightly tanned skin began to darken. It spread down her body in a wave of rich, dark brown. And as a wave of darker skin flowed down her body, Adriana’s body hair fell off to the floor in its wake. She was left only with a thin landing strip of hair where her full, bushy pubes had been. The geeky Latina had in just moments been rendered dark and nearly hairless, left only with her eyebrows and the hair on her head.

Speaking of her hair, Adriana felt the itching intensify in her scalp. She reached up to scratch at her head for some relief, but felt it grow through her fingers. Adriana’s hair was thickening, with new follicles sprouting new strands to give her already long hair more volume. Adriana’s eyes shot open and she grabbed a strand of her hair. She brought it in front of her eyes just in time to see its color darken from her natural, neutral brown to a darker, richer umber shade. “What…what…” Adriana tried to form words in her mouth, but her body still felt slack. She stared up at her onlookers with pleading eyes. Crimson knelt down and silently took Adriana’s hands and gave her a comforting look. She knew all of these feelings. She knew how scary it was. But she also knew that Adriana would make it through them.

Adriana’s eyes closed again as a strange, not-quite-painful, but uncomfortable stretching feeling struck her face. Her eyes shifted to be a bit closer together. Her nose shrank. Her cheekbones widened and her mouth and chin did the same. Adriana’s face went from its angular shape to a softer, rounder appearance. Adriana’s lips plumped slightly to match her wider mouth, which but for her groans of protest would form a pronounced pout.

The next sensation to strike Adriana was a strong ache all over her, as if she was suffering from a full-body camp. She was already thin, but the cramps came as her muscles toned themselves. Her arms became more toned. Her tummy tightened and her thighs flared out with new mass. Adriana cried out at another jolt of discomfort as her hips widened to keep up with her thighs, with both helping fill out a huge, round, brown ass. Adriana’s new booty pushed her off the floor and caused her to tilt on her side. She reached behind with the hand Crimson wasn’t holding and grabbed her ass, crying out in shock at the juicy booty that was now attached to her.

As Adriana coped with the realization of her changing physique, she felt a tightness in her chest. She looked down to see it was the feeling of her breasts growing. Not rippling with new, natural flesh, but instead inflating with implants. Adriana reached up from her plush booty to grab at the growing orbs on her chest with her free hand, feeling them growing rounder and rising on her chest. The transforming woman tried again to put words together, but they failed amidst the shock and the sensation of her transformation. Adriana’s new breast implants were large, though not so large that they overshadowed her hips and her butt.

While the sensations began to fade in Adriana’s body, she felt a mild headache come on. That mild headache became severe. And Adriana could sense that something was different. It was as though a fog had descended on her mind, turning her thoughts into sand. She could grasp at individual feelings, words, and concepts. But the longer and more complicated they were, the more they just slipped through her metaphorical fingers. Adriana had no frame of reference to understand that her intelligence and reasoning capabilities were in decline. Adriana had always been a bright, thoughtful woman prone to overthinking. But she found it harder and harder to hold onto her thoughts. Instead she felt her emotions intensify. It would be harder to regulate her emotions now. With her diminished intelligence, Adriana would find herself more easily distracted, more passionate, and much more impulsive.

As the headache faded, Adriana felt something else shift in her mind—but she didn’t linger on it for long. With the itching, the pain, and the buzzing sensation all having faded, the transformed woman sprang up from her huddled position and looked at the three people around her in fury. She pulled her hand back from Crimson and shouted at the top of her lungs.

“¿¡Qué carajo!?” Adriana squealed. She didn’t yet notice that her voice was deeper and sultrier. Let alone that she was speaking Spanish. “¿¡Qué carajo me hici’te!?” What the fuck did you to me?! It took Adriana a moment to realize that the words she intended to say weren’t the ones to come out. She covered her mouth with her hands and gasped. “¿Como hiciste esto?” She protested. “¿Por qué no puedo hablar inglés?” Tears began to well in Adriana’s eyes, prompting Crimson and Gloria to both kneel down and put comforting hands on her shoulders. Adriana initially attempted to bat them off, but their touch felt good. Almost comforting. She finally stopped struggling and gave the two a harsh glare.

“You can still speak English, sweetie,” Gloria told her. “You just have to use that little brain of yours and think really hard. You won’t be that good at it. But you can get your point across. Give it a try, babe.”

Adriana furrowed her brow. She fought through the fog of her mind. She dug through the quicksand her thoughts vanished into. And she finally managed to choke some words out. “What…” she said, suddenly aware of a thick accent that reminded her of her grandmother from Havana. “What di’ju do to me?!” Adriana asked in a slow, halting voice. “What has ju done?”

“We gave you what you wanted,” Crimson said. She took Adriana’s hands and helped the altered Latina to her feet. Adriana stumbled at first, almost falling over her unfamiliar center of gravity. But Crimson kept the brown beauty steady. “You wanted to be a spicy, sexy, exotic Latina. Just like once upon a time I wanted to be a big tiddy goth GF.” Crimson led Adriana behind the bar, guiding the stumbling Latina carefully to the mirrored back of the drink racks where she could see her new body. “So we made you a drink to give you what you wanted.”

Adriana looked into the makeshift mirror. She knew she had changed dramatically. But seeing it all coming together overwhelmed her. Adriana reached up to touch her new face and ran her hands down to her newly-artificial breasts. She gave them a squeeze, and then reached down to clasp her butt cheeks. Her butt, at least, was real. And it was incredible. It bounced and wobbled with every move she made, jiggling naturally behind her. It would be impossible for anyone even vaguely attracted to women to look away as she passed. And her wide hips made it clear what she was packing behind. As she ogled the woman in the mirror, Adriana’s shock, horror, and terror faded—sand slipping through her fingers. Now she was fixated on her new self. Her dazed expression curled into a smile.

“¡Me veo so sexy!” The Latina beauty ran her hands from her butt to her hips and up her body, shaking her fake tetas and wiggling her enlarged butt at the same time. She turned around, looking over her shoulder to see her butt jiggle in the mirror. “¡Mira e’te culo gran’e!” Adriana exclaimed. “Mi culo gran’e!”

“That’s right, Adriana,” Crimson said. She walked up behind Adriana and delivered a firm slap to her ass. The sound of the spanking cracked through the room. Adriana inhaled sharply and let out a cackling laugh. “That’s your culo grande. Don’t you like it?”

“Ye’!” Adriana giggled, forcing herself to speak in some approximation of English again. “A’riana lobe her big ass.” She turned and looked at herself in the mirror again. “She so sexy. So caliente!” The transformed woman leaned in. There was still a tiny bit of anxiety in her mind. A hint of doubt. But her newly simple mind didn’t let it linger long. And even if it had? Deep down in her heart of hearts, Adriana loved how she looked now. She loved being the kind of woman she’d always been jealous of. The accent was a little much. And she would soon find her favorite video games and tabletop RPG’s were a bit beyond her reduced cognition. But comic books—and their sexy hombres—would be right on her level. But there was barely anything Adriana liked more than just admiring herself and what she’d become. She loved it. And for the first time in her life, she loved herself.

“You most definitely are,” Crimson affirmed. She smirked at Clark, who hadn’t been able to take his eyes off Adriana since she downed her glass. “The boss seems to approve, at least. What do you think, Gloria?”

“I think she’s headliner material,” Gloria chimed in. “I think she’ll be making the big bucks tonight. And every night if she decides to stay.”

Decides to stay? Adriana giggled at that. “Of cour’e A’riana stay!” She said. “A’riana give many gra’ias for making her so sexy! For gi’bing her big, brown booty!” Adriana paused, trying to summon up English again. But it was easier to speak in her newly native tongue. “¡E’th lo mínimo que pue’o hacer ya que me hici’te tan sexy!”

“Me alegra oír eso!” Anthony finally spoke, having removed his eyes from Adriana’s curves long enough to offer her a hand to shake. Adriana hadn’t realized that her new boss spoke Spanish. That was sexy. He was already a good-looking guy, though Adriana considered most guys good looking in her newly-excited state. Still, being able to speak on her terms just made him hotter. “Así que déjame ofrecerte un trato,” Anthony continued. “Tendrás un trabajo aquí durante el verano. Puedes irte en cualquier momento, pero quédate todo el tiempo que quieras. Pero al final te cambiaremos de nuevo, para que puedas decidir qué quieres a continuación.”

The new Adriana actually managed to mull the deal that Anthony had offered. Three months to live in this body and with this mind. And at the end she would be turned back to decide what to do from there. The thought of going back already made Adriana pout a little bit. She didn’t want to go back. But Señor Antonio was her jefe. She had to do what he said and be a good employee.

“¿Y dón’e viviré?” Adriana asked in another rare moment of thoughtfulness. “¿Qué le diré a mi familia y amigo’th?” Where would she live? What would she tell her family and friends? How could she explain this?

“Crimson se alojará contigo,” Anthony said with a casual wave.

“What will I do now?” Crimson asked suspiciously.

“You’ll room with Adriana,” Anthony said. “You said you needed a roommate the other day. And you can learn Spanish!”

“Only because she’s so sexy,” Crimson agreed, giving Adriana a wink.

“En cuanto a tus seres queridos... diles que estás de vacaciones,” Anthony suggested, returning his attention to Adriana. “Podemos proporcionarle documentos y una identificación mientras esté aquí.” She smiled at that. Jefe Antonio would handle all the hard stuff. Papers and ID’s. And she could just live like this. She could live with this amazing, exotic body. This simple, unstressed mind.

“Which leaves us with one last question,” Anthony said. Adriana groaned. She was tired of thinking. Tired of those big thoughts. Tired of fighting through the fog. She wanted to dance and be sexy! “You’ll need a stage name for tonight,” Anthony explained. Adriana’s expression flipped again. That was okay! That was a fun question. “What name do you want our customers to know you by, Adriana?”

The newly-minted bombshell put a finger to her lips and looked in the mirror. But she soon turned around again and looked over her shoulder. Her attention had turned inevitably to her big, brown ass. The big ass that dominated her figure. That she felt with every step. That would define her new job and her whole upcoming summer. Her big, brown booty. Her culo grande. She giggled at its movement, reaching up and massaging her enhanced breasts, but never once turning from the sight of her jiggling backside. And then she got an idea.

If she loved her big ass, why not be called that? She could be El Culo Grande perhaps? No, that made her sound like a man. But then she could go by…

Adriana cackled.

“Got an idea, girl?” Crimson asked.

“¡Si!” Adriana agreed enthusiastically. “A’riana will on the stage be the Big Ass.” She giggled once more, sauntering up to the catwalk and hefting herself onto it. She hooked an arm around the brass pole and smiled brightly to her new coworkers—no, her new amigos. “She will be La Cula Grande!”

—

One week later, Adriana could barely believe how happy she was not to be herself.

Onstage, she was La Cula Grande—the most popular stripper at the Lounge Erotic. La Cula Grande’s first night had been an unmitigated success. She hadn’t even seen the amount of money she’d pulled in before. And with a week of dance practice and shifts on stage, La Cula Grande was only getting better. She found that despite her simplified mind she was a talented dancer with excellent muscle memory. It never occurred to her that it had perhaps been a result of the drinks Señora Gloria gave her. The ones that were fizzy and nice, like the drink that had turned her into La Cula Grande to begin with.

The fun didn’t end offstage, either. Offstage, Guadalupe Mario Dominga Santiago—try saying that five times fast—made friends with most of the other girls at the club. Some of them were jealous of her—mostly the ones who’d never drank Señora Gloria’s fizzy drinks. But the girls who knew loved her. Guadalupe had never felt compelled to give up her interests. But card games were so complex. D&D had so many rules. And she got so caliente just being around all the cute boys and girls. She had tried going to the comic book store once, but the dropped jaws and stuttering of the clientele—some of Adriana’s old friends among them—made it clear she didn’t quite fit in. But that was okay. She still enjoyed her comic books and got Crimson hooked on them, too. And she got a few phone numbers from some of the boys there. And a few of those boys ended up becoming regulars at the Lounge.

One of them, Chet, was sitting right in front of the catwalk tonight while La Cula Grande slid down the pole and to the floor. She looked Chet in the eyes and licked her lips. Chet wasn’t much of a looker by La Cula Grande’s standards. He was a bit rounder than she’d have liked. A bit paler than she’d have liked. And red hair only looked good on Gloria as far as she was concerned. She could meet and kiss and fuck, and did meet and kiss and fuck, men who were taller, more muscular, and more handsome than Chet. But Adriana had always had a little bit of a crush on Chet, and La Cula Grande did, too. La Cula Grande was her own woman, sure. But Chet wasn’t seeing anyone.

Would she even care if he was?

La Cula Grande broke into a cute, nervous giggle. Naughty Cula Grande! Bad Big-Butt, she thought. She had accepted that she was horny. That given the opportunity, she was probably a slut. But was she a homewrecker? Time would tell, she supposed.

For now, though, the bodacious, brown stripper got up on her knees and slid her top off before leaning down close to Chet again. It was a slow night, which meant she could give him most of her attention. And he in turn had provided her with a consistent stream of 1’s and 5’s that now filled her G-string and littered the stage.

“You muy han’thome Señor Chet,” she said, her accent as powerful as ever. “Han’thome gringo.”

“Uh…thanks,” Chet responded. His face was turning red. He was starting to sweat. La Cula Grande could see his jeans begin to tent.

“Does ‘ju want to come back’tage?” she asked, reaching out to place a finger on Chet’s chin. “To see La Cula Grande mano a woman?” She giggled at her feeble wordplay. “To do whatever we want?”

“I uh…” Chet mumbled, but La Cula Grande took the initiative. With her song ending, the topless Latina climbed off the stage and took Chet’s hand. She led him towards the backstage area, waving to a bouncer to let him know it was okay. “Maybe…” While his words said maybe, though, Chet kept walking.

La Cula Grande led him through the back hallway for a bit before coming to a door labeled PRIVATE. She opened it up to a small, intimate room full of cushioned furniture with a single pole in the middle. But La Cula Grande didn’t mount it. She gently sat Chet down on a chair and stood over him.

“Is this…legal?” Chet asked.

“Is Señor Chet gonna tell la poli’thia?” La Cula Grande asked with a giggle. She went down to her knees and began to work the button and the zipper on Chet’s jeans. “Por esta noche,” she said. “La Cula Gran’e all yours. If Señor Chet pay lot’ of dinero. Like he doe’ when La Cula Gran’e on the pole!”

“I just…I don’t know…” Chet said. “I’d like to. But there’s this girl back at the comic store I kinda liked. Adriana.” La Cula Grande’s smile only widened at that. Was she cucking herself? Something about that was so hot. “And if she knew I paid a stripper for sex I…I don’t know what she’d think of it.”

La Cula Grande leaned over onto Chet’s lap, her silicone breasts resting on his knees. Her dark eyes looked into his. “Hmmmmmm…” she feigned to think. “Is Señora A’riana here now?” She asked.

“N-no,” Chet said. “She went on vacation last week.”

“So if Señor Chet no squeal to la poli’thia,” she mused. “And no tell Señora A’riana…” she went on. “Then who will know what Chet do with La Cula Gran’e?”

“I guess…I guess nobody,” Chet reasoned. “But I’ll have to pay?”

“Si,” La Cula Grande answered, feigning sadness. “I is at my jobe, no?” she asked. Of course jefe Antonio had never made La Cula Grande fuck men for money. Or fuck men at all. But losing her virginity at a party with Crimson had opened the floodgates. La Cula Grande loved having sex. At the back of her mind, she knew she still needed to make money. So she let those two interests converge.

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Chet said. “So uh…how much?”

La Cula Grande leaned forward and continued to undo Chet’s jeans. She pulled them down and fished his cock out of the hole in his boxers. Chet’s member was pretty average in length, but it was thick and girthy. And surprisingly well-groomed. With her manicured nails, La Cula Grande began to stroke his thick cock. “Por te-hn dollors, La Cula Gran’e suck like ta’ty lollipop,” she offered. She climbed onto Chet’s lap, putting more pressure on him as she got closer. “For tw-eh-nty dollars? You get big, pla’th’tic teta’. Por fifty, she will fuck you. Por one hon-dred…” La Cula Grande paused, a shark-like grin breaking out on her face.

“For a hundred?” Chet asked.

La Cula Grande let the young man’s cock go and turned around, planting her ass right in his lap. “Por one hon-dred dollors,” she said. “‘Ju get mi Cula Grande.”