Amy scanned over the list of cocktails. None had listed ingredients, just a disclaimer that this was a proprietary blend and this constituted a clinical trial. They all had rude names too, the kind of thing middle-aged women would order amidst fits of giggles. "Well, a porn star martini, I guess," Amy said, rolling her eyes. It was the least rude, obscure option on there.
"Of course!" Melody smiled, bustling off to fetch a drink, coming back and setting it down on the table. "Enjoy!" she said, retreating from the room, leaving Amy alone to sip on the cocktail. It tasted so good, the passionfruit flavour so rich, the alcohol creating a pleasurable buzz. What she was oblivious to was her hair, becoming thicker, wavier, blonde spreading from the roots to the tips as her hair naturally changed to look like a platinum blonde dyejob.
Of course, this was the point: this line wasn't aimed at exclusive parties so much as invite-only, private, nigh-illegal parties. The porn star martini experience would change a woman into a literal porn star, the company would facilitate the experience, and in 24 hours she'd revert to normal, have a sex tape to watch, enjoy, and if she so wished, to release to the public. Amy licked her lips, finding them fuller, thicker. The cocktail was good, but why wasn't she swallowing down cum? She'd only blown a boy once, an awkward fumble at a party, but now she felt confident she could milk men dry. Indeed, her lips looked like a parody, so full of silicon she had a full on duck pout.
She took another long swig, almost draining the glass. Her chest felt tight, swollen. She unbuttoned her blouse, letting out a moan of pleasure. Her breasts looked like they'd filled with silicon, the skin tight, each as big as her head. The mixture had even left her with scarring on the underside of her tits. Amy looked like she had a pair of big bolt-on silicon tits.
She'd been utterly oblivious to the final change as the skin on her lower back darkened and shifted, until she had a brand new tramp stamp on her lower back, in elaborate black letters simply reading 'BIMBO'.