Pranked in Pink
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Pranked in Pink
- by StickySteph, Nov 30, 2014, 10:36:16 PM
- Literature / Prose / Fiction / Horror / Short Stories
Groaning with pain from your massive hangover, your eyes open wide as you look down and see a big maze of fur blocking your vision. You try to sit up, but there is a heavy weight jiggling on your chest, and your head feels like it weighs ten times more than it should. You reach up to push the fluffy weight off your chest, and and see two giant pink fur cuffs wrapped around your wrists, and long pink nails have been attached to your fingers. Sitting up quickly, the weight on your chest grasps your skin and bounces around underneath the fur collar, and you see you've been dressed in a pretty pink dress with ridiculously huge fur trims! A big fluffy petticoat peeks out from under the hem of the skirt, which surrounds your thighs with a big tube of pink fur. Your feet are inside a pair of boots, which have a massive ball of fur exploding around the top of them, surrounding your lower thighs and most of your feet. A pair of lace tights are wrapped tightly around your legs.
"What... what the..." you mumble, trying to stand up, your heavy head flopping back and forth. The dress swishes loudly around as you move, and your peripheral vision is intruded by walls of soft pink hair. You grab it and pull, and feel a painful yank on your scalp. You quickly reach up, and discover why your head feels so heavy - there is a massive fur hat on your head, with an explosion of soft pink hair coming out from under it, and two strings hang from the sides, each with a huge pink fur pom pom dangling and bouncing on the end of it. Panic grips you as your hands shoot around the hat, feeling the incredible softness of it, the cuffs on your wrists mashing against it as you explore your terrible situation. The hat is puffball shaped, and absolutely gigantic, your arms can barely reach the top of it!
The pain of your hangover begins to fade as panic fills your body. What happened last night?! You think hard, but you can’t remember a thing.
You glare at the fluffy prison you’re in, and decide the first thing to go is the hat, considering how heavy and hot it is over top of the big curly pink wig you’re wearing. You dig your long glittering nails into the massive thing and pull, but feel a hard grasp inside of it, running all around your scalp. You pull again, and it refuses to budge, the lining is pulling back just as hard on your head. You mash your hands into the thick fluffy volume of it and push and pull the thing around, but it’s secured on your head and won’t budge.
“The hell...” you grunt with your efforts. Pulling on the long curly hair provides the same result, you yank and pull, but all you get is a sharp pain on your head. Somehow, the hat and wig have been stuck to your head with something way stronger than you are.
Mashing your hands into the fur collar, you rip and pull, only to feel the same clinging sensation all around your neck and chest. Ripping and pulling at the poofy skirt is the same, everything is attached to your body with some sort of adhesive that refuses to give at all.
“Dammit!” you curse, trying to pull the big fur boots from your feet. A wave of embarrassment flows through you every time your hands touch the soft luscious fur, which is quite often. You reach around the back of the dress to find a zipper, but the entire thing has been sewn shut, with no openings at all.
Looking around, you realize that you aren’t back at your apartment... it seems like you’re in a hotel room. You scan the room for any sign of your old clothes, but you see nothing. Even your wallet and keys aren’t in sight. The entire room is empty, except for you and your new fluffy pink fashion. The thought of calling your friends for help has been dashed away, since the phone has been removed from the room.
You nervously lick your lips, and taste the strong flavor of candy. You wipe your lips with your hands, but don’t see anything. You stand up, teetering on the high heeled boots that your feet are trapped in, and start heading toward the bathroom. You gulp at the sight of your shadow, which is casting comically feminine proportions onto the wall. You turn your eyes away from it, and are again greeted with the massive pink fur trim encasing your neck and resting on your chest, which makes it impossible to see your feet.
Entering the bathroom, you turn to face the mirror and let out a scream at what you see. If you thought you looked ridiculous from your own vantage point, you now have a taste of what other people would see. Pink fur is bulging out all around your outfit, from the big fur collar to the cuffs on your wrists, and your skirt fluffs around atop its crinolines with the weight of the thick fur trim holding it in place. You now see why your lips were tasting like candy - you have an incredible amount of makeup on, making you look like an overdone drag queen - pink sparkles and glitter compliment your dramatic eyeshadow and huge fake lashes. Bright pink blush stands out against your much lighter foundation, and your pink lips look like they're a piece of candy floating in a white cloud.
The giant puffball pink fur hat makes your face look comically small, the sheer volume of the thing sticks out over two feet in every direction, and the fountain of hair pouring out from it frames your face perfectly, putting it out on display. You immediately grab a towel, wet it, and start madly wiping at the makeup in an attempt to tone down your appearance. Staring at the towel, you see no trace of makeup coming off, and your reflection shows how immaculate your makeover remains, despite your frantic scrubbing, soaping, and cursing. Whatever brand of makeup the pranksters used, it doesn't look like it's going anywhere soon.
You look through the cabinets in the bathroom hoping to find a complimentary bottle of makeup remover. You try your hardest to avoid looking in the big mirror, but you still see your giant fur hat bobbing and swaying as you continue your search, and the big pink pom poms hanging from either side of your face constantly swing and bump against you, a neverending reminder of how ridiculous you look right now. You go through the entire bathroom, but there's nothing even close to make up remover in the room.
You leave the bathroom, the clicking of your heels ends as you walk across the hotel room’s carpet. You look around the room again, the big pom poms hanging from your hat dance and smack your face as you turn your head, and you spot something on the bed. You mince toward it, and see its a cell phone - you didn’t see it when you woke up since you were sleeping on it. Picking it up is a challenge, since you now have long glittering pink nails, but you manage to hold it in your fur trimmed hands, and turn it on to see if you have any reception.
Full bars, with a nearly dead battery. The phone has an image gallery open on it which immediately commands your attention. Your eyes widen as you start glancing through the pictures, and all the fur you’ve been encased in doesn’t stop a chill from running down your spine. The first picture is of you at the bar with your friends. The picture was taken covertly from across the bar, neither you nor your friends are aware of the fact you were being spied on. The next picture is of a beer bottle, and a hand is hovering over it with a large white pill. Another hand is in the shot giving the thumbs up. Your hands start shaking, and you swipe the phone to reveal a video - a 10 second clip of the bottle being placed beside you, and the bottle you’ve set down being taken away. The person filming this quickly steps back and manages to capture you blindly grabbing for your bottle and taking a long swig.
Your thin eyebrows furrow over top of your bright pink eyeshadow. How did no one else notice this? You swipe the phone to reveal a photo of you barely conscious, holding on to the bar for support. The next photo shows you in a cab. You swipe again, and see a photo of you from behind with three women dressed in black dragging you toward the hotel. Swipe - you’re laying on the bed naked, passed out. A large duffel bag is set beside you, and a big mound of bright pink fur can be seen pouring out of it.
The next picture shows you completely shaved bald, and several hands in the frame are doing your makeup. The makeup is in strange flat silver containers, and is being applied very liberally with tiny flat spatulas. It’s hard to tell, but it almost looks like there’s steam coming off the brushes.
Swipe - A large tube with X-19A ADHESIVE written on the side of it is emptying a generous dollop of goo on your chest, the next picture shows two massive breastforms being squished on top of the goo against your chest. Again, you zoom in a bit, and swear you see steam or smoke wisping out from where the adhesive has bonded with the breastforms. You have a really bad feeling about this.
Another picture features a girl wearing the ridiculous poodle outfit you’ve been sealed inside of. She’s posing with a hand stretched out and another behind her head, which is lost in the huge fluffiness of the pink fur hat. The hat is squished around her face, so you can’t make out who it is, but she looks vaguely familiar - or at least the outfit does. What you do know, is how unbelievably embarrassing she looks wearing the outfit, which makes your skin crawl at the thought of what people are going to say at the sight of you trapped inside of it.
The next picture features you, with thick pink hair extensions stuck around the sides of your head, with the top of your head shaved completely bald. You flick your finger across the screen, and see an image of several tubes of glue squirting their contents on your legs, chest, and shoulders, with someone smoothing the mess out with a thin spatula. Someone off frame is holding one of the big fur boots at the bottom of your foot, and the girl in the background has removed the fluffy dress and is approaching you with it.
The next shot has you from the waist up, with the dress at your waist and open in the back. Someone else has a tube of adhesive, and is emptying it on your back. The next shot is the back of the dress closed, with a pair of hands stitching it shut, the strange steam/smoke is wisping out of the fabric all around your body.. Even if you managed to rip the dress, it’s been glued to your skin, so there is no chance you’d be able to pull it off.
The final picture, the massive fluffy hat is poised above your pink haired head. The entire lining is saturated with thick goo, which is dripping onto your shaved head. The last is you laying on the bed in your fluffy pink outfit, a fine mist of the steam/smoke leaking out from the glued outfit.
Knowing that the outfit is glued to you with several tubes of industrial strength adhesive sends you into a panic, and you begin ripping and pulling at the big monster atop your head. Your head jerks back and forth with your strong pulls, and you feel the strong resistance of the glue sitting between your scalp, the wig, and the hat. Your hands grab at the thick towers of fur surrounding your feet, but everything is sealed on you tight. The heavy weight of your breastforms bounces back and forth with your futile struggle.
Suddenly, the phone vibrates with a new message:
"Good morning, sunshine!
No doubt you've discovered the pretty ensemble that I've put together for you, one that you saw fit to ridicule me for wearing back in high school. I never forgot the horrible things you said to me, and over time I realized that maybe you were a little jealous of how pretty I looked, and always wanted to be a pretty pink poodle girl yourself. Good news, that day has come, cutie!”
Suddenly, the dress seems very familiar, and the memory of it comes floating through your pounding hangover. A girl you went to high school with wore it one Halloween, it's her dreaded Sexy Poodle costume. She was really into fashion and sewing, and she bragged about how she made it herself with real fur, using old fur coats from the second hand shop that she then cut apart, dyed pink, and re-purposed into a costume. You remember how stupid she looked in it and making fun of her, hurting her feelings, and laughing about it with your friends.
You continue reading the message.
“You're probably a little guilty that you look so much more gorgeous than I did in my outfit, and have already tried to rip it off for some silly reason. I don't want you missing out on how fun it is showing the world how pretty you are, so I attached everything to you with a very special adhesive, one that I've been developing at the university lab for the past several years. The adhesive needs to be dissolved with a special remover, one that I have set aside in a special location for you, a place where you'll be able to show off how pretty you've become!
Here's where the fun begins! As the day goes on, the thick layer of adhesive I’ve applied is going to cure and harden between the outfit and your skin, and it will send tiny little microscopic tendrils into the outfit, filling every nook and cranny of your costume, hair, and makeup with a network of fibers, all amazingly flexible while being stronger than titanium. This makes sure you’ll never be able to ever cut the costume off, I’d hate for you to ruin all my hard work!
The best part about this? The microscopic fibers of the adhesive will also seep down through your skin and into your muscles, and eventually your bones. Don't worry, although there are millions of these tiny strands, they're so thin that your body won't even know they're there. Even as your skin grows and sheds, these tiny strands will stay put in your body, and once the adhesive finally sets... it's there for good! Not even the remover will be able to break it down, you'll get to live the rest of your life looking like a pretty fluffy pink poodle girl! Imagine how jealous everyone will be!
I'm sure that you're excited at that idea, but just in case you'd like to be able to walk around in public ever again without making a scene everywhere you go, I've left the remover in a special location. You'll have to follow my little treasure hunt if you're ever going to find it, the first clue is taped to the door at the end of the hall outside your room.
And if you DON'T want to take that outfit off and change back into your boring old boy clothes, just wait another four hours, and the glue will set permanently, and you'll be the fluffy pink poodle girl that you've always wanted to be... FOREVER!
Hugs and kisses,
K"
The battery finally dies and you drop the phone, you feeling sick and lightheaded, the reality of your situation sinking in. The idea of being trapped in this costume for the rest of your life has made you faint, and you grab the edge of the counter to keep yourself from falling to the floor in shock. The huge pom poms hanging from the hat swing around and bounce against the sides of your face as you stop yourself from falling, and the big breasts bounce merrily under the massive fur collar. You look down over the big collar atop the fake breasts, seeing the crinolines swishing under your skirt, and the bulging cuffs of pink fur wrapped around your heeled boots. No matter where you look, some part of the ridiculous costume makes its way into your vision, and the massive hat weighs heavily on your head, bulging out in all directions with soft sparkly fur.
You know that you need to get out of this outfit, NOW. Again, you rip and pull at all parts of it, but the fact that it refuses to budge at all lends credibility to the message, and you remember the strange smoke coming off of you in the photos was very unsettling. You swallow hard, realizing that this girl has spent many years devising this revenge, and you pray you can find a way out of this before the outfit becomes your permanent home.
Then again, the idea of an adhesive making an outfit indestructible and permanently bonded to your body seems too far fetched, and you decide against playing her weird little game, and you brave the hallways and head to reception to call a friend. You teeter on your heels and swish your way down the hall, into the elevator, and out into the main lobby. Time seems to freeze as everyone gets a good look at you, and laughter slowly erupts amongst the crowd. You mince your way to the front desk and ask the giggling receptionist if you can use the phone. She bursts out laughing, places the phone on the desk, and runs to the back room to hide her hysterics.
After an hour of sitting in the lobby, hiding your face with the thick wig spilling out from under your fluffy hat, your friend arrives. He follows suit with everyone else who has seen you, and begins snickering and laughing as well. You glare at him, and fill him in with the details of the note and what had been done to you as you both walk precariously to the car. The heels have begun to become a painful hindrance to your movement, and you stumble and fall onto your friend more than once. He laughs, rubs the fluffy fur ball that’s encasing the top of your head, and comments on the amazing job the pranksters have done on you, and how its the best prank he’s ever seen. You get into his car, the huge puffball of a hat making it difficult to sit upright in the seat, as its massive volume is compacting as much as it can against the top of your head and the roof of the car. Again you hide your face with the thick walls of hair as he drives you home.
Once your friend has helped you break into your house due to your lack of a backup key, he wishes you luck and drives off. You breathe a sigh of relief, finally free of the public humiliation you’ve received at the hotel, as well as during the drive home, where people were shouting all manners of names at the pink fluffy drag queen they saw in the car beside them. Your feet are in an incredible amount of pain from being crammed in the heeled boots for so long, and the entire costume has become uncomfortably hot from the small amount of walking you’ve had to do. The entire experience has left you drained, so you stumble over to the sofa and collapse on the cushions, your fluffy hat and collar making an excellent pillow as you doze off to sleep.
Several hours later, sunlight begins streaming in through your windows and you awake with a start. Blinking your eyes, you remember fragments from the horrible dream you were having last night, something about being trapped in some sort of ridiculous...
Considering how bright, big, and glittery your costume is, it only takes a few seconds for the reality of the situation to come crashing back to you. You struggle off the couch and swish your way into the kitchen to find a way out of your pink fluffy prison. Opening a drawer and grabbing the sharpest knife you can find, you start sawing madly at the hot furry ball atop your head. The knife zips across the fur, stabs into it harmlessly, and zips right off again. You freeze, and try again, stabbing hard into the soft mound of fur. Again, the knife squishes into the hat, but refuses to puncture the lining or even make a scratch in it. You turn your attention to the collar around your neck, but the same thing happens, the knife won’t slice any of it off, not even a single hair of the fur comes loose. Your heart beats faster as you stab at the dress with the knife, and watch it harmlessly glance off.
Stepping as quickly as you can into your garage, you grab the closest tool you can find - which is a circular saw. You turn it on and blindly drive it down into the skirts surrounding your legs. A scream comes from your lips as sparks fly off from the dress, you shut off the saw and see not a single scratch on the fabric. You turn the saw back on and press it against your breasts, and they jiggle and shake as the saw grinds against them, and suddenly the blade overheats and breaks, sending fragments of metal flying into your face and costume. The shards bounce harmlessly off of your costume, and frighteningly enough, off of your pretty made over face.
Your breathing becomes very shallow, to the point of hyperventilation, and you race back to the kitchen, ripping and pulling at the heavy fur monster atop your head. Before you descend into a futile attempt at yanking the outfit from your body, you see a card sitting on the kitchen table. You race over to it and see in glittering letters on the front, above a picture of yourself unconscious in your ridiculous costume:
“Congrats on becoming a fluffy poodle girl!”
Your hands tremble as you open the card and read the flowing handwriting within.
“So you’ve decided that you love my outfit so much, that you’d like to keep it forever! Who can blame you? You look SO pretty, and will for the rest of your life! I bet you can’t WAIT to strut your way around the city, showing off how pretty you’ve become! Most guys would think this was a horrific nightmare, but I am SO jealous of your courage to be as pretty as you’ve always wanted to be! I’m glad I could help you make your pink fluffy dreams come true!
I’m heading out of the country permanently, so I’m afraid I’ll never get to see how adorable you look in person. Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll find tons of photos online taken of you in public from jealous onlookers. Aren’t you excited at how much attention you’re going to get? I know I am! I wish I could look in the mirror every morning for the rest of my life and see something as cute and fluffy as you staring back at me!
Just remember, this isn’t a dream! It’s a dream come true!
Love,
K”
The card drops to the floor from your hands. You stare at the wall for a very long time, and eventually make your way to the bathroom, and stare into the mirror. The hat, hair, and collar frame your gaudy face with glittering pink fur. The massive breasts quiver with your shallow breaths, and the big pom poms rest against them. The heeled boots, thick with fur, are still cramping your feet, and the big rustling skirt never seems to stop moving and swishing against your legs.
You spend the rest of the night screaming and pulling at the outfit. Every power tool in your garage winds up breaking against it. You race from room to room, the sensations of the fluffy costume building as you do so, the heavy hat wobbling your head back and forth, the fluffy trim constantly brushing your skin, the pom poms bouncing madly with your movements. This goes on for several days, until you finally collapse from exhaustion.
Laying on the floor, you read the card beside you over and over again, until you fade into sleep, and the words echo through your mind.
Just remember, this isn’t a dream! It’s a dream come true!
Just remember, this isn’t a dream...
this isn’t a dream...
this isn’t a dream...
this isn’t a dream...
"What... what the..." you mumble, trying to stand up, your heavy head flopping back and forth. The dress swishes loudly around as you move, and your peripheral vision is intruded by walls of soft pink hair. You grab it and pull, and feel a painful yank on your scalp. You quickly reach up, and discover why your head feels so heavy - there is a massive fur hat on your head, with an explosion of soft pink hair coming out from under it, and two strings hang from the sides, each with a huge pink fur pom pom dangling and bouncing on the end of it. Panic grips you as your hands shoot around the hat, feeling the incredible softness of it, the cuffs on your wrists mashing against it as you explore your terrible situation. The hat is puffball shaped, and absolutely gigantic, your arms can barely reach the top of it!
The pain of your hangover begins to fade as panic fills your body. What happened last night?! You think hard, but you can’t remember a thing.
You glare at the fluffy prison you’re in, and decide the first thing to go is the hat, considering how heavy and hot it is over top of the big curly pink wig you’re wearing. You dig your long glittering nails into the massive thing and pull, but feel a hard grasp inside of it, running all around your scalp. You pull again, and it refuses to budge, the lining is pulling back just as hard on your head. You mash your hands into the thick fluffy volume of it and push and pull the thing around, but it’s secured on your head and won’t budge.
“The hell...” you grunt with your efforts. Pulling on the long curly hair provides the same result, you yank and pull, but all you get is a sharp pain on your head. Somehow, the hat and wig have been stuck to your head with something way stronger than you are.
Mashing your hands into the fur collar, you rip and pull, only to feel the same clinging sensation all around your neck and chest. Ripping and pulling at the poofy skirt is the same, everything is attached to your body with some sort of adhesive that refuses to give at all.
“Dammit!” you curse, trying to pull the big fur boots from your feet. A wave of embarrassment flows through you every time your hands touch the soft luscious fur, which is quite often. You reach around the back of the dress to find a zipper, but the entire thing has been sewn shut, with no openings at all.
Looking around, you realize that you aren’t back at your apartment... it seems like you’re in a hotel room. You scan the room for any sign of your old clothes, but you see nothing. Even your wallet and keys aren’t in sight. The entire room is empty, except for you and your new fluffy pink fashion. The thought of calling your friends for help has been dashed away, since the phone has been removed from the room.
You nervously lick your lips, and taste the strong flavor of candy. You wipe your lips with your hands, but don’t see anything. You stand up, teetering on the high heeled boots that your feet are trapped in, and start heading toward the bathroom. You gulp at the sight of your shadow, which is casting comically feminine proportions onto the wall. You turn your eyes away from it, and are again greeted with the massive pink fur trim encasing your neck and resting on your chest, which makes it impossible to see your feet.
Entering the bathroom, you turn to face the mirror and let out a scream at what you see. If you thought you looked ridiculous from your own vantage point, you now have a taste of what other people would see. Pink fur is bulging out all around your outfit, from the big fur collar to the cuffs on your wrists, and your skirt fluffs around atop its crinolines with the weight of the thick fur trim holding it in place. You now see why your lips were tasting like candy - you have an incredible amount of makeup on, making you look like an overdone drag queen - pink sparkles and glitter compliment your dramatic eyeshadow and huge fake lashes. Bright pink blush stands out against your much lighter foundation, and your pink lips look like they're a piece of candy floating in a white cloud.
The giant puffball pink fur hat makes your face look comically small, the sheer volume of the thing sticks out over two feet in every direction, and the fountain of hair pouring out from it frames your face perfectly, putting it out on display. You immediately grab a towel, wet it, and start madly wiping at the makeup in an attempt to tone down your appearance. Staring at the towel, you see no trace of makeup coming off, and your reflection shows how immaculate your makeover remains, despite your frantic scrubbing, soaping, and cursing. Whatever brand of makeup the pranksters used, it doesn't look like it's going anywhere soon.
You look through the cabinets in the bathroom hoping to find a complimentary bottle of makeup remover. You try your hardest to avoid looking in the big mirror, but you still see your giant fur hat bobbing and swaying as you continue your search, and the big pink pom poms hanging from either side of your face constantly swing and bump against you, a neverending reminder of how ridiculous you look right now. You go through the entire bathroom, but there's nothing even close to make up remover in the room.
You leave the bathroom, the clicking of your heels ends as you walk across the hotel room’s carpet. You look around the room again, the big pom poms hanging from your hat dance and smack your face as you turn your head, and you spot something on the bed. You mince toward it, and see its a cell phone - you didn’t see it when you woke up since you were sleeping on it. Picking it up is a challenge, since you now have long glittering pink nails, but you manage to hold it in your fur trimmed hands, and turn it on to see if you have any reception.
Full bars, with a nearly dead battery. The phone has an image gallery open on it which immediately commands your attention. Your eyes widen as you start glancing through the pictures, and all the fur you’ve been encased in doesn’t stop a chill from running down your spine. The first picture is of you at the bar with your friends. The picture was taken covertly from across the bar, neither you nor your friends are aware of the fact you were being spied on. The next picture is of a beer bottle, and a hand is hovering over it with a large white pill. Another hand is in the shot giving the thumbs up. Your hands start shaking, and you swipe the phone to reveal a video - a 10 second clip of the bottle being placed beside you, and the bottle you’ve set down being taken away. The person filming this quickly steps back and manages to capture you blindly grabbing for your bottle and taking a long swig.
Your thin eyebrows furrow over top of your bright pink eyeshadow. How did no one else notice this? You swipe the phone to reveal a photo of you barely conscious, holding on to the bar for support. The next photo shows you in a cab. You swipe again, and see a photo of you from behind with three women dressed in black dragging you toward the hotel. Swipe - you’re laying on the bed naked, passed out. A large duffel bag is set beside you, and a big mound of bright pink fur can be seen pouring out of it.
The next picture shows you completely shaved bald, and several hands in the frame are doing your makeup. The makeup is in strange flat silver containers, and is being applied very liberally with tiny flat spatulas. It’s hard to tell, but it almost looks like there’s steam coming off the brushes.
Swipe - A large tube with X-19A ADHESIVE written on the side of it is emptying a generous dollop of goo on your chest, the next picture shows two massive breastforms being squished on top of the goo against your chest. Again, you zoom in a bit, and swear you see steam or smoke wisping out from where the adhesive has bonded with the breastforms. You have a really bad feeling about this.
Another picture features a girl wearing the ridiculous poodle outfit you’ve been sealed inside of. She’s posing with a hand stretched out and another behind her head, which is lost in the huge fluffiness of the pink fur hat. The hat is squished around her face, so you can’t make out who it is, but she looks vaguely familiar - or at least the outfit does. What you do know, is how unbelievably embarrassing she looks wearing the outfit, which makes your skin crawl at the thought of what people are going to say at the sight of you trapped inside of it.
The next picture features you, with thick pink hair extensions stuck around the sides of your head, with the top of your head shaved completely bald. You flick your finger across the screen, and see an image of several tubes of glue squirting their contents on your legs, chest, and shoulders, with someone smoothing the mess out with a thin spatula. Someone off frame is holding one of the big fur boots at the bottom of your foot, and the girl in the background has removed the fluffy dress and is approaching you with it.
The next shot has you from the waist up, with the dress at your waist and open in the back. Someone else has a tube of adhesive, and is emptying it on your back. The next shot is the back of the dress closed, with a pair of hands stitching it shut, the strange steam/smoke is wisping out of the fabric all around your body.. Even if you managed to rip the dress, it’s been glued to your skin, so there is no chance you’d be able to pull it off.
The final picture, the massive fluffy hat is poised above your pink haired head. The entire lining is saturated with thick goo, which is dripping onto your shaved head. The last is you laying on the bed in your fluffy pink outfit, a fine mist of the steam/smoke leaking out from the glued outfit.
Knowing that the outfit is glued to you with several tubes of industrial strength adhesive sends you into a panic, and you begin ripping and pulling at the big monster atop your head. Your head jerks back and forth with your strong pulls, and you feel the strong resistance of the glue sitting between your scalp, the wig, and the hat. Your hands grab at the thick towers of fur surrounding your feet, but everything is sealed on you tight. The heavy weight of your breastforms bounces back and forth with your futile struggle.
Suddenly, the phone vibrates with a new message:
"Good morning, sunshine!
No doubt you've discovered the pretty ensemble that I've put together for you, one that you saw fit to ridicule me for wearing back in high school. I never forgot the horrible things you said to me, and over time I realized that maybe you were a little jealous of how pretty I looked, and always wanted to be a pretty pink poodle girl yourself. Good news, that day has come, cutie!”
Suddenly, the dress seems very familiar, and the memory of it comes floating through your pounding hangover. A girl you went to high school with wore it one Halloween, it's her dreaded Sexy Poodle costume. She was really into fashion and sewing, and she bragged about how she made it herself with real fur, using old fur coats from the second hand shop that she then cut apart, dyed pink, and re-purposed into a costume. You remember how stupid she looked in it and making fun of her, hurting her feelings, and laughing about it with your friends.
You continue reading the message.
“You're probably a little guilty that you look so much more gorgeous than I did in my outfit, and have already tried to rip it off for some silly reason. I don't want you missing out on how fun it is showing the world how pretty you are, so I attached everything to you with a very special adhesive, one that I've been developing at the university lab for the past several years. The adhesive needs to be dissolved with a special remover, one that I have set aside in a special location for you, a place where you'll be able to show off how pretty you've become!
Here's where the fun begins! As the day goes on, the thick layer of adhesive I’ve applied is going to cure and harden between the outfit and your skin, and it will send tiny little microscopic tendrils into the outfit, filling every nook and cranny of your costume, hair, and makeup with a network of fibers, all amazingly flexible while being stronger than titanium. This makes sure you’ll never be able to ever cut the costume off, I’d hate for you to ruin all my hard work!
The best part about this? The microscopic fibers of the adhesive will also seep down through your skin and into your muscles, and eventually your bones. Don't worry, although there are millions of these tiny strands, they're so thin that your body won't even know they're there. Even as your skin grows and sheds, these tiny strands will stay put in your body, and once the adhesive finally sets... it's there for good! Not even the remover will be able to break it down, you'll get to live the rest of your life looking like a pretty fluffy pink poodle girl! Imagine how jealous everyone will be!
I'm sure that you're excited at that idea, but just in case you'd like to be able to walk around in public ever again without making a scene everywhere you go, I've left the remover in a special location. You'll have to follow my little treasure hunt if you're ever going to find it, the first clue is taped to the door at the end of the hall outside your room.
And if you DON'T want to take that outfit off and change back into your boring old boy clothes, just wait another four hours, and the glue will set permanently, and you'll be the fluffy pink poodle girl that you've always wanted to be... FOREVER!
Hugs and kisses,
K"
The battery finally dies and you drop the phone, you feeling sick and lightheaded, the reality of your situation sinking in. The idea of being trapped in this costume for the rest of your life has made you faint, and you grab the edge of the counter to keep yourself from falling to the floor in shock. The huge pom poms hanging from the hat swing around and bounce against the sides of your face as you stop yourself from falling, and the big breasts bounce merrily under the massive fur collar. You look down over the big collar atop the fake breasts, seeing the crinolines swishing under your skirt, and the bulging cuffs of pink fur wrapped around your heeled boots. No matter where you look, some part of the ridiculous costume makes its way into your vision, and the massive hat weighs heavily on your head, bulging out in all directions with soft sparkly fur.
You know that you need to get out of this outfit, NOW. Again, you rip and pull at all parts of it, but the fact that it refuses to budge at all lends credibility to the message, and you remember the strange smoke coming off of you in the photos was very unsettling. You swallow hard, realizing that this girl has spent many years devising this revenge, and you pray you can find a way out of this before the outfit becomes your permanent home.
Then again, the idea of an adhesive making an outfit indestructible and permanently bonded to your body seems too far fetched, and you decide against playing her weird little game, and you brave the hallways and head to reception to call a friend. You teeter on your heels and swish your way down the hall, into the elevator, and out into the main lobby. Time seems to freeze as everyone gets a good look at you, and laughter slowly erupts amongst the crowd. You mince your way to the front desk and ask the giggling receptionist if you can use the phone. She bursts out laughing, places the phone on the desk, and runs to the back room to hide her hysterics.
After an hour of sitting in the lobby, hiding your face with the thick wig spilling out from under your fluffy hat, your friend arrives. He follows suit with everyone else who has seen you, and begins snickering and laughing as well. You glare at him, and fill him in with the details of the note and what had been done to you as you both walk precariously to the car. The heels have begun to become a painful hindrance to your movement, and you stumble and fall onto your friend more than once. He laughs, rubs the fluffy fur ball that’s encasing the top of your head, and comments on the amazing job the pranksters have done on you, and how its the best prank he’s ever seen. You get into his car, the huge puffball of a hat making it difficult to sit upright in the seat, as its massive volume is compacting as much as it can against the top of your head and the roof of the car. Again you hide your face with the thick walls of hair as he drives you home.
Once your friend has helped you break into your house due to your lack of a backup key, he wishes you luck and drives off. You breathe a sigh of relief, finally free of the public humiliation you’ve received at the hotel, as well as during the drive home, where people were shouting all manners of names at the pink fluffy drag queen they saw in the car beside them. Your feet are in an incredible amount of pain from being crammed in the heeled boots for so long, and the entire costume has become uncomfortably hot from the small amount of walking you’ve had to do. The entire experience has left you drained, so you stumble over to the sofa and collapse on the cushions, your fluffy hat and collar making an excellent pillow as you doze off to sleep.
Several hours later, sunlight begins streaming in through your windows and you awake with a start. Blinking your eyes, you remember fragments from the horrible dream you were having last night, something about being trapped in some sort of ridiculous...
Considering how bright, big, and glittery your costume is, it only takes a few seconds for the reality of the situation to come crashing back to you. You struggle off the couch and swish your way into the kitchen to find a way out of your pink fluffy prison. Opening a drawer and grabbing the sharpest knife you can find, you start sawing madly at the hot furry ball atop your head. The knife zips across the fur, stabs into it harmlessly, and zips right off again. You freeze, and try again, stabbing hard into the soft mound of fur. Again, the knife squishes into the hat, but refuses to puncture the lining or even make a scratch in it. You turn your attention to the collar around your neck, but the same thing happens, the knife won’t slice any of it off, not even a single hair of the fur comes loose. Your heart beats faster as you stab at the dress with the knife, and watch it harmlessly glance off.
Stepping as quickly as you can into your garage, you grab the closest tool you can find - which is a circular saw. You turn it on and blindly drive it down into the skirts surrounding your legs. A scream comes from your lips as sparks fly off from the dress, you shut off the saw and see not a single scratch on the fabric. You turn the saw back on and press it against your breasts, and they jiggle and shake as the saw grinds against them, and suddenly the blade overheats and breaks, sending fragments of metal flying into your face and costume. The shards bounce harmlessly off of your costume, and frighteningly enough, off of your pretty made over face.
Your breathing becomes very shallow, to the point of hyperventilation, and you race back to the kitchen, ripping and pulling at the heavy fur monster atop your head. Before you descend into a futile attempt at yanking the outfit from your body, you see a card sitting on the kitchen table. You race over to it and see in glittering letters on the front, above a picture of yourself unconscious in your ridiculous costume:
“Congrats on becoming a fluffy poodle girl!”
Your hands tremble as you open the card and read the flowing handwriting within.
“So you’ve decided that you love my outfit so much, that you’d like to keep it forever! Who can blame you? You look SO pretty, and will for the rest of your life! I bet you can’t WAIT to strut your way around the city, showing off how pretty you’ve become! Most guys would think this was a horrific nightmare, but I am SO jealous of your courage to be as pretty as you’ve always wanted to be! I’m glad I could help you make your pink fluffy dreams come true!
I’m heading out of the country permanently, so I’m afraid I’ll never get to see how adorable you look in person. Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll find tons of photos online taken of you in public from jealous onlookers. Aren’t you excited at how much attention you’re going to get? I know I am! I wish I could look in the mirror every morning for the rest of my life and see something as cute and fluffy as you staring back at me!
Just remember, this isn’t a dream! It’s a dream come true!
Love,
K”
The card drops to the floor from your hands. You stare at the wall for a very long time, and eventually make your way to the bathroom, and stare into the mirror. The hat, hair, and collar frame your gaudy face with glittering pink fur. The massive breasts quiver with your shallow breaths, and the big pom poms rest against them. The heeled boots, thick with fur, are still cramping your feet, and the big rustling skirt never seems to stop moving and swishing against your legs.
You spend the rest of the night screaming and pulling at the outfit. Every power tool in your garage winds up breaking against it. You race from room to room, the sensations of the fluffy costume building as you do so, the heavy hat wobbling your head back and forth, the fluffy trim constantly brushing your skin, the pom poms bouncing madly with your movements. This goes on for several days, until you finally collapse from exhaustion.
Laying on the floor, you read the card beside you over and over again, until you fade into sleep, and the words echo through your mind.
Just remember, this isn’t a dream! It’s a dream come true!
Just remember, this isn’t a dream...
this isn’t a dream...
this isn’t a dream...
this isn’t a dream...
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