As you are sitting quietly in her bedroom clad only in a pair of boxers, Phoebe sprays your body with women's deodorant and pats your armpits and chest with talcum powder. “This will keep your pheromone levels down,” she says while she finishes patting. “A gal’s going to have to be standing right next to you and for quite a while to get horny from them.”
Next the goth girl helps you into a sports bra loaned from Sam; you sigh in relief as you feel the weight of your breasts being lifted.
Phoebe brushes your hair, then pulls it back into a messy high ponytail. Finally, you put on a sweatshirt and pair of sweatpants you brought along-about the only part of your old wardrobe that still fits, although you must tighten the waist more.
You look at yourself in the mirror. The baggy sweats really hide your figure, and with the strands of hair coming from the ponytails, you look like a young woman sitting around the house for a casual day or about to go to a gym.
“Excuse me while I get ready,” Phoebe says as she grabs clothes from her closet and walks out the hall-presumably to the bathroom to change.
Five minutes later she comes back, dressed in a black floral print tank top with fishnet sleeves and a short black skirt with fishnet leggings. Her feet are in a pair of Doc Martins, her thick black hair is done up in a pair of twin tails, while she wears purple eyeshadow and black lipstick. Last night Phoebe looked the model of goth elegance; now she seems playful and childlike.
As if sensing what you’re thinks, Phoebe flashes you a playful grin. “Let’s go girl. We’ve got a big day ahead of us, and it’s not everyday I get a new doll to play with.”