Sam slouched in the chair of the university common room, barely paying attention to the game in progress. His eyes kept wandering to Amira and Fadila, resplendent in their hijabs and abayas. With a sneer, he whispered to the guy beside him, “Dude, how can they breathe under all that crap? I bet they reek under those clothes!”

The girls glared at him but held their tongues, all too accustomed to his ignorant antics. They exchanged a knowing look, and Fadila’s lips curled into a mischievous grin. Amira nodded in agreement, her plan already forming. She slipped away briefly and returned with a can of Mountain Dew, forcing a smile as she handed it to Sam. “Here, you look thirsty!” she said sweetly. Sam grunted in response, grabbing the drink and chugging it like the belching frat boy he was.

Twenty minutes later, his eyelids grew heavy, the room spinning around him. “Yo, I think I partied too hardy last night,” he slurred. “Gonna crash on the couch for a bit…” As he lost consciousness, he missed the sinister smiles plastered across Amira and Fadila’s faces. When Sam finally came to, his skull felt stuffed with cotton balls. He went to rub his temples, only to freeze when his fingers brushed silk instead of skin. “The fuck?!” Blinking rapidly, he took stock of himself: baggy black abaya, lacy pink underscarf, tits straining against… wait TITS!? Sam lurched to his feet, swaying on dainty sandaled feet as he clutched at his newly nubile body. “What the shitting shitstain of shit is going on?!” he screeched, voice much higher than usual.

Amira and Fadila loomed over him, wicked glee dancing in their eyes. “Rise and shine, Samira!” Amira chirped. “Ready for your first day as a good little Muslimah?” Fadila just smirked, holding up a small glass vial. “Amazing what a little enchanted water can do, isn’t it?”

Sam felt his mouth grow dry as the realization of what happened crashed over him. These bitches had… hijabified him! Emasculated him and stuffed him in a cocoon of oppressive modesty! “You CUNTS!” he roared, voice cracking on the expletive. “You turn me back right fucking now or I swear to God-” His words cut off in a gurgle, his tongue seizing up within a suddenly uncooperative mouth. He couldn’t bring himself to say more rude words. In fact, he was finding it harder to even think such words.

Amira wagged a finger in admonishment. “Diirty mouths get washed out with soap! Although… I suppose we could be merciful.” She dangled the flask of crystal clear liquid in front of Sam’s panicked eyes. “One sip of this, and it’s back to normal!”

Sam snatched the flask and upended it over his lips, gulping like a man dying of thirst in the desert. Seconds ticked by, then minutes, with no change in his hijab-clad appearance. In fact, he it felt more like the curse was rooting ever deeper into his body. “It’s… it’s not working,” he whimpered.

“Oopsie!” Fadila giggled. “Did we mix up our potions!? Silly us!” She leaned in close, hot breath tickling Sam’s ear through his silken prison. “This is your life now, harami. No more mocking our faith, no more disrespecting our sisters. You WILL learn modesty, purity and submission to Allah! You no longer have a choice…”

Sam collapsed onto the carpet, folding in on himself as the totality of his defeat became clear. He was trapped in this soft, delicate form, doomed to spend his days draped in veil. Tears started to grow around his exotic new eyes. “Please… please just let me go back,” he begged. “I’ll do anything…”

But Amira just knelt down and cupped his soft chin, eyes glittering with malicious glee. “Oh sweetie, who said anything about going back?That antidote you just chugged is actually just gonna make this little immodesty intervention permanent!”

“But don’t worry!” Fadila chimed in. “With that second potion, these new habits will become part of you in no time. We’ll make a modest Muslimah of you yet!”

“No… Please…” Sam pleaded, the tears streaming down his face. But even as he cried and begged, he felt the changes solidifying within his mind.