By ruining how she looks

She hesitated. Then, without a word, she reached up, pulled the pins from her tight bun, and let her hair tumble down. It framed her face in an unkempt halo of silver and ash, turning her from authoritative to almost unhinged. Aiden chuckled under his breath.

“There you go,” he murmured. “Now, let’s get creative. Take those scissors and make your outfit more fun”

She didn’t question him. Didn’t even blink. She picked up the scissors from the desk and began slicing into her own clothing.

The blouse came first. She cut off the front, leaving only the collar and the sleeves, the torn fabric hanging like ribbons. The blazer followed, sleeves hacked away until it resembled a shabby vest. She slid them back on with care, like dressing for a performance.

A giggle slipped out.

Aiden raised a brow.

“Oh, this is fun,” she chirped, her voice a notch too high, too bright. He didn’t respond—just nodded slightly, inviting her to keep going.

“And the skirt,” he said. “It’s too proper.”

She didn’t argue. She didn’t flinch. She took the scissors again and carved into the pencil skirt until it sat jagged and uneven, the hem climbing one thigh higher than the other. Her once-professional silhouette now resembled a parody—half-clown, half-insane person.

She looked at herself in the reflection of a framed certificate on the wall and snorted. “Oh dear,” she muttered, chuckling. “I look ridiculous!”

“Good,” Aiden said, tossing her a small can of red paint he’d found in the supply closet in the room. “Now own it.”

She popped the lid off without hesitation, dipped her fingers inside, and streaked the crimson paint across her chest, sleeves, and stomach in thick, chaotic strokes. Then her cheeks—two swollen red circles. Finally, a grotesque crescent smile around her lips, exaggerated and glistening.

Aiden tilted his head, observing like an artist inspecting a nearly-finished canvas.

“Glasses,” he added. “Flip them.”

She obeyed. Wearing them upside down on her nose. The lenses angled wrong, slipping down her nose, but she didn’t care. She saw her reflection again—and laughed. This time, loud and hearty, her whole body bouncing.

“I look so silly!” she declared, clapping. “This is just fantastic!”

Aiden watched her, one hand resting on the SMPD feeling it get warm.

“Perfect,” he murmured. “You’re finally becoming Rammie Bottoms.”

She gave him a curtsey, wobbling as she did. “Rammie Bottoms, at your service!”

He stepped closer, gaze sharp. “One last thing, Rammie. Just one. Take the scissors again.”

She reached for them eagerly.

“Cut your hair.”

She froze.

For the first time, hesitation. A beat of awareness flickered in her eyes—brief, flickering.

Then her fingers gripped the scissors tighter.

“Of course,” she said with a strange smile. “Why not?”

Aiden leaned against the desk, watching the strands of her hair fall to the floor, one by one.

Aiden stepped back, admiring his handiwork. Rammie Bottoms stood before him, a complete metamorphosis from the stern dean to a vibrant, playful clown. “How do you feel, Rammie?” Aiden asked, his voice carrying a mixture of satisfaction and curiosity.

Rammie hesitated, then broke into a wide grin that stretched across her painted face. “Liberated,” she declared, her voice tinged with a newfound sense of freedom. “This... persona, it’s exhilarating.”

“Now, before you go entertain your students, you must be aware that every clown must go through a hazing ritual?”

Rammie just giggled in response as she enquired, “Hazing ritual? No matter what it is, I’m willing to do whatever it takes!”

“Good,” Aiden nodded approvingly. Come over this side and lean over your desk, you must grab onto your desk and no matter what happens next, no matter what emotion you feel. All you’re allowed to do is laugh and giggle, am I understood?”

“Hehehehe, loud and clear boss!” responded the mindfucked dean. Aiden hadn’t planned on doing it but seeing the ever so strict dean stand in front of him in her underwear and the sheer ridiculousness of her transformation had gotten the better of him.

He pulled her skirt up and roughly pulled her panties down until they bunched up at her feet. He followed that up by pulling his own pants down and freeing his hard cock which had been aching until that moment. Without giving it a second thought, Aiden rammed (Pun intended) his cock into the welcoming clown ass in front of him.

“WHA- HAHAHAHAHAHHA” for a second it seemed like the dean had come back to her senses but that was quickly shut down by Aiden’s previous command as she begun laughing uncontrollably. Aiden hadn’t noticed as he was far too busy fucking the woman who had given him so much grief. He kept fucking her as Ms. Ramsbottom’s laughs slowly got integrated with silent moans of pleasure which went on until Aiden was finally satisfied and decided to finish inside the dean’s now soaking wet cunt. He gave her ass a nice smack and pulled her skirt down.

He bent down to pick her underwear off the floor and bunched it up until it took a ball-like shape. “Ummm you got more of these Rammie?” he asked the now panting dean. “Y-yes, I got a couple more in the drawer for emergencies. “Well this definitely counts as one, take them and bunch them up into similar balls, they’ll act as a good prop for your act.”

“A-Aiden…” the dean whispered, still frozen where he’d left her, as if her body refused to move without permission.

“Yes, Rammie?” he replied, not even looking back.

Her voice was trembling. “Am I… am I finally a clown now? Did I pass?”

Aiden turned slowly, approaching her like a benevolent puppeteer checking on his marionette. A single tear traced down her cheek. He reached out, gently brushing it away, his fingers trailing through her freshly shorn hair.

“You passed,” he said, voice low and sweet. “With flying colours.”

He winked.

Rammie Bottoms gave a soft whimper and collapsed to her knees. For a second, Aiden wondered if he’d broken her entirely—until she erupted into a fit of laughter, her body trembling with it.

“I’ve never felt this happy,” she gasped between giggles. “This free!”

Aiden offered her his hand, the smile on his face curling like smoke. “Then it’s time. Let’s introduce the school to the new you. Embrace Rammie Bottoms fully.”

Rammie sprang up with an almost manic energy. With a playful skip and a dramatic twirl of her ripped, paint-splattered collar, she burst out of her office.

The school hallways, once a hum of adolescent chaos, fell oddly still. Students turned. Teachers froze mid-conversation. And there, striding confidently down the corridor, was the once-feared dean—now a walking circus of torn garments, smeared makeup, upside-down glasses, and an infectious grin.

Gasps echoed through the hall. Laughter followed, hesitant at first, then confused. Was it a prank? A skit? A breakdown?

“Is that Ms. Ramsbottom?” a student murmured, voice low with disbelief.

“Why is she dressed like that?” another asked, eyes wide. “Has she gone crazy?”

Rammie heard them. She turned with a theatrical flourish, tossing her used rolled-up panty into the air and gave a low, sweeping bow. Tilting her head up just in time to catch the rolled-up panty in her mouth.

“Good morning, my delightful students!” she trilled in a sing-song voice taking it out of her mouth. “Today, we trade frowns for giggles! Discipline for delight! Welcome to a whole new world of laughter and learning!”

The crowd wavered between awkward silence and amused titters. Some clapped uncertainly. A few snapped photos. And a handful, caught up in the absurdity, began to cheer.

From the far end of the hall, Aiden leaned casually against the wall, arms folded, watching it all unfold with quiet satisfaction. The SMPD hadn’t just rewritten Ramsbottom’s behavior—it had cracked something deep inside her, molded it into something ridiculous, surreal… and thoroughly obedient.

He watched her dance with the students, leading an impromptu conga line past the lockers, wondering why students were going along with the deranged idiot. Maybe they were just that scared of her. What once was authority had become absurdity. And it thrilled him.

But as he turned to leave, a familiar voice stopped him.

“Aiden, wait.”

He turned, slowly.

Ms. Parker.

She approached calmly, but there was sharpness behind her eyes. “What happened in Ms. Ramsbottom’s office?” she asked, voice gentle but probing. “She’s… different. Not herself.”

Aiden offered a practiced smile, easy and innocent. “Oh, Ms. Parker. You know how it is. Stress. Long hours. The burden of leadership. Maybe she just… snapped.”

Ms. Parker’s brow furrowed. “She didn’t seem stressed. She seemed... vacant. Like someone else was speaking through her.”

Aiden chuckled lightly. “Come on. Maybe she’s just found a new way to cope. Laughter is the best medicine, right?”

But Parker didn’t smile. She studied him, her gaze lingering a little too long.

“If something’s going on—anything—you can tell me”, she said quietly. “You know I’m here to help. For her. For you.”

Aiden’s expression didn’t change, but there was a new gleam behind his eyes—something cold. Calculating.

“I appreciate that,” he said softly. “Really. But I think Ms. Ramsbottom just needed to feel seen for once. Maybe... to let go. And I helped her do that.”

Ms. Parker nodded, but something didn’t sit right. As Aiden turned and walked away, she stood still, her eyes drifting toward the echo of laughter that still rang through the halls.