Role Model

+18 BS. Total: 36.

The whole night.

I’ve spent the whole night mulling this one over.

There have been paths that made me hesitate because both options opened different strategic opportunities, and there have been paths that made me hesitate because both options were simply enticing in their own ways.

This one is both.

I almost picked option 2, Capture the Moment, within a minute of getting the path option, but something held me back.

Where’s the synergy?

Sure, Capture the Moment would’ve made for some very hot scenes, scenes I don’t want to pass up on, and Ellen’s targeted influence on her models’ sexuality would’ve definitely come in handy, but targeting specific people isn’t the role I want for her in my new order. She is meant to be the propagandist, the one who affects the masses in a slow, rough, yet steady way, and the more paths I “stack” to that end, the more effective she will be in that role.

By picking Role Model, I can lead to situations where she will take photos of herself applying my rules, which will have a first effect of reinforcing them on anyone who sees her do so, and will also make anyone who sees the resulting pictures be more sexually promiscuous in public.

Two birds with one stone.

There’s the synergy.

It may be a choice that will lead to less fun situations when taken in a vacuum, but when you put it in the context of Ellen’s existing beliefs it all comes together.

So Role Model it is.

That’s the conclusion I reached at around 6AM, after three short hours of sleep that I only managed to fall into after spending most of the night rolling around in my bedsheets, frustrated at my inability to pick. Sleeping on a tough decision always works. I should’ve just called it quits at midnight and gotten some more rest. Today’s gonna be another big day and I don’t want to be a zombie for most of it.

Why big?

Well, because I intend to mind control the head of the school, of course.

But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. First, I have classes to give.

I take a sip of my coffee, the sweet nectar that’ll get me through this day, and I review the class materials I’ll need.

After a short while, I hear the sound of footsteps coming from outside the room. I raise my eyes just in time to see Rachel, a broad smile on her face and a skip in her step, coming into the room with what I can only describe as a herd of other girls, all chattering among themselves. About half of the group came in all at once, seemingly more tightly knit than ever. Even Isabel, a girl who had a lot of difficulty fitting in, albeit to a much lesser extent than Rachel did, seems completely comfortable talking to the girls around her.

And that’s the key word here: comfortable. They all seem completely relaxed around each other. There’s none of that defensiveness, none of that need to prove yourself that so often gnaw at the back of students’ minds. In just a few days, Rachel has managed to not only get over her own social problems, but has helped turn a good portion of the class into a much healthier, accepting, and welcoming community than it ever was before.

What this girl has done goes much further than what her path gave her.

It’s like all Rachel needed was a little bit of help to blossom and finally reach her potential.

As the girls walk towards their seats, I can’t help but notice that they’re staying unusually close to each other, in a way that would be more fitting for lovers than classmates.

They’re a bit handsy too. I see them wrapping their arms around each other, some are holding hands, I even see one quickly pat Rachel on the butt. Yet none of them seem to be treating those gestures as intimate. They’re simply chatting and joking around as friends do.

Rachel herself responds to her ass being touched by shaking her head with a smile, as if amusedly saying “oh, you’re so incorrigible”, before placing a quick peck on her molester’s cheek.

That was part of her path, wasn’t it? That she and her friends would come to be increasingly sexual with each other, but always in a casual manner. Things sure have progressed since I last saw her.

And not just in terms of behaviour.

Rachel’s body has changed so much that it’s impossible not to notice anymore. Her belly and waist have seemingly melted away, to the point that her clothes are now comically oversized, only hanging onto her body through the help of a thick belt that had to be tightened to a seemingly uncomfortable level so as to keep everything in place. She’s tucked her shirt into her skirt to prevent it from floating so loosely off her torso it’d make her look like a Halloween ghost, but her chest has now grown large enough that she had **** but to undo a few buttons at the top, revealing a sliver of pale skin curving out and pressed together by the strained fabric. Describing it as cleavage would be a bit of an overstatement, but it is a certain step in that direction. As to her skirt, it seems that she’s had to raise it a bit to properly tighten the belt around it, which makes her butt seem a bit larger by contrast and makes the hem of the skirt rise a few centimetres, to the point that they just about reveal her knees - a scandalous sight by the school’s standards.

I realise that I’ve been looking her down just a bit too much and I abruptly raise my eyes, only to meet hers looking straight at me with a cheeky expression. Without breaking eye contact, she pulls up on her belt, making her skirt go up an extra centimetre or two, before tucking her shirt in, increasing the strain on her chest and sending out the tiniest of ripples up her torso.

She knew exactly the effect this would have on me and she is perfectly happy to tease me with it.

“Morning sir,” She chirps before sitting down in the centre of the front row.

Her promiscuous pack repeats variations of her greeting before sitting down around her, with Isabel taking the chair right next to hers and resting her hand on Rachel’s thigh, gently stroking it as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

After a minute or so, I feel a familiar sensation in my head.

+5 BS. Total: 41.

I assume that’s a “bulk” transfer coming from Rachel’s group. In which case, each individual instance of promiscuous behaviour between them must only be worth a fraction of a single BS, if that even is possible.

The rest of the class trickles into the room, but they don’t seem to be sitting with the main pack. They’re not avoiding it either, nor does there seem to be any animosity towards Rachel, but it looks like they’re simply not part of that friend group.

Eventually, a beautiful sight crosses the threshold.

Ivy, her raven black hair combed to a mirror sheen into a neat, professional looking ponytail steps into the room with a measured, controlled gait that manages to look either domineering or somewhat submissive depending on how you perceive her as a person, almost as if she was trying to send a different message to me than to the rest of her entourage.

She’s made a few alterations to her uniform as well, slightly shortening her skirt — just enough to be noticeable without attracting the ire of the school’s censors — and adding a white apron to the front. It’s a lot more delicate and feminine looking than the one I gave her when she came to my room, and it pairs beautifully with the white scrunchy she’s used to tie up her hair and the frilly choker highlighting her pale neck.

The resulting aesthetic is quite unusual, seemingly just halfway between maid and schoolgirl.

With my penchant for uniforms, her two-hit combo of an outfit is making feel weak in the knees, and I’m finding it hard to focus on anything else than her clothes right now, although my brain does eventually notice that she’s holding a small tray in her hands, on which I see a small, porcelain teaset and a croissant just warm enough that I can barely see the last remnants of steam rising from it, as if she’d taken it out of the oven just before coming over here.

She proudly steps up to my desk, looking down on all those other students, as if bringing me food and tea were an act that they should all be impressed by and respectful of.

Rachel’s friend group mostly seems unconcerned though. The flip side of the app making everyone be okay with the behaviours it influences is that it also usually makes people uninterested in them.

That being said, Ivy’s friends do seem somewhat impressed, and their hushed voices sound admirative.

Maybe their pre-existing opinion of Ivy informed their reaction. The app made them react to this as they would’ve to other acts Ivy finds worthy of pride.

This would make sense given her Queen Bee trait, spreading her beliefs on those who already look up to her.

If that’s what’s happening here, then I may have a few more maids at my service in the near future.

“Good morning, sir,” Ivy articulates with unrestrained pride in her voice and a knowing smirk as she shoots quick glances at the girls in the room, to ensure that they are properly impressed.

“Good morning, Ivy. Did you do something to your hair?” I ask, pretending not to have noticed the breakfast tray.

“I did, yes. It’s... cleaner this way,” She replies, shaking her head to show off her hair, before setting the tray on the desk. “I bet you didn’t have anything to eat for breakfast, did you?” She asks with just a hint of judgement in her voice.

“You know me well.”

“I knew it.” She reproaches. “Here, you can’t work on your goals and responsibilities on an empty stomach.”

“Thank you, Ivy. That's very nice of you.”

I grab the cup and remove the tea ball. I take a sip and notice bergamot and lemon. Earl Grey would’ve been a safe bet for tea, but Russian Grey is a much more specific variant, and it happens to be my favourite.

Did she take note of what tea I had in my cupboards when she was cleaning my room?

I can immediately tell it’s much higher grade stuff than what I’m used to. The flavours are stronger yet mellower at the same time, and the soothing smell seems to fill my lungs and permeate into my blood stream with every breath, penetrating every part of my body with its smooth, cottonous warmth.

Clearly she’s noticed the satisfied look on my face, as her smirks turns into a more genuine smile. Her torso twitches forwards for half a second, before she straightens back up, turns around and goes to sit down with her friends.

Did she almost bow to me?

I saw just a hint of confusion in her face after her twitch, like she’d caught herself about to do something she doesn’t understand, as if bowing already felt natural to her body, but her mind hadn’t quite accepted it yet.

As I bite into my croissant, I feel a pocket of chocolate, just warm enough to still be melted, burst into my mouth in an eruption of sweetness.

I could get used to all of this.

I send Ivy an enthusiastic nod, which seems to somehow reinforce her already radiant pride, before I go back to enjoying my breakfast.

A few minutes before the beginning of the class, another girl comes in, with the look of barely contained panic and slight dishevelment of someone who slept through their alarm and got up in the nick of time. Her name is Leah, though I don’t really know much about her, as she’s mostly just been an average student without any obvious issues in my class. What I do know is that she’s got a twin sister in the school with whom she has such a bad relationship that the dean had to go out of her way to make sure they didn’t share a single class and that they have their rooms at opposite ends of the campus.

I’ve only heard rumours, mainly from Julian, whose love of gossip will most likely come in handy with her new journalistic gig, but it seems that the unfortunate events that led to their estrangement may also be the ones that resulted in them landing here.

For now, though, she seems unconcerned by all of that, as she focuses on reaching her seat, within Rachel’s group, without making eye contact with me, for fear that I may ask questions about her troubles getting up, even though she came in with a few minutes to spare in the end.

As she hurries towards the other girls, her long, brown hair shaking up with every step along her thin, almost lanky body, she beams the other girls a relieved smile that she wasn’t too late in the end.

“Morning!” She chirps happily as she leans forwards to the girl closest to her and gives her a quick kiss on the mouth.

I blink in surprise a few times, unsure of whether I actually saw what I think I saw.

But immediately afterwards, as if to assuage my doubts, she takes another step and kisses the next girl down the line.

It’s just a quick peck, and all in all it’s a more innocent gesture than the pat on the butt that I saw earlier, but for some reason I find it even more surprising, and strangely exciting.

Leah goes down the tables, kissing the lips of every girl on the way, with a personal greeting for each of them, and she even cops a feel here and there when she seems especially close to one of them.

Eventually, she’s gone around Rachel’s whole group and she finds a seat next to them.

+3 BS. Total: 44.

I quickly regain my composure, clear my throat, and start my lesson.

---

It all went fairly well, as it usually does nowadays. It was hard to focus at times, given the change in atmosphere and the effect it had on me. I’m going to need to find some release before the end of the day if I don’t want to explode.

Halfway through the class, Ivy took out a lollipop from her purse and started sucking on it. Food is officially not allowed in class, but that rule is rarely enforced as, typically, the only students who eat in the middle of a lecture are those that won’t have a lunch break on that day for one reason or another. But that means that they usually eat something simple and filling, like a sandwich. A lollipop hardly helps.

She seemed to be doing it absentmindedly though, as if on autopilot.

It’s only when she started slowly, ostentatiously pushing it back and forth inside her mouth, puckering up her lips suggestively with every movement, that I understood that her oral fixation path had kicked in.

I spent a good portion of the hour wondering how that was possible, considering that her path explicitly stated that food was not included in her obsession, before the penny finally dropped.

It’s not the lollipop, it’s the stick.

It’s sanitary and it’s not food, so it absolutely does count.

She must’ve felt a subconscious urge to suck on something relatively oblong and her conscious mind must’ve interpreted it as wanting a lollipop.

I wonder how long it’ll take before she herself understands what it is she actually wants, and how she’ll start acting when that happens.

In the meantime, once I got over my surprise, I thoroughly enjoyed the spectacle before me.

At one point, I even saw a drop of drool fall on the paper she was writing on --- she’s one of the few students to still prefer paper over laptops for note-taking, a woman after my own heart. She didn’t seem to notice, even as she was leaving a small stain on the white paper.

Even after she’d finished the lollipop, she kept sucking on the stick, twisting it around in her mouth, playing with it with her tongue.

And the more she did it, the more suggestive she became.

Just a few minutes ago, right as I was about to conclude, I heard her let out a quiet moan. I’m quite confident I’m the only one who heard it, since she was sitting as close to my desk as she could and the rest of the group was either further back or cobbled around Rachel in amical libertinage.

I was almost relieved when I finished the class and they started leaving, just so I wouldn’t have to focus on teaching anymore. Sure, I could’ve simply started groping them, but I’m afraid that would’ve only made me want even more, and there are still many things I can’t get away with in the middle of class.

And besides, it would’ve disturbed their learning, and we can’t have that.

In any case, I’ll have to hold in my excitement for now. I’ve got a lot of work ahead of me.

I do need to find a way to talk to the dean today, after all.

Of course, I could simply barge in and use Parley, but as I saw with Ivy, that can lead to a more hostile position from the target, which makes arguing harder, so it’s always best kept for emergencies.

So I’ve been thinking, what kind of pretext can I use to see her?

And eventually, I figured it out. The dean, Mary, isn’t the one I need to use a pretext with. The most effective way to get her to listen to me is to be introduced by someone she trusts, or at the very least someone she respects professionally, someone in a place of relative authority, someone dedicated body and soul to their work, and someone over whom I have some modicum of influence.

“Good afternoon, Ellen.”

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Hello everyone!

This was quite a difficult chapter to write, but I thought it was time to show how Adam's paths are taking root and changing the behaviour and atmosphere in his main class. I hope you enjoyed seeing the girls' evolution, there's going to be more of that in the future!

I'd like to take a moment to thank Castro for their generous donation to my ko-fi. It means a lot, and sorry you had to wait so long for your proper thanks.

In any case, thank you all for reading this and I hope to see you soon!