Chapter 16

You leave the fraternity house behind, adjusting your clothing and composing yourself as you step into the night air. The campus is relatively quiet, most students either studying in the library or sleeping off their various excesses. Your phone buzzes with a text from Maria: "Video secured. Bella performed admirably with Whitman. Returning to office now."

As you cross the quad toward the Science Building, you spot Isabella—or rather, Bella—stumbling out of Professor Whitman's office building. Her normally pristine bob is disheveled, something unrecognizable smeared across her pale chin. Her blouse is buttoned incorrectly, revealing glimpses of her modest cleavage through the misaligned gaps. Her eyes are wide, darting frantically around the campus as if expecting accusatory stares from every direction.

You observe unseen as she presses herself against the building's brick exterior, hyperventilating. The transformation is fascinating—this isn't fully Bella anymore, but it's not entirely Isabella either. The cognitive dissonance is written across her delicate features as she struggles to process what just happened in Whitman's office.

"What have I done?" she whispers to herself, her voice carrying on the quiet night air. "My academic reputation... my future... oh god." She slides down the wall until she's crouching, hugging her knees to her chest. "Why would I do that? That's not me... that's not..."

Suddenly, her head snaps up, eyes narrowing with unexpected clarity. "Dr. Stern," she murmurs, the name falling from her lips like an accusation. A chill runs through your spine at the mention of your name.

"That conversation with Giorgia this morning... he said something about 'triggering'..." Her delicate fingers press against her temples as if physically trying to hold her thoughts together. "What's happening to me? To us?"

You watch as she pulls out her phone with trembling hands, attempting to call Giorgia. After several rings, it goes to voicemail. "Giorgia," she says, her voice cracking. "Something's wrong. I think... I think Dr. Stern did something to us. Call me as soon as you get this. Please."

Isabella rises quickly to her feet, smoothing her rumpled clothing with trembling hands. The moonlight catches the tears tracking down her pale cheeks as she begins walking unsteadily toward the dormitories, occasionally glancing over her shoulder as if expecting to be followed.

You recognize the emergency as you approach Isabella with purposeful strides, catching up to her just as she's about to enter the dormitory area. Despite yourself, you can’t help but be impressed by the quickness of her mind. She’s a loose end. You quickly decide that you have to put her under. Now.

Isabella’s tear-streaked face turns toward you, those intelligent brown eyes widening with recognition and then narrowing with suspicion.

"Dr. Stern," she says, her voice trembling slightly. "I was just coming to find you." The lie is transparent, her body language betraying her as she takes an instinctive step backward, her slender frame tensing like a cornered animal.

You adopt your most calming, professional demeanor. "Isabella, you seem distressed. Let me help you." You move closer, maintaining eye contact, your voice dropping to that special cadence you've perfected over years of practice. "Focus on my voice. You're feeling overwhelmed right now, but I can help you find clarity."

For a moment, it works. Her pupils dilate slightly, her breathing slows, and her shoulders relax as she begins to slip into a light trance. "That's right," you murmur, "just listen to my voice. Remember how good it feels to let go, to become Bella..."

Suddenly, her eyes snap back into focus with startling clarity. "No!" she gasps, stumbling backward until her back hits the brick wall of the building. Her pale skin flushes with fear and anger, her delicate hands trembling as she points an accusatory finger at you. "You! It was you all along!"

The transformation is remarkable—Isabella's brilliant mind is working at full capacity now, connecting dots with frightening speed. "The appointments in your office... the party... Giorgia's video... what happened with Professor Whitman..." Her voice breaks as tears well in her eyes. "You did something to us. You changed us somehow."

She presses herself against the wall, as far from you as possible, her slender body quivering with fear and rage. "Stay away from me! Stay away from my sister!" Her normally quiet voice rises to a shout that attracts the attention of a few passing students.

"Isabella, you're having a breakdown," you say smoothly, aware of the witnesses now. "Let me help you get to the health center."

"No!" she cries, her voice cracking. "I know what you did! The hypnosis, the suggestions—it all started after we met with you!" Her brilliant mind has pieced it together with terrifying accuracy. "You turned me into... into that person who did those things. And Giorgia... oh god, Giorgia!"

She fumbles with her phone again, desperately trying to call her sister while keeping her eyes fixed on you, as if afraid you might lunge at her any moment. "I need to find her before it's too late," she whispers, more to herself than to you.

You back away from Isabella, maintaining a calm facade despite her accusations. "I understand you're distressed, Isabella. We'll talk later when you're feeling more stable," you say smoothly, then turn and walk briskly away before more witnesses gather.

You pull out your phone and text Maria: "Isabella knows. Take care of her. I'm securing Giorgia now." Maria's response comes seconds later: "On it, Doctor."

You hurry across campus toward the fraternity house, your mind racing through contingency plans. When you arrive, the party has largely dispersed, leaving only a few bleary-eyed brothers sprawled across couches. Jackson approaches you, his athletic frame swaying slightly from intoxication.

"Dude, Gia is something else," he slurs, clapping you on the shoulder. "She's upstairs cleaning up. Girl's insatiable, man."

You find Gia in one of the upstairs bathrooms, her olive skin flushed and glistening as she attempts to make herself presentable. Her once-elegant black hair hangs in sweaty tangles around her face, and mascara tracks streak her cheeks. The scent of sex and alcohol emanates from her pores as she struggles to button a borrowed oversized shirt over her naked body, her own clothes nowhere to be seen.

"Dr. S!" she giggles, her voice carrying that distinctive Cali accent that belongs solely to Gia. "OMG, you missed the most amazing party! I think I fucked like, half the frat house?" She sways on her feet, steadying herself against the sink, her pupils dilated from the lingering effects of whatever substances she's consumed.

Across campus, Isabella rushes toward their shared apartment, her mind racing with horrifying clarity. The memories of what she did the last few days burn in her consciousness, intermingled with flashes of awareness about what's happening to her sister. She fumbles with her keys, desperate to find Giorgia before it's too late.

As she finally opens the door, she's startled by Maria's unexpected presence in their living room. Maria sits primly on their couch, her tight pencil skirt riding high on her toned thighs, her blonde hair cascading over her shoulders in perfect waves.

"Isabella, sweetie," Maria purrs, rising gracefully to her feet. "I've been so worried about you. Dr. Stern sent me to check on you."

"You bitch!" Isabella cries, her momentary surprise at the intrusion transforming into uncharacteristic rage. "I remember what you made me do! You sent me to Whitman! You’re working with him! What did you do to us, to Giorgia?”

Isabella's outburst catches Maria off-guard. Something in Isabella's desperate, tear-streaked face triggers a crack in Maria's carefully constructed persona. Maria's seductive smile falters, her perfectly painted lips trembling as her eyes suddenly clear, like fog lifting from a mirror.

"I... Isabella, I..." Maria's voice changes, the breathy bimbo lilt replaced by a sharper, more natural tone. She collapses onto the couch, her manicured hands covering her face. "Oh God, what have I done?"

When she looks up, tears streak her makeup, creating dark rivulets down her porcelain cheeks. "I... I was the guidance counselor before him, did you know that? I noticed something strange was happening, was building a case against him when he first arrived. I noticed the pattern—female students changing, becoming... different versions of themselves."

Maria's hands shake as she smooths her tight skirt, weak and uncertain, contrasting her former sensuality. "He caught me in his office, going through his files. That's when he... he did this to me." Her voice breaks as she gestures at her own body—the platinum blonde hair, the surgically enhanced breasts straining against her blouse, the heavy makeup. "He made me watch while my body changed, while my mind... fragmented."

Isabella sinks to the floor, her slender frame trembling as she listens. "What did he do to Giorgia? To me?"

"Hypnosis," Maria whispers, her blue eyes darting nervously to the door. "He works by establishing alternate personalities — bimbos with no ambition beyond sex and attention." She swallows hard, shame coloring her pale cheeks. "And I helped him. God help me, I helped him do it to you both."

"But I remember what I did with Professor Whitman," Isabella whispers, her brown eyes wide with horror. "I remember enjoying it."

"That's the worst part," Maria says, her voice barely audible. "The longer it goes on, the more the personalities merge. Eventually, there's no switching back—just a new person with all the bimbo traits he wants and just enough of your original personality to function in society."

Maria's voice is clinical, detached, as if reporting facts might distance her from her guilt.

Suddenly, Maria stiffens, her hand flying to her throat. "He'll know I've told you. He always knows." Fear transforms her face. "He’s a monster, Isabella. We have to stop him before Giorgia is lost completely."