Free Transformed! Nine Magically Erotic Stories by Nadia Nightside

public presence was such that she had been rather well-known to become colossally angry at the slightest provocation, and so she was surprised (and insulted) that they didn't know that about her already. She was a world-famous supermodel, for goodness's sake. She was Jacqueline Demonto, and she was more than capable of using her rather illustrious amount of beauty and fame to make others feel dejected or worse (most women she insulted and defamed came close to tears, if not well past that point) when she put her mind to it.
    Her self-esteem destroying abilities were well-grooved skills at this point, and the kind, in fact, that she enjoyed employing almost as much as showing off her body. After all, she knew even at the tender young age of twenty-two that this premium-person status she had wouldn’t last forever, and so she might as well squeeze all the enjoyment of feeling superior to others while she still could.
    Jacqueline Demonto, along with other world-class models Vivian Ruiz and Marisol Garza, had arrived in the Shining Spiral Casino earlier that day. They were set to do photo shoots and interviews for something called the Spiral Spin. Her agent, in a strangely monotone voice, assured Jacqueline over the phone that it was one of the greatest small magazines in existence today. When she pressed him for more information, he just repeated that one “fact” over and over again, and that she had to go.
    It was unusual for all three high-status supermodels to be booked in such a place for such an obscure publication, but with the payday she would be getting, she didn’t mind. She would make more today than she had in three years—well into the eight figures. And all that, just for being gloriously pretty as she had been born. It was enough to make even a rather conceited woman like Jacqueline’s head swell with vanity.
    Not helping the matter of her impatience was just how odd the staff seemed at this Casino. All the men were hulking, boner-sporting studs, and all the women were ridiculous busty giggly bimbo babes. The staff flirted constantly, and to be honest, Jacqueline had trouble sorting out who was a patron and who was an employee. They were all so gorgeous. Of course, Jacqueline still thought she herself was much better than any of them.
    Jacqueline, being a completely gorgeous woman, had dressed in a way to show that off to the world. She was the third-highest-paid supermodel in the world, after all, and so to her—and to anyone else who mattered, for that matter—that meant she was the third-most-gorgeous woman in the world. She didn’t mind being third—especially as it meant that she was doubtlessly better than three and a half billion other women, and heck, the three and a half billion men that jerked themselves off every night thinking about her. She took pride and happiness in her superiority, and made sure the others around her knew it.
    And so, being stuck in this room with no cell phone service for over two hours now, waiting and praying for a change, Jacqueline was getting impatient. They had paid her to come here—why weren’t they taking advantage of all her endless advantages?
    Her advantages—and they were considerable—were certainly shown off well by the tight blue minidress she had on now. Traveling with incomparable beauties like the dark-haired Vivian and redheaded Marisol, she knew she had to dress extra-hot to make sure she was seen. So, the skimpy dress hugged her tight abs and her healthy hips, as well as clearly showing off her generous cleavage. Her long, dark brown hair cascaded down her back in hot, wet locks, each strand of hair arranged to make her look perfectly beautiful. Her heels—one of many pairs that cost well over a thousand dollars—only made her spectacular legs appear even more spectacular, highlighting their length and pushing her ass up to the ceiling.
    Even Jacqueline had to admit that Vivian and Marisol probably still were more beautiful than her—but they