Weight Distribution

Your pandemic tummy was bothering you lately, and your new roommate took notice. You still didn’t know them very well, but they were studying biochemistry and suggested a custom supplement they were working on. They even promised the pill would flatten your waist in no time without a change in diet.

It sounded too good to be true, but they struck you as genuine and that paunch was getting on your nerves. What was the worst that could happen?

True to their word, a week after taking the pill, your waist was trim and your stomach was flat! You were even seeing the makings of abs.

What they didn’t mention initially was that the supplement was not designed to stop weight gain. After a week, it was obvious the weight you put on was shifting. Instead of a chubby stomach and a flat ass, you were developing a sleek waist and a bubble butt.

The supplements did have some side effects; heightened libido and sensitivity were definitely confirmed, and you couldn’t tell if you were getting addicted to the pills or your growing bottom.

All you knew was the more you ate, the more your butt filled out. You were having a blast shoveling dining hall food into your mouth to fuel your new obsession.

You’ve never felt more confident. And obviously, you offer your new dumptruck of an ass to your brilliant, considerate roomie as a thank you.

And to deal with that raging libido, of course. An ass like yours was meant to be fucked.

L is for Lesbian

Lesbian

(Obviously, I'm many days behind, but I figured I'd drop L on Lesbian Visibility Day!)

Layla was everything people expected when they thought of a preacher's daughter; modest, wholesome, and incredibly sheltered. The doe-eyed blonde was the Christian Conservative ideal of an All-American Good Girl. Her father touted her to his congregation as the ideal of a Woman of God, dutiful to her parents and chastely awaiting the righteous love of a Man of God.

That was what made the first step out of line so unexpected. Thanks to years of diligent studying, and despite her father's apprehension, Layla begged her way into attending college.

It was unconventional in her family, where women were expected to settle down, marry Godly men, and pump out many Christian babies. Layla promised to major in Theology and be an example for her peers; she felt a calling she could not explain to her father, but she still wanted to appease his expectations of her. Despite all her expectations, he relented because he knew his daughter had the Fear of God in her.

Layla was ready to go to college and be an example of her righteous raising. She was not expecting to meet an example of her polar opposite in her dormitory. Her roommate, Kelsey, was anything but traditional. An art chick with short, colorful hair and MULTIPLE tattoos— at eighteen!

Something about Kelsey made Layla nervous, but she was taught to be friendly and welcoming, even to people from... different walks of life. Kelsey, to her credit, was incredibly friendly. And open. Oh, so open. Layla got acquainted with the tattoos on her roommates as she spent her time walking around their room less than fully clothed.

Try as she might to ignore Kelsey, Layla found herself enthralled by the wild nature of her roommate. She started asking about her art and her interests, delving further into a secular world she was unfamiliar with.

But it was not just her interests; it was her body. It was her lack of shame. It was the way the low cut of her jeans dropped to the fullest point of the curve of her hips. Kelsey, to her credit, never said anything when she caught Layla staring. She just let her timid roommate cling to her (metaphorically) to help her break out of her shell.

They spend many nights in that first semester staying up late, talking about life and identity and shame. The shame that Layla had that Kelsey lacked, and where it came from. Each Sunday, it got harder to stomach some of the rhetoric at service and harder to justify getting out of bed early each morning.

Particularly when the bed she was rolling out of was Kelsey's bed. At first, it was something Layla justified as a comfort, but as Thanksgiving break rolled around, she was learning to accept the way Kelsey's scent lingered in her mind and her warmth left an impression on her body.

When Winter Break arrived, the preacher nearly had a heart attack when his timid blonde daughter returned home with her hair dyed pink. He preached fire and brimstone that Sunday on the Earthly temptations that lead good submissive women astray, but the fear tactics did not hit Layla the way they used to before college.

Kelsey could confirm Layla was not as submissive as everyone assumed.

In her second semester, Layla diversified her courses, opting for a Literature course where the Gospels were not required reading. Word traveled down the grapevine from her small college church to her small hometown, with Layla's father reaching out, demanding to know what was keeping his daughter from weekly services. 

He threatened to pull her out of school and lamented his mistake of leading her away from her destiny as a Godly housewife. Layla could only imagine his shock when he received her letter the next week.

Dear Daddy,

Thank you for setting me along my true path. Walking the straight line you preached, I never dared to stray out of fear. I needed to step away from your fire and brimstone to understand my path was never meant to be straight.

I won't be coming back this Summer. My girlfriend and I will be getting an apartment and I don't plan on telling you where. But rest assured, campus security has been informed that you are no longer a welcome guest here. I don't need sermons on hate and submissive boxes I belong in anymore, and that's all you've ever offered.

Farewell from your very, very gay daughter,

Layla

The newly re-registered English major slipped the envelope in the mailbox, only to feel familiar lips against her neck. She grinned and turned to admire Kelsey, dragging a suitcase behind her for their first Spring Break trip together.

"You ready to get moving on, babe?"

Layla could not help but wrap her arms around Kelsey's slender waist and pull her into a proper, passionate kiss in the middle of their dorm's courtyard. "Never been more ready."

I is for IQ

 IQ

(Continued from Hairpin)

The semester was almost over and, with her former rival writhing in the corner of her room, Isabel was confident in her secured valedictorian status. With that pressure off, she could focus her energy on a project that would set her up for life after graduation.

Doctor Juniper, her biochemistry professor, had tapped Isabel specifically to work on a revolutionary new brain drug that would accelerate the human capacity for thought. If they really hit a breakthrough, it would not be an exaggeration to say their work could be the next major step in the progress of humanity as a race.

Assisting the person who would change the world would let Isabel begin her scientific career as a rockstar in her field, but being the one to change the world would make her a legend.

Isabel was the one mixing test batches of the drug to be administered to non-human subjects, so she was the one developing an intimate knowledge of her product. She was the one who knew the sweet, floral scent of the vapors and she was committing the Doctor's formula to memory. She was sure, if she studied it enough, she could mix up a drug with the opposite effect. After that, all it took was a little prick and her professor could enjoy an early, simple-minded retirement.

It sounded simple on paper, but every time Isabel tried to mix the IQ Loss Formula, it would blow up in her face. Once, literally. The more she attempted it, the further she was getting from a stable solution, as though her grasp of chemistry was failing her.

One day, Isabel was finally being allowed to sit in on the tests as rats injected with the serum were challenged with a maze. It was not the complex maze Isabel expected, and yet the rats were utterly lost, going so far as to bump into walls. "Huh? But... why didn't the smart serum make them more smarter?" Wait, that wasn't right...

Doctor Juniper approached their student from behind, smirking. "Because it was never meant to do that, dummy." Isabel gasped as she felt a quick, sharp prick in her neck, followed by a rush of warmth. "You would have figured that out if you wore a mask to avoid the fumes."

Isabel spun and fumbled backwards, trying to understand what was happening and what went wrong. She had a plan to... she was going to use science and make the Doctor more... dumber? But how could she do that when they were so smart and even were a doctor? She had made a mistake somewhere!

"Oh, little Izzy, always too ambitious and predictable. After you used your little hex to turn Haley into a useless slut, I knew you'd be looking for someone new to exploit for the sake of your own ego." They approached Izzy, who tilted her head as the Doctor pulled her labcoat off her shoulders. "You won't be needing that. I decided you were far too dangerous to be trusted with the knowledge of witchcraft or science."

It was true; Izzy knew she had been going to school for years and had gotten very good at science. She had also read so many spellingbooks... no, spellbooks. She had taught herself so much, but the concepts went so far over her head, when she tried thinking of the most basic elemental compounds, her eyes started glazing over.

"Of course, the formula doesn't discern between what knowledge it erases from that empty little head of yours. I'd dare say you're as useless as your little Haley now, in your own way."

Izzy pouted, hit with the concerned panic of confusion. "But... if I can't do science anymore, what am I s'posed to do? I don't know what jobs I'm good at!"

"Not many, I'd bet. I doubt you can read at this point." 

Izzy gasped and looked for Doctor Juniper's name tag, only to find unfamiliar squiggles next to their picture. 

The professor rested a hand on Izzy's shoulder, and something about reassurance from someone smarter than her did ease her nerves. "Don't worry, Izzy, I'll make sure to find something even an idiot like you and a fuckdoll like Haley can handle."

That was the start of Izzy letting go of all her stress and machinations too big for her tiny brain. She could let her new keeper, Master Juniper, make big decisions and she could focus on fucking Haley on the Master's website. It was an enjoyable job even a low-IQ moron like Izzy could do!

H is for Hairpin

Hairpin

Haley and Isabel were the most competitive girls in their class. The two had birthdays in the same week and had competing parties. They went after the same guys. Most importantly, after four years at the same university, they were fighting to end the year as valedictorian.

Haley teased Isabel, pointing out that she was just edging her out going into Spring Break.

Something about Isabel's response was ominous. "We'll see how you like edging."

The young blonde student tried to shake off the comment and focus on her assignments.

Except it was the most annoying thing. As she focused on her word document, the fabric of her shirt brushed her nipple and it was like a switch was flipped. Try as she might to think about sentences, she just became more aware of the way her clothes were touching her. Haley was not prudish, but she considered herself low-libido.

Her body was just unexpectedly sensitive. If she could deal with this sudden swelling of need, she could focus. She slipped her fingers into her waistband, but the moment her fingertips brushed her clit, her vision went white and her eyes rolled back. The pleasure was so overwhelming, before she realized it, she had multiple fingers inside herself.

She came so easily. But that was not the end of things. There was barely any time to come down from the blissful climax before she was rubbing her thighs together, and the fabric between them was enough to get her going again.

The week of Spring Break was a blur. She masturbated, she came, she masturbated again, repeating until she passed out with fingers still in her pussy. A package came to her door on Friday; evidently, in her lusty haze, she had ordered a vibrator online. The new toy was put to immediate use, and by the time her body was too exhausted to fuck herself again, she looked at her computer and realized it was Wednesday. She had masturbated her way through three days of missed classes.

She did all she could to prepare for Thursday. finding a dress of the lightest material and connecting with someone shady online to obtain a local anesthetic. She needed her body under control to go to her classes and apologize to her professors. She would figure out a good excuse once her head started clearing out the pink sex fog clouding her mind.

Taking a seat next to Isabel, she grinned knowingly at Haley. "You're looking flushed, Haley. Are you still feeling... unwell?"

Haley's jaw dropped. Did Isabel know what was happening? Before she could ask, the professor called class into session. Haley's body felt heavy and numb, but it was better than the alternative.

Isabel furrowed her brow as minutes passed without incident, but the competitive witch finally pieced together what was happening. Flipping to a new page in her notebook, she drew a circle with an intricate design inside it. Getting up from her seat under the pretence of going to the bathroom, she tapped the glyph against Haley's shoulder and muttered, "Purify."

The numbness faded immediately. Haley's eyes went wide as the loose dress moved with her every movement and her nipples went erect and desperate for contact. Haley tried subtly cupping her own breasts, but at that point it was all over. Eventually, Haley had to be escorted out by security after refusing to stop masturbating in front of her Professor and peers, leaving a puddle of her sex in the chair she left behind.

Haley broke free from the security guards to hunt down Isabel, trying to demand answers, but by the time she found her in a washroom, her tongue was hanging out of her mouth and her body was shaking.

Isabel smirked. "Enjoying my Hairpin Charm? I was skeptical that it could put your sensitivity and libido on a hairpin trigger, but I've really made a useless slut out of you. Can you even think of anything else now?"

Haley tried to be mad, but thoughts of anger were melting into thoughts of lust. ALL her thoughts were devolving into sex. Her hand was buried in her cunt under her dress, and even her own touch felt insufficient for her inhumane need.

"You know what? Ask me for anything. I'll grant you any request in my power."

This was it. Haley could ask for the charm to be lifted so she could try to salvage her life. If she could put together that line of thought, she could be freed from life as a horny pervert.

But she was too far gone. "F-fuck me. P-p-please, fuck me!"

Isabel was so proud, pulling out a plug with a gem embedded in it and a small vibrator. "You want that? Your most bitter rival?"

"Yes!"

"But what if I only fuck you if you drop out and become my useless fucktrophy?"

Haley nodded, dripping drool from her hanging tongue and cum from between her legs. A fucktrophy was all she wanted to be. All she could see herself as now. 

Hornycunt would live a blissful life leashed in the corner of Isabel's dorm masturbating shamelessly to keep herself hot and wet for when her new owner wanted to reward herself with her conquered nemesis.

C is for Co-Ed

 Co-Ed

Candace Carver was in a nostalgic mood. She blamed her husband; as a professor, college life was a constant topic in the house. Today, he was baffled by students in his class who seemed "disinterested in doing anything studious." 

Some people went to school to learn, but others were there for an experience. Candace and her husband were the former, so he failed to understand how someone could spend thousands of dollars to do anything but excel and work their asses off.

Getting ready for bed, Candace found herself surprisingly sympathetic. Her college experience involved late hours in the library, barely knowing her roommates' names, and having next to no social presence at college. It all paid off; she was working in the lab leading her own research team.

Any other night, she would say it was all worth it, but Candace could not help but wonder what it would have been like having a life in college. She was approaching the middle of her life now; her body was softer and full of aches, and her life had settled into an unremarkable routine. Reminiscing on the energetic, mousy young redhead with limitless possibilities at her fingertips, Candace imagined how different things would have been if she gave herself the chance to enjoy her youth and take new chances.

Changing into comfortable pajama pants, Candace spotted a t-shirt in a drawer with her husband's University name emblazoned on the chest. 

Her husband looked up from his book and smirked. "You look like one of the co-eds."

She laughed at the generous comparison. "Maybe if you add two decades of wear and tear." Oh, to return to a body unravaged by gravity and age.

"You look gorgeous," he assured her. He was a good man; at the end of the day, Candace could speculate on her what-ifs, but she was content with her life and the love of a good man.

---

The first thing Candi noticed when she woke up was the plushness of the bed. It was a level of comfort beyond what a dorm bed could offer. Luxuriating under the comforter, her mind slowly stirred back to reality.

Her head was foggy. Maybe she was still drunk? Yes; slowly, memories formed and became real in her mind. Her roommate convinced her to sneak into a local bar the night before. It was so unlike her—or unlike who she was in high school. Candi remembered her choice to take more chances and welcome her fresh start in college, and risky partying was just part of that new mantra.

Rolling over, Candi realized she was not alone. The warm body sleeping next to her was a Professor—her professor. That was a surprise, but she could picture the way he looked at her so clearly in her mind. Clearly her freshman biology professor crossed her path at the bar and, well, one thing surely led to another. Maybe this would make things awkward, but if they both kept quiet, she could chalk this up to youthful indiscretion.

Slipping carefully out of bed, Candi looked herself over in an antique mirror. Her nude body was still slender and perky, her skin clear, and after a young life of feeling plain and unassuming, she was finally feeling sexy. Sexy enough for a professor to take notice, apparently.

Grinning, she found a college t-shirt draped on the nightstand and threw it on. She doubted that was what she wore to the bar, but her own clothes were suspiciously absent. She would ask him to find them on Monday.

Glimpsing the clock, Candi had slept through her first class, but it was Friday. What harm was there in celebrating her conquest with a long weekend? Sneaking out in just a long shirt barely covering her tight ass, she would claim her walk of shame back to the dorm where she planned to get some proper sleep to be ready for her sorority's house party.

There would be time to double down on her studies and focus, but for now, Candi was content living her collegiate life day by day and loving every minute of it.