Morgana's fingers idly traced the shiny hood of the latest sports car as she watched Richard, the dealership's owner. She thought maybe she could have a little fun with the jerky overweight middle age guy. Under her subtle spell, he ambled over to the vacant receptionist's desk. In his mind, it was just a convenient place to sit down and go over the day's sales figures.<br /><br />The dealership bustled around him, sales reps flitting from customer to customer. The first one to approach him was Mike, a tall, burly man with a casual demeanor. "Hey, boss," he called, pointing to the ringing phone on the desk, "Could you answer that for me? I've got my hands full here." <br /><br />Richard blinked in surprise but lifted the receiver. "Anderson Motors, this is Richard." His voice, usually deep and authoritative, felt strange in his ears, a touch lighter. He ended the call with a puzzled frown, brushing it off as tiredness.<br /><br />Minutes later, a young woman named Linda walked up to the desk, a stack of papers in her arms. "Dick," she began, dropping the formal address she usually used, "Could you file these for me? It's a bit chaotic right now." She gave him a bright smile, leaving no room for argument. <br /><br />As he began organizing the papers, he noticed a change. His fingers, once rough and thick, felt slim, delicate even. His usually stubby nails were neatly filed and clear-polished. He rubbed his hands together, feeling a smoothness that was foreign.<br /><br />The requests started pouring in. "Richard, could you do me a favor and schedule a meeting for me?" asked James, a middle-aged sales rep. With each word spoken, Richard's body tingled, and he felt his suit morph, adjusting to a leaner and softer form.<br /><br />As he sent the invites, he noticed his suit felt snug. Looking down, his eyes widened at the sight of a tight-fitting skirt and a matching blazer hugging his newly rounded figure. His tie was now a delicate silk scarf.<br /><br />The once-clear line between boss and assistant started to blur. "Richie, dear, could you make a coffee run? I need a latte." The request came from Sylvia, one of the senior reps. The name felt strange yet fitting. Richard didn't argue. He just nodded, noticing how his hair, now long and honey-blond, bobbed with his movements.<br /><br />Next, it was Paul, another senior rep. "Ricki, please handle this customer's inquiry." He handed off a phone call, not bothering to ask or give her an option. Ricki. The name was softer, feminine. Just like he was becoming.<br /><br />Linda approached him again, looking at him with a strange mix of concern and amusement. "Ricki, you look like you could use a touch-up. Here, take my compact." As he accepted it, he saw his face in the mirror. His features had softened, his eyes a bright green and his lips fuller. With every stroke of the lipstick, they bloomed into a vibrant red, matching the new color of his nails.<br /><br /><div>Throughout the day, Ricki's transformation continued, propelled by every task, every name, every request. By the end of the day, Ricki, with her floral print blouse, a slim skirt, and a delicate pearl necklace, was running the reception like she'd been doing it all her life. Morgana watched from the corner of her eye, her day significantly brightened by the enchanting spectacle. It became too much she ran off to the restrooms. <br /></div><div><br /></div><div>In the quiet hallway, Morgana leaned casually against the wall, arms folded. She watched as Ricki, bewildered, stopped before the two restroom doors. Men's and Women's. She bit her lip, her gaze flitting between the two.<br /><br />"Confused, darling?" Morgana called out, her voice sweet as honey. She pushed off the wall and glided over to Ricki, a teasing smile playing on her lips. <br /><br />Ricki turned to face her, her emerald eyes wide. "I... I don't understand," she stuttered, her high, melodious voice filling the hallway. She swallowed hard, her hand fluttering to her throat at the unfamiliar sound.<br /><br />Morgana simply laughed, the sound light and airy. "Oh, I think you do, Ricki," she said, circling Ricki as if she were a fascinating exhibit. <br /><br />"But... But I'm not... I mean, I'm not a girl," Ricki protested, her voice growing shrill.<br /><br />Morgana smiled, her eyes glinting with amusement. "No? Could've fooled me." She gestured at Ricki's body, dressed in a feminine ensemble, her form delicate and petite.<br /><br />Ricki's face blanched, and she tried again, desperation creeping into her voice. "Please, you have to help me. I don't... I can't... I can't be a receptionist. I own this place!"<br /><br />Morgana tsked, wagging a finger at Ricki. "Now, now, Ricki. Let's get something straight. You're not an owner anymore. You're a receptionist. A very cute, very young receptionist."<br /><br />And then Morgana began her questions. "So, Ricki, tell me about your high school. Did you cheer or play sports?" Morgana asked, her tone playful.<br /><br />Ricki blinked, her brows furrowing. "Uh, I was a cheerleader, I think?" She sounded uncertain, but the answer felt right. <br /><br />"Perfect. What's your favorite color, dear?"<br /><br />"Pink?" The answer came quicker this time, and it felt more certain.<br /><br />"Favorite hobby?"<br /><br />Ricki giggled, a sound so foreign to her ears. "Shopping, of course!" <br /><br />"Your favorite makeup brand?"<br /><br />"Ooh, definitely that cute little boutique brand... What's it called? Oh, Sugarplum Cosmetics!"<br /><br />"And your dream vacation spot?"<br /><br />"Bora Bora! Imagine all the beach selfies I could take!" Ricki squealed.<br /><br />Morgana continued her line of questioning, each answer further solidifying Ricki's new personality. By the time she reached her ninth question, Ricki was bubbly and effervescent, a true 22-year-old high school dropout receptionist. <br /><br />The last question was simple. "And what's your job, Ricki?" Morgana asked, her tone lilting.<br /><br />Ricki blinked, as if surprised by the question. She then giggled, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder. "Well, silly, I'm the receptionist, of course!" <br /></div><div><br /></div><div><p>Ricki, the newly transformed receptionist, tottered back to the desk on her unfamiliar high heels, her mind filled with confusion. She could feel Richard, her old self, fighting to break through, but it was like trying to punch through a fog made of pink cotton candy.</p><p>She settled down behind the desk, her petite frame swallowed by the oversized chair. Her dainty hands grazed over the keyboard, her glossy pink nails clattering with each keystroke. Her former office now loomed across the room, an imposing testament to her past life.</p><p>Ricki tried to grapple with her new reality, her new personality. She knew, deep down, that this was wrong. She needed to tell someone, but every time she opened her mouth to speak, the words that came out were nothing like what she intended.</p><p>"Bobby," she began, calling over one of the sales reps, a wave of determination washing over her. "I need to tell you something. I&#8217;m&#8230; I&#8217;m&#8230;"</p><p>Bobby looked at her expectantly. "Yes, Ricki?"</p><p>"I&#8217;m totally in love with this new lipstick shade! Do you think it suits me?" She grinned, completely baffled by her own words, even as she held up a small mirror to check her reflection. She felt Richard's horror, his confusion, but it was like it belonged to another person.</p><p>She tried again with Maria, the office manager. "Maria, you won't believe what happened to me! I was... I was..."</p><p>Maria raised an eyebrow. "Yes, Ricki?"</p><p>"OMG, I totally forgot to tell you about this super cute handbag I saw online! I think it would go perfectly with my new heels!" Ricki's eyes lit up with an excitement that felt genuine, but wasn't. Her pleas for help, her desperation, all were smothered under a layer of girlish enthusiasm and ditzy chatter.</p><br />Behind the desk, she felt a sense of comfort and familiarity. Her hands intuitively moved towards the keyboard, her freshly painted nails clacking against the keys as she started typing. A couple of salesmen approached her desk, one with a look of confusion, the other of amusement.<br /><br />"Ricki...you okay?" the confused one asked, blinking at her in surprise.<br /><br />"Sure, silly! Why wouldn't I be?" she replied, tossing her hair over her shoulder and batting her heavy, mascara-laden eyelashes at him. Inside, Richard was screaming to tell the truth, to reveal what had happened. But all that came out was, "Just busy making sure all these appointments are scheduled!"<br /><br />The salesman's confusion only deepened. But before he could press further, the other one nudged him. "Just let her do her thing, man. She's good at her job."<br /><br />Ricki giggled, a blush spreading across her cheeks. "Aww, thanks! I try my best."<br /><br />The day rolled on like that. Customers came and went, and Ricki answered phone calls, took messages, scheduled appointments, and even made coffee. Richard was horrified at the ease with which these tasks came to him, or rather, her. He tried again and again to reveal his predicament, but each time, all that came out were girlish giggles and airheaded remarks.<br /><br />At the end of the day, as she was tidying up her workspace, a tall, handsome salesman approached her. He was new, a recent hire that Richard himself had approved just weeks ago.<br /><br />"Hey, Ricki," he started, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "I was wondering if, um, you'd like to grab dinner with me tonight?"<br /><br />Ricki looked at him, her bright blue eyes wide in surprise. Richard, on the inside, was panicking, but all that came out was an excited squeal. "Oh my gosh, yes! I'd love to, like, totally!"<br /><br />And with that, the once powerful dealership owner, now a ditsy receptionist named Ricki, found herself agreeing to a date with one of her own employees. The irony was not lost on Richard, but for Ricki, well she probably doesn't know what irony means. <br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Morgana merely smiled, her mission accomplished. The owner of Anderson Motors was no more. In his place stood Ricki, a receptionist who was ready to take on the world with her newfound personality and body. The once quiet and somber hallway echoed with her vibrant laughter, a testament to Morgana's handiwork.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>update didn't like the original picture decided to change<br /></div>