Lifestyle Journalism

"Five!" Emma chanted as she worked out, in a bright, bubbly, irrepressible voice that filled Amara's entire gym. "Six! Seven!"

"Nice form!" Amara called out.

The personal trainer was watching from the sidelines as Emma worked through the last of her exercises. She didn't need to count for Emma anymore - the loud, bouncy, exceptionally vapid pop music that accompanied her workouts was all she needed to keep rhythm. Nor did she need to provide much instruction. For all the brains and smarts Emma had lost, how to exercise properly had become second nature to her.

"Eight!" Emma was performing a set of bouncy, skipping knee lifts. Each number she counted was accompanied by her chest heaving as her pink, skimpy outfit completely failed to keep her breasts in place. "Nine! Ten!"

With that, she was finished. Emma bent over and rested her hands on her thighs, gasping for breath. Even exhausted from an hour of intensive exercise, she was the very picture of brainless beauty. Her figure had become slim and athletic without losing any of its curves, and her bleached, blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail to keep it from smearing her makeup. She looked like an athletic barbie doll.

Amara hardly approved of working out in makeup, but the client's requests always came first. And even she couldn't deny how enticing Emma looked, with eyeliner making her eyes look bigger and even more vacant, and glossy, bright pink lipstick that seemed to beg for kisses, or fingers, or more.

For Emma, the makeup was as mandatory as breathing. Anything to look her best for her adoring fans.

Right on cue, as she recovered her composure, Emma was lifting her selfie stick and forming a perfect duck face expression for the camera. As soon as she posted to Instagram, her phone started blowing up with replies and likes. She was becoming quite the influencer.

That was no surprise. Thanks to Amara, it was practically the only thing left in her head for her to care about.

"OK! That's a wrap," Amara announced, clapping her hands. "Remember to hydrate, Emma. Now, I need to tell you something. This is the end of our final session together."

Emma was already sipping greedily from her pink, sequined water bottle, but once she heard that she rushed over to Amara and looked up at her with a pleading, pouting expression on her face.

"Awwww!" she whined. "Why's it, like, gotta be our last?"

Amara's nostrils flared. Hearing the formerly intelligent, driven ex-reported speak in vapid, valley girl drawl was quite the trip. The tall, muscular trainer took it as proof of a job well done.

"I'm afraid that's just how it's gotta be," Amara replied.

"But why?" Emma's pout only grew more pronounced and more adorable.

"Because someone else is going to take over your training," Amara explained. "Starting today, in fact."

"Oh." Emma greeted that news with nothing more than a glassy-eyed stare. Then, right on cue, Amara's doorbell rang.

"They've arrived," Amara said. "Wait here."

As always, Emma did what she was told. She waited in Amara's home gym for a couple of minutes as Amara opened the door, greeted Emma's new trainer, and finally, led her inside to where Emma was waiting.

It was Mel.

Emma blinked several times upon seeing her. Her fogged-over, dumbed-down brain couldn't fathom why her best friend Mel would be here right now. All she could do was giggle, smile, and offer her friend a wave.

Exercise made her dumb. And she'd done so much exercise.

Mel returned the wave, but with a strange, unreadable expression on her face. As she turned to speak with Amara, it was immediately clear that this was a different Mel from the one Emma was used to. She seemed firmer, more focused, and unusually businesslike.

"You're sure she's perfect?" Mel said to the personal trainer. "I don't doubt your skill, Amara. But the specifications I gave you were exacting for a reason."

"I'm sure," Amara replied. She, too, was all business. "And you'll have plenty of chances to see for yourself. If there are any issues, I'll address them."

Mel nodded, satisfied. "Good. Then, here's your payment."

She handed Amara a thick, brown envelope. There was no mistaking what was inside, or that it was a substantial amount of money. Amara leafed through it, then nodded.

"Let's hand her over," she said.

The two of them approached Emma. The bimbofied girl looked between them uncertainly. She couldn't tell what they were talking about, but it sounded serious, and for some reason, it set off all kinds of inexplicable alarm bells in the pit of her stomach. Lost memories of a previous life tugged at the corners of her mind, and gears in her head turned as she strove to figure out what was going on.

Nothing came to mind. She was far, far too dumb.

A vapid giggle escaped Emma's lips. She couldn't help it.

"Emma," Amara said in a firm, clear voice. "You must be exhausted after all that exercise. Let's do some hypnosis. Why don't you fall for me?"

That one little trigger word was all it took. There was no resistance whatsoever as the last remnants of Emma's thoughts slipped out of her mind. Thanks to Amara's conditioning, she lacked any willpower to resist, and her empty, bimbofied brain was always perched on the precipice of trance. Besides, Amara had taught Emma to welcome hypnosis eagerly. Her shoulders slumped and her arms fell limp at her sides, and her eyes flitted and flickered back into her head. Within moments, she was completely hypnotized.

Mel studied her carefully. "'Fall'?" She tilted her head. "Just 'fall'?"

"Sometimes, more complex and naturalistic triggers can have their uses," Amara replied. "But we don't need to be discreet. And her response is keyed to my voice, so there's no risk of her falling into a trance for anyone else."

"Right." Mel nodded. She looked like she was committing that to memory.

"Which reminds me," Amara continued, pulling out her phone. "And... there. I've emailed you a dossier regarding her brainwashing. Trigger phrases, expected responses, the techniques I've used - things like that. Everything you should need."

"Thank you."

Emma could hear everything they were saying, but their words passed in one ear and out the other. They meant nothing to her.

"Now, Emma," Amara said, turning to the entranced girl. "Listen to me very carefully. You can't help but listen to me when you're in this open, helpless, hypnotized state. You know that everything I tell you will sink deep into your subconscious, and become part of you. Isn't that right?"

"Uh... huh," Emma replied in a dull voice.

"Good," Amara continued. "Now, I want you to think about how you feel when I tell you to 'fall'. From now on, the same thing will happen when Mel - and only Mel - says that word to you. When she tells you to 'fall', you'll slip into a trance just like this one. But you won't respond that way to anyone else. Not even me. Do you understand?"

"Uh-huh."

"Perfect," Amara said. She turned to Mel. "Well, fundamentally, that's it. She's all yours."

That comment brought a hint of color to Mel's cheeks. She reached out and caressed Emma's face gently. "Mine," she breathed.

Amara hesitated for a long moment before speaking up. "I... wouldn't normally ask. It's not my business to know. But I-"

"You want to know why I'm doing this," Mel finished. "Right?"

Amara nodded. She looked faintly embarrassed at her own lack of professionalism. "Usually, there's nothing complicated about it," she explained. "For someone of your social standing, they usually want me to take care of a rival, or an obstacle, or a pretty face who happened to catch their eye. Not a, uh, close friend."

"I suppose I don't mind telling you," Mel said. She looked to Emma, the ghost of a smile playing across her face. "And I owe you an explanation too, don't I, babe?"

Still, Emma comprehended nothing.

"Emma is very important to me," Mel began. "She's not just a pretty face. Not just someone I wanted to possess. She's special. I care for her deeply. That's why I needed to save her."

Since she wasn't looking at her, Amara raised an eyebrow. Regardless, Mel sensed her skepticism.

"I know, it sounds a little crazy. But there are exactly two things Emma needs saving from: herself, and everybody else." Mel laughed ruefully. "Ever since college, I've watched her work herself half to death. She can't stop. What she does is too meaningful. Too important. But it's killing her. Not enough sleep, not eating right, no time to enjoy things or connect with people."

"I see," Amara said evenly. "You needed to help her relax. Loosen up."

"That's right," Mel agreed. "And then there's everybody else. You're the one who gave me the heads up, Amara. Emma's too much of a crusader for her own good. She treats the world like it's as fair as it should be, rather than like it's as unfair as it really is. She wants to expose unethical mind controllers - and we both know that's a sure way to get yourself in a world of trouble."

Amara nodded. There were rules and laws, yes, but those never seemed to work when you were dealing with someone who could get inside your head, and pay everyone else to look the other way. Emma wouldn't have been the first well-intentioned journalist to run afoul of a powerful hypnotist with a mean streak.

"Emma's already pissed off the wrong people," Mel continued. "It's only a matter of time before one of them decides to take care of her. When I thought about what they might do... I couldn't just sit by and let that happen. That's when I knew. It had to be me."

She reached out and stroked Emma's face again.

"I know it might seem like the same thing," Mel said. "But there's a big difference: I'll make sure she's happy. I'll make sure she stays good, and sweet, and kind. I won't let anyone else twist that wonderful heart of hers. Now that she's like this, she won't be in any danger. She's harmless and she's under my family's protection, and she won't even have to suffer with the guilt of having lost her calling as a journalist. As far as she'll ever know, she's living her best life."

"It was the only way, huh?" Amara nodded, her expression neutral. She wasn't one to judge. "She's really that stubborn?"

Mel sighed. "You don't know the half of it. It's why I love her so much."

"I understand," Amara said. "Thank you for indulging my curiosity. It won't happen again. Now, you mentioned wanting to add the finishing touches yourself?"

"That's right," Mel replied. "It's personal. I want it to be me."

"Memory alteration." Amara made a face. "It can be... sensitive. Are you sure you're up to it?"

"That's why I'm doing it here: so you can supervise." Mel's demeanor betrayed no uncertainty. "But also? Yes, I'm sure. I've been taking lessons. Dearest Mommy knows what she's talking about."

That was all Amara needed to hear. She knew exactly what Melanie Adams's parents were capable of.

"OK." Mel sucked in a deep breath. "Let's get started."

She stood directly facing Emma, with a look of intense concentration on her face. Amara retreated to one side and posed herself leaning against the wall a short distance away, from where the hulking woman could keep a watchful eye on what happened.

"Emma," Mel began. "Can you hear me?"

"Uh-huh," Emma murmured. She yielded to Mel's voice just as naturally as she had to Amara's. Amara had primed her to listen to her friend, and even if she hadn't, in this state, the bimbofied girl was utterly defenseless.

"Good." Mel's heart was pounding. "I want you to listen closely and do exactly as I tell you. Understand?"

"Uh-huh."

"Emma." Mel made herself exhale, and take another breath. "I want you to remember."

Hearing that made Emma twitch a little. Amara had never once asked her to remember. Only to forget.

"Remember," Mel repeated. "Reach deep into your memories, and remember. If any old images or feelings or experiences come to you, I want you to let yourself feel them. Let them wash over you."

A frown appeared on Emma's face. Despite how much Amara had taken away from her, when she made herself remember, there were still little flickers of memory that flitted around her like flies.

"Good," Mel encouraged. "Sink deeper into those memories for me, Emma. Fall into them for me."

Emma's face once again went slack, but she kept twitching from moment to moment. There was something uncomfortable about the memories that kept assailing her. They didn't fit the version of herself she now knew. It was like they belonged to someone else, even though they were unmistakably hers.

"Now tell me," Mel urged, "how did you end up here, Emma?"

"I... I..." Emma didn't know how to even begin answering that. When she tried, the mass of contradictions that filled her mind gave her a throbbing headache. "I... uh..."

"What do you do for work?" Mel pressed, even though it clearly gave her no pleasure to do so. "What's your occupation? Your calling?"

"I..." Emma whimpered. She didn't want to think about this.

"What did you do in college? How did we meet each other? What did you aspire to be when you were growing up?"

"I..." Emma's head felt like it was splitting open. "D-don't..."

"Emma," Mel said firmly. "Relax. Fall."

Again, Emma went slack. Some of the tension and worry drained from her face. Watching from the sidelines, Amara was impressed. Mel was a natural. She made leading Emma through trance seem effortless.

"When I tell you to remember," Mel asked, "how does it make you feel?"

It took Emma a long time to formulate an answer. Trying to remember was hard. Her memories didn't seem to fit together properly, and trying to slot them together made her head hurt. But more than that, the memories themselves were incredibly unpleasant. She remembered long hours of hard work, for days on end, accompanied by sleepless nights. She remembered fatigue, anger, and sadness. She remembered feeling exhausted and alone. It was such a far cry from her new, happy, carefree existence.

Why would she ever want to remember a life like that?

"Like... sad," Emma murmured. "Stressed. Tired."

Mel nodded like that was exactly what she had expected to hear. "I see. So, what if I could make it so you never had to remember that stuff ever again?"

Emma only hesitated for a moment before she nodded. Wanting to forget all about those strange, unhappy memories seemed only natural.

"But," Mel added, "if you forget about all that, you'll need new memories to replace them with, won't you?"

Emma nodded slowly. That seemed to make sense.

"Fortunately, I can take care of that for you," Mel said. "And that way, you can forget about anything that makes you feel sad. That's what you want, isn't it?"

"I... yeah," Emma agreed eventually.

"Good." Mel reached out to take Emma's hands. "Then listen to me, Emma. Since this is what you want, I'm sure you'll find it perfectly easy and natural to accept the new memories I give you. And, of course, those will naturally replace all those old, sad memories you'd like to forget about. Understand?"

"Uh-huh."

Mel took another deep breath. This was the critical moment.

"Emma, you remember us meeting in high school," Mel recounted. That part, at least, was true. "You were always very air-headed. More concerned with your appearance and fitness rather than having good grades. Even though you were always a sweet girl, you kept getting yourself into trouble."

Emma nodded slowly as her empty mind absorbed the new life story Mel was feeding her. Memories of a studious high-school life, already long buried, finally faded into nothingness.

"That's probably why you gravitated to me," Mel continued. "You always needed someone to tell you where you needed to be and what you needed to do, and I was happy to do it. Being submissive towards me always felt perfectly natural. And you loved the way I always had my family's money to spend on new makeup and new skincare products."

Emma kept nodding. None of it was true, but that no longer mattered to her. Her mind was an open book, and Mel was free to write whatever she liked in its pages. Mel couldn't give her the whole picture, of course, but her hypnotized psyche rushed to fill in the gaps. Within moments, she was convinced it was the only life she'd ever known.

She'd been a vapid, vain, teenage bimbo, always following Mel's lead and letting her friend take care of her.

It made perfect sense.

It was the only thing that made sense.

"After that, you followed me to college." Mel squeezed Emma's hands tighter. "You would have been lost without me, after all. But you couldn't handle it. You weren't smart enough. You had to drop out. But I let you move in with me. I took care of you. Always have, always will."

This time, Emma twitched a little. Things like passing her exams and graduating were proud memories; letting them go wasn't so easy. But in the end, she couldn't fight Mel. After all, it hardly seemed possible that she'd been such a good student in college, given that she'd been a bimbo in high school and was a bimbo again now. It didn't make any sense.

Dropping out to depend on Mel seemed so much more likely.

And within moments, that was her new life story.

"But why did we always stay so close?" Mel stepped closer to Emma; her breath was hot on the hypnotized girl's face. "Because we had feelings for each other, Emma. We were in love all along. Eventually, we confessed our feelings and started dating. You moved in with me for good and that's how it's been ever since. You've been following my lead and letting me take care of you. Letting me dominate you. You love that we have that kind of relationship."

Emma exhaled sharply as she processed this latest revelation. It was a huge suggestion to swallow, but at the same time, it wasn't so hard for her to believe that the deep affection she'd always held for her most important friend was actually something more.

Soon, the fact that she loved Mel started to feel more and more right. It was surely why she'd always been at Mel's side. Why she'd always been content to let Mel be so dominant with her. Why she'd always enjoyed it so much.

She was in love with Mel. And better yet, Mel was in love with her.

Emma started to blush.

"That's who you are," Mel finished. "Emma, you're my devoted, loving, sweet, submissive, bimbo girlfriend. And you never need to remember anything else."

That suggestion soon settled across Emma's mind. It became her. Both Mel and Amara could see her gradually accept its weight.

She never needed to remember anything else. And she never would.

"OK," Mel said, her voice full of unmistakable tension. "It's time to wake up, Emma."

Mel snapped her fingers.

Emma blinked as she awoke. Trance always left her a little disoriented - not that it bothered her. Nothing much did. This time the brainfog was even deeper than usual, as her brainwashed mind reeled from the new set of memories it had just been given. But after a few moments, a little light returned to her eyes and she looked up at Mel with a look of recognition on her face. Before long, that look blossomed into a big, warm, adoring smile.

"Mel!" Emma exclaimed. "Oh my gosh! You're, like, actually here! I always totally miss you when I go for my workouts."

Before Mel could brace herself, the bimbo threw herself at her girlfriend and wrapped her up in a tight hug. And then, better yet, Emma put her lips to Mel's in a passionate, loving kiss.

Somehow, despite their respective situations, Mel ended up blushing even harder than Emma.

"Looks like you did a good job," Amara commented wryly, approaching the couple. "Emma, it's been fun. And Mel... it's been a pleasure doing business with you."

Mel understood exactly what Amara meant. Their business was concluded. She extracted herself from Emma's arms, nodded respectfully to the personal trainer, and then started heading for the door.