The Art required a certain level of intellect to be practiced. Those found wanting were either whipped into shape or stripped of their powers and introduced to simpler, happier lives that they would never tire of. But as great as perfection might have been, it was impossible to achieve. And so it was that Cameron, by some strange twist of fate, fell prey to what should have otherwise been an innocuous prank.

The Arch-Coven of the Northern Reach, which claimed dominion over all the lands that lay north of the Golden Ley that straddled the North American continent, passing from New York, through Chicago, and to Portland before shooting out to sea to join the Cascadia Nexus, was made up of hundreds of magical families. Each one had a long and colorful history. Each one sent their children to the numerous institutions of higher learning that dotted their territory.

Cameron, as it so happened, was not one of the fortunate children of the Coven. His next-door neighbor, on the other hand, was. Unfortunately for him, this was enough to doom him to a fate that he might not have necessarily desired.

Cameron had come to university on the back of a full ride scholarship, recognition of his academic excellence, a vindication of all the hard work that he’d put in through high school. He looked forward to the next four years of higher learning, eager to find his place in his chosen field: epidemiology.

One day, however, Cameron came home to find a pair of panties sitting on top of his immaculately made bed. Funny, he thought to himself. Most of the guys on the floor probably knew, by now, that he was gay. He figured it was a harmless prank and went to get rid of the panties.

Cameron was right that it was just a prank. What he was wrong about was its harmlessness. Sure, it would have been harmless for a warlock, who would have known at first glance what the panties were, and would have known how to dispel the hex that had been laid upon them. But for a human who was utterly ignorant of the Art, suffice to say, simply laying hands on the panties would be life-changing.

As soon as his fingers touched the delicate fabric of the frilly pink panties, Cameron felt a jolt in his head, like something had been shifted out of place. Not really thinking about what he was doing, he stripped off his clothes and stepped into the panties, letting out a quiet little moan as his package settled into the tight pouch in front.

Cameron nearly went cross-eyed at the sudden pulse of pleasure that surged through his body. He fell over the bed, bent over into a compromising position, the panties hugging every curve of his tight little bottom. But almost as soon as the strangeness had started, it went away, and Cameron returned to himself.

Well, Cameron returned to himself, mostly. Something was left behind in that moment, something that had leaked out of him and into the silk of the panties. Little tidbits of information, knowledge that he had earned through a lifetime of learning, had dribbled out of him, absorbed into the panties to feed the insidious hex.

Furthermore, from thereon, Cameron became unaware that he was wearing the panties. He manipulated them to take care of certain bodily functions, but he did so automatically. Without thinking. And every now and again, the panties would shoot pleasure through him, making him leak even more. And each time would come faster than the last until Cameron could barely walk for five minutes without feeling the pleasure.

At first, Cameron barely noticed sensations other than the rush of rapture through his body. But as the episodes got more frequent and more intense, he realized that he felt something entering him. Slipping into his hole. Touching something inside of himself that he’d never really had a chance to explore.

Knowledge leaked out of Cameron until there was practically nothing left in his head. But at the same time, his ass grew, getting bigger, plumper, bubblier in proportion to the intelligence that drained out of him. His pants barely fit him now, and though he never noticed, they did nothing to hide the fact that he had taken to wearing panties.

More than the increasing dullness of Cameron’s mind, the constant distraction of the pleasure, of being fucked, caused Cameron’s grades to plummet. But he found he didn’t care nearly as much as he used to. If anything, he didn’t care at all. He felt so happy. So bubbly. So foggy. It just didn’t seem right to be doing so much thinking when he could just surrender to the pleasure of the thing constantly fucking him.

As the weeks passed, Cameron’s body continued to change. His hips flared out to match his bigger ass, giving him quite a striking, effete figure that drew the eyes of many. His face became smoother, more boyish, more androgynous. His limps became plump, his shoulders narrowed, and along with his more slender, shorter frame, his cock shrank away to little more than a nub.

Cameron’s taste in clothing changed, too. The first time he was fully took the panties off was to try on a pretty pink thong that he thought would look fantastic with his new booty shorts and crop top.

The physical changes were dramatic, to say nothing of the behavioral ones. Once shy and somewhat of a loner, Cameron, or Cam as he liked to go by, openly flirted with men without care for their availability. It earned him a lot of dirty glares that he mostly just ignored. He didn’t take anyone home, at least not yet.

Cam got a dildo soon after. A nice thick purple one. He loved bouncing his big butt on it, loved looking over his shoulder to watch his bubbly cheeks ripple with every roll of his hips. Often he rode the dildo while wearing his favorite pair of pink panties, which had, unfortunately, developed a hole. Fortunately, the hole was in a very convenient place: right between Cam’s ass cheeks, right where his hole was.

Cam lost himself in the pleasure so often that he started coming later and later to classes until he stopped going at all. He was not long for the academic world after that. But it wasn’t until the order for expulsion came down from the administration that the warlocks, the one who had initiated the prank, and the one who should have been the target, figured out who had received the cursed pair of panties.

But Cam had had them for so long, the hex having worked on his mind, drained every last dreg of sensible knowledge from it to be replaced with nothing but thoughts of sex and sluttiness, that the warlocks knew there was no reversing the spell. Not that they seemed to feel particularly guilty as they spit-roasted Cam that night.

They suffered their punishment at the hands of their Rectors, but were allowed to keep Cam. Cam had no choice in the matter, of course. As far as the Coven was concerned, he had become property.

Cam didn’t mind. Cam couldn’t mind. He didn’t know better anymore, and was just happy to have cocks to suck on, cocks to ride, and cocks belonging to people who loved to tell him how pretty he looked in pink.