“Chinese girls just can’t master English. Most of you just flutter your lashes and play dumb until some white knight rescues you.” Vance lounged back with that infuriating smirk. His gaze slid toward his classmate, Xia, who was hunched over her advanced linguistics essay, teeth worrying her lower lip as she wrestled with syntax. The jab hit deep. Her fingers clenched around her pen, nails biting into her palm. That condescending tone, the way he reduced her struggle to some racial stereotype, made her blood boil.

Xia had endured enough. That evening, she rummaged through her great-aunt’s antique trunk, pushing aside embroidered qipaos until her fingers brushed against a slender tome bound in cracked crimson leather. The pages whispered as she turned them, stopping at a spell inked in precise, looping characters. A reckoning. The next morning, Vance swaggered into lecture hall like nothing was amiss. Then he opened his mouth. His polished accent fractured, his words stumbling. Heat prickled under his skin, his body reshaping itself. Broad shoulders sloped into delicate curves. His sharp jaw softened. His once-pale skin warmed to a golden hue. His hair darkened to jet-black silk, cascading down his back in waves. By the time he staggered into a bathroom stall to check the mirror, the change was complete. A Chinese student gaped from the mirror: her doe eyes wide and her plush lips trembling.

The curse burned in his… her mind, its terms seared into her mind. You are Lihua now. Ace the next English proficiency exam, or remain like this forever.

But concentration was impossible. Every time Lihua tried to focus on verb conjugations, her traitorous body betrayed her. The textbook pages blurred as her nipples stiffened against her silk blouse. She’d read the same sentence ten times, only to find herself fantasizing about the football team’s captain,  that broad-shouldered Chad who’d once been her drinking buddy. Now she imagined his rough hands tearing her cheongsam open, his thick cock stretching her tight little cunt as he fucked her against the library shelves.

The spa became her refuge. She spent afternoons there, letting aestheticians pamper her. They smoothed her skin with jade rollers, painted her nails pearlescent pink, waxed her bare pussy. “So exquisite,” they murmured. Lihua melted under the praise. She splurged on dresses that showed off her new curves, loving how men’s eyes followed her every move. Guys who’d once fist-bumped Vance now looked at her as a delicate plaything.

Lihua should have been memorizing vocabulary. Instead, she was bent over the football team’s bench, skirt hiked up around her waist as the captain pounded into her from behind. “Fuck, you take it so well,” he grunted, fingers digging into her hips. She moaned, pushing back against him, her cunt fluttering around his thick cock. This was all she could think about: being used, being filled, treated like nothing but a sweet, stupid object for their pleasure.

Her professor scolded her for missed assignments. Lihua just giggled, tilting her head. “So sorry, I study more next time!” she chirped in that breathy, broken English they all found so adorable. The boys loved how helpless she sounded, how eagerly she dropped to her knees whenever they crooked a finger.

The exam was tomorrow. Lihua stared at her untouched notes, tears pricking her eyes. She wished she’d never made those cruel comments about Chinese girls. Wished even more desperately that they hadn’t been true, at least for herself. But every time she tried to focus, her body burned with need, her mind clouding over until all she could think about was cock. The curse didn’t just change her body. It had exposed the hungry, desperate slut she’d always been underneath.