Dykeification Ch. 01

"I... what... what am I... mmhhff," the supermodel moaned, pawing and clutching weakly at the bedsheets beneath her. The inside of her head was a maelstrom of conflicting identities and foreign desires.

"You already know what," the voluptuous woman between her legs told her. Her face was slick from being buried in the supermodel's pussy, and her mouth was contorted into a huge, twisted grin. In theory, she was the model's personal assistant, but that hadn't mattered to either of them for a long time. "I keep telling you. You just need to say it."

"B-but... I c-can't," the supermodel protested in a shrill, whining voice that lacked conviction. It would have been obvious to anyone that she was at her breaking point. All over, her dark skin was flushed red and glowing with arousal, and her chest heaved with pants and moans. "It's not... it doesn't... I've never..."

"You just need to, like, stop lying to yourself," her assistant drawled. She put her lips to the model's inner thighs and started kissing and nibbling, her fingertips tracing exquisite patterns on the moaning woman's hips. "You know the truth. And more importantly, I know the truth. Remember, sweet thing. I always know best."

The supermodel shivered as the familiar mantra worked its way through her mind. "You always know best," she repeated dully, eyes glassy. Her mind, overwhelmed by pleasure, was struggling to reconcile that deeply-conditioned belief with what she thought she'd always known about herself. "But... but..."

"Oh come on already, sweet thing." The assistant was feigning exasperation, but the predatory delight in her eyes made it clear she was savoring every moment. "It's simple. What kind of girl gets this wet from having another woman licking her cunt? What kind of girl gets incredibly, pathetically aroused just from getting a massage from another woman? What kind of girl spends her nights desperately touching herself and moaning another woman's name?"

"I... I..." The tall, feminine supermodel was plainly drowning in her own desires, and she tried uselessly to clutch at the one, long-held truth that might serve as a life raft. "B-but I like boys?"

It came out much more like a question than a statement.

Her assistant merely laughed. "No," she told her bluntly. "You don't. Not anymore."

The model arched her back and moaned pitifully. Even hearing that turned her on. She couldn't help it.

"When was the last time you so much as thought about a boy?" her assistant asked her. The model didn't need to reply. The look on her face was answer enough. "That's what I thought," her assistant said smugly. "So come on, sweet thing. Say it. Say it for me."

"B-but... but..." There was still something holding the model back, even if it was just a single strand of hesitation, fraying more and more with each passing second.

"Ugh, I'm getting bored." Her assistant rolled her eyes, though again, it was clearly untrue. She was anything but bored. "Let me make it easier for you, sweet thing." Her hand moved up to touch the supermodel's dripping, throbbing cunt, prompting yet more high-pitched, musical moans. "Do you need to cum?"

"Y-yes!" the model cried at once. No hesitation there.

"Yeah?" The assistant started drawing her fingertips along the lips of the model's pussy in long, languid, teasing strokes. "You need to cum for me?"

"Yes!" The model nodded frantically.

"Then you know exactly what you need to do." The assistant's voice was breathy and urgent. She was salivating as the moment of her victory arrived. "Say. It."

"I... I..." At last, the strand snapped, and the supermodel screamed her new truth. She knew that saying it to herself would sear her new identity, her new existence into her mind. It would make it undeniable. She did it anyway. She needed to cum so bad. "I'm a lesbian! I'm a d-dyke! P-please!"

"Good girl," the assistant purred. She brought her lips back to her employer's pussy and, immediately, buried her tongue deep within the model's folds. Within moments, she had her cumming her brains out all over the bed.

Once her orgasm subsided, the two of them were left slumped together in the model's palatial bedroom. The model had slipped into unconsciousness, her lips moving feverishly as she dreamed, her mind still hard at work reshaping itself to align with what she'd just accepted about herself. The assistant, though, was still awake, and staring thoughtfully at the chandelier on the ceiling.

There were still some final touches to be attended to, certainly. But after that, her current project would be all but finished. It was almost a shame. She'd been a fun one. But the assistant knew from experience that she'd soon grow bored. After all, it wasn't like she did this because there weren't enough hot lesbians in the world. No; it was the fall she was interested in. The change.

Which meant she'd soon need something new. Someone new. The assistant was already daydreaming of what might come next. She could take it further than ever before. She could push harder. Change more. Make it public. It could be delicious. She just needed to find the right subject.

Fortunately, she mused, looking over at her sleeping victim, that would be no trouble at all.

"So, sweet thing," she said out loud, her valley girl accent coming back to the fore. "Pretty soon, I'm gonna need you to find someone to introduce me to."

***

"Danielle, honey," Dulcinea said bluntly, breaking the silence that lay across the diner table. "I love you, but... you look like hell right now."

"I know," Danielle Cartwright replied, sipping miserably from her mimosa. She'd been hoping a brunch date with her best friend would be the perfect thing to lift her spirits, but there was no salvaging how her week was going.

"What's wrong?" Dulcinea asked, frowning sympathetically as she sipped her own mimosa. "Tell me about it."

"It's..." Danielle began, before sighing. She shook her head. "Oh god, I don't know, Dulcie. It's just..."

"Hey now." Dulcinea reached a hand out across the table. Her purple eyeshadow, perfectly applied and radiant against her dark skin, made her eyes look big, and they were full of sympathy. "Start at the beginning."

"I'm... it just feels like nothing is going right!" Danielle clasped her friend's hand as the words started to pour out of her. "It's everything. My agent said moving to Hollywood would be good for me, but I feel like I've been drowning. It feels like that breakthrough role is never going to come my way. I want to be a star, not a B-tier model getting bit parts in bad movies. I'm working my ass off, and all it's doing is putting lines on my face that are gonna tank my career."

"Oh, honey," Dulcinea exclaimed, sounding horrified. Dulcinea Amare was the first - and so far, only - friend Danielle had made since moving to Hollywood. "That sounds so rough. But, uh, you might wanna keep it down, because... well, you know."

"Oh. Yeah." Danielle nodded guiltily. Paparazzi. The last thing she needed was a tabloid rat writing about her mimosa-fueled breakdown.

"I'm sure it's not as bad as it feels," Dulcinea continued soothingly. "I mean, hey, what's this?" She ran her fingertips over the new, diamond ring on Danielle's finger. "Cameron finally pop the question? That seems like good news, honey."

"I guess." Danielle sighed again. Dulcinea should have been right. She should have been delighted. And yet...

"Uh oh." Dulcinea frowned. "What's going on there?"

"He's... I don't know." Danielle's boyfriend was Cameron Haines, the up-and-coming actor - and renowned playboy. "He asked, yeah, but I had to drop, like, a million hints about it. And he's still got that wandering eye."

"I'm sure he wouldn't do anything stupid," Dulcinea reassured her. "If nothing else, the magazines love you two! You're a star couple."

"For now." Danielle started idly toying with the straw in her mimosa. "His career is going a lot better than mine. What if he finds a better career prospect? And that's assuming he's not just thinking with his dick."

"Well, that's men for you." Dulcinea's eyes glinted with sudden mischief. "Let me know if you ever feel like expanding your horizons."

Danielle laughed, narrowly avoiding snorting her drink. Trust Dulcinea to always be able to make her laugh. "Nice try. As much fun as you've been making lesbianism look, I'm sorry to say I'm only wired one way: the boring way. Not that I'm not happy for you!"

Her friend had come out of the closet just weeks before. A lesbian supermodel? It had been the story of the season.

"I'm not joking, you know." Dulcinea started gently rubbing her deft fingertips across Danielle's palm. "I've always thought you were pretty. And, hey, you never know until you try, right?"

Danielle found her mouth suddenly dry. She was as straight as an arrow, but Dulcinea Amare was a force to be reckoned with. No-one could be completely unmoved by the full weight of her charm and attention brought to bear. Her eyes were magnetic, and her looks were perfect.

"No thanks," Danielle replied awkwardly. What the hell was her friend doing? "I'm, uh, pretty sure."

Dulcinea giggled, and pulled her hand back. "Suit yourself. But seriously, babe, I'm sorry Cameron's still being such an asshole."

Danielle blinked. The moment was already gone, and Dulcinea was smiling like it had just been a joke. But she had seemed so sincere. So... ravenous. She shook her head, and decided to move on.

"He's just so..." Danielle sighed yet again, and waved a hand. "I'm sorry, we didn't come here just so I could cry about my problems. How are things going for you?"

"Oh!" Dulcinea looked suddenly embarrassed. "Um, you know. Things are fine."

She looked away. Danielle understood why. She knew things were going better than 'fine' for her friend. In truth, the model's career was going from strength to strength. Dulcinea had never looked better, and that was saying something. Her sculpted, handsome cheeks were glowing with success, and her outfit proved that she needed spare no expense, even on a casual brunch date.

Danielle's former agent had always told her she should be making people stare, not drool. Clearly, Dulcinea was getting some very different advice. She was dressed in a black, body-conforming dress cut devastatingly low at the back, with high heels to accentuate her imposing height. She wasn't afraid to take up space or attract looks, and she never seemed self-conscious. Danielle envied her that. She had never quite managed to shake a few of her girlish insecurities.

Dulcinea, on the other hand, had grown into herself completely. Perhaps coming out as a lesbian had something to do with it. It certainly hadn't done her fame any harm. In fact, she now had a whole new legion of female fans, eager to fawn over their 'femme goddess' - whatever that meant.

"That's great," Danielle replied awkwardly. "No, seriously," she added quickly, when she saw the troubled look on Dulcinea's face. "I mean it. I'm really, really happy for you."

Dulcinea accepted her congratulations with a smile and a nod, but concern was still writ large on her face. After a moment, a thought came to her, and she reached into her purse.

"Here, I think you need this," she said, sliding a small card across the table to Danielle, who picked it up. "Girl, I'm gonna be blunt. You need to get your life in order, and the good thing about being famous and rich is you don't have to do it all on your own. Allow me to let you in on the secret to my success."

Danielle looked at the card. Grace Valley, discrete, executive personal services, it said. Danielle looked up at Dulcinea, a degree of skepticism plain on her face.

"She's a lifesaver, I promise," Dulcinea assured her quickly. "Young, but very smart, very professional, and very efficient. She did wonders for me. Really helped me out when I was going through some things. I know the card doesn't say much, but she's a lot more than just a normal PA. Her massages are to die for."

"If you say so," Danielle replied, still somewhat dubious. She'd always resisted the idea of a PA. She liked her privacy, and she figured it was best to stay a little more down to Earth. "But if she's for hire, then, what happened?"

"Nothing," Dulcinea told her. "I just didn't need her anymore. We parted ways a couple of weeks ago, right before I came out in public. In some ways, I think she even..." Dulcinea broke off, and looked spacey for a few, long moments. "Um, anyway," she resumed. "I can't recommend her enough."

"She what?" Danielle's curiosity was piqued. "Is she gay or something?"

"Not the point, babe." Dulcinea waved away the question, and smiled at her hopefully. "Please, at least consider it?"

Danielle pursed her lips. As much as she disliked the idea of someone else organizing her personal life, she had to admit that it could be just the thing she needed. Maybe getting someone to help share the load wouldn't be so bad.

"Fine," she conceded eventually. "I'll think about it.

Dulcinea's grin was wider than ever. "I'll message you some more of her details."

***

When the doorbell to Danielle's substantial West Hollywood home rang a few days later, she immediately checked the time. Nine fifty-nine in the morning. That was a good sign. Clearly, this Grace Valley was at least capable of showing up prompty. Now it was time to see if she seemed like someone Danielle could get along with.

She'd made good on her promise to think about Dulcinea's suggestion, and she'd ended up caving far quicker than she'd expected. After a few phone calls with Grace, they'd made arrangements for a short trial period - paid, of course. Grace had responded to her messages quickly and professionally, just as Dulcinea had promised, and had immediately given a good account of herself. Danielle remained somewhat skeptical, but perhaps Grace could win her over. Perhaps.

Danielle buzzed Grace through the gate to her property, and went to let her in. When she opened the door, she was greeted by a slightly chubby, very curvy woman a little shorter than herself. Grace looked about her age, and she was pretty, exuding the kind of subdued glamour cultivated by those who were in the orbit of stardom without being stars themselves. Her dirty blonde hair was in a neat bun, and through large, thick-rimmed glasses, she looked at Danielle with cool, blue, steady eyes. She was dressed in professional clothes - a black blouse and a black pencil skirt - but there was nothing professional about how they were tailored. Her outfit was eye-catchingly tight, the blouse clinging to her ample chest even with several buttons undone, and her pencil skirt stretched over her wide, feminine hips. It was quite a look.

"Grace." Danielle smiled warmly, withholding any comments or sharp glances. She wanted to seem welcoming. "Why don't you come in?"

"Thank you." Grace was smiling too. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Cartwright. You have a lovely home."

"Please, call me Danielle." She'd decided that if she was going to have a PA, she wanted it to be someone she could be friendly with. Not a stiff, formal administrator or a fawning fan. "And thank you."

Danielle led Grace through to her spacious, comfortable living room. In some ways, it was too spacious. When she'd bought it, she'd been determined to put down roots and buy a home that could be fit for a family, someday. But with her fiancé, Cameron, so often out of town for work - or out late partying - she was usually there all alone. Danielle settled herself in the comfortable recliner chair she favoured, and gestured for Grace to take a seat on the couch on the opposite side of her coffee table.

"Well, Grace," Danielle began, slightly awkwardly. She'd chosen to wear a simple, floral jumpsuit for their meeting. She hoped it looked flattering, and she hoped her curled, brunette hair still looked good. "Hopefully you know what I'm looking for, but if you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask. I'm hoping we can get straight into things, to see if you'll be a good fit."

"Of course, Danielle." The edges of Grace's smile curled up slightly, like she was about to break into laughing, but she never did. "Just one small thing. You know I'm trans, right? It kinda sucks to be that upfront about it, but I figure I'm better off finding out now if it's gonna be a problem later."

Danielle nodded. "It's absolutely not a problem, I promise you."

"Good." Grace smiled. "Now, I've reviewed your schedule, and I decided to try and move things around, to, like, give you some more time. I was able to merge some of your meetings with prospective new agencies into the same afternoon, on Wednesday. I hope that's OK."

Danielle blinked. For a moment, she was simply caught up in marveling at the thick valley girl accent coming out of Grace's mouth. Clearly, the girl was a California native. Then, she processed what her new PA had told her. It was nice to see she had initiative, but rearranging her schedule before she even started work was a little pushy for her liking.

"That's fine, although I'd appreciate a little more of a head's up next time."

Grace nodded. "Of course. My apologies."

Danielle mentally reviewed her new schedule. "Well, that means... I have a few hours free this afternoon. Oh. That's really wonderfully, actually." She sighed with relief. "I've gotta tell you, I've been kind of run off my feet lately. I could really do with a few hours to unwind."

"About that," Grace piped up. A glimmer of something was dancing in her eyes. Amusement? Danielle wasn't sure. "I have a suggestion, actually."

"Oh?"

"Guided meditation."

"Guided meditation?" Danielle echoed. She had to suppress a scornful giggle. She liked to be open-minded, but guided meditation was a little too Gwyneth Paltrow for her. "Look, Grace," she began diplomatically. "That's... a very nice idea. But I'm afraid I don't really go in for all that new age stuff. It's not really me."

"Oh, I assure you, it's not me either." Danielle was starting to find the perpetually-amused look on Grace's face a little irksome. Maybe this wouldn't work out after all. "But there's actually a lot of scientific evidence about the benefits of guided meditation. It doesn't have to be, like, a spiritual thing. It's about your physical and mental health."

"Well..." Danielle pursed her lips, reluctant to argue.

"I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be pushy," Grace said, although she didn't sound apologetic. "I'm simply speaking from experience. And, like, what's the harm in giving it a try? At worst, you get to lie back, listen, and relax for a while."

"I... suppose," Danielle conceded. She had to admit, when Grace put it like that, it did sound pretty appealing.

In fact, everything that Grace had said to her had a strange, compelling quality she couldn't quite put her finger on. The way Grace spoke was always slow and deliberate, with a lilting intonation, her voice and pitch rising and falling with each word. Danielle found herself constantly waiting for the next word to come out of her new PA's mouth. Was it mere curiosity that had her so intent on listening attentively to exactly what Grace was about to say, and how she would say it? Or something more? The magnetic pull of her words was like nothing Danielle had ever encountered, but maybe it was just natural charisma. Not a bad trait, in a personal assistant.

"You'll give it a shot?" Grace pressed.

Danielle made a kind of shrugging gesture, and smiled indulgently. "Sure. Why not?"

"Wonderful!" Grace exclaimed, with a broad grin that showed gleaming, perfectly white teeth.

"So, how does this work? What do I need to do? You mentioned listening to something."

"That's right!" Grace nodded. "The good news is, you don't really have to do anything at all. You can stay sitting there, in that nice, comfy chair. All you need to do is get comfy, lie back back, relax, and listen to a guided meditation tape."