Chapter Two

Asher pushed the soft cotton blankets off her body and sat up on the edge of her mattress, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes to shake off the lingering exhaustion from the previous day. The debate tournament had drained her intellectual endurance. She decided the bizarre mental collapse in her dorm room afterward was nothing more than an exhaustion breakdown. She refused to entertain the terrifying thought that an eccentric professor in a dilapidated cabin possessed the ability to alter her brain chemistry, blaming her strange behavior on adrenaline withdrawal and dehydration instead. I am the smartest woman at this school, she told herself. Magic has no place in reality.

She walked over to her wooden dresser, pulling out a pair of fitted blue jeans and a light blue blouse. She changed out of her pajamas in silence, eager to establish a sense of normalcy and get her schedule back on track. As she buttoned her shirt, she glanced across the room. Maya was still tangled in her own bedsheets, sleeping peacefully.

The memory of the basketball player standing in their room made Asher cringe. She remembered how she had arched her back and batted her eyelashes for his approval, and a wave of embarrassment washed over her. A familiar, shameful throb pulsed between her thighs at the thought of his large hands touching her face. She crossed her legs and took a sharp breath to suppress the physical reaction. It infuriated her that her body still harbored traces of that degrading arousal, but a hot cup of coffee and a demanding class schedule would flush the remaining weakness from her system. She just needed to immerse herself in her studies and forget the entire ordeal.

Maya shifted on her mattress and let out a long yawn, tossing her blankets aside to stretch her arms over her head. The athletic woman wore a pair of gray sweatpants and an oversized college t-shirt, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she swung her bare feet over the edge.

“You’re up early,” Maya mumbled, her voice thick with morning grogginess as she padded across the carpet toward the small vanity mirror.

“I have a full slate of classes today, and you do too, if I remember. You better get up,” Asher replied, sliding her books into her leather bag.

Maya picked up a hairbrush and pulled the bristles through her locs, watching her roommate in the mirror as she worked out the tangles.

“Trey texted me last night after he left our room,” the dark-skinned woman said, her tone casual but laced with curiosity.

Asher froze with a book halfway inside her bag. She forced her hands to keep moving, shoving the textbook down into the leather material and zipping the compartment shut so she wouldn’t have to make eye contact.

“I thought you told him to stop blowing up your phone after the breakup,” Asher said, keeping her tone casual as she turned to grab her laptop charger from the desk.

“I did tell him that, but you know he doesn’t listen when he wants something,” Maya sighed, setting the brush down to lean her hips against the vanity. “He mostly wanted to talk about you, which is a bizarre change of pace.”

A slick rush of moisture pooled in Asher’s underwear as her flesh reacted to the athlete’s continued interest. She silently cursed her own body for responding to a man she considered an imbecile.

“I can’t imagine we have anything to talk about,” the redhead stated, picking up her bag and slinging the strap over her shoulder. “He barged in here uninvited while I was trying to relax. He knows I detest him.”

“That’s the thing,” her roommate pointed out, crossing her arms as she studied the debate champion. “He said you were nice to him for once. He told me you had a better attitude and that you two had a good conversation. Did you actually chat with him without insulting his intelligence?”

Asher swallowed hard as the memory of her ditzy giggles surfaced. She pictured the exact way she had offered herself up as a submissive slut for him, knowing that if Maya ever found out the truth, she would never live the embarrassment down.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Maya,” Asher lied, walking toward the door. “He came looking for you, and I told him to get lost. Nothing more.”

Maya raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced by the defensive response. “He sounded confident that you two reached an understanding. He even said you giggled at one of his jokes.”

Panic flared in Asher’s chest, but she masked it with a cold scoff. “Giggled? Sure, that sounds like me, alright. Can we drop this and get some food? I need coffee before my seminar.”

Maya held her hands up in a placating gesture, recognizing the end of the discussion. “Alright, keep your hair on. I just thought it was interesting. Let me grab my shoes and my ID.”

The athletic woman dropped to one knee, fishing her sneakers out from under the mattress. Asher let out a slow breath as she waited by the exit, focusing on the solid weight of her bag. Last night was a fluke, she reasoned, certain that today’s events would restore her unshakeable confidence.

Maya finished tying her laces and grabbed her lanyard from the desk. She smiled as she walked over to join her roommate. The two women stepped out into the corridor, leaving the room behind as they headed toward the campus dining hall to start their day.

❖

Asher took her seat in the second row of the lecture hall and pulled a notebook from her leather bag. She liked her History of Women in Politics elective because it gave her a break from the male ego, offering a quiet room filled with female students who cared about the history of women’s fight toward equality. Dozens of women occupied the surrounding desks, chatting softly as Professor Hayes stepped up to the podium. Asher uncapped her pen, ready to focus on the lesson and put the weird events from last night behind her. Alyssa Hayes began discussing the early suffrage movement, outlining the political alliances formed during the nineteenth century. Asher fell right into her element, her sharp mind tracking events and political maneuvering with ease. She felt like her old self again. She loved the intellectual rigor of this environment, finding satisfaction in outsmarting the curriculum.

The wooden door at the front of the classroom swung open, pulling the redhead’s attention away from the whiteboard. A young man strolled into the room, possessing a smug grin and an arrogant swagger. He wore a backward baseball cap and a black T-shirt with the image of a fiery skull across the front, chewing a piece of gum as he stood before the rows of female students. Asher narrowed her eyes, irritation flaring at the sudden intrusion. This space belonged to women, and his casual disrespect for the environment offended her.

Professor Hayes crossed her arms and fixed the intruder with a stern glare.

“Take your headphones out and find a seat, Chase,” the professor announced, her voice projecting clearly across the lecture hall. “I want to make this clear to everyone in the room. Chase here is joining us for the next few sessions because he was caught directing misogynistic slurs at a faculty member. As punishment, the dean thought his attendance in this course would show him what women had to fight through to get the rights they have today. We have the Dean’s word that if Chase disrupts the class too much, he will be expelled.”

Asher ground her teeth together as she listened to the explanation. The university should have expelled him, prioritizing the safety and respect of the female staff over coddling an ignorant student. Forcing the women in this class to tolerate his toxic presence felt like a backward step.

Chase ignored the hostile glares from the audience and climbed the short steps of the aisle. He bypassed several rows and dropped his backpack onto the empty desk directly beside Asher, flashing her a lazy smirk as he slouched into the plastic chair.

“Hey, babe. I’m Chase,” the young man whispered, leaning his shoulder toward her with a cocky grin. “Looks like we are study buddies for the next few weeks.”

Asher narrowed her eyes, preparing to deliver a scathing reprimand about his toxic behavior. “I know who you are, and I suggest you keep quiet and let the rest of us learn.”

“Feisty,” Chase laughed, kicking his legs out and crossing his ankles under the desk. “I love it.”

Asher opened her mouth to put him in his place, but a sudden wave of warmth washed over her brain. She blinked, a strange fuzziness creeping into the edges of her mind. She recognized the sensation immediately, a jolt of panic hitting her chest as she recalled the exact same feeling from her dorm room the previous night. She gripped her pen tightly, desperate to hold onto her intellect, forcing her eyes back to the whiteboard. She tried to read the writing about nineteenth-century political alliances, but the letters started to blur together on the page. She started reciting the Declaration of Independence in her head, fighting the mental drain, but the words dissolved into a soft emptiness.

“So, what’s this bitch talking about up front?” Chase whispered, pointing a lazy finger toward Professor Hayes. “Is she talking about how much a prostitute charged in 1812? It’s the oldest profession in the world, apparently.” The crude man chuckled to himself.

Asher wanted to defend the professor. She wanted to explain the socioeconomic impact of the suffrage movement, lining up the academic terms in her head, but they slipped away before she could speak them aloud. She dug her fingernails into her palms, hoping the sharp sting might clear the haze, but the pain felt distant and muted. The fog rolled in thicker, suffocating her critical thinking. She looked at his face, mesmerized by the strong line of his jaw and the casual confidence in his posture.

Her body reacted as her intelligence plummeted. A slick rush of moisture flooded her underwear, soaking the cotton material as her pussy clenched with uninvited lust. She felt an animalistic ache throbbing directly on her clit, demanding attention she struggled to suppress. She pressed her knees together, squirming in her seat to alleviate the friction, but the movement only made her pussy wetter. She felt a desperate urge to slide her hand under the desk and touch herself, aching to find relief right there in the lecture hall.

“I know, right?” Asher agreed. Her voice adopted a breathy tone she despised yet could not control. “It’s like so boring.”

“Really?” Chase smirked, clearly pleased with her reaction. He leaned a little closer, his arm brushing against hers. “I thought this class was just for angry bitches who hate men.”

“I don’t hate men,” Asher giggled, covering her mouth with her hand as a bubbly warmth filled her stomach.

She knew she despised him just moments prior. He represented the patriarchal oppression they studied, and he treated his punishment like a joke, but the closer she sat to his ignorant mind, the dumber she became. Her feminist principles vanished, replaced by an innate need for his validation. Her nipples hardened against the fabric of her blouse, aching for him to reach out and touch them. She imagined him pulling her down onto his lap right in the middle of the lecture hall, unzipping his jeans, and forcing his hard cock down her throat. The filthy fantasy made her leak more slick fluid, turning her into a desperate slut eager to obey him.

The lecture dragged on, and Asher spent the duration fighting a losing battle against her own biology. She abandoned her pen, her hands resting uselessly in her lap as she squirmed in her seat. She wanted to impress him, eager to show him she understood her place beneath him.

As the clock ticked toward the end of the hour, Chase leaned over his desk again, closing the distance between them. Asher gasped, a thrill shooting through her core as she turned her head to meet his gaze.

“You look hot for one of those feminist bitches,” Chase whispered, his eyes roaming unapologetically over her chest and face.

The old Asher would have slapped him or delivered a scathing reprimand, but the fog-minded girl absorbed the crude insult as a high compliment. She flushed with pleasure, thrilled that a man found her attractive despite her supposedly boring personality.

“Like, thank you,” the redhead purred, biting her lower lip as she offered him a compliant nod. “I try.”

“Though I have to say, you’d look more approachable if you did something with your face,” the misogynist suggested, looking at her bare skin with a critical sneer. “The plain act is outdated, and you should embrace your looks by putting on some makeup. Guys don’t want to talk to a girl who looks like she just rolled out of bed. You need to put some effort in if you want a man’s attention.”

A tiny voice in the back of her mind screamed in disgust, horrified by the invasive demand to decorate herself for his pleasure, but the dense fog suffocated the protest. She craved his approval, her dripping pussy throbbing in agreement with his assessment. She felt foolish and plain, agreeing that she needed to fix her appearance so he would find her desirable. The feminist rhetoric spoken by the professor a few feet away meant nothing compared to the intoxicating thrill of obeying his command.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Asher giggled, twirling a strand of red hair around her finger.

“See that you do,” he smirked, packing the notebook he hadn’t even opened into his bag.

The bell rang, signaling the end of the session. Chase sauntered out of the room as if he owned the place, vanishing into the crowded hallway. The moment he crossed the threshold and put distance between them, the suffocating pink fog vanished, snapping Asher’s intellect back into place.

She inhaled a sharp, jagged breath, her hands flying up to cover her mouth as the crushing weight of her actions washed over her. She had just giggled at a sexist slur. She had thanked a misogynist for instructing her to paint her face like a bimbo, abandoning her feminist ideals to act like a brainless whore desperate for his attention. She looked down at her lap, feeling the sticky mess coating her inner thighs. The contrast between her restored genius and her soaking wet underwear made her stomach churn with revulsion.

A female student from the row behind her walked down the steps, pausing beside the desk with a sympathetic frown.

“Are you okay?” the classmate asked, keeping her voice low. “You shouldn’t have to put up with that guy sitting next to you. It’s messed up that they force us to endure his attitude.”

Asher stared at the girl, her mind scrambling to form a coherent response. She could not confess that she had enjoyed his toxic presence, nor could she explain the sick thrill she felt when she flirted back. A cold sweat broke out across her forehead as she grabbed her notebook and shoved it into her bag with trembling fingers.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Asher stammered, refusing to meet the other woman’s eyes as she stood up. “I have to go.”

She swung the bag over her shoulder and hurried past the concerned classmate, marching straight down the aisle. She pushed through the classroom doors into the busy corridor, desperate to find a bathroom where she could hide from the horrifying consequences of her own confusing mind.

❖

Asher pushed through the swinging doors of the second-floor women’s restroom, drawing in deep breaths as she sought refuge from the crowded campus corridor. She was relieved to find the room empty, needing the isolation. She dropped her bag onto the counter next to a row of sinks, bracing her hands against the edge. The lingering panic gave way to a deep, humiliating wave of nausea as her intellect finished analyzing the horrific events of the lecture hall.

She stared at her reflection in the wide mirror above the sinks. The familiar face of a national debate champion stared back, featuring pale, unadorned skin, a dusting of light freckles across her nose, and red hair pulled into a sensible ponytail. It was the face she wore every day, a testament to her belief that women possessed higher value than mere visual decorations for the male gaze. She prided herself on her intellect, preferring a plain appearance to ensure people respected her mind over her body. She had no intention of playing up to the patriarchy.

Yet, as she looked at her bare features, a sick disconnect twisted in her stomach; the reflection felt wrong.

Chase’s smug voice invaded her thoughts with invasive clarity. You’d look more approachable if you did something with your face. The plain act is outdated.

Asher squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, desperate to dislodge the misogynist’s command from her brain. She hated him. She despised everything he stood for, and she felt repulsed by the idea of altering her appearance to appease anyone who viewed women as objects. She wanted to laugh at his crude suggestion and dismiss it as the ramblings of an idiot, but the lingering effects of the fog refused to let the thought die.

She opened her eyes and looked in the mirror again. The pride she usually held for her natural appearance vanished, replaced by a crushing sense of inadequacy. She looked plain. She looked like someone no man would ever want to touch. The haze demanded she make herself pretty for the men on campus, forcing her to crave their lustful stares.

A fresh rush of arousal traveled straight to her groin, reminding her of the sticky mess currently coating her inner thighs. Her underwear remained soaked with the juicy evidence of her earlier breakdown, her pussy still lightly throbbing with the desperate need to be used. The physical ache in her clit pulsed in sync with the invasive thoughts, presenting a twisted reward system. Her body promised intense sexual pleasure if she just gave in and obeyed the man’s instructions.

“I don’t need makeup,” Asher whispered to her reflection, her voice trembling as she fought the overwhelming urge to submit to the invisible request.

The words sounded hollow in the quiet room. She glared at her reflection, her sharp mind screaming at her to walk away and return to her dorm. She knew exactly who she was. She knew these degrading thoughts did not belong to her, and anger burned over her inability to banish them. She tried to shake her head and force the fog away, but the hazy desire clung to her synapses. The more she fought the compulsion to doll herself up, the more her cunt ached with an empty, hollow throb.

She cursed out loud, furious that her flesh betrayed her logic. Her hands shook as she unzipped her bag and dug past her books. She bypassed her stationery, her fingers closing around a small black cosmetic pouch she kept buried at the bottom. She pulled it out and dropped it onto the counter. The redhead stared at the zipper, hating herself for entertaining the idea of opening it. She possessed a brilliant mind, yet she stood in a public restroom debating whether to put on cosmetics just because an ignorant frat boy told her to do it.

A fresh wave of moisture leaked from her pussy at the mere thought of submitting to his demand. The erotic thrill overpowered her anger. She surrendered to the compulsion, unzipping the pouch and reaching inside. She lacked a full cosmetic kit, finding only a single wand of black mascara and a small tube of clear lip gloss she saved for emergencies.

She unscrewed the mascara cap and leaned closer to the mirror, sweeping the wand through her eyelashes. The dark pigment made her eyes appear wider, softening the glare she usually leveled at her peers. A flush of pleasure spread across her chest as she applied the second coat, her nipples hardening against her bra. She hated how good it felt. She was willingly decorating herself to become a piece of eye candy, and her body rewarded the degradation with a rush of intense lust.

She set the wand down and picked up the lip gloss. Asher twisted the cap off and pressed the applicator to her bottom lip, smearing the liquid across her mouth. She rubbed her lips together, coating them in a high-shine finish that caught the bathroom lighting. Her mouth looked wet, and far more appealing than it had before.

She dropped the tube onto the counter and took a step back, taking in her reflection. Her eyes looked wider, and her lips carried a slutty shine, but the minimal cosmetics still left her feeling bare. The invasive thought whispered that she needed foundation and blush to be approachable, that she needed a brighter look, yet the simple act of applying the mascara and gloss took the edge off the overwhelming compulsion. The intense ache between her thighs subsided a fraction, shifting from a desperate throb to a manageable warmth.

She glared at her glossy lips, hating what she had done while recognizing a compromise. If applying a few simple products quelled the distracting haze and allowed her to focus on her upcoming classes, she would tolerate the humiliation. She needed her intellect intact, and fighting the compulsion would make it impossible to focus. She would wear the makeup, ignore the degrading thrill humming in her veins, and bury herself in her studies.

She swept the small pouch back into her bag, zipping the compartment closed. Asher slung the strap over her shoulder and pushed the swinging doors open, stepping out into the hallway to get on with the rest of her day.

❖

Asher marched down the busy campus corridor with a furious scowl. She had managed to survive her mid-morning lecture, but the lingering effects of the restroom incident refused to leave her in peace. Throughout the entire ninety-minute session, her mind kept drifting to her reflection. The minimal mascara and clear gloss she applied earlier felt insufficient, leaving her with a gnawing, obsessive need to put on a full face of cosmetics. The compulsion scratched at the back of her skull until she could no longer focus on the curriculum. She tried to ignore her sudden bizarre vanity, but the distracting haze made it impossible to retain the lecture material. By the end of the class, she resolved that she could not go on like this. She needed to appease the strange urge just to salvage her focus.

She abandoned her next study block and marched straight to a cosmetic counter at the nearby mall. She grabbed an armful of trashy products, locked herself in another bathroom, and surrendered to the degrading compulsion.

Now, her appearance bore the undeniable mark of male appeasement. A heavy layer of liquid foundation smoothed out her pale skin, hiding her natural freckles beneath an artificial canvas. A generous sweep of bronzer contoured her cheekbones, paired with a soft pink blush that gave her a permanent, flustered glow. She had outlined her eyes with dark black eyeliner and coated her lashes in mascara, making her gaze appear wide and submissive. Shimmering champagne eyeshadow dusted her eyelids, drawing attention to her altered features. She finished the humiliating transformation by outlining her mouth with a dark pink lip liner and filling the center with a thick coat of high-shine lip gloss. She looked like a cheap, desperate bimbo, and she hated herself for it.

Students parted around her as she stormed down the corridor. She noticed the men staring at her heavy makeup. Their eyes lingered on her inviting lips, tracking her movements as she marched through the crowded space. Her intellect screamed in disgust at the blatant objectification, yet a sick, warm thrill twisted in her stomach. She felt strangely comfortable under their gaze. The male attention fed a deep hunger she didn’t want to acknowledge, soothing the anxious itch beneath her skin.

However, a far more terrifying symptom accompanied the male attention. Every time she walked past a group of guys, a temporary fuzziness clouded her brain. The pink fog rolled over her synapses in brief, disorienting waves, making her lose track of her surroundings. Her vast vocabulary would slip away for a few seconds, replaced by a soft emptiness, only to return once she put distance between herself and the men. She tried to shake the mental static away, glaring at the floor tiles as she pushed through the throng of students.

Distracted by the localized brain drain, she failed to see the massive figure stepping out from a nearby classroom. Asher slammed face-first into a solid chest. The impact knocked the breath from her lungs and sent her tumbling backward. She hit the floor with a painful thud, her bag spilling a few items across the walkway.

“My bad, I wasn’t looking where I was going,” a deep voice chuckled.

Asher groaned and pushed herself up onto her elbows. She looked up and found Trey grinning down at her. The tall basketball player wore his usual athletic gear, chewing a piece of gum as he offered her his large hand. Asher felt a surge of irritation and reached out to slap his hand away, but her fingers accidentally brushed against his palm.

The physical contact sent a violent shock of pleasure straight to her pussy. A rush of wetness seeped into her underwear. The temporary fuzziness she experienced in the hallway exploded into a thick, suffocating fog. Her genius intellect evaporated in a fraction of a second, leaving a total emptiness behind.

Trey wrapped his fingers around her hand and hauled her easily to her feet.

“I was hoping to bump into you again,” Trey smiled, looking down at her new look. “Although I wasn’t expecting it to be literal.”

Asher tried to formulate a snappy retort, desperate to hold onto her intelligence, but the pink haze drowned out her vocabulary. She looked at his broad shoulders and felt a bubbly warmth fill her stomach. Her clit throbbed with a desperate ache, demanding his attention.

“Oh my god, I am so clumsy,” Asher giggled, her voice dropping into a breathy, ditzy tone.

She reached up and twirled a strand of red hair around her index finger, batting her mascara-coated eyelashes at him. The feminist scholar inside her wanted to scream, horrified by the submissive posture, but the brainless slut standing in the hallway relished the interaction.

Trey raised an eyebrow, his grin widening as he took in her appearance. “You look good, Asher. You doing something different?”

“I just put on a little makeup,” she purred, biting her glossy lower lip. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah, it works for you,” the athlete agreed, letting his eyes roam over her features. He paused for a moment, enjoying the sight, before continuing. “Listen, the basketball team is putting on a party at the Kappa Sigma frat house tonight. Me and the boys would love for you to show up.”

A small, desperate corner of her mind screamed in protest. The smart student knew she didn’t attend frat parties, and she needed to lock herself in a secluded space to figure out what was wrong with her. However, the thick pink fog suffocated that rational thought. The ditz taking over her body knew she needed to go. She needed a crowded room full of men to notice her exciting face and validate her existence. She wanted them to look at her.

“I’ll totally have to check my calendar,” Asher flirted, swaying her hips side to side. “I might be busy tonight.”

Trey chuckled, clearly enjoying the overt display. He stepped closer and let his gaze drop past her face, taking in her conservative denim jeans and blouse. He frowned, crossing his massive arms over his chest.

“I hope to see you there. That makeup is a good start, but you should show a lot more leg,” Trey suggested, pointing a finger at her pants. “A real woman wears skirts or dresses almost constantly. You got a nice body, and you shouldn’t hide it, babe.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Asher giggled, brushing off the casual sexism with a simple nod. “Like, thanks for the advice.”

“Anytime. Anyway, I gotta run, but I hope I see you tonight,” Trey smiled, giving her a quick wink before turning around.

The athlete walked away, disappearing into the flow of passing students. The second he stepped out of range, the suffocating pink fog vanished. Asher gasped for air as her sharp intellect snapped back into place. The bubbly warmth in her stomach turned to ice, leaving her standing in the middle of the corridor with a trashy face and a profound sense of horror. A sudden wave of nausea hit her, twisting her gut as she recalled her ditzy behavior. She wrapped her arms around her waist, her mind racing to understand the horrifying pattern. Why do I keep crumbling like a brainless bimbo the moment a man stands near me? What is wrong with my head?

She tried to steady her breathing and regain her composure. However, as she looked down, she frowned, a sick, uncomfortable sensation settling in her stomach when she noticed her denim jeans. The blue fabric felt restrictive against her skin, almost suffocating. I should show more leg, she thought. It feels uncomfortable to hide my legs from the world when men want to look at them.

Her eyes widened as she realized what she was thinking. She was in serious trouble. She gasped and looked blankly ahead.

“Fuck.”

❖

Asher stepped through the doorway of the World Politics seminar room, carrying a quiet fury in her chest. She had managed to silence the agonizing itch crawling across her skin by changing into a black leather knee-length skirt she kept buried in the back of her closet, a conservative compromise to satisfy the invasive urge to expose her legs. She despised the garment, just as she hated the thick layer of cosmetics currently suffocating her pores, but she needed to tolerate the humiliating alterations if she wanted to survive the day. The degrading changes kept the distracting mental static at bay, allowing her to retain a fragile hold on her sanity.

She walked down the carpeted aisle, piecing the horrifying morning together. The bizarre bimbo transformations, the desperate need for male attention, and the sudden drop in her IQ all shared a single, impossible origin. She thought back to the previous afternoon, recalling the dilapidated cabin on the edge of campus and the sudden drop in room temperature. She remembered the dead lights and the icy, unnatural chill radiating from Professor Olga’s hand. There was no alternative explanation left to explore. The old woman had done something to her. She had no idea what it was, but the old bat had caused this. Asher resolved to hunt the eccentric teacher down the second this seminar ended, determined to figure out what kind of mental trick the bitch had used to sabotage her mind.

Asher looked up from the floor and scanned the small lecture hall, intending to claim her usual seat near the front. She froze when she realized the room was empty except for a single person sitting near the back row.

Travis Henderson sat at a corner desk, flipping through a book as he waited for the class to start. He wore a button-down shirt and wire-rimmed glasses, projecting the calm, arrogant confidence of a student who knew he belonged at the top of the grading curve. He was the only person on campus Asher considered a genuine intellectual threat. He consistently matched her test scores, and his very presence always grated on her nerves. She hated losing to him, and their rivalry fueled her drive to get better. Smarter.

Asher stared at him across the empty desks, registering the terrifying implications of his presence. Travis was a man. Based on the humiliating pattern she experienced this morning, she knew exactly what happened to her body whenever a male entered her personal space. The pink fog would roll in, melting her intellect and replacing it with a dumb emptiness. She pictured herself standing in front of her biggest academic rival, giggling like a brainless ditz and batting her eyelashes at him. She imagined her pussy clenching with uninvited lust, turning her into a dripping slut eager to offer her body for his amusement. If she lost her vocabulary and humiliated herself in front of Travis, she would never recover her reputation. He would realize she was nothing more than a horny plaything, and he would undoubtedly use that weakness to destroy her however he could.

She couldn’t risk it right now. Knowing what happened when she stayed around men lately, she turned sharply and took a quick step back toward the corridor. She intended to duck out and skip the seminar. She preferred to miss a lesson or two rather than surrender her dignity to the one guy she tried to compete against.

“Running away before the lecture even starts, Asher?”

His voice caught her right at the door. Panic gripped her as she realized she was trapped, leaving her with no simple way to escape. The intelligent student closed her eyes, took a slow breath, and forced a fake smile onto her lips before turning back around to face him.

Travis marked his page with a pen and stood up from his desk, walking down the aisle to meet her. Asher braced herself for the inevitable mental collapse. She waited for the suffocating pinkness to cloud her vision, and her horniness to dial up to eleven. She folded her hands into tight fists, hoping she could hold onto enough brainpower to form a cohesive sentence and excuse herself from the room.

Travis stopped a few feet away, his brow furrowing in confusion as he took in her altered appearance. He looked at the glossy lips, the flushed cheeks, and the dark eyeliner. His eyes drifted down to the black leather skirt, noting the exposed skin below her knee before meeting her gaze again.

“Are you trying out a new look, Asher?” Travis asked, a hint of curiosity in his tone.

Asher narrowed her eyes, expecting her response to come out in a breathy, high-pitched giggle. She expected to twirl her hair and thank him for noticing her body, just like she had done with those other men who invaded her space earlier.

“My wardrobe choices have nothing to do with you, Travis,” Asher snapped.

She blinked, shocked by the sharp, articulate venom in her own voice. The words sounded normal. They sounded like her. She waited for the reduction of her smarts, bracing her body for the wave of desperate arousal. She felt a slight tingling sensation at the base of her skull, a momentary flutter of warmth between her thighs, but the fog never materialized. The mental static evaporated as quickly as it arrived, leaving her mind clear and her intellect intact.

Travis paused for a moment. An amused smile touched his lips as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“I wasn’t criticizing the outfit,” the young man chuckled, leaning back against the edge of a nearby desk. “I actually think I like it. It suits you.”

Asher stood there, her sharp mind analyzing the interaction instantly. He had just complimented her appearance, a trigger that should have sent her into a spiral of submissive lust, yet she felt nothing but growing annoyance. She possessed her full vocabulary, her critical thinking skills, and her unshakeable academic confidence. She was not a bimbo, and she had no desire to drop to her knees and pleasure him.

“I don’t need your approval to get dressed in the morning,” she shot back, maintaining her defensive posture. “I suggest you focus on the actual work instead of my skirt.”

“I always focus on the syllabus,” Travis countered, unbothered by her harsh tone. “Are you ready for the midterms coming up next week? Professor Davis is known for throwing curveballs on the essay portion, and I plan on taking the top spot this semester.”

“You can dream about the top spot all you want,” Asher replied, matching his intellectual banter. “I spent the weekend reviewing the geopolitical shifts of the last decade. If you think you can outwrite me on foreign policy, you are going to be disappointed when the grades are posted.”

“We’ll see about that,” he laughed, pushing off the desk and adjusting his glasses. “You are as feisty as ever today. Try to enjoy the seminar, Asher. I’ll catch you later.”

He offered her a polite nod and walked past her, heading back toward his seat in the corner of the room.

Asher stood near the doorway, staring blankly at the empty whiteboard at the front of the class. She was more confused than ever. She had just spent several minutes locked in a conversation with a man, yet her brain refused to melt. She felt a sense of relief that she had maintained her dignity, but the inconsistency startled her.

Why did my mind turn to mush around Chase and Trey, but remain sharp around Travis? The bizarre rules governing her body made no logical sense, and the mystery only fueled her determination to find the Occult Studies teacher. She needed answers, and she planned to extract them from the old woman the second the seminar concluded.

❖

“What the fuck did you do to me?”

Asher slammed her hands onto the desk, leaning over the surface to glare at the Occult Studies teacher. She had marched across the campus the second her latest seminar ended, fueled by a determination to make this right.

Professor Olga sat in her chair, unbothered by the sudden intrusion. She folded her hands in her lap and looked up at the angry student.

“Watch your language, girl,” Olga replied, her raspy voice calm and even. “I simply gave you what you deserved.”

“I deserve an explanation,” Asher fired back, refusing to back down as she paced the narrow space between the door and the desk. “You touched my shoulder yesterday. You put your hands on a student, and now my brain shuts off whenever a disgusting man walks past me. I know you did something to me, and you are going to fix it.”

“Fix it? I don’t think so,” the professor smiled. “You are a smart girl, Asher. You pieced the puzzle together faster than most would. You should be proud of your intellect while you still have access to it.”

“Change it back,” the young woman demanded, stopping her pacing to stare at the older woman. “Why do I lose my mind around those imbeciles? I am a national debate champion, and you turned me into… into whatever that is. I can barely hold a thought in my head when a man speaks to me.”

“You have shown your true colors, young lady, and I grew tired of your unearned superiority,” Olga explained, her eyes locking onto the student. “You walk around this campus looking down on everyone, convinced your intelligence makes you better than the rest of humanity. You treat the men around you like they are beneath you, dismissing their worth because they have different interests than you. I designed a spell to correct that attitude.”

“A spell?” Asher groaned in confusion.

“Yes, a spell,” Olga chuckled, lacing her long fingers together on the desk. “Or a curse, if you prefer dramatic terminology. You demand respect from the men around you without offering any in return. Therefore, whenever you are in the presence of a man you deem less intelligent than yourself, you will drop below his intellect. You will forever be dumber than the dumbest man in any room you enter.”

Asher stared at the older woman, her mind scrambling to process the impossible claim. She thought about Chase in the lecture hall and Trey in the corridor. They were some of the worst students on campus, which explained why her genius vanished so violently around them. She thought about Travis in her seminar. She hated him, but she respected his intelligence, so her brain stayed intact. The magic appeared to operate on a sliding scale. If she thought she was smarter than a man, the spell would drag her down until she became his intellectual inferior. She would never win another argument. She would never be able to focus in a room full of neanderthals. This all sounded impossible, but the proof was staring her in the face.

“And the rest of it?” Asher pressed, crossing her arms to hide a sudden chill in her bones. “Why does it do something to my body? Why do I feel the need to dress like this and beg for their attention?”

“That is your body compensating for the loss of your mind,” Olga noted, leaning back in her chair. “When you lose your intelligence, you lose your self-respect. Nature abhors a vacuum. The dumber you become, the more your body forces you to seek attention through other means. You used to despise those men, but now you crave their approval. You listen to their ideas, and you want to keep them happy. You are going to be a popular girl on this campus.”

“This is insane,” the redhead whispered, shaking her head. “You can’t do this to me! Change it back!”

“I already altered your path,” the professor pointed out. “Based on the makeup on your face that wasn’t there yesterday, I would say the magic works exactly as intended.”

Asher rubbed her face, hating the thick layer of foundation and the sticky lip gloss. She wanted to wash it off, but a shudder down her spine told her she would be forced to reapply it the moment she stood in front of a mirror. The back of her mind couldn’t stand having a bare face, and there was nothing she could do about it.

“I’m not playing this game, you old hag,” the young redhead spat out as she lowered her arms. “Reverse this now, or I’m heading straight to the dean to report you. You can’t just assault a student like this and expect to get away with it.”

Olga let out a dry, raspy laugh.

“You’re welcome to try,” the older woman grinned. “The dean is a man, Asher, if you remember. I’ve heard rumors about you mocking him in the past, about how you think he is a stupid man. I’d love to see you attempt to report me to him while your brain melts out of your ears. You wouldn’t be able to string a single sentence together, and you would probably end up on your knees under his desk. I heard he has a thing for the dumb students around here.”

Asher opened her mouth to argue, but the words caught in her throat as the logic settled in. The old bat was right. She hated how simple she thought the dean was. She had had a number of interactions with him, and each one left her frustrated at how stupid the man in charge of her studies truly was. If she entered his office, with everything she knew now, she would become a blubbering idiot. She couldn’t risk it.

“You are out of your mind,” she hissed, glaring across the room.

“I am merely a teacher,” Olga corrected her. “And I am simply teaching my student a lesson. Do not worry. The effects will dissipate once you learn this lesson and form a little bit of humility.”

“I am not playing around, Croneface,” Asher warned, taking another step forward. “Fix this now.”

“I believe this discussion is over,” Olga sighed, waving a dismissive hand. “Now stop wasting my time. I believe you have a party to prepare for tonight, and you shouldn’t be keeping those boys waiting.”

Asher let out a furious growl. She lunged forward, extending her hands to grab the older woman by the shoulders. She intended to attack the professor until she agreed to undo the spell.

Before Asher could make contact, Olga snapped her fingers.

A sharp crack cut through the room. Asher blinked, and the small office vanished.

The warm indoor air was instantly replaced by a cool evening breeze. Asher stumbled forward, her balance thrown off by a sudden shift in her footwear. She waved her arms to catch herself, her ankles wobbling precariously on a pair of tall stiletto heels. She managed to steady her footing and stood up straight, looking around in utter confusion.

She was no longer inside the worn-down Occult Studies building. She stood in the middle of the campus quad, surrounded by paved walkways. The bright afternoon sun had disappeared, replaced by the dark, ink-black sky of nighttime. The campus streetlights cast a yellow glow across the grass, illuminating the groups of students walking toward the dormitories.

Asher gasped, her mind racing to comprehend the sudden change in scenery. Time had skipped forward by several hours in the blink of an eye. She looked down at her body and let out a cry of horror.

Her blouse and black leather skirt were gone. She now wore a sparkling pink sleeveless minidress that barely covered her ass. The thin, trashy material hugged her curves, exposing an obscene amount of cleavage and leaving her long legs bare to the night air. The fabric offered no warmth and left nothing to the imagination. She glanced down at her feet, taking in the pink five-inch stiletto heels strapped to her ankles. She never wore heels, refusing to bow down to the beauty standards men imposed on the fairer sex, yet she stood balanced on the absurd footwear.

She gently licked her lips, tasting the gloss that still remained on her face. She looked like one of those dumb party girls heading out for a night of poor decisions. Olga had dressed her for the frat party, skipping the afternoon entirely and placing her right in the middle of the campus.

Asher wrapped her arms around her exposed shoulders, shivering in the cool breeze. The sheer power Olga possessed defied all logic. The professor had altered her clothes, moved her across campus, and erased hours of time with a simple snap of her fingers. Asher swallowed hard, the fight draining out of her chest as the terrifying truth settled in her mind. She was out of her depth. That old bat possessed real magic, and her incredible intellect had no way to combat the dark arts.

❖

Asher walked toward her dorm, her building in sight. She took a cautious step along the paved path, her ankles wobbling as she navigated the unfamiliar height of her heels. The brick exterior of the student housing stood just a short distance ahead across the lawn. She kept her eyes focused on the glass front entrance, desperate to reach her room and lock the door behind her. She wrapped her arms around her chest, trying to preserve her body heat in the fall breeze. The dress was clearly not designed for warmth.

She needed to get inside before anyone saw her dressed like a trashy escort. The confrontation with Professor Olga flashed through her mind, cementing the facts of her current existence. The old woman had confirmed her worst fears. A magical spell was actively rewriting her brain chemistry. Her own pride acted as the trigger, designed to strip away her intelligence the moment she stood near a man she considered inferior. The thought of running into a man right now terrified her. She knew her intellect would vanish, leaving her defenseless and horny while wearing a slutty outfit.

“Asher, wait up.”

The familiar voice came from the intersecting walkway. Asher froze, dread pooling in her chest as she recognized her roommate. She turned her head and watched Maya jog across the grass to intercept her. Maya wore a tight black skirt and a cropped top, clearly dressed to party.

Maya slowed to a walk as she approached, her eyes scanning Asher from head to toe with an expression of surprise.

“I honestly didn’t believe it was true,” Maya laughed, stepping onto the paved path to stand beside her. “Trey texted me earlier and said you were coming to the Kappa Sigma party tonight. I told him he was out of his mind, but looking at you right now, it must be true. I love the dress.”

“I’m not going to any party,” the smart student stated, taking another shaky step toward the dorm building. “I actually decided to stay home. You go have fun without me.”

“Look at you, babe,” Maya replied, stepping in front of Asher to block her path. “Nobody puts on an outfit like that to go home. You look amazing, and you are coming with me.”

“I changed my mind,” Asher pleaded, shifting her weight awkwardly on the tall heels. “I don’t want to be anywhere near those braindead neanderthals tonight. I just want to go upstairs and head to bed.”

Asher wasn’t stupid. She knew exactly what would happen if she set foot inside that frat house. Kappa Sigma was filled with the worst academic performers on campus. If interacting with Chase in a classroom reduced her to a submissive bimbo, being surrounded by dozens of drunk athletes would obliterate her mind entirely. She needed to avoid the party at all costs now that she knew the truth about the curse.

“Stop getting cold feet,” Maya sighed, grabbing Asher by the wrist. “This is the college experience, and you need to live a little. You spend too much time focused on being dull and boring. You finally dressed up and did your makeup like a college girl enjoying her freedom, so we are going out to celebrate.”

“Maya, listen to me,” Asher begged, trying to pull her arm away. “I’m not going there. I don’t feel like myself today. I need to go home.”

“You are just nervous because you never go out,” the caramel-skinned woman insisted, refusing to let go of her roommate’s wrist. “Trey told me you guys had a great conversation this morning. He said you were expanding your horizons and acting normal for once. You promised him you would show up, and I’m going to make sure you keep your word.”

“Maya, I said no,” Asher groaned, although her voice lacked enough conviction.

Maya ignored the pleas and tugged on her arm, directing her friend away from the dormitory entrance and pointing her toward the illuminated streets of Greek Row. Asher stumbled, struggling to keep her balance in the stilettos as her roommate dragged her down the path. She lacked the strength to break the hold, and the precarious heels made it impossible to plant her feet and resist the momentum.

She looked back at the dormitory over her shoulder, watching the safe haven slip further out of reach with every step. She possessed a brilliant mind, but that was useless against her roommate’s insistence. Asher swallowed hard, forcing her legs to move as she realized she had a long, terrifying night ahead of her.

❖

Asher stepped through the decorated front door of the Kappa Sigma house, her heels clicking against the sticky floorboards of the entryway. The noise and body heat hit her immediately. Heavy bass vibrated through the floorboards, rattling the glass bottles scattered across nearby tables. Dozens of college students packed the ground floor, drinking beer, shouting over the music, and grinding against each other in the dim light of the living room.

The moment she crossed the threshold into the crowded house, a thick pink fog filled her mind. The sheer volume of average and below-average male intellects gathered under one roof acted like a massive magnet for the spell, draining her mental capacity into an instant vacuum. Her genius evaporated, leaving her thoughts completely blank.

“No,” Asher tried to shout as she felt the familiar surge, but the word came out as a soft, breathless gasp.

Maya turned her head back, looking confused by the sudden noise. “Did you say something, babe?”

Asher opened her mouth, intending to excuse herself. She wanted to tell Maya she needed to leave the frat house and return to the safety of their dorm, but the complex thought dissolved before it reached her tongue.

“I need to... excuse me,” she fumbled, the words slurring together.

Maya offered a brief, dismissive smile, patting Asher on the shoulder before turning back to look at the crowd.

“Don’t be boring; we just got here,” Maya laughed over the heavy bass.

Asher stood frozen for a second, her mind battling a strange, sluggish haze. She was not entirely vacant, but the dense concentration of men in the surrounding rooms pressed against her thoughts. Her vocabulary felt thick and slow, making it difficult to construct a proper sentence. She looked around the cramped entryway, watching sweaty pledges shove past her with plastic cups sloshing warm beer onto the floor.

She tried to turn around and walk out the front door, but her roommate grabbed her hand and pulled her deeper into the living room. Asher stumbled in her heels, her sluggish brain failing to coordinate her balance properly. They wove through the mass of dancing bodies, heading toward the back hallway where the kitchen connected to the outdoor patio.

“There you are,” a familiar voice called out.

Trey stepped out of the kitchen, holding a plastic cup and flashing a wide grin. He did not come alone. Three bulky basketball players walked right behind him, their broad shoulders blocking the hallway.

The moment the four athletes closed the distance and stood in front of her, the localized field of stupidity hit Asher hard. The static in her brain thickened into a suffocating haze. The sheer density of their braindead minds overwhelmed her defenses, melting her intellect into a blissful emptiness.

A hot, tingling sensation washed between her thighs, saturating the fabric of her panties against her skin. Her insides pulsed with a demanding heat that begged for rough male hands, making her knees shake inside the tall shoes. Her chest pushed against the tight pink fabric, her nipples stiffening under the scrutiny of the towering jocks.

Trey leaned down, pressing an open-mouthed kiss against Maya’s throat. Maya laughed, sliding her fingers along his broad shoulders and leaning into the embrace. Trey pulled back and turned his focus toward Asher, his eyes wandering over her bare thighs and exposed cleavage.

“I’m glad you both made it,” Trey said, crossing his arms and grinning. “You’ve certainly brightened this place up. Asher here looks like she’s ready for a good time.”

“I totally am,” Asher giggled, her voice drifting into a breathy, mindless register.

She twisted a strand of red hair around her short-nailed finger and fluttered her emphasized lashes, gazing up at him. The brilliant debater was completely hidden, replaced by a simple-minded bimbo who loved whatever attention she could get.

“Listen, Maya and I are heading upstairs to find a bedroom,” Trey stated, gesturing toward the three massive guys flanking him. “This is TJ, Lucas, and DeShawn, though everybody calls him Double-D. I promised them you were stepping out of your shell tonight. You want to hang out with my buddies?”

TJ grinned, his eyes glued to her chest. Lucas chewed his gum with an arrogant smirk, while Double-D shifted his stance, eyeing her body as though picking out a cut of beef.

“I’d love to,” Asher purred, swaying her hips in a mindless, suggestive groove. The word ‘no’ never even crossed her mind.

“You were right, Trey. She really has changed,” Maya told her controlling ex-boyfriend before leaning into him again. She turned her attention to her redheaded roommate as Trey led her toward the stairs. “Have fun, roomie.”

The second Maya vanished up the wooden steps, the three athletes closed in on Asher. Double-D stepped right in front of her, his large hands reaching out to grab her waist. He pulled her forward, pressing her crotch firmly against his denim jeans.

“Look at this little slut,” Double-D grinned, his eyes dropping to her cleavage. “Trey said you were a stuck-up bitch, but you look like you belong around my arm, babe. Look at that banging body.”

“I’m not stuck-up,” Asher giggled, resting her hands on his chest. “I just want to hang out, you know?”

TJ turned to the kitchen counter and grabbed a half-empty bottle of vodka. He unscrewed the cap and stepped up beside her with a cruel smirk.

“Let us see how well you swallow, red,” the young basketball player chuckled. “Open up.”

He tipped the glass bottle against her lips. Asher opened her mouth wide, eager to obey his command. The hard liquor poured over her tongue, burning her throat as she gulped it down. She coughed as some of the alcohol spilled down her chin and dripped onto her chest, spilling onto her pink dress, but she kept drinking until TJ pulled the bottle away.

“Good little bitch,” Lucas smirked, reaching out to wipe the spilled vodka off her skin with his thumb. “You like taking things down your throat, huh? You want some real meat to choke on?”

“Yes,” Asher purred, licking her sticky lips as the alcohol hit her empty stomach. “I love it.”

“Then let’s get out of here,” TJ announced, placing the empty bottle onto the counter.

TJ grabbed her left arm, and Lucas grabbed her right. They didn’t ask for permission. They simply dragged her toward the back staircase, leading her away from the noisy kitchen. Double-D followed close behind, chuckling loudly as they escorted her up to the second floor.

They walked down a dim corridor until TJ pushed open a door. He pulled Asher inside, revealing a messy dorm room with a large double mattress on a four-poster bed. Lucas stepped in behind her and shut the door.

Double-D stepped to the center of the carpet and unbuckled his belt. He let his pants fall, kicking them aside to expose his thick, dark cock.

“Get on your knees, whitey,” the athlete commanded, stepping closer to her. “You’re gonna suck us dry.”

Asher obeyed. Her mind felt like a warm, fuzzy cloud, devoid of all that boring complex thought. The only truth she understood was her innate need to satisfy the men standing above her. She dropped onto the carpet, her tall heels propping her up in a slutty posture. She reached out with shaking hands and pulled his underwear down, freeing the stiff meat into the open air.

She looked at the head and felt a rush of pure, thoughtless joy. She wanted to be a good slut for the basketball team. She parted her bright pink lips and took him into her mouth, bobbing her head with sloppy enthusiasm. She took him deep into her throat, gagging as he hit the back of her tongue, but the discomfort only fueled her arousal. Moisture poured from her slit, dampening her thighs. She pumped her head up and down, her mind empty of everything except the musky taste in her mouth.

TJ unzipped his own pants and pulled his erection free. He stepped up beside her, grabbing a handful of her copper hair to pull her face off Double-D’s dick.

“My turn, bitch,” the young man grunted, pressing his shaft against her wet lips.

Asher opened wide, taking his meat with a wet gulp. She worked her mouth around both men, trading between them frantically. She loved being their toy. She did not care about her grades, her future, or her feminist principles. She existed to take multiple cocks, and the simple reality filled her empty head with absolute bliss.

“Look at her go,” Lucas laughed, stripping out of his clothes to expose his own thick shaft. “She loves it. You want this in your cunt, slut?”

“Yeth,” Asher gurgled around TJ’s dick, pulling away with a loud pop. “Please put it in my pussy.”

“Crawl over here,” Lucas smirked, sitting down on the edge of the mattress. “Sit on my face first.”

Asher scrambled across the floor on her hands and knees like a dumb pet. Her brain processed nothing but slutty desire. She climbed onto the mattress and positioned her dripping pussy directly over his mouth. Lucas grabbed her hips, guiding her down.

He thrust his tongue deep into her slit. Asher let out a high-pitched moan, arching her back as intense pleasure flooded her pelvis. Her fingernails dug into the bedsheets.

Double-D and TJ moved in from either side. Double-D shoved his wet dick back into her mouth while Lucas worked on her lower half.

“She’s a fucking waterfall down here,” Lucas muttered against her thighs, pulling back to wipe his chin.

“She loves it,” TJ replied, positioning his shaft at her dripping entrance from behind. The man slammed his hips forward, burying his thick dick deep inside her tight pussy in one hard thrust.

Asher shrieked around Double-D’s cock. The stretching of her walls felt incredible, her pussy clamping down greedily around TJ’s shaft. Her thoughts flatlined into pure euphoria. She was a brainless plaything, and she reveled in the degradation.

“Fuck, she is tight,” TJ groaned, holding her hips and beginning to piston his pelvis.

The room filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin. Lucas stood up and slid his own thick cock between her lips, replacing Double-D, so she was sucking one teammate while being fucked from behind by another.

“Turn around, whore,” Double-D commanded, grabbing her shoulders and flipping her over onto her back across the mattress.

Asher blinked up at him lazily. Her pink minidress was bunched up around her waist and soaked with her own fluids. Her mind swam in a thick, mindless soup of arousal.

Double-D climbed between her spread legs. He shoved his cock deep into her abused pussy, pounding into her.

Asher bucked her hips upward to meet every thrust. “Harder! Fuck me harder! Breed me!”

TJ stepped up beside the bed. “Suck it again, slut. Take both of us.”

Asher lifted her head off the mattress, opening her mouth to swallow TJ’s dick while Double-D hammered away at her slit from below. She was a mess, her makeup smeared, her hair tangled, and she had never felt happier. The dense fog kept her trapped in a state of primal ecstasy.

For the next hour, the three athletes passed her back and forth around the bedroom. They used every inch of her body, taking turns slamming their cocks into her pussy, filling her mouth with cum, and treating her like a shared pussy pocket. Asher begged for every drop, her bimbo mindset relishing her role as the campus whore.

Eventually, the pounding came to an end.

“Man, that was a workout,” Lucas laughed, pulling his shorts back up and tucking his spent dick away. “We have to let the rest of the guys know about this one.”

“Yeah,” TJ agreed, buttoning his jeans. “Leave her on the bed. She’s well used.”

The three basketball players grabbed their shirts and filed out of the bedroom, leaving the door wide open behind them.

Asher lay sprawled across the center of the mattress. Her legs remained splayed open, dripping with her own slickness and three loads of fresh cum. Her breath came in slow gasps as silence settled around her.

The cool air hit her bare skin.

The huge wave of pink fog evaporated from her skull, dispelled by the absence of the men. Her superior consciousness returned instantly.

Asher blinked, her eyes focusing on the ceiling above her.

Her brain was clear, her vast vocabulary returned, and her mind instantly assessed her latest condition.

She sat up slowly, wincing as a sharp ache radiated from her used pussy and sore jaw. She looked down at her body. The pink minidress was torn at the hem and soaked through with cum and her own juices. She knew her makeup was ruined. Her heels were still strapped to her feet.

She sat there naked from the waist down, dripping with the seed of three guys she hated.

Horror settled in her chest. She remembered every second. She remembered crawling across the carpet, begging for cocks, and happily taking every drop of cum they gave her. She had acted like a pathetic, brainless whore, enjoying every second of her own humiliation.

Asher pressed her hands over her mouth, a quiet gasp catching in her throat as the full scope of the curse settled over her mind. If she didn’t figure out a way out of this magic spell, her academic career would be over before she knew it.

End of Chapter Two