Clara collapsed onto the expensive couch with a flumph. Her head flopped onto the back, and one arm draped carelessly over the armrest. She let out a groan.

Diana came around the corner, heels clicking on the tile. “Clara dear, are you alright?”

She flopped her head to the left to face her Highness. “I’ll be fine.”

Diana smoothed her skirts and sat gracefully. Her tone was gentle, concerned. “You don’t sound fine.”

Suddenly self-conscious, Clara sat up. “I’m just tired is all. These students are exhausting. I almost wish…” she blushed and looked away.

“What is it, princess? You know I could always make you tell me.”

Just then, another staccato clicking of high heels announced Jasmine’s entry. “Is everything alright? I heard a sound like an elephant crashing into the furniture.”

Clara blushed harder, and scooted over to make room for her Mistress on the couch. “Sorry, Mistress. I guess I was a bit careless. I’m not injured, don’t worry. Just worn out.”

“She was just going to tell me about it,” added Diana, in a tone that brooked no arguments.

Clara sighed. “I enjoy tutoring. You know that.”

“I wouldn’t be letting you waste your time if you didn’t,” said Jasmine with a sniff.

“I love learning, and I love sharing knowledge. Some of the students really struggle, and I find explaining and illustrating the science so they can comprehend it to be so, so fulfilling.”

“Then what’s the problem, love?” asked Diana.

“Well… not all of the students want to learn. Some of them were forced to attend by parents who would pay for college, but cut them off if their grades get too low. So they’re there to bring those grades up, but don’t actually care about the material. I had to grade essays today, and I’m pretty sure some of them were generated by an AI. My mind kept wandering. I wished…”

Jasmine sat forward, a devious smile pulling at her mouth. “Yes?”

Clara deflated, and let out her desire in a rush. “I wished I could just be pink and happy and mindless so I didn’t have to look at those essays any longer. My brain just needs a break.”

“Oh, we can certainly arrange that,” purred Jasmine.

“Pink, pink, pink,” whispered Diana.

As always when someone she trusted spoke her trigger, Clara’s mind floated away on a cloud of pink haze. Her sharp intellect dulled in an instant. She let out a ditzy giggle. “Oh, yes, this is, like, sooooo much better! Thank you your highness! So uh, like, what do you want me to do?” Clara rolled her hips suggestively, and bit her lip in anticipation.

Diana’s laugh rang like silver bells. “Oh my sweet, silly princess, this is for you.”

“You said you wanted a break,” Jasmine said, reaching for the fly of Clara’s jeans.

“But first,” Diana said, and Jasmine stopped. “I think,” she paused, gathering her thoughts, and Clara stifled a whimper of frustrated anticipation. “I think we need to make sure that our ditzy princess can easily get back to being the smarty pants her students need.”

The whimper escaped. She couldn’t help it. She didn’t want to be smart. Smart was too hard, too much work.

Jasmine smirked. “Yes, thoughts of being our ditzy princess were clearly distracting your from your important work. Perhaps a new trigger is in order. Go deeper for me, princess. Let that pink cloud your thoughts floated away on fill your mind now, that’s it, sink down for me.”

Clara’s body went limp with Jasmine’s words, and her Mistress held her in her arms, gently stroking her hair. Diana joined in, running soft fingers down her arms and back, encouraging her to relax deeper and deeper.

“That’s right. Let go for us.”

“Open to us.”

“Let us change you.”

“Let us shape you.”

“You’ve opened to us before, just for fun.”

“Now we can help you.”

Clara wasn’t even sure who was saying which words anymore, or whose hands were where. It didn’t matter. They roamed all over her limp body, pushing arms aside to slip under her shirt and enjoy her breasts, reaching into her open jeans to caress over her panties. She squirmed and gave a happy sigh.

“So, a new trigger, princess. You already know that when we say ‘pink, pink, pink’, you sink and become our ditzy, carefree princess.”

“But it’s time you learned that when we say ‘smarty pants’, you return to your intelligent, diligent, collegiate self.”

Clara groaned as Jasmine’s bright tone pulled her back up toward wakefulness.

“But pink, pink, pink and you’re down and ditzy again.”

She moaned happily and squirmed against the hand in her pants.

“Smarty pants, up and aware, but no groaning because you feel energy and joy flowing through you.”

“Your love for science and understanding fill you.”

“Your desire to help and support fuels you.”

“So you know that with the lovely relief of pink, pink, pink waiting for you.”

“You can be our smarty pants whenever you need.”

She laughed, a richer sound than her princess giggle. She was a little dizzy and disoriented, and their distracting caresses were not exactly encouraging blood flow to the brain. “Thank you, your highness. Thank you, Mistress. This helps a lot.”

They both smirked at Clara, then grinned at each other. In unison, they said, “Pink, pink, pink.”