Chapter 7

You return to your apartment, a sleek one-bedroom on the edge of campus that the university provides for senior staff. The space reflects your calculated persona—tastefully decorated with academic credentials on the walls and psychology texts prominently displayed. Nothing hints at your true nature or intentions.

In your bedroom, you open the closet and select your outfit carefully. The party tonight requires a delicate balance: professional enough to maintain your authority if spotted by colleagues, yet casual enough to blend with the college crowd. You settle on dark jeans and a charcoal button-down that makes you look approachable but distinguished.

As you dress, you consider the evening ahead. Both sisters will be at the party—Isabella still predominantly herself, and Giorgia now completely subsumed by her new personality. The contrast should prove fascinating to observe.

Your phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number: "hey doc its gia!! got ur # from maria. party at theta chi, starts at 9. wear something hot  maybe u can hypnotize me again lol"

The message confirms that Gia has fully taken control, with no memory barriers between her and Giorgia's experiences. Even more interesting is her interpretation of the hypnosis session as something exciting rather than manipulative.

You check your watch—still two hours before the party begins in earnest. Plenty of time to prepare mentally and physically for the evening's observations. You pour yourself a scotch, savoring the burn as you contemplate how quickly your experiment is progressing.

You arrive at the Theta Chi house thirty minutes before the party officially begins. The sprawling colonial-style fraternity house is already humming with activity as fraternity brothers set up speakers and arrange kegs in strategic locations. You position yourself in a shadowy corner of the main room, nursing a bourbon that one of the brothers was eager to provide when you mentioned being faculty.

From your vantage point, you have a clear view of both the main entrance and the back patio doors. The early crowd consists mostly of fraternity members and their closest friends, creating the perfect cover for your observations without drawing attention.

"Professor Stern?" A voice breaks your concentration. You turn to find Tyler Matthews, the football player who invited Isabella to the party. His broad shoulders fill out his tight polo shirt, and his expression shows surprise at finding faculty at a student gathering. "Didn't expect to see you here, sir."

"Just checking in on student welfare," you reply smoothly. "The administration likes having faculty presence at larger events."

Tyler nods, accepting your explanation without question. "Cool, cool. Hey, I invited that genius girl the other day—Isabella? She seemed... different when I saw her on campus yesterday. More fun."

Before you can respond, a commotion at the entrance draws everyone's attention. Gia has arrived, and she's made sure no one will miss her entrance. Her athletic body is poured into a skin-tight red dress that barely covers her ass, the neckline plunging to reveal the swell of her volleyball-toned breasts. Her glossy black hair cascades over her shoulders, and her makeup is dramatic—smoky eyes and blood-red lips that match her dress.

"Oh my god, this place is like, so lame right now," she announces loudly, tossing her hair. "Where's the tequila? A girl needs shots to get this party started!"

The fraternity brothers swarm around her immediately, drawn equally to the university’s star player’s surprising behavior and her magnetic sexuality like moths to flame. She revels in the attention, laughing too loudly at their jokes, touching arms and chests with deliberate sensuality.

Tyler whistles low. "Is that Giorgia Valentini? Holy shit, I barely recognized her. She's always in those volleyball sweats."

You watch as Gia accepts a shot from a muscular fraternity brother, throwing it back with practiced ease before demanding another. Her eyes scan the room continuously, not for Isabella as Giorgia might have done, but for the most attractive men, the ones who might provide the most pleasure or attention.

The transformation is more complete than you anticipated. Not a trace of Giorgia's focused athleticism remains in Gia's vapid, sexualized performance.

You maintain your position in the shadowy corner, bourbon in hand, watching as Gia continues to command attention from the fraternity brothers. The music pulses louder now, bodies beginning to fill the space as more students arrive. Your patience is rewarded when Isabella finally enters through the main door.

Unlike her sister's dramatic entrance, Isabella slips in almost apologetically. She's wearing a navy blue dress that's modest by party standards but noticeably more fitted than her usual baggy attire. Her brown hair is styled with more care than usual, and you detect the subtle shimmer of eyeshadow on her lids. She scans the room nervously, clutching her small purse like a shield.

When Isabella spots her sister, her eyes widen in shock. She freezes momentarily, mouth slightly agape as she takes in Gia's transformation—the skintight red dress, the provocative posture, the circle of admiring men. You can read the confusion on her face, the cognitive dissonance as she tries to reconcile this vision with her studious, athletic sister.

"Giorgia?" Isabella calls out, her voice barely audible over the music.

Gia turns, spotting her sister with a predatory grin. "OMG, Izzy! You actually came!" She detaches from her admirers and sashays over, hips swaying exaggeratedly. "And look at you! That dress is like, almost cute. But seriously, we need to work on your style." She grabs Isabella's hand, yanking her toward the makeshift bar. "Tyler! My sister needs a drink, like, yesterday!"

Tyler materializes with two red cups, his eyes lingering appreciatively on Isabella. "Hey there. Glad you made it." He hands her a cup, deliberately brushing his fingers against hers. "You look amazing tonight."

Isabella blushes deeply, taking the cup with trembling fingers. "Thanks. I'm not really... I don't usually..." She glances at her sister again, bewilderment evident. "Giorgia, are you feeling okay?"

"It's Gia, not Giorgia," Gia corrects sharply, rolling her eyes. "And I'm feeling fan-fucking-tastic." She downs half her drink in one gulp, then nudges Isabella. "Drink up, sis. You need to loosen up."

Isabella takes a hesitant sip, wincing at the strong taste. Tyler watches with obvious interest, moving slightly closer to her.

"Chug, chug, chug!" Gia chants, drawing attention from nearby partygoers who join in. Isabella, flustered by the sudden spotlight, complies, drinking deeply from the cup as people cheer.

Gia's attention, however, has already wandered. Her gaze locks onto a tall, broad-shouldered man across the room—Jackson Reid, the quarterback known for his arrogance. "Oh. My. God. Jackson is looking so hot tonight," she breathes, adjusting her cleavage. "I used to think he was such an asshole, but like, who cares with abs like that, right?"

Without waiting for a response, Gia thrusts her cup at Isabella. "Hold this. I'm gonna go say hi." She saunters away, leaving Isabella with Tyler, who slides an arm around her waist.

"So," Tyler murmurs into Isabella's ear, "want to see the rest of the house?"

From your vantage point, you watch as Isabella hesitates, her eyes darting between her departing sister and Tyler's inviting smile. The alcohol is already working its way through her system, her posture relaxing slightly as Bella begins to stir beneath the surface.

You watch as Isabella takes another deep gulp from her cup, her face flushing with warmth. Tyler's hand remains firmly at her waist, his thumb making small circles against the fabric of her dress. The alcohol hits her system hard—her inexperienced body unprepared for the potent mixture.

"Have another sip," Tyler urges, his voice a silky murmur against her ear. "You seem tense. This will help you relax." His free hand produces a flask, pouring more clear liquid into her cup. "Special recipe. The girls love it."

Isabella giggles—a sound so unlike her usual reserved demeanor that several nearby students glance over in surprise. "I feel... weird," she admits, her voice slightly slurred. "But good-weird. Like my skin is too tight." She runs her hands down her sides, suddenly aware of the curve of her hips beneath the navy dress. "Do you really think I look amazing tonight?"

"Absolutely stunning," Tyler confirms, his eyes darkening as they trail down her body. "Let's find somewhere quieter to talk."

Across the room, Gia has cornered Jackson against the wall, her body pressed against his muscular frame with brazen confidence. Her red-painted nails trace patterns on his chest as she laughs at something he's said, tossing her glossy black hair.

"I always thought you were, like, super hot," she purrs, her voice carrying just enough for you to hear. "All those boring girls you date? They don't know how to handle a real man." She leans closer, her breasts pushing against his chest. "I bet I could show you things they never would."

Jackson's surprise is evident—the star quarterback used to receiving cold shoulders from Giorgia whenever their paths crossed at athletic events. His large hands find her waist, fingers splaying across the tight red fabric. "Is that right?" he asks, clearly intrigued by this transformation. "What happened to 'Jackson Reid is an entitled jerk who needs to grow up'?"

Gia's perfectly made-up face registers momentary confusion before she dissolves into giggles. "Oh my god, that sounds like something my boring sister would say! I'm way more fun than that." She presses her hips against his suggestively. "Want me to prove it?"

Back near the drinks table, Isabella's eyes are growing glassy, her movements less coordinated. Tyler whispers something in her ear that makes her eyes widen, then narrow with a look of consideration that belongs to someone else entirely. For just a moment, her posture shifts—shoulders back, chin tilted at a coquettish angle—before she catches herself, blinking rapidly.

"I don't usually... I mean, I've never..." she stammers, but allows Tyler to lead her toward the staircase, her steps unsteady as the alcohol continues its work.

You slide along the wall to a new position that gives you an unobstructed view of both sisters simultaneously. The party has reached its chaotic peak, with bodies pressed together throughout the house, providing perfect cover for your surveillance.

Gia has Jackson pinned against the wall now, her red-painted lips locked with his in a hungry kiss. Her hands roam boldly across his muscular chest, occasionally dipping lower with brazen confidence. When they break apart, she whispers something in his ear that makes his eyes widen with desire. Jackson's large hands grip her ass through the tight red dress, squeezing possessively as he pulls her against his obvious arousal.

"Let's find somewhere more private," Gia purrs, loud enough for nearby partygoers to hear. "I want to show you exactly what I can do with my mouth." She grinds against him deliberately, her perfect breasts heaving with each breath. Jackson's expression is a mixture of shock and lust—clearly unprepared for this version of the girl who once publicly criticized his behavior.

Across the room, at the top of the staircase, Isabella is pressed against the wall with Tyler's body covering hers. His mouth moves hungrily against hers, and her initial hesitation has melted away. Her arms, once stiffly at her sides, now wind around his neck, fingers threading through his hair. The navy dress has ridden up her thighs as Tyler's hand explores the newly exposed skin.

"You taste so fucking good," Tyler murmurs against her neck, leaving a trail of kisses down to her collarbone. "Let me show you my room."

Isabella's eyes flutter open, a moment of clarity fighting through the alcoholic haze. "I don't... I've never..." But her protest dies as Tyler's hand cups her breast through her dress, thumb circling over the hardening nipple. Her head falls back against the wall, a soft moan escaping her lips—a sound that belongs to someone else entirely.

"You want this," Tyler insists, his voice husky with desire. "I can feel how much you want this." His other hand slides up her thigh, disappearing beneath the hem of her dress.

Isabella's body responds even as her mind struggles, her hips pressing forward against his touch. Her eyes, when they open again, hold a different light—calculating, hungry, knowing. "Your room better have a lock," she says, her voice suddenly deeper, more confident. "Because what I'm gonna let you do to me isn't for public viewing."