The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The office was eerily quiet, save for the hum of fluorescent lights and the faint tapping of Emily Tanaka’s fingers on her keyboard. The glow of her monitor reflected off her tired eyes as she finished typing the last line of her report. A sigh escaped her lips—a mix of relief and frustration. It was done. The final assignment in her current role, tied off and ready for submission. Tomorrow, she’d be starting fresh… in what was essentially a demotion.

Emily leaned back in her chair, running a hand through her dark, slightly graying hair. At 45, she still looked good, but she felt every year of her age. Her reflection in the office window caught her eye: a sharp, professional woman in a silk blouse and tailored trousers, but her eyes betrayed the exhaustion of years spent swimming against the current.

She reached for her desk’s lone decoration—a cheap tiki statue she’d picked up as a teenager, its cartoonish grin a silent rebellion against the sterile monotony of corporate life. Turning it over in her hands, she allowed herself a moment to wallow.

Tomorrow, she’d report to a new department headed by a 25-year-old wunderkind named Sabrina Tran—a woman infamous for her razor-sharp tongue, ruthless efficiency, and a team of sycophants who lived in terror of her. Sabrina had all the makings of a “queen bee”: brilliant, beautiful, and utterly merciless. She was everything Emily couldn’t stand, and the thought of answering to someone young enough to be her daughter was a bitter pill to swallow.

Forty-five years old, Emily thought grimly, and I’ve been reduced to playing second fiddle to a little tyrant with a manicure. She set the tiki statue back down with a little more force than necessary.

She needed a distraction. Anything to keep her from spiraling further. Clicking open a streaming app, she began scrolling through movies, hoping to find something mindless. That’s when her eyes landed on a familiar title: “My Dumb Sapphic Summer.”

She blinked, momentarily startled by the vivid thumbnail. Three young women posed on a sun-drenched lawn, their bikinis leaving little to the imagination. The title was scrawled in neon pink, and the tagline read: “Girls just wanna have fun... and maybe a little bit more!”

Emily’s lips twitched in a wry smile. She remembered watching this as a teenager—back when she’d sneaked it into the VHS player while her parents were out. At the time, it had seemed like nothing more than a silly comedy about pretty girls frolicking on a beach. She hadn’t understood the lingering touches, the coy glances, or why the characters were always kissing each other. Back then, Emily hadn’t even known gay people existed.

As an adult, she was amazed the movie had been made at all. It was barely a step above softcore porn. The realization that she’d been so oblivious as a teen made her laugh out loud, though the sound was hollow in the empty office. She certainly hadn’t known what Sapphic meant, and maybe the MPA hadn’t known either? The movie got away with soooo much because of innuendo and subtext. It was a fond memory though.

Why not? she thought, clicking play.

Bunny Takahashi’s dorm room at Sakura Hill University was a riot of pastel chaos. Neon bikinis, crop tops, and brightly colored high-waisted shorts covered her bed, spilling onto the floor in a display of summer anticipation. The room was filled with the scent of floral shampoo and suntan lotion, mingling with the tinny melody of an upbeat synth-pop song playing from a cassette player on her desk.

Bunny sat cross-legged on her bed, a glittery gold bikini in her hands, her glossy black hair tumbling over her shoulders as she folded the piece with care. She wore a baby-pink tank top and white bike shorts that hugged her curves, her bright, cheerful smile as much a part of the room as the décor itself.

Across from her, Dani Morales leaned against the desk, arms crossed, her dark eyes watching Bunny with a mix of amusement and disbelief. Dani was Bunny’s polar opposite—her sharp jawline and cropped curls gave her a confident edge, her loose tank top and ripped denim shorts projecting effortless cool.

“So,” Dani drawled, her lips curving into a slow smirk, “let me get this straight. You’ve packed, what? Twenty bikinis?”

Bunny looked up, confused. “Not twenty,” she said with a giggle. “Maybe fifteen.” She held up a leopard-print number. “This one’s for the bonfires!”

Dani shook her head, laughing softly. “Bonfires. Sure. And what about this one?” She grabbed a skimpy neon-pink bikini from the pile, holding it up between two fingers like it might bite her. “What’s the story here?”

Bunny’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that’s for volleyball! It’s perfect for showing off my tan.”

“Uh-huh,” Dani said, raising an eyebrow as she tossed the bikini back onto the pile. “You know we’re going to an all-female beach, right? Just like this is an all-female university?”

Bunny blinked, tilting her head in confusion. “Yeah, so?”

Dani snorted, crossing her arms again. “So, you’re basically a walking daydream for half the girls at this school, and now you’re going to parade around in that?”

Bunny’s face lit up with a clueless smile. “Oh, I just like looking pretty! Besides, everyone likes bikinis, right?”

Dani rolled her eyes, biting back a laugh. “Sure, Bunny. That’s exactly why they’ll be staring at you.”

“What do you mean?” Bunny asked, her brows furrowing slightly as she folded another bikini.

Dani grinned, her tone teasing. “Never mind. I’m just saying, you’re gonna be the star of the beach whether you realize it or not.”

Bunny giggled, brushing off the comment as she reached for her phone, its bright yellow rotary cord already tangled. “You’re so silly, Dani,” she said, dialing quickly. “I’m calling Aunt Emiko to tell her about my plans. She’ll be so jealous.”

In downtown Los Angeles, Emiko Takahashi sat in her sleek corner office, the floor-to-ceiling windows framing a breathtaking view of the city’s neon skyline. Her office was all sharp lines and chrome, every detail screaming power and precision.

Emiko herself was a vision of 80s corporate chic: her asymmetrical bob perfectly styled, her crimson blazer cinched at the waist with a wide belt, and her pencil skirt hugging her hips like it had been tailored just for her. Her glossy red lips curved into a faint smirk as she leaned back in her chair, toying with the small wooden tiki idol on her desk.

The idol was a strange little thing, carved with intricate patterns and a wide, toothy grin that bordered on eerie. Its hollow eyes seemed to follow Emiko’s every movement as she ran her fingers over the smooth, slightly worn surface.

The phone on her desk buzzed, and Emiko sighed, glancing at the caller ID before picking up.

“Bunny,” she said, her voice smooth and low. “What is it this time? Did you run out of sunscreen?”

“Auntie Emiko!” Bunny chirped, her tone so bright it practically sparkled. “I’m packing for the beach. You’ll never guess how many bikinis I’ve got!”

Emiko rolled her eyes, adjusting her aviator glasses as she leaned back in her chair. “Why do I feel like this is going to make me feel worse about my day?”

“Because you’re stuck in that boring office,” Bunny replied, giggling. “You should be jealous! I’m heading to an all-girls beach with nothing but fun and sunshine ahead of me.”

Emiko snorted softly. “All-girls, huh? Sounds… lively.”

“It’s going to be amazing!” Bunny gushed. “No deadlines, no meetings—just freedom. You could really use a break, Auntie.”

Emiko’s lips thinned. “Some of us have actual responsibilities, Bunny. Not all of us can flit around the world collecting tans and bikinis.”

“And some of us know how to enjoy life,” Bunny shot back, her voice sharpening. “When’s the last time you even had fun, Auntie? Or are you too busy bowing to that new boss of yours?”

Emiko’s fingers tightened around the tiki idol. “My boss happens to be one of the youngest, most demanding executives in the company,” she said icily. “She’s not exactly easy to impress.”

Bunny huffed, flipping her hair over one shoulder. “Maybe if you weren’t such a workaholic, you wouldn’t have to worry about impressing her.”

“And maybe if you weren’t so naïve, you’d realize life isn’t all sunshine and bikinis,” Emiko snapped.

The line went quiet, the tension crackling like static between them.

“I wish I could trade places with you,” Bunny muttered under her breath, her fingers brushing the small tiki idol on her nightstand.

Emiko’s gaze darkened as she stared at her own idol, its grinning face seeming to mock her. “And I wish I could trade places with you,” she murmured, the words heavy with bitterness.

Neither of them noticed the faint hum that filled the air, or the way their idols seemed to grow warm under their touch.

“Goodbye, Bunny,” Emiko said curtly, slamming the phone down.

“Goodbye, Auntie,” Bunny retorted, her voice clipped as she hung up the receiver.

They both sat in silence, their hands still resting on the grinning tiki idols, their unspoken wishes lingering in the air like a storm about to break.

Emily Tanaka pushed paused on the film. The screen showed Bunny, a bubbly, carefree college student, holding a small wooden tiki idol in her brightly lit dorm room. Across the city, her aunt Emiko sat in her sleek, high-powered office, gripping an identical idol as she snapped at Bunny over the phone.

The frozen frame highlighted the tiki idols in both characters’ hands.

Her gaze wandered to her own desk, where a small, well-worn wooden idol sat tucked in the corner. She reached for it, her fingers brushing over the smooth, carved surface. Her brow furrowed as she lifted it to inspect it more closely.

It was identical to the ones in the movie.

She turned it over in her hands, tracing the intricate grooves and ridges of its exaggerated grin, its hollow eyes, its tiny carved teeth. The wood felt warm, familiar, as though it held a faint echo of her own childhood.

The memory rose unbidden.

She had been five years old, wandering through a bustling outdoor market with her mother. The air had been filled with the scent of fried snacks and spices, the sounds of vendors calling out their wares in overlapping voices. One stall in particular had captured her attention: a tiny, tucked-away table run by an old Asian man who seemed to blend into the background, as though he were part of the market itself.

The table had been covered with wonders—brightly colored trinkets, tiny statues, carved masks that seemed alive in the way they stared back at her. But it was the tiki idol that had caught her eye. It was small, intricate, and strange, its hollow eyes looking at her with an intensity she didn’t understand but couldn’t resist.

“How much?” she’d asked, clutching the coins her mother had given her for candy.

The man had smiled, his face lined like old parchment. “One fifty,” he’d said in a voice that was soft yet oddly compelling.

She’d handed over the coins and skipped away, clutching the idol in her tiny hands. When her mother had noticed it a few minutes later and asked where she’d gotten it, Emily had turned around to show her the stall—only to find it gone.

She’d stared, wide-eyed, at the empty space where it had been. It was as if the stall had vanished into thin air.

Her mother had brushed it off as childish imagination, but Emily had kept the idol ever since, moving it from bedroom to dorm room to office. It had become a quiet constant in her life, a memento of a moment when the world had seemed full of magic and possibilities.

Now, for the first time, she realized the idol wasn’t unique. It was the same as the one in the movie.

Her stomach churned as her eyes flicked back to the screen, where Emiko sat in her polished office, her lips pressed into a thin line as she gripped her idol. Emiko’s tension, her bitterness, her unspoken envy of Bunny’s carefree life—it all felt far too familiar.

Emily stared at the frozen frame, her chest tightening. Her life had become Emiko’s: long hours, endless stress, and a sense of futility she couldn’t shake.

She glanced back at the idol in her hands, its grin almost mocking her.

“I bought you because I thought you were magic,” she muttered bitterly. “And now you’re just a reminder of how much fun I never got to have.”

For a moment, she considered throwing it in the trash. But then she started staring at the idols on the screen. She turned her own idol over in her hands. The grooves of its wide, toothy grin felt strangely familiar, almost alive under her fingers. Her gaze shifted to the paused image of Emiko, her sharp features and cold expression eerily mirroring her own reflection.

“God,” Emily muttered, running a hand over her face. “I’ve turned into a bitter old … ish lady.”

The thought made her stomach twist. She glanced back at Bunny, frozen mid-laugh on her pink bed, holding the same idol as if it were a toy. Bunny’s life was all sunshine and freedom, parties and possibility. And here Emily was—stuck in a job she didn’t want, answering to a boss half her age, drowning in paperwork and regrets.

The air in Emily Tanaka’s office grew heavy, shimmering as though the space itself had drawn a deep, electric breath. Her fingers gripped the tiki idol tighter, the faint hum of the air conditioning warped into a deep, resonant vibration, and the lights overhead flickered violently.

She unpaused the movie.

On the screen, Bunny Takahashi giggled in her pink, pastel-drenched dorm room, holding her own tiki idol as she teased her aunt Emiko. Emily had unpaused the movie just as Bunny shouted her wish, the vibrant synth-heavy score swelling in the background:

“I wish I could trade places with you!”

At the exact same moment her fingers gripped the idol tighter and tighter. “I wish I could trade places with Bunny,” she said bitterly, her voice low. “She has no idea how lucky she is.”

The synchronization was perfect, the echoes of their mutual desires colliding like thunderclaps in the unseen fabric of existence.

The air split open.

Neon streaks of light erupted from the corners of the office, crackling like lightning as they spiraled into a vortex around Emily. Her desk, her chair, her very sense of reality dissolved into a swirling kaleidoscope of 1980s excess—hot pinks, glittering blues, and electric yellows.

The tiki idol in her hand grew searingly hot, and she gasped as her body was pulled from the chair, weightless, spinning in the whirlwind. Every nerve in her body was alive, tingling as a strange warmth spread from her core outward. Her tailored blouse and slacks dissolved into shimmering particles, replaced by a flood of soft, silky sensations against her skin.

Her hands trembled as they brushed over her transformed body. Her hips swayed with newfound fullness, her waist narrowing into a perfect hourglass. Her once-practical legs lengthened, toned and impossibly smooth, her skin glowing with a youthful vibrancy she hadn’t seen in decades. Her hair, once tied in a severe bun, spilled in cascading waves of jet-black silk down her back, framing her softening features.

Across the swirling expanse of light and sound, Bunny Takahashi screamed as a similar transformation overtook her.

The pastel hues of her dorm room shifted, growing darker, colder, as the light of her world dimmed. Her silky black hair pulled itself into a tight, efficient bun, and the soft curves of her youthful figure were replaced by the sleek, tailored edges of Emily’s world. Bunny’s golden tan faded, her skin taking on the pale, muted tone of someone trapped under fluorescent lights for far too long.

The two women’s forms twisted, stretched, and blurred, their bodies crossing the impossible distance between their worlds.

For a brief, breathtaking moment, they were face to face.

Emily and Bunny floated in the swirling vortex, their gazes locking as the neon chaos swirled around them. Emily’s sharp, dark eyes met Bunny’s wide, almond-shaped ones, each filled with confusion and wonder. Their fingertips brushed as they passed each other, the contact sending jolts of electric heat racing through their bodies.

Bunny’s lips parted, a soft gasp escaping as she felt the commanding weight of Emily’s presence radiating from her new body. Emily, in turn, shivered at the effervescent warmth of Bunny’s carefree essence washing over her.

The vortex spun faster, the light intensifying as their realities pulled them fully into their new worlds.

With a final, blinding flash, Emily landed in a heap on a soft, pink bedspread.

She gasped, her chest rising and falling as her hands instinctively roamed over her new body. Her fingers brushed against the silky fabric of a glittering bikini top, the curves of her chest fuller than they’d been in years. Her legs sprawled across the pastel bedding, long and smooth, her thighs brushing together with a strange, sensual awareness.

Her surroundings came into focus: Bunny’s dorm room, a riot of neon posters, pastel walls, and cheerful chaos. The scent of fruity lip gloss and freshly washed linens filled the air, mingling with the faint hum of a synth-pop song playing from a cassette deck.

“This can’t be real,” Emily whispered, her voice high and breathy. She clapped a hand over her mouth in shock, her glossy pink lips and soft, manicured nails catching her attention.

She stumbled to her feet, her balance shifting as she adjusted to the unfamiliar sway of her hips and the tantalizing friction of the silky bikini bottom against her skin. Her reflection in the mirror caught her eye, and her breath hitched.

Bunny stared back at her—or at least, Bunny’s body did. Long, silky black hair framed a youthful, radiant face with wide, almond-shaped eyes that sparkled with life.

“This is…” Emily’s heart raced as she ran her hands down her sides, the strange, soft curves unfamiliar yet undeniably her own now.

Meanwhile, in the dim sterility of Emily’s former office, Bunny blinked as she landed hard in Emily’s chair.

The stark, gray-toned walls were a shocking contrast to the bright, bubbly dorm she’d just left. The hum of the air conditioning and the faint scent of stale coffee hit her senses like a slap.

She glanced down at herself, gasping as she took in the sharp lines of a tailored blazer and the tight pencil skirt that clung to her longer, leaner frame. Her hands, once soft and youthful, now bore the faint lines of maturity, her nails perfectly manicured but practical.

Her gaze shot to the reflective surface of the darkened computer monitor. A sharp, stunning face stared back at her—Emily’s face. Her jet-black hair was pulled into a severe bun, her crimson lips parted in shock.

“I…” Bunny’s voice came out low, smooth, and commanding. She touched her throat, her eyes wide with disbelief. “This isn’t—”

Her sentence trailed off as her surroundings fully registered. The stark emptiness of the office, the papers scattered across the desk, the weight of responsibility in the air.

“This definitely isn’t my room,” she muttered, her lips curving into a nervous smile.

Emily stumbled into the center of Bunny’s dorm room, the pastel chaos swirling around her like a whirlwind of neon and glitter. Her breathing was shallow, her heart hammering as her eyes darted from one over-the-top detail to the next. Posters of bikini-clad women with exaggerated smiles covered the walls, their gazes seeming to mock her. A pink rotary phone sat atop a cluttered desk, its cord coiled over notebooks scrawled with hearts, doodles, and crude jokes.

The air smelled like fruity lip gloss, coconut sunscreen, and a faint trace of spilled margarita. She clutched the tiki idol in her hands, its edges digging into her palms, grounding her in a reality that felt anything but real.

She caught her reflection in a full-length mirror and froze. The woman staring back at her wasn’t her—at least, not anymore.

Her once-practical suit was gone, replaced by a glittery pink bikini that hugged a body she hadn’t seen in decades. Her hips flared out in smooth, golden curves, and her legs—long, toned, and impossibly perfect—gleamed under the soft light of the room. Her chest, fuller and perkier, rose and fell with each panicked breath.

“No,” she whispered, her voice high and airy, nothing like her usual sharp tone. She clapped a hand over her mouth, startled by the softness of her glossy lips.

Before she could process any of it, a knock came at the door, sharp and insistent.

“Bunny!” a commanding voice barked. “What are you doing in there? Mona said to hustle!”

Emily’s pulse spiked as the door swung open. A tall woman with a leather crop top and a no-nonsense scowl stormed in, her sharp gaze immediately locking onto Emily.

Mona Straplick. Emily recognized her instantly, her mind flashing back to the movie she’d half-watched all those years ago. Mona was the bossy one, the president who ran the sorority like a general commanding an army. And her last name was considered the height of comedy 40 years ago.

“Seriously, Bunny? Daydreaming again?” Mona snapped, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I… I’m coming,” Emily stammered, her voice trembling.

Mona raised an eyebrow. “You okay? You look like you’ve never worn a bikini before.”

Emily forced a nervous smile, gripping the tiki idol tighter. “Just… thinking about something.”

“Well, think faster. Vanna’s already setting up the meeting, and you know how she gets when people are late.”

Emily barely had a moment to catch her breath before a tide of women surged toward her. Hands grabbed at her arms and waist, and before she knew it, she was swept into the fray.

“Wait! I—” Emily’s protests were drowned out by laughter as she was pulled into the common room.

The scene before her was pure bedlam. A long plastic Slip ’N Slide stretched across the floor, glistening with soap suds and water. At the far end, a grinning brunette with a devilish air held a garden hose, spraying a constant stream of water over the slippery surface.

Emily’s stomach sank as she recognized her. Frankie Tonguekiss. The loud, unapologetically wild kegmaster.

Frankie raised the hose in greeting, her grin widening. “Ready to show us how it’s done, Bunny?”

“I—uh—no, actually, I have a personal thing—” Emily stammered, backing away.

Too late.

Before Emily could finish her sentence, a girl in a neon-green bikini appeared behind her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. The girl’s skin glistened with coconut oil, and her playful grin hinted at trouble.

“Bunny, you have to go first,” the girl said, her tone both coaxing and firm. Emily’s memory dredged up a name: Ollie Slickfingers. The sunscreen enthusiast.

“I don’t think—” Emily tried again, but Ollie wasn’t listening.

“Don’t be shy!” Ollie said, giving her a nudge toward the slippery plastic.

Emily’s bare feet hit the soapy surface, and she yelped as she lost her footing. A burst of laughter erupted from the crowd as she slid uncontrollably down the length of the Slip ’N Slide, spinning and tumbling before landing in a heap at the other end.

Frankie offered her a hand, her dark eyes glittering with amusement. “Not bad, Bunny. Still got it.”

Emily groaned, her cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and frustration.

Before Emily could recover, the neon-green bikini girl—Ollie—was back, draping herself over Emily like a second skin. “You’ve got to teach me that spin move!”

“I—I don’t think it was intentional,” Emily stammered, trying to untangle herself.

Nearby, another figure emerged from the crowd: a muscular brunette with a volleyball tucked under her arm. Her athletic frame and confident stride screamed authority. Roxie Scissorgrind. The pledgemaster.

“What’s this about Bunny skipping out on Bikini Beach?” Roxie asked, her sharp eyes locking onto Emily.

“She claims she has a personal thing,” Vanna interjected, her tone dripping with mockery.

Roxie snorted, tossing the volleyball at Emily. “Catch!”

Emily’s reflexes, apparently not her own, kicked in. She caught the ball with surprising grace—only to stumble backward into the door of an adjacent room. The door swung open, and Emily tumbled inside, the volleyball rolling across the floor.

The room was dimly lit, the chaos of the hallway muffled by the closed door. Emily landed awkwardly on something warm and soft.

“Oh!” a surprised voice exclaimed.

Emily looked up to find herself nose-to-nose with a wide-eyed, bespectacled girl clutching a stack of papers. Her face was flushed, and her messy ponytail framed her adorably nerdy features.

Sammy Softpaws. The shy, clumsy one.

“Bunny!” Sammy stammered, scrambling to gather the papers that had spilled everywhere. “I—I didn’t see you there!”

Emily groaned, pushing herself up as Sammy babbled apologies.

“I was just finishing the budget for Izzy—oh no, I lost the tally sheet! I—” Sammy’s voice trailed off as she glanced at Emily’s glittery bikini. Her cheeks turned bright pink.

“You look… nice,” Sammy mumbled, quickly averting her gaze.

Emily sighed, rubbing her temples. This can’t be real.

The sound of footsteps outside snapped her attention back to the present.

“Bunny!” Roxie’s voice called. “Get your butt out here! We’ve got a volleyball match to win!”

Sammy gave her a small, hesitant smile. “Good luck out there. You’re always the best at these things.”

Emily forced a weak smile as she headed for the door, her heart pounding.

This is going to be a long day.

Emily’s wide eyes darted between the kaleidoscope of bodies swirling around her. She had just stumbled into this world—the world of the Kuni Ling Gus Sorority, a world with all the subtly and tact that name implied — and already it was overwhelming, chaotic, and far, far too intimate.

Her hands had landed on soft, bare skin, the warmth of smooth thighs beneath her fingertips. She swallowed hard, her gaze reluctantly lifting to meet the amused smirk of a brunette lounging topless on a beanbag chair. The girl’s long, toned limbs sprawled languidly, her bikini top lazily draped over one arm. Her dark eyes sparkled with intrigue, and her hand casually rested on Emily’s waist as though to steady her.

“Well, hello there, Bunny,” she purred, her voice a slow, teasing drawl that made Emily’s cheeks burn.

Emily scrambled to push herself away, but her legs tangled in the straps of the discarded bikini top. She flailed, her face landing dangerously close to the girl’s bare chest, her breath catching as she felt the heat radiating off her skin.

“Sorry! I—I didn’t mean to—” Emily stammered, mortification dripping from every syllable.

The brunette laughed softly, brushing a strand of Emily’s hair away from her flushed face. “No need to apologize, Bunny. I don’t mind the attention.”

“Bunny!” a sharp voice barked from the hallway.

Emily jolted upright, disentangling herself from the straps with as much dignity as she could muster. She barely managed to stammer out another apology before stumbling toward the door, clutching the tiki idol against her chest like a shield.

As she stepped into the hallway, she nearly collided with a tall blonde in a bold red bikini that left very little to the imagination.

“Bunny, Bunny, Bunny,” the blonde chided, her voice dripping with mock disappointment. Her blue eyes scanned Emily from head to toe, and her lips curved into a knowing smile. “Looks like you’ve been having fun without us.”

Emily groaned, her cheeks still burning as she tried to sidestep the blonde. “I just need a moment to—”

“Not a chance,” the blonde cut her off, tossing an arm around Emily’s shoulders. “You’re not escaping that easily. Bikini Beach waits for no one, especially not you, Bunny.”

Before Emily could reply, another figure materialized from the crowd—taller, stronger, her toned physique gleaming in the dim hallway light. Roxie Scissorgrind, all muscles and confidence, held a volleyball under her arm as she approached.

“Skipping out on Bikini Beach?” Roxie asked, her voice edged with playful authority. Her piercing gaze swept over Emily as she leaned in closer. “Not on my watch.”

“I—uh—” Emily stammered, clutching the tiki idol tighter.

“Ladies!” Another voice cut through the chaos, and Emily turned to see Vanna Muffdiver leaning casually against the wall, her hips cocked and her smirk infuriatingly smug. Her bikini—bright orange with metallic accents—seemed designed to catch the light, and her dark eyes danced with mischief.

“No bailing allowed,” Roxie said firmly. “Not happening. We need you there, Bunny. The crowd lives for you.”

Emily tried to back away, but Riley Longplay blocked her escape. The punky girl’s black bikini showed off her lean, toned frame, and her damp blue hair clung to her pale shoulders. Riley smirked, her dark eyes flicking up and down Emily’s body.

“Let her squirm,” Riley drawled, her voice low and husky. “She loves it.”

Emily’s head spun as more of the girls joined in, circling her with teasing grins and soft touches. Every step she took seemed to press her closer to someone’s skin—warm hands brushing her waist, fingers grazing her arms, lips whispering against her ear.

“Bus is here!” Harper Milker shouted from the doorway, her voice cutting through the laughter.

Emily barely registered the words before she was swept along, pulled toward the gaudily painted party bus waiting outside. Music blared, and the bassline thudded in her chest as the girls pulled her up the steps, their laughter echoing around her.

“Relax, Bunny,” Dani whispered, her lips brushing against Emily’s ear as the bus doors closed behind them. “You’re going to have the time of your life.”

The moment Emily was deposited onto a seat near the middle of the bus, she clutched the tiki idol tightly against her chest, her eyes darting around the surreal chaos of her surroundings. The bus doors hissed shut, and the engine roared to life as the girls erupted into cheers.

“Bunny’s on board!” Tasha Toesucker shouted from the front, tossing her honey-blonde curls over her shoulder. Her coral bikini glittered in the sunlight as she raised her hands to rile up the crowd.

The girls clapped and hollered, their voices blending with the pounding synth-pop blasting from the speakers. Emily stiffened, her breath shallow as Dani slid into the seat beside her, her bare thigh pressing warmly against Emily’s.

“Guess you’re stuck with us now,” Dani murmured, her lips curling into a teasing grin.

Emily swallowed hard, trying to focus on the tiki idol in her hands as the bus rumbled down the highway. But the pulsing music, the laughter, and the sensation of Dani’s thigh against hers made it nearly impossible to think.

“Alright, ladies!” Dani suddenly called out, rising from her seat and grabbing the overhead rail for balance. Her dark curls framed her face as she scanned the crowd with mischievous delight. “You know what time it is.”

The girls cheered louder, bouncing in their seats and throwing their arms around one another.

“No way,” Emily murmured under her breath, shrinking further into her seat.

“Tasha!” Dani called, pointing at the blonde at the front of the bus. “Rules refresher! Bunny needs a reminder.”

“Oh, come on, Bunny knows the rules!” Tasha said with a laugh, standing up and spinning on the spot. “She practically invented half of them!”

“Humor me,” Dani said, her grin widening as she glanced down at Emily.

Tasha rolled her eyes, but her grin was wicked. “Alright, alright. Listen up, ladies!” she called, clapping her hands to get the girls’ attention. “Tickle fight refresher, coming at you.”

Emily blinked, her stomach tightening as Tasha began her explanation, walking dramatically up and down the aisle like a referee at some risqué tournament.

“Rule number one,” Tasha said, holding up a finger. “Tickle time is determined by your rank in the sorority. Higher rank? Longer tickle window.”

“You know what that means, Bunny!” Dani chimed, her voice teasing. “Tickle Queen gets the longest turn.”

Emily shook her head quickly. “No, no, I don’t—”

“Rule number two!” Tasha interrupted, cutting off Emily’s protests. “Call ‘safe,’ and you’re out of the round—but you get a penalty. And it’s always something silly.”

“Or something humiliating,” added Priya Liplock from a few seats away, her melodic voice laced with laughter.

“Like this?” Harper Quinn called from the back, lounging lazily in her seat as she twirled her finger in the air. Her sleek black swimsuit left very little to the imagination, and her platinum hair gleamed under the sunlight streaming through the windows. “Priya had to wear her bikini top on her head last time.”

“And she rocked it!” Tasha said, grinning.

Priya groaned, covering her face with her hands, but her laugh betrayed her amusement.

“Rule number three,” Tasha continued, spinning back toward the group. “Double-teaming is allowed, but if you do, you lose your immunity. That means anyone can tickle you back. Got it?”

The girls nodded and cheered, clearly already prepared for battle.

“And finally…” Tasha paused for dramatic effect. “Rule number four: no roughhousing. This is about playful fun. You’re finding someone’s weak spots, not wrestling them into submission.”

Emily’s stomach churned as the girls erupted into cheers, clapping and jostling in their seats. She tried to sink lower, willing herself to disappear, but Dani’s hand suddenly rested on her shoulder, warm and firm.

“Ready, Bunny?” Dani asked, her grin wicked.

“I—I don’t think—” Emily began, but before she could finish, Riley Longplay leapt from her seat.

Riley’s blue hair flashed in the sunlight as she pounced on Priya, her fingers darting toward Priya’s sides. The bus filled with Priya’s shrieks and laughter as she twisted and squirmed, her soft brown skin flushing as Riley grinned triumphantly.

“Safe, safe!” Priya gasped, throwing up her hands.

“Penalty!” Harper called, raising an arm from her relaxed position in the back. “Top off for two minutes.”

Priya groaned but complied, pulling the flimsy bikini top over her head and tossing it to Riley. “You’re next, Morgan,” she threatened, her laughter still bubbling.

“Bring it,” Riley said, smirking as she tossed the top into the seat beside her.

The game spread like wildfire, laughter and teasing filling the bus as the girls launched into ticklish chaos. Frankie was next, her glasses slipping down her nose as Tasha attacked the backs of her knees. Frankie’s giggles turned into snorts, and she tried to push Tasha away, but the blonde was relentless.

“Safe!” Frankie squeaked, her voice breaking.

Emily watched helplessly as the madness unfolded around her.

Before she could escape, Dani’s dark eyes locked onto her, and a slow grin spread across her face. “Your turn, Bunny,” she said, her tone teasing.

“No, no, I—” Emily stammered, clutching the tiki idol tighter.

“Don’t even try,” Dani said, leaning in close. “You’re not getting out of this.”

Her fingers darted to Emily’s side, slipping beneath the edge of her bikini top to graze the sensitive skin there. Emily gasped, her body jerking at the unexpected sensation.

“Wow,” Dani murmured, her voice low and teasing. “You’re extra sensitive today, Bunny.”

“She’s always extra … well extra-extra,” Tasha added, sliding into the seat on Emily’s other side. Her coral-painted nails skated lightly over Emily’s exposed stomach, drawing soft, breathless giggles that Emily couldn’t suppress.

Emily squirmed, her cheeks flushed as the girls’ hands moved with maddening precision, their teasing relentless. She tried to form words, but her breath hitched as Tasha’s nails found a particularly sensitive spot.

“Something’s weird,” Riley called from a few seats away, watching with narrowed eyes. “Bunny’s not all jiggly and giggly like usual.”

“When did you become shy?” Dani said, her fingers dancing over Emily’s ribs.

Emily shook her head, her voice catching as she tried to protest. “I—I just—”

“Where’s our Tickle Queen?” Priya whispered, leaning over the back of the seat to brush her lips near Emily’s ear.

Emily’s heart raced, her body overwhelmed by laughter, sensation, and the heat of their teasing words. She clutched the tiki idol tighter, her mind spinning.

But the bus rumbled on, the girls’ laughter echoing around her as the surreal, sensual world of Kuni Ling Gus swallowed her whole.

And as the laughter filled the air, Emily couldn’t wonder what was happening in her office with that ice queen Allison Davis.

Allison Davis, the undisputed queen of the office, leaned back in her sleek leather chair, twirling a Montblanc pen between her manicured fingers. Her ice-blue eyes fixed on the nervous woman standing before her—Claire, her second-in-command.

“So, this is really just a formality?” Claire asked, her voice cautious as she adjusted her blazer.

Allison smirked, a sharp, knowing smile that made Claire shift uncomfortably. “Exactly. Emily Tanaka just needs to give us one more refusal to do her job, and we can terminate her contract without severance. The CEO made that very clear.”

“Mr. Pearson sent her to you personally,” Claire reminded her. “He said you’re… what did he call you again?”

“A ball-buster,” Allison said with a laugh, the word rolling off her tongue like a compliment. She leaned forward, her elbows on the desk. “Not that anyone on my team has balls, of course, but the point stands. If anyone can get Tanaka to crack, it’s me.”

“Do you think she’ll just cave and do as she’s told?” Claire asked hesitantly.

Allison’s smirk deepened. “I doubt it. The woman’s been coasting on her seniority for years. She’s used to calling the shots, not taking orders. All I need to do is push her hard enough, humiliate her just a little, and she’ll quit on her own. Simple.”

Claire nodded, but her unease lingered. “What if she surprises you?”

“She won’t,” Allison said confidently.

The quiet hum of the office felt almost alive as Bunny, now trapped in Emily Tanaka’s body, sat at the polished desk. The muted gray walls and harsh fluorescent lights loomed over her, and the eerie stillness made her feel like she’d stepped into an alien world. She glanced down at her hands—Emily’s hands—perfectly manicured, slightly lined, and too steady for how she was feeling.

Bunny ran her fingers over the sleek keyboard in front of her. Each key press emitted a soft, muted click. The computer screen glowed, its sharp clarity mesmerizing. The idea of a computer this thin, with no bulky monitor attached, made her giggle nervously.

“Wow,” she whispered, her voice high and soft. “Emiko’s office stuff is so fancy now. It’s like a sci-fi movie! They must get all their computer’s from Japan!”

She leaned forward, tentatively clicking on an icon labeled “Email.” Her eyes widened as rows of perfectly organized messages appeared, each one addressed to her—well, Emily. The subject lines were baffling: “Q3 Projections,” “Revised Marketing Analysis,” and “AI Integration Updates.”

“What’s AI?” she muttered, squinting at the screen. She hesitated, then clicked on a message, and the text opened instantly. She gasped, covering her mouth.

Instant letters! No typewriter, no mailman, just… magic!

She fumbled with the mouse, managing to close the email before sighing with relief.

Bunny turned her attention to the strange device sitting next to the computer—a sleek, rectangular object with a glowing apple logo. She poked at it cautiously, and the screen lit up with vibrant icons. She yelped, pulling her hand back.

“Okay, Emiko,” she said to herself, taking a deep breath. “You’ve got this. You just… work with magic computers and, uh, portable TVs now. No big deal.”

You decided to try to just ask the portable TV for how to get home. “Computer … take me home,” she said with a nervous grin.

Amazingly it responded and presented her with a super easy to follow map to a self-driving car! Those Japanese can come up with such amazing things! When she got home Bunny wandered through the apartment, marveling at the strange appliances: a refrigerator with a glowing touchscreen, a coffee maker that seemed to work without buttons, and a tiny cylindrical device that lit up when she said “hello.”

“Is everything here a robot?” she whispered, half-expecting the couch to talk back. She was so exhausted from this day that she quickly found her bed and near passed out. In seemingly no time at all her portable tv work her up with a chirping alarm and a text that said, “Time to get up for work.”

Bunny rummaged through Emily’s closet, frowning at the sea of gray and black suits. “No, no, no,” she muttered. “This is all so boring!”

Finally, tucked in the back, she found a pale pink blazer with matching pants and a white silk blouse. Her eyes lit up. “Perfect!”

She paired it with nude heels and a pink hairclip she found in a drawer, pulling a few strands of Emily’s perfectly straight hair into a loose, bubbly half-up style.

When she checked herself in the mirror, she beamed. The outfit wasn’t quite as bright as what she’d wear back at the dorm, but it was cute! She twirled, the silky fabric swishing around her legs.

“Okay, Emiko,” she said, clapping her hands together. “Let’s go wow some people!”

The portable TV easily took her back to the office and when she arrived it was a buzz frantic energy as the monitors flickered and phones rang unanswered. Bunny sat stiffly at the desk, her hands folded neatly in her lap. The air was thick with tension, and her wide eyes darted around the room, taking in the sleek desks, glowing screens, and wireless everything.

She reached out, gingerly pressing a finger to the keyboard. The glowing letters on the monitor danced back at her, and she giggled softly. “It’s like a little light show,” she whispered to herself, unaware that a passing coworker glanced at her with a raised brow.

Suddenly, Allison Davis stormed into the room, her heels clicking sharply on the polished floor. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a sleek bun, and her tailored suit fit her like a glove. She exuded authority, her icy blue eyes cutting through the chaos like a laser.

“The system is down,” Allison announced, her voice low and commanding. “We’re two hours away from losing the PetroTech merger, and no one here knows how to access the original boot drive. If we don’t fix this, the deal is dead.”

The office fell silent, every head turning toward Allison with a mix of fear and helplessness. Bunny blinked, unsure of what was happening but feeling the weight of the moment nonetheless.

“What’s a boot drive?” she asked softly, her voice carrying just enough to make Allison glance her way.

Allison arched a brow, stepping closer. “It’s the original startup system for the company’s network. It’s on a Commodore 64 in the CEO’s office—a museum piece. No one knows how to use it.”

At the mention of “Commodore 64,” Bunny’s face lit up. “Oh! I know those! We used to have one in the sorority! It’s super easy to work if you know the commands.”

Allison paused, her sharp gaze narrowing as she assessed Bunny. “Sorority?”

Bunny’s cheeks flushed as she realized her mistake. “I mean… uh… back when I was in a sorority. Not now. Obviously.” She giggled nervously, fiddling with the hem of her blazer. “I’m, uh… definitely not still in a sorority.”

Allison tilted her head, a slow, amused smirk curling her lips. “Right. Well, Ms. Tanaka, if you can get that system running, you might just save this deal.”

Bunny followed Allison into the CEO’s massive office, her heels clicking awkwardly on the polished floor. The Commodore 64 sat on a pedestal, its beige casing gleaming under a spotlight. Bunny’s eyes widened as she approached it.

She leaned forward, her skirt hiking up slightly as she reached for the power switch. Allison’s eyes flicked downward, lingering for a moment before she quickly composed herself.

“Okay,” Bunny said, typing quickly. The green cursor blinked back at her, and she grinned. “This is just like running party playlists! Let’s see… Load ‘systemboot’... comma eight… comma one… and…” She pressed the return key with a flourish. “Ta-da!”

The machine whirred to life, its screen filling with lines of code. Bunny clapped her hands together, bouncing slightly on her toes. “There we go! Just need to link it back to the mainframe!”

Allison stepped closer, her blue eyes fixed on Bunny’s glowing expression. There was something captivating about the way she moved—so confident yet so clueless, so effortlessly cheerful even under pressure.

“You did it!” a junior employee said, her voice brimming with admiration as she touched Bunny’s arm.

“Oh, it was nothing,” Bunny replied, giggling as she waved her hand dismissively.

By noon the office was quieter as Bunny worked at her desk with a bright smile, her cheerful energy standing out in the otherwise serious space. She admired the sleek furniture and glowing screens, marveling at how advanced “adult offices” were, oblivious to how many eyes lingered on her bubbly demeanor and radiant enthusiasm.

Allison Davis strode in, determined to not let that morning’s surprise derail her plan to get Emily to quit. She leaned in the doorway of her glass-walled office, arms crossed as she watched Bunny with a glint of amusement—and something else—in her icy blue eyes. Allison was dressed in her signature tailored suit, her sharp angles softened by the subtle curve of her smirk as she took in Bunny’s obedient demeanor.

Allison looked up as Bunny stepped into her office. For a split second, the boss paused, her sharp eyes narrowing as she took in the older woman’s radiant, youthful energy.

She’s… smiling? Allison thought, a flicker of curiosity crossing her face before her smirk returned. Interesting. She won’t be smiling for long.

“Ms. Tanaka,” Allison said, her voice smooth and commanding. “Welcome to your new position. Your official title is SUB—Support Utility Bureaucrat.”

Bunny’s smile widened. “Oh, that sounds important!”

“It’s not,” Allison replied flatly, watching closely for a reaction. But Bunny just nodded eagerly, clutching her notepad tighter.

“As my SUB, your primary role is to… assist me directly,” Allison continued, her smirk widening as she leaned back in her chair. “Anything I need, anything I ask, you’ll handle without question.”

“Of course!” Bunny chirped, her bright tone catching Allison off guard.

For a moment, Allison said nothing, her mind racing. She’s too eager. She doesn’t even realize what she’s agreeing to. This will be easier than I thought.

Allison gestured to one of her feet, her elegant stiletto tapping lightly against the floor. “My heel feels loose. Fix it for me.”

“Oh!” Bunny exclaimed, dropping to her knees without a second thought. “Of course, Ms. Davis!”

Allison Davis leaned back in her chair, watching Emily Tanaka with an arched brow and a faint smirk. The woman kneeling before her was supposed to be cold, defiant, a thorn in management’s side. That’s what Allison had been told, anyway. But this Emily now crouched at her feet, polishing her stiletto with an unnervingly bright smile, was a completely different creature.

Her pink blazer, sunny demeanor, and eagerness to comply? None of it made sense. It had to be an act.

“Ms. Tanaka,” Allison began, her tone sharp but probing, “you’re surprisingly… enthusiastic for someone in your position.”

“Oh, thank you, Ms. Davis!” Bunny chirped, her bright eyes looking up as she ran the soft cloth over the leather. “I’m just so excited to help out!”

Allison’s smirk faltered for a split second. “Excited?”

“Yes!” Bunny said cheerfully, her hands never pausing as she polished. “I want to make sure everything’s perfect for you. Your shoes are so beautiful—they deserve to shine!”

Allison blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the sincerity in Bunny’s tone. It’s a trick, she thought, her smirk returning as she leaned forward slightly. “You don’t find this task… beneath you?”

Bunny gasped, her eyes widening. “Oh no, not at all! It’s an honor to help you look your best, Ms. Davis. I mean, Soluxe is such a fancy company! They’ll definitely notice the details.”

Allison tilted her head, studying Bunny’s expression for a hint of sarcasm, for some crack in the façade. But there was none.

“Well,” Allison said slowly, “if you’re going to represent me, you’d better do it right. I expect perfection, Ms. Tanaka. Down to the soles.”

“You’ve got it!” Bunny chirped, turning her attention back to the stiletto.

As Bunny polished, Allison let her gaze linger, watching the older woman’s every move. Bunny’s fingers moved carefully, her touch almost delicate as she worked the leather into a mirror-like shine.

“You missed a spot,” Allison said, her voice edged with authority.

“Oh no!” Bunny exclaimed, leaning closer. “Where? I’ll fix it!”

Allison pointed lazily to the heel. “Right there. It needs more attention.”

“Got it!” Bunny replied, her tone as bright as ever. She bent further forward, her hands moving with renewed care.

Allison smirked, leaning back in her chair. If this is a game, she’s committing to it.

When Bunny set the first shoe aside with a satisfied smile, Allison tilted her head. “Now for the next part.”

Bunny blinked, her enthusiasm undimmed. “What’s next?”

“My feet,” Allison said smoothly, slipping off her second stiletto and resting her bare foot lightly on Bunny’s knee. “Soluxe is in the footcare business, and I can’t have any tension ruining my meeting. You’ll give me a massage.”

“Oh!” Bunny exclaimed, her smile widening. “That makes so much sense! I’ll make sure they’re perfect, Ms. Davis!”

Allison arched a brow as Bunny immediately set to work, her warm hands wrapping gently around Allison’s foot. She pressed her thumbs into the arch, moving in slow, deliberate circles.

“You’re… surprisingly skilled,” Allison murmured, watching Bunny’s focused expression.

“Aw, thank you!” Bunny replied, glancing up briefly. “I used to do this all the time for my friends. It’s so nice to be useful again!”

Allison’s smirk deepened. “Useful. That’s one way to describe it. Now don’t forget the toes,” Allison said smoothly, her voice dipping slightly.

“Oh, right!” Bunny said, shifting her focus. Her fingers moved lightly over each toe, her touch delicate but precise.

Allison tilted her head, her lips curving into a faint smile as Bunny worked. “You’re very thorough, Ms. Tanaka.”

“Well, you said perfection, and I really want to meet your expectations!” Bunny replied, her voice cheerful and guileless.

Allison’s eyes narrowed slightly. She’s either the best actress I’ve ever seen, or she really is this… eager.

When Bunny finished, she set the shoe carefully back in place and looked up, her cheeks slightly flushed from the effort. “All done, Ms. Davis! I hope everything’s perfect for your meeting!”

Allison slipped her foot back into the stiletto, adjusting the fit as her sharp blue eyes fixed on Bunny’s radiant expression. “It’s… acceptable,” she said, her tone edged with curiosity.

“Yay!” Bunny clapped her hands together, beaming. “I’m so glad you’re happy with it!”

Allison leaned back in her chair, her smirk returning. “We’ll see if this enthusiasm lasts. I have high expectations, Ms. Tanaka.”

“Oh, don’t worry!” Bunny said brightly, standing and brushing off her skirt. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make you proud!”

As Bunny skipped out of the office, Allison tilted her head, watching her retreating figure. She tapped her fingers lightly against the desk, her sharp mind racing.

It’s a trick. It has to be. No one is this cheerful. What was Emily Tanaka planning?