Ziva and I decide to skip going out with the rest of the sorority and stay in together because I promised her something way more fun than cheap drinks and sweaty frat boys. I pull out a mysterious little perfume bottle I bought from a witch at a flea market, the kind of thing you know you shouldn’t trust but curiosity wins every time. She told me that if two people smell it, they’ll grow exactly into whatever their romantic interest desires most. The idea is stupid and thrilling all at once, so we take a deep sniff and inhale the scent together. It burns through our lungs like sparks and immediately something happens — our chests ache, our crotches throb, and suddenly our breasts and pussies start swelling, growing, expanding larger and larger under our clothes until we’re gasping and grabbing at each other for support. It hits us both at the same time: we must have a crush on the same guy, and he must like girls with huge breasts and thick, plush pussies. We stare at each other, shock
