Jasmine, a bitchy sorority girl! Well not for long....

Jasmine's phone buzzed with the email notification just as she was reapplying her glossy lipstick. The subject line—Your Secret Admirer—made her roll her eyes, but vanity won out. She tapped it open.

The screen instantly flooded with swirling pink spirals, pulsing in hypnotic rhythm. Her breath hitched. The colors dragged at her vision, pulling her focus deeper, deeper—until her gloss-smeared lips fell slack. A thick strand of drool escaped her mouth, dangling precariously before splattering onto her phone screen.

Her fingers twitched, limp against the device as the spirals pulsed faster, imprinting themselves behind her eyelids even when she blinked.

The spirals pulsed faster, wrapping around her thoughts like pink silk ribbons, squeezing tighter until nothing remained but the hypnotic glow. Jasmine’s fingers, once poised for texting, now twitched against her thigh before sliding mindlessly between her legs. A breathy moan slipped from her lips as she rubbed herself through her tight sorority skirt, the fabric dampening instantly under her touch.

Her body moved on its own, hips rocking forward as her fingers shoved past the waistband of her panties, plunging into her soaking pussy. Each thrust of her hand sent shivers up her spine, her mind melting further under the spell. The spirals throbbed in time with her **** strokes, her thoughts dissolving into a fog of pleasure and obedience.

Then came the changes.

A tingling heat spread through her scalp, her dark roots paling in seconds, strands of hair lightening to a platinum blonde so bright it nearly glowed. Her pupils dilated, the brown swallowed whole by a vacant, crystalline blue—wide and empty, like a doll’s glassy stare.

Her tits swelled next, straining against her top as they inflated to obscene F-cups, nipples hardening into sensitive peaks. The fabric of her bra groaned before the seams split with a soft pop, spilling her new heavy tits free. Her ass followed, rounding out in plush, jiggling curves that pressed taut against her skirt, the material threatening to rip at any second.

Jasmine—no, she couldn’t remember that name anymore—giggled, high and airy, as her fingers worked faster. Words slipped from her lips in a breathy, accented murmur, "Oui, oui, c'est si bon…" English was gone, replaced by a dizzy, submissive French babble.

Her orgasm crashed over her like a wave, back arching as her cunt clenched around her fingers. A final, shuddering gasp—and then nothing.

No memory of before. No sorority, no lectures, no life outside the fog.

The moment she came down, a frilly French maid uniform materialized around her body—black lace straining over her massive tits, the skirt barely covering her plump ass. She blinked those big, empty eyes, running her hands over her new curves with a giggle.

"Mmm, je suis une bonne petite servante…" she cooed to no one, twirling a strand of platinum hair around her finger. The phone lay forgotten on the floor, the screen now dark—her old life erased as thoroughly as her mind....Forever!