Chapter 14

Maria waits at the entrance to the Science building, her voluptuous figure drawing appreciative glances from passing students. When she spots Isabella hurrying toward the building, her painted lips curve into a predatory smile.

"Isabella!" she calls out, waving perfectly manicured fingers. "I'm so glad I caught you. Professor Whitman is waiting in his temporary office. The department moved him during the renovations."

Isabella clutches her laptop bag tighter against her chest, her knuckles whitening. "I need to see him right away. There's a problem with my calculations."

"Of course, sweetie," Maria coos, leading Isabella toward an isolated wing of the building. Her D-cup breasts bounce slightly with each step, drawing Isabella's unwitting gaze. "He's just through here."

Maria unlocks an empty classroom door and gestures Isabella inside. "He'll be here any minute."

As soon as Isabella steps in, Maria locks the door behind them. "Actually, the meeting with Professor Whitman has been postponed. But I do have something important to tell you."

Isabella turns, confusion etched across her delicate features. "What? I don't understand—"

"Bella wants to play," Maria interrupts, her voice taking on the hypnotic rhythm you've perfected.

The transformation is immediate and striking. Isabella's body straightens, her shoulders rolling back as her modest breasts push forward against her rumpled blouse. Her eyes, previously sharp with academic anxiety, now gleam with seductive mischief.

"There you are," Maria purrs. "I have a task for you, Bella."

Bella runs her fingers through her bob cut, the movement suddenly sensual. "Is it fun?"

"Very fun," Maria says, leaning closer, her voice smoothly authoritative, like talking to a child. "Professor Whitman? I want you to seduce him. Today. In his real office."

Bella's eyes widen with delight. "The silver fox? I think he's, like, ancient history or whatever, but I've seen how he looks at girls."

"Exactly, Bella. Make him want you," Maria whispers. "Get him to offer academic favors for sexual ones. It will be so hot." Maria continues to weave instructions directly into Isabella’s – or rather Bella’s – pliant mind.

Bella's lips curve into a wicked smile. "I'll have that old man on his knees begging for a taste."

As Maria continues her instructions, an unexpected thought pushes through her. *This is wrong. I'm destroying this girl's future.* The thought vanishes as quickly as it appears, replaced by cruel satisfaction. *Dr. Stern will be so pleased.*

Her work done, Maria follows at a discreet distance as Bella saunters down the hallway toward Professor Whitman's office. The transformation in Isabella's body language is remarkable - where the studious girl normally hurried with hunched shoulders and downcast eyes, Bella struts with swaying hips and shoulders thrown back. Maria slips into an empty classroom across the hall, cracking the door just enough to observe while remaining hidden.

Bella knocks on Professor Whitman's door, her knuckles rapping with confident rhythm. When the door opens, she leans against the frame, one hip cocked provocatively.

"Professor Whitman," she purrs, her voice honeyed in a way Isabella's never is. "I’m here to discuss my... performance."

The professor blinks in confusion, his silver eyebrows rising above wire-rimmed glasses. Harold Whitman is tall and lean, with distinguished silver hair and a neatly trimmed beard. His tweed jacket has leather patches at the elbows, the quintessential academic.

"Miss Valentini?" he says, clearly surprised, stepping back to allow her entry.

Maria quickly retrieves her phone and activates the video recording function. She slips across the hall and positions herself beside the partially open door, angling the camera to capture the interior of the office.

Inside, Bella perches on the edge of Whitman's desk, crossing her legs slowly. Her modest skirt rides up, revealing pale thighs that draw the professor's gaze despite his obvious effort to maintain eye contact.

"I've been thinking about my grade," Bella says, twirling a strand of brown hair around her finger. "And how much I need to... correct my paper."

Whitman clears his throat. "Your work has always been exemplary, Miss Valentini. But the guidance office informed me that—"

"Call me Bella," she interrupts, sliding off the desk and moving toward him. "Isabella is so... formal."

Maria's lips curve into a cruel smile as she records Bella unbuttoning the top of her blouse, revealing the creamy swell of her modest breasts. The professor's resistance crumbles visibly as Bella drops to her knees before him, her delicate fingers reaching for his belt.

"This will destroy her," Maria whispers to herself, zooming in as Bella's lips part to take the professor into her mouth. The sounds that follow – wet, eager, hungry – will be perfect ammunition. The academic star of the physics department on her knees, sucking her professor's cock like a common whore.

Inside the office, Bella works Professor Whitman with a newfound familiarity that Isabella has never possessed. Her delicate hands grip his thighs as she takes him deeper, moaning with theatrical enthusiasm. The professor's resistance has completely crumbled, his fingers tangled in her brown bob as he gasps incoherent praise.

"God, Bella," he groans, using the name she provided without question. "I never thought—you're incredible."

Bella pulls back, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes that belie the calculated seduction. "Will this help my paper, Professor?" she asks, her voice childlike yet sultry. "I'll do anything to excel in your class." She emphasizes her point by running her tongue slowly along his length, maintaining eye contact with practiced precision.

"Yes," Whitman manages, his academic ethics thoroughly compromised. "Whatever you want."

Maria slips away from Professor Whitman's office, her heart racing with vindictive glee. She clutches her phone tightly, the explicit video of Bella and the professor safely recorded. Finding a quiet alcove in the hallway, she dials your number with trembling fingers.

"Dr. Stern," she breathes when you answer, her voice husky with excitement, her free hand unconsciously moves to her blouse, fingertips tracing the outline of her ample cleavage. "Bella is with Professor Whitman right now. I triggered her transformation and suggested she seduce him. She's on her knees for him as we speak." Her words tumble out in a breathless rush. "I’m recording everything.

"You've done well, Maria," you tell her, your voice low and calculated. "This is perfect timing. With Isabella... occupied, I can focus on Giorgia without interference. Stay where you are and continue monitoring the situation."

Maria's breath catches audibly at your praise. "Thank you, Dr. Stern," she purrs, her voice honeyed with pleasure. "I'll make sure to get every detail on video."

You end the call and immediately dial Giorgia's number. She answers on the third ring, her voice tense and subdued.

"Dr. Stern?" Giorgia's normally confident tone is fractured with anxiety. "I was just getting ready for the... meeting."

"Giorgia, I'm confirming our mediation at the fraternity house," you say smoothly. "How are you holding up?"

"Not great," she admits, her voice cracking slightly. "Everyone's seen that video of me... with Jackson. I don't even remember most of it, but there I am, doing those things." You can hear rustling as she moves around her room.

Giorgia pauses, and you can hear her shaky breath. "I'm so scared, Dr. Stern. What if this ruins everything? My scholarship, my academic standing, the team..." Her voice drops to a whisper. "I trust you to help me, but I'm terrified of facing them all."

In her dorm room, Giorgia stands before her mirror, barely recognizing herself. Her usually vibrant face is pale with stress, dark circles shadowing her brown eyes. She's pulled her luxurious black hair into a severe bun, not a single strand left loose. Her outfit – her trusty team jacket, high-necked sweater and loose-fitting slacks – deliberately conceals every curve of her athletic body.

"What time should I be there?" she asks, her voice steadying with effort. "And... thank you for doing this. I don't know what I would do without your help right now."

You end the call with Giorgia, hearing the relief in her voice when you tell her to meet you at the fraternity house in an hour.

Meanwhile, across campus, Isabella's consciousness flickers briefly beneath Bella's dominant personality. For a fleeting moment, she feels the sensation of her lips stretched around Professor Whitman's member, tastes the salt of his skin, hears his desperate moans. Horror floods through her before Bella ruthlessly suppresses the intrusion, doubling down on her performance with renewed enthusiasm.