The Girl I Knew

            "The girl you knew and liked was pathetic. A pushover. A mouse. In a word, weak! I, on the other hand, represent everything she wished she was: Powerful, physically flawless, and hot. I can have any man I want now, just not you. You don't deserve this sexy body. Pffft, you don't even deserve to kiss my feet! Still, I'll keep you around as servant... if I want one."

           The girl I knew wasn't always a narcissistic, but hot monster. Before she became this way, she was four-eyed and fair-haired.

           This isn't a photo of her, but it's a reasonable facsimile. She wasn't happy with her appearance, but I kept reminding her that I was happy with her. I tried everything I could think of to please her, yet nothing seemed to bring her joy. It seemingly came to a head when an unknown "sympathizer" began leaving these pink bottles on her doorstep.

           The note attached said, "Please drink me. I can help you be happy." Naturally, I was suspicious but she was so determined to make herself less homely that she would do anything. So she drank it, and to my relief, nothing happened. She, however, sank to the floor, defeated.

           "I'll never be pretty." She said, beginning to cry. She forced me out of her room, insisting she wanted to be alone. I followed her order and left. Throughout the bus ride home, I kept thinking that I should have done something. If only I knew what had happened after I left.

          The next day came and I rushed back to my girl, hoping she was feeling better. To my shock, the girl I left had changed, albeit a little. Her hair was no longer dark but a dirty blonde. She also seemed a little taller to me.

          "That stuff really works!" She squealed with joy.

          Then came the next day and more changes. She showed me her stomach by lifting her shirt. I never thought a girl would do that for me. She insisted that I look and said, "I wasn't toned yesterday. Yesterday, this was all flab. I'm really becoming beautiful."

          I could see joy in her eyes, but I also saw less of the girl I liked. Slowly but surely, she was becoming something out of a swimsuit magazine. What exactly, I didn't know. And was it just me or were her boobs a little bigger?

         Another day came and with it, more changes to her body. When I came over, the girl I found was much taller than yesterday. She had to have the height of a swimsuit supermodel, at least 5'10". Adding to that, her facial features were definitely different, especially her jawbone which was much lower.

         "Am I looking hotter to you?" She asked. Her voice was completely replaced by one much more seductive. All I could do was stammer. Seeing this, she laughed heartily.

         "You're so sweet...It's disgusting."

         That last remark totally caught me off guard. It was nasty, mean, and out of character. Something was definitely wrong now. I didn't dare upset her now, however. She was happy with her changing body, and I didn't dare upset her. When she turned around to show me her...backside, I felt myself starting to drool. It was round and beautiful.

         The next day was the day stuff hit the fan for me. That was when she finally looked like how she looks now: Flawless, to me, in every way. However, her personality had changed greatly along with her body. She seemed more haughty, more contemptuous of me. She seemed to think less of me than before. It was as if a totally different person was speaking to me. I felt hurt that she had become so...so...unfriendly, but when I asked what happened to her, the girl I knew before she took that stuff, that's when she gave me that response.

         "The girl you knew and liked was pathetic. A pushover. A mouse. In a word, weak! I, on the other hand, represent everything she wished she was: Powerful, physically flawless, and hot. I can have any man I want now, just not you. You don't deserve this sexy body. Pffft, you don't even deserve to kiss my feet! Still, I'll keep you around as servant... if I want one."

         So, here I am, begging like a dog for her not to end our relationship because she became a dark, mean-spirited manifestation of what she dreamed of being. I've had to lower myself to being her lapdog, but until I can figure out how to change her back, it is what it is. I've had to give her private pedicures, massage her back, and help her with her shopping. It's degrading, but it keeps her happy. She even rewards me...once in a while. Alas, this bodacious babe is no longer the girl I knew.