Man

Marnie takes a seat in her adviser's office. Its shelves are cluttered with the usual debris of academe, though thankfully, both the floors and the chairs in front of his desk are clear. She catches a glimpse of a spreadsheet open on his computer and recognizes it as the project budget.

Before her adviser has a chance to speak, Marnie feels that telltale tingle intensify. Wouldn't it be so much more fun if you had to seduce him to get your funds, pet?

Marnie attempts to suppress a whimper. She closes her eyes and digs her hands into the edge of her chair. God no, please. Don't make me do this.

Appealing to the wrong deity, dear.

About twenty years her senior, Marnie's adviser looks good for his age. Toned, muscled skin shows he works out. His choice of clothing makes him look younger than he is. His only concession to the stereotype of the doughy academic is a pair of thin-rimmed glasses perching, for the moment, on his forehead. If she is being honest with herself, Marnie has to admit she finds him attractive. But she has never thought of herself as the type of student who would sleep with her professor. She might be a nudist, but she is neither an exhibitionist nor a … slut.

Is she? Do I have any choice in the matter?

Of course you have a choice! Whether you'll like the alternative, well … if you don't seduce him, clearly you lack confidence in your abilities. I'll have to fix that.

Marnie doesn't like the sound of that. But it's either let Uhazral continue to transform her … or fuck her adviser.