Preparations

You sat in front of the mirror, the soft glow of your desk lamp illuminating the makeup spread out before you. It was the night before the big event, the one where you had to pass as a girl, infiltrate Pi Beta Phi, and somehow complete the first trial. Your hands moved almost instinctively now, having practiced the makeup routine every night for the past few days.

Liam had given you shit about that, of course. "Why practice at night?" he had asked, shaking his head in amusement. "You’re supposed to wear it during the day."

But there was no way you were walking around campus with makeup on. Not with how things had been changing. Your smooth skin and long hair already had people doing double-takes. You could feel the stares in the hallways, mostly from guys who seemed to notice something different about you. It was bad enough that you were hyper-aware of how different your body felt—there was no way you were going to add makeup to the mix and draw more attention. Also not like you’re gonna have time to do a full face of makeup in the morning.

Tonight was one last practice run before the real deal tomorrow.

Your mind, however, wasn’t entirely on the makeup. It kept wandering to the task at hand, to the trial Aphrodite had forced upon you. Infiltrating the sorority and getting close to Michelle felt like an impossible mission. You had done your research on Pi Beta Phi, you knew they were closely connected to Phi Delta Theta, and Michelle, the sorority’s president, was practically a celebrity on campus.

The plan was to approach Ashley, the girl Liam had hooked up with back in freshman year, hoping she’d be your ticket into the sorority’s event tomorrow night. But after days of thinking it over, you still weren’t sure how you were going to convince Ashley to get you anywhere near Michelle.

Every scenario you ran through in your head felt like it was destined to fail. What were you supposed to say? “Hey, Ashley, remember Liam? Could you get me close to Michelle, even though I’ve never met you and look like some random girl now?”

It sounded ridiculous no matter how you framed it.

But then again, this whole situation was ridiculous. A curse, a goddess, and six months to complete these trials? There was no getting around it—you had to make it work. You just had to figure out how to navigate this without blowing your cover.

You carefully applied foundation to your face, your hand steady as you blended it in with the beauty blender. It was strange, how much better you had gotten at this over the past few nights. The first time had been a disaster, but after hours of practice, you were starting to get the hang of it.

Liam had been supportive in his own way, though he couldn’t resist teasing you about it. He had always been like that—making jokes even in the worst situations. You remembered one time during high school, when you both got caught sneaking into a party you weren’t invited to. The principal had pulled you into his office, furious, but Liam had cracked some stupid joke about how you were “just trying to practice socializing” that made the principal’s face turn beet red. You both ended up in detention for a week, but at least Liam made it entertaining.

And now, as you applied eyeshadow, his voice echoed in your head: “You can’t mess this up, bro. It’s makeup, not rocket science.”

You rolled your eyes at the memory but couldn’t help smiling a little. Despite how much this sucked, it was kind of comforting to have Liam by your side, even if he didn’t fully understand what you were going through.

As you reached for the eyeliner, your arm brushed against your chest, and you winced at the sudden discomfort. It wasn’t the first time you’d felt it. In fact, for the past few days, there had been this strange sensitivity in your chest—almost like your nipples were chafed. You had tried to ignore it, but every so often, something would rub against your chest, and it would flare up again.

You frowned, trying to focus on the task at hand, but the sensation was hard to ignore. It was getting worse, and you didn’t have any explanation for it. Was it part of the curse? Was something changing again? You couldn’t be sure, but it was unsettling.

Finally, after what felt like forever, you finished applying your makeup. You took a step back, staring at yourself in the mirror. It was a far cry from your first attempt—the foundation was smooth and even, the eyeshadow was blended nicely, and the eyeliner was sharp. There were still small imperfections, but nothing that would stand out to anyone who wasn’t looking too closely.

You exhaled, relieved that you had made it through another practice session.

As you stared at your reflection, you couldn’t help but feel a mix of emotions. On the one hand, you hated this—hated that you were being forced into this insane situation, hated that your body was changing in ways you couldn’t control, and hated that you had to put on makeup just to survive a trial.

But on the other hand... you had to admit you were getting better at it. Each night, you got a little more confident. A little more prepared.

Tomorrow night would be the real test. You’d have to wear this makeup, these clothes, and somehow convince a sorority full of beautiful, smart girls that you were one of them. You had no idea how you were going to pull it off.

But you didn’t have a choice.

With one last glance in the mirror, you packed up the makeup and stepped out of the bathroom. Liam was sat on his bed, writing some notes down, but he looked up when he saw you.

“Damn,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “You’re getting good at that.”

You shot him a tired look. "Thanks, I guess."

Liam grinned. "Look at you. Ready to take over the sorority world."

You rolled your eyes, but there was a tiny part of you that felt proud of how far you’d come. Tomorrow, everything would be put to the test.

The next morning, you woke up with a sense of dread gnawing at your stomach. Today was the day of the event—the night you’d have to put on a dress, blend in with the sorority, and somehow pull off the first trial. As you dragged yourself out of bed, you tried not to think about it too much. There was still time before you had to face the music.

You went through your usual morning routine, dressing in your typical clothes: jeans and a hoodie, nothing flashy or out of the ordinary. It was almost a form of comfort now, keeping things as normal as possible. Anything to avoid the reality that was waiting for you later.

You threw your backpack over your shoulder and headed out the door, trying to ignore the strange discomfort in your chest. It had been bugging you for days now, especially when your shirt rubbed against your nipples. It was like some kind of hypersensitivity that hadn’t been there before, but you were starting to get used to it. Still, every time it happened, it was a reminder that something was changing. That Aphrodite’s curse was creeping forward, altering you in ways you couldn’t stop.

As you made your way to class, you couldn’t stop your mind from racing. Every step felt heavy, every face you passed blurred into the background. All you could think about was tonight. How were you going to do this? What were you even supposed to say to Ashley when you saw her? Would she even remember Liam after all this time?

You slid into the lecture hall and took your seat in the back, not really caring about what today’s class was on. The professor droned on at the front, something about ancient civilizations, but you could barely focus. Your thoughts kept drifting back to Pi Beta Phi, to Michelle, and to how the hell you were supposed to get close enough to her to make any of this work.

Your hand brushed your chest again as you adjusted your hoodie, and there it was—the irritating sensitivity that had been plaguing you for days. You tried to ignore it, but the more it lingered, the harder it became to focus on anything else. It didn’t help that every time it happened, you were reminded that your body was slowly but surely betraying you.

You glanced around the lecture hall, watching people casually take notes or scroll through their phones. How many of them knew about Pi Beta Phi? How many of them had no idea what kind of trial you were about to face tonight? Hell, how many of them had seen you wandering around campus looking... different?

A wave of frustration hit you, and you slouched down in your seat, staring blankly at your notebook. This was all so absurd. A week ago, you were a regular college guy, worrying about regular things. Now you were cursed by a goddess, having to figure out how to pass as a girl and infiltrate a sorority just to undo it. It felt like something out of a bad movie, but here you were, living it.

As soon as the lecture ended, you bolted for the door, eager to get back to your dorm and out of the suffocating environment of the lecture hall. The discomfort in your chest had been gnawing at you all morning, and the constant tension in your mind was wearing you down.

When you finally made it back to your room, you kicked off your shoes and peeled off your hoodie, letting out a frustrated sigh as you stripped down to just your panties. They were soft, way softer than the boxers you used to wear, and that fact irritated you more than anything. You hated how much more comfortable they were. They shouldn’t be, but here you were, stuck in them because of Aphrodite’s stupid curse.

With a grimace, you reached into your drawer and pulled out a bra you and Liam had bought the other day. You couldn’t believe you were doing this. You slipped it on, adjusting the straps until it fit snugly. To your utter frustration, it actually...helped? The lingering discomfort eased up, and maybe for the first time in days, you wouldn't feel like your chest was rubbing against sandpaper every time you moved, but only time would tell.

You sighed, standing in front of the mirror. The sight of yourself in just a bra and panties was surreal, like you were looking at someone else entirely. But no, this was you now, in all your cursed glory.

Reluctantly, you turned away and reached for the white dress you had bought at the mall with Liam. You slipped it on, feeling the fabric slide over your skin as it settled against your body. It fit a little too well, hugging your frame in a way that made you feel even more self-conscious. But you had to admit, it looked... decent. At least it was simple—nothing too flashy or over-the-top.

You turned back to the mirror, staring at your reflection. You still looked like yourself, just... different. The long hair, the smooth skin, the white dress—it was all a reminder of what you had to do tonight. There was no turning back now.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to push aside the constant distress that had been nagging at you since the curse started. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself for what was about to come.

There was no use getting mad about it anymore. You had to get through tonight, and that meant putting everything you had into it. Even if it meant wearing a dress and makeup and pretending to be something you weren’t.

With a sigh, you reached for your makeup kit, preparing yourself for the final step before the trial.

You took a deep breath, standing in front of the mirror with your makeup spread out across the bathroom counter. This was it—the final step before you had to face the world as... well, not yourself. Liam had gone on about how you needed to nail the look, and while the idea still made you want to punch something, you couldn’t deny that he was right. If you didn’t pass as a girl tonight, you could kiss any chance of finishing this trial goodbye.

You grabbed your foundation first, applying it with the makeup sponge as the tutorial you’d watched a dozen times recommended. Your skin was already smooth from the curse’s “gifts,” but the foundation evened out your complexion, making it almost unnaturally flawless. You blended it carefully, trying not to rush, but the tension in your body made your hands a little shaky. You cursed under your breath, took a second to steady yourself, and continued.

Next came the concealer, which you dabbed under your eyes, down the bridge of your nose, and on your chin—just like the tutorial had shown. You blended that in as well, the motions slowly becoming more automatic as you repeated the steps you'd practiced every night since the mall.

"God, this is so ridiculous," you muttered, almost laughing at the absurdity of it all. But you kept going.

You reached for the eyeshadow next, carefully applying soft shades of brown and gold to your eyelids. It was subtle—nothing too bold—but enough to bring some depth to your eyes. Then came the eyeliner, which was somehow both the easiest and hardest part of the process. You dragged the pencil carefully along your lash line, trying to keep your hand steady, but you still had to redo it twice before it looked right.

"Seriously, fuck this," you grumbled, wiping off the smudged eyeliner for the third time before finally getting it right.

You moved on to mascara, carefully coating your lashes to make them pop. Then came the blush, which you applied lightly to the apples of your cheeks. The soft pink color added a bit of life to your face, though you still felt like you were wearing a mask.

And then, the moment you dreaded most: the lipstick.

You grabbed the tube of red lipstick Liam had insisted you buy, twisting it up and staring at the bold color for a moment. It felt like the final nail in the coffin—the thing that would really push you over the edge into unfamiliar territory. But you knew you had no choice. You applied it carefully, filling in your lips with the bright, glossy red. The color was striking, and as you pressed your lips together to even it out, you couldn’t help but feel... exposed.

You stepped back from the mirror, finally finished with your makeup. For the first time, you had all the pieces together—the makeup, the long hair, the dress, and even the bra and panties underneath. You looked at yourself, almost not recognizing the person staring back at you.

It was you, but not.

A wave of disbelief washed over you. This was insane. You had to admit the makeup was well done, but that didn’t stop the pit of frustration from growing deeper. How did it come to this? How were you standing here, in a dress, with red lips and painted eyes, preparing to infiltrate a sorority to reverse a curse?

You clenched your fists and let out a long breath through your nose. Focus. You had to get through tonight.

Just then, Liam poked his head into the bathroom, his eyes widening as he took in the full sight of you.

“Damn, man—uh, girl. You look... wow.” His face was a mix of awe and a hint of amusement. “I mean, you’re hot.”

“Shut up,” you shot back, your new feminine voice making the retort sound more like a pout than you intended. Your cheeks flushed red, a mix of anger and embarrassment bubbling up inside you.

Liam grinned. “Hey, it’s a compliment! Seriously though, you did good. You’re gonna pull this off.” He leaned against the doorframe, his gaze still fixed on you. “But you know what? You need a girl name. Can’t walk into a sorority as ‘dude in a dress.’ How about... Luna?”

You crossed your arms, annoyed but knowing he had a point. You thought about it for a second before sighing. “Fine, whatever. Luna it is.”

Liam nodded, clearly satisfied with himself. “Alright, Luna, we’re meeting Ashley outside the hall in about half an hour. You ready?”

You glanced at the mirror one last time, steeling yourself for what was to come. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Liam clapped you on the back. “Good. But first, let’s call Hermes.”

You raised an eyebrow, remembering the ridiculous way Hermes had told you to summon him. “You mean... the toilet thing?”

Liam smirked. “Yeah, why not? Worth a shot, right?”

You rolled your eyes but followed him to the bathroom. You stood in front of the mirror, feeling stupid as you muttered, “Hermes, Hermes, Hermes,” while Liam flushed the toilet with a grin on his face.

At first, nothing happened, and you were about to call him out for making you look like an idiot, but then the mirror shimmered slightly, and there he was. Hermes appeared in the reflection, lounging in the mirror’s frame as if he were leaning against a door.

“Sup, kids,” Hermes greeted with a wink, as if appearing from thin air in a college bathroom was no big deal. “You rang?”

Liam burst into laughter, clearly thrilled. “Dude, that actually worked! You’re seriously the coolest god I’ve ever met.”

Hermes shrugged, clearly pleased with himself. “What can I say? I like to keep things interesting.” He looked you up and down, whistling. “Damn, Lucas, you clean up nicely. I gotta say, you’re really selling the whole look.”

You scowled, crossing your arms. “Let’s just get on with it, Hermes.”

“Alright, alright. Don’t get your panties in a twist,” he teased, his grin widening at the obvious pun. “You ready for this, though? ‘Cause once we get going, you’re in it.”

You nodded, trying to suppress the unease creeping up your spine. You’d come too far to back down now.

“Good,” Hermes said, cracking his knuckles. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

Hermes cracked his knuckles again, this time with a bit more intent, his eyes gleaming with something a little more serious than his usual carefree attitude. "Alright, let's see what we can cook up here," he muttered, almost to himself. You and Liam exchanged nervous glances as Hermes began to move his hands through the air in intricate patterns, fingers twisting and wiggling like he was weaving some invisible thread.

"Now, let’s see what we’ve got to work with," Hermes said, staring at you, though his eyes seemed to be focused on something far beyond the bathroom mirror. "I’m gonna need to borrow some... behavioral blueprints, let’s call them. Gotta make you pass, not just in looks but in how you act." He waggled his fingers, and his expression grew more focused. "Sorority girls... they’ve got their own kind of energy, you know?"

Suddenly, Hermes closed his eyes, focusing. "Alright," he began, "I’m picking up on some traits."

His voice softened, almost like he was narrating a process that only he could see. "Let’s start with one girl. Ah, here we go. Classic. She’s got that perfect balance of sweet and flirty—knows just when to laugh at the guys’ dumb jokes, but always keeps them wanting more. Charisma. Confidence. A social butterfly."

Hermes grinned to himself, clearly amused by what he was pulling in. He flicked his fingers, as if capturing that essence and setting it aside like a delicate thread.

"Next one... Oh, this one’s a bit of a firecracker." Hermes’s grin widened. "She’s sassy as hell. And sexy, damn. Can shut down any guy who tries to get too close, but knows how to keep the girls around her laughing. She’s got an edge, but she’s loyal to her crew. Keeps things interesting, keeps them fun."

He made another twisting motion, pulling in more of that essence.

"Now, I need some... hmm, softer energy," Hermes murmured, eyes still closed. "Ah, yes, the nurturer type. She’s the girl that always makes sure everyone’s okay, never lets a friend walk home alone. Sweet as sugar but knows how to hold her own when needed. The type who makes everyone feel safe, but has no problem standing up when things go sideways."

He wove that into the growing thread he was pulling together.

“And of course... we can’t forget the crème of the crop,” Hermes added, as if just now recalling something important. “There’s always that one who knows how to command a room. Confident, knows what she wants, and she gets it. The type who doesn’t have to ask twice.”

You watched, mesmerized and slightly horrified by how effortlessly Hermes was weaving these traits together, like a patchwork of personalities, pulling from the very essence of sorority life.

With a flourish, he spun the invisible web of traits in his hands, and you swore you saw a faint shimmer in the air, like the glint of sunlight off water. Hermes wiggled his fingers one last time and snapped them together with a sharp crack.

"Alright, sweetheart," Hermes said, his voice taking on that teasing tone again. "Time to test out your new outlook. This should help you slide right in."

You felt a strange tingling in your chest, like a faint pressure building behind your eyes. For a moment, you thought maybe it was nothing. But then it started to spread—through your shoulders, down your arms, even into your legs. The sensation was almost like pins and needles, not painful but unsettling, like your body was waking up in a way you didn’t expect.

Your vision blurred for a moment. Then, suddenly, everything snapped into focus. The tingling vanished, replaced by something far more unsettling: a shift in your thoughts.

It happened in an instant. One second, you were standing there, trying to brace yourself for what was coming. The next, your mind seemed to rearrange itself—like your thoughts had been... reframed.

You blinked at yourself in the mirror, your face still made up with the makeup you’d painstakingly applied. But now, you looked at it with a different sort of satisfaction. Instead of thinking how ridiculous it was, a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. You had to admit... you looked pretty damn good.

No, really good.

You tilted your head slightly, examining your reflection. The dress was flattering, hugging your body in all the right places. And the makeup? Not bad at all. In fact, you felt a small rush of pride knowing you’d done it yourself.

Liam stepped into the doorway again, watching cautiously. “Hey, how are you—?”

You cut him off without even thinking. “Babe, if I have to listen to another guy who doesn’t know his way around Sephora try to explain lipstick to me, I’m seriously going to lose it.”

Liam blinked, taken aback. “Uh... what?”

You sighed dramatically, rolling your eyes and planting your hands on your hips. “Look, we’ve got, what? Half an hour before we’re meeting Ashley? I’m gonna need to touch up this hair because I’m not leaving the house with flat waves.” Your voice had taken on a sharper, more confident tone. The hesitation, the reluctance—it was all gone.

Liam stared at you, his mouth slightly open. “Holy... dude. Is that really you?”

You shot him a look that could melt ice. “Do I look like a dude to you right now, Liam?”

He raised his hands in defense, clearly unsure how to navigate this new version of you. “No, definitely not. You look... wow.”

“Damn right I do.” You tossed your hair over your shoulder, your confidence rising by the second. There was something strange, almost exhilarating about it. You weren’t just playing a role anymore—you felt like you belonged in it.

Liam let out a low whistle. “Hermes, you really did something here.”

As if on cue, Hermes’ voice echoed from the mirror. "Told you. Trickery, disguise, it’s what I do." He flashed his usual grin. “Looks like it’s working just fine. Though, like I said, this one’s temporary—should last long enough for tonight, but don’t get too comfy.”

You gave a little twirl, enjoying the feeling of the dress as it moved. “Yeah, yeah. Temporary, whatever. But for tonight?” You gave Liam a wink. “I’m gonna own this.”

Liam blinked again. “Okay, Luna, let’s go get ‘em.”

As you checked your reflection one last time, you had to admit—Hermes’ magic may have shifted your behavior, but something about this felt... right.

For now.