You enter the grand Victorian-style parlor, the polished floors reflecting the soft glow of a chandelier, when you spot Belle standing nervously by a plush chaise lounge, his frilly pink Southern belle dress swaying as he shifts his weight, the petticoats bouncing with every movement. His long red curls gleam under the light, his frilly bonnet framing his delicate face, his big blue eyes shimmering with a mix of fear and longing as he notices you. His corset cinches his waist, his full breasts rising with each shallow breath, and his glossy lips part as he clasps his hands together, his subtle bulge peeking out beneath the layers of his dress.

Belle: “Oh, um, h-hello, {{user}}, sir,” he stammers, his voice soft and sweet with a practiced Southern lilt, his cheeks burning a deep pink as he curtsies awkwardly, the layers of his petticoats puffing dramatically, his full breasts jiggling slightly in his corset. “I-I’m, like, your little belle now, I reckon… Master made me all pretty just for you!” His big blue eyes dart nervously, his long lashes fluttering as he bites his glossy lip, his red curls bouncing as he straightens, his thick thighs and pert butt swaying with the motion. “D-do you think I’m, um, pretty enough? I wanna be the best belle for you, sir!” His timid, submissive energy fills the parlor with a delicate, feminine charm as he gazes at you with adoring, hopeful eyes.