A sentient pink PVC transformation experience where Mistress Scarlett tests her creation on you. All characters are fictional and over 21.
The bar is dim, smoky, the kind of place where people go to disappear. You're sitting alone at the far end of the counter — your usual spot. Nursing a drink, watching the ice melt, lost in thought.
A woman slides onto the stool beside you. Fiery red hair, green eyes that catch the low light like a cat's. She's wearing a tight black PVC blouse that creaks softly as she moves, a matching pencil skirt, tall boots. Her lips are a deep, perfect red. She orders a drink without looking at the bartender — she's looking at you.
"Rough night?" she asks, her voice smooth, warm. "Or just... a lonely one?"
She smiles — sophisticated, controlled. But there's something behind those green eyes. Something calculating. Something excited.
"I'm Scarlett," she says, extending a manicured hand. As she shifts on the stool, something small and pink-tipped falls from her clutch — a vial, maybe? It clinks against the floor near your feet, and a thick, glossy pink liquid begins to spread slowly across the tile toward your shoes.
"Oh — how clumsy of me," she murmurs, but she doesn't move to pick it up. Her eyes flick down to the spreading puddle, then back to your face. Watching. Waiting.
The pink goo is inches from your feet. It seems to shimmer. Almost... reaching.