Maid-Squire Varrot

Eleanor Varrot was a veteran sniper from the first Europan War. She faced insurmountable odds, fell hundreds of troops by her rifle, witnessed horrors of the war so shocking that the average civilian would have nightmares for years. None of those sights filled her with as much dread as she felt while being subjected to the agonizing, excruciating procedure known as...

"Like, hold still! This nail polish, like, doesn't come cheap."

A makeover.

Varrot wondered if Wendy's little offering was worth the humiliation of being turned into the girls' life-size Maid-Squire Gallian Girl. Both women, intimidated as they were by her stern demeanor during her old station as the Militia Commander, would have left her alone had she not approached them as part of her deal for those 'sex bombs' Wendy so lovingly and crudely named them.

One look at her newly long, pink-painted fingernails had her cringing at the message it would send the people who saw her hard at work dusting bookcases and folding laundry. Thoughts that escaped her when she gave a pained yelp at the tug to her custom hair bun.

"Ha, leave it to me! I'm soooo on it." Cherry said in the annoyingly poppish voice that grated on the once Commander's good senses.

"Careful with her hair!" Ramona leapt to remind as she applied the last of the nail polish. "If you pull too hard it'll get tore out at the roots."

"Like, oops. Soooorry."

Of the multitude of possible tiny signals Varrot could give, only the brief squint of her right eye escaped her concealed wince, all as the tresses of her bound up hair flowed down to impress its length upon her bare shoulders. The shame of having her slender nude form borne to the girls' trend-seeking sentiments came back to her when one of Ramona's wandering hands crept too close to certain charms for her comfort. The red blush stood out so starkly on her pale cheeks that the last of the trio set her Gallian Girl magazine aside.

"Are you certain you don't mind being Cherry's practice model, Ele... Elle?"

"Honestly? Being treated like a toy doll you can dress up and play with disgusts me. I do not enjoy being made to look like a bimbo unfit for commanding an army and deserving to live out the rest of her military career as your personal maid. I also will not tolerate being addressed with that pet name by anyone other than Largo. Furthermore..."

None of that, other than in the fantasy world of her mind, reached the innocently unassuming Audrey seated across from her. Filling her thoughts with false delight, Varrot smiled to the girl as she repeated the well-thought, though deplorable, lie. "I deeply respect the... unique... fashion and beauty sense that you three share, and I am honored to help Cherry practice for her cosmetician license." She vainly hoped that the girls forgot her first response to them asking if they could perform a makeover on her, but its spectre seemed to haunt her at every turn as Ramona raised it again.

"Didn't you say you felt ugly?"

She repeated the half-truth, reminiscing on the past war in slivers of moments. "I rarely used makeup in my youth. I saw no purpose. I would come back from every mission covered in grass, dirt or sand, and I became comfortable in my natural state."

Cherry, quick to chat, added, "And that like, totally drove all the boys away, right?"

The ignorant predilection for attracting men that these girls had wore thin, and fast. Every comment, geared obsessively toward that one objective. The only thing worse than having to hear it... was having to cater to it.

"Yes," Varrot swallowed her contempt for her low station as she answered. "When you asked if you could give me a makeover, I felt so excited and relieved. I think I really have a chance at attracting a possible boyfriend with the help of experts like yourselves."

"You bet you will!" A giddy Cherry proclaimed as she bounced in front of Varrot. "You'll like, totally drive the boys wild! You'll be so hot Gallian Girl magazine will go 'WOOOOW look at her! We should totally do a photoshoot of her.' Then the boys will be like 'Check out the ass on Varrot, if I weren't a married man I'd so bang bang her. Hell, I might take her to bed with me anyway.' And like, you know, they'd like, buy you all kinds of presents and things, and when you're done with them you could"

"Cherry? Cherry? Cherry!"

Thank the Valkyrur for Audrey, Varrot thought with more silent praise than she could find the will or outlet to express.

"Yes?" The peppy bint responded.

"Please don't waste Elle's time by being a Chatty Cathy. She came here for a makeover."

"Right! Elle, puff out your lips like this for me." She made a mime of what she meant, making the demonstration head-shake worthy augmenting it with... "You know, like you're going to kiss a really cute hunk and stuff."

The way Cherry said her pet name left Varrot awash with disgust moreso than any other of the girl's quirks, a sensation she struggled to overlook even as a commanding officer of the squad. It conjured images of a ditzy version of herself, the sea of books in her study useless to her overwhelming infatuation with teen dream boys that had no notable qualities aside from appearance. An Eleanor Varrot devoid of her intellectual prowess, giggling inanely as she turned page after page of the latest edition of Gallian Girl to read what trend to wear for the coming months, hair done up in whatever monstrosity young girls saw as all the rage.

By the time she realized her lost train of thought, she had a beaming Cherry and Ramona prying her legs apart, and she shrilly reacted in her true nature. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

"Like, duh!" Cherry replied as if the very pronouncement of the word 'duh' was the perfect answer to any question. "Can't you see we're like, going to give you a makeover where it counts?"

"Where it... counts?" Varrot knew she had set a mental block for what they implied. A damn comfy block, that dissolved when they pressed on.

"You can't let hair grow down here! It gets all matted and the boys really won't want to give you special favors." This time, Ramona was the oh-so-wise voice of experience.

"......." Those two words left a shiver that refused to cease. 'Special favors,' a not too clever or tactful way of alluding to, in this case, oral sex. Defeated, Varrot gave way to the trend-lovers, who edged a razor closer and closer. She watched, sharp-eyed, as it made the first shear over her proud dark tuft. When a soft burn crept in, she sucked air through her teeth. Her initial try at shaking it off failed when it got worse, and once the last of her feather-soft strands floated to the floor, Cherry announced such an understatement that Varrot had to admit it would've been the perfect moment for one of Cherry's favorite words.

"Ooops, I like, cut a little too close..."

"Mistakes are totally expected for a beginner," Ramona comforted, looking up to Varrot in a plea for added support. "Right Elle?"

Varrot closed her eyes, pinched the bridge of her nose and cleared her mind, pushing the sensation of Cherry's blunder as far back as she could take it. "It doesn't sting at all. Even if it does, it's better than the alternative."

"Yeah!" Ramona cheered. "See, I told you not to worry about mistakes. Total freedom. We're doing her a favor no matter what happens as long as we don't cut anything off."

"Like, seriously. She's sooo going to love the lotion, and that'll totally fix everything!"

Varrot puzzled over Cherry's suggestion, scanning the contours of her tanned face. "Lotion? What LoOOOOOOHOOOOOOO!" she seized up in the chair instantly when she felt a cool gel spread across her mons, fingers working circular patterns on her bare sex until they invaded inward. Slowly, it transitioned from an icy chill to an inferno of heat that more than made up for the razor burn inflicted by Cherry's inexperience as a cosmetician. Her body slumping down the chair, she panted, glaring wild-eyed at the girls. "What did you just put on me?!"

"Don't sweat it," Cherry said with more exuberance than comfortable to the maid-squire. "Guys sooooo like girls that have it all ready for 'em."

"Wha OHHH" Varrot's hips rose high as the cold gel spread across her buttocks, the same too familiar tingle encroaching deeper into her anus. As its warmth sank in, so did understanding of the lotion's effects.

"Once you bag your first stud," Ramona said, "you'll wonder how you ever lived without it! The best part of it, it lasts for DAYS. Think of all the boys you'll lure in!"

Varrot wasn't so much interested in luring boys in as she was in the difficulty of saving face if the effects truly proved too much for her. Then the worst of it came, as their hands moved up her body and began to rub lotion on the last spot vulnerable to their auspices.

"Would you believe this was made with ragnite?" Ramona quizzed Varrot. Hands caressing the smooth flesh of the maid-squire's bosom, Ramona ignored Varrot's rise for response and added, "They come up with so many new ways to use it, I so can't wait to see what they come up with next."

Though she made strides to hide it, Varrot seethed with rage at the hunger burning in her nether. Not at the indignity of it all, no, that was a given that went beyond anger. Her fury was leveled squarely at the betrayal by her own body. Urges bubbled up and burst like long-buried fragments of a side she refused to admit, the desperate need for something to fill the voids below calling out to her. A bite of her lip kept at bay the desire to cry out for an end to the torment, as her nipples grew fully erect with the same flood of feelings. She saw her object of desire clearly in her mind, a big, thick, well-sized...

'No!' she thought. As she shook it out of her head, Ramona and Cherry tugging her to her feet by her arms and guiding her to a full-length mirror. Disorientation gave way as she came to realize who stood between them in the reflection.

"Oh... my..." Varrot let the vision of her made-over appearance burn into her retina. Her hair had been dyed blonde with highlights of glowing pink, undoubtedly some OTHER new innovation of ragnite mixed with dye. As if that weren't enough, Cherry had gone so far as to apply the same ragnite chemical to her nipples, nails, lips and sex, all shining brighter than a Valkyrur's blue flame. Even her eyes had a strange pink glow, but far worse was her own instant assessment of her whole visage as that of a tart.

"What do ya think, Elle?"

Anything she could've thought to answer with vanished when more urgent needs impressed themselves on her anew. She panted for breath, sweat forming on her brow. "I... I..." Arm jittering to handle the unbearable flow of hormones raging without her consent, she let go of the one thing binding her to that spot: her sense of dignity. Snatching her broom, she rushed out the door and down the hall, an echoic thud trailing out seconds later.

"Heeey!" the voice of what sounded like recent recruit Hermes carried far enough that it reached the trio of Gallian gals. "Love the lax new dress code for the ladies."

"Get off me, and don't breathe a word of this to ANYONE," Varrot demanded.

"Will do sweet cheeks, come by my place later tonight?"

Ramona giggled, "Less than a minute and she's drawing in hunks so fast they can't wait to take her to their rooms."


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Story codes: Exhib, Other (forced arousal, lotion, makeover)