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The world didn't fade so much as it shattered.

One second, Philip was feeling the plush pile of the Sapphire Suite's carpet under Karen's bare feet, the lingering taste of champagne and Simone's kiss on his lips. The next, there was a lurch, a sensation of being sucked through a straw made of static, and he was sprawled on a sticky, beer-smelling floor, his head pounding in time with the bass from a nearby stereo.

He was back in his own body. The realization hit him like a bucket of ice water. He was wearing his own clothes—jeans and a Delta Epsilon t-shirt that smelled of stale sweat. The weight, the height, the familiar ache in his knees from an old football injury—it was all his. And it felt… small. Dull. Like slipping into a cramped, faded costume after a night in royal robes.

A boot nudged his side. “Phil! Dude, get up! We’ve got a situation!”

It was Mike, one of their pledge brothers, his face pale. The commotion Philip had been vaguely aware of solidified into shouts and the sound of a door slamming downstairs.

Jack was beside him, groaning as he pushed himself up onto his elbows. He looked like hell—his own face pale, eyes wide with post-magic whiplash. “What the hell?” he croaked, his own voice sounding strangely high and thin after a night of Sarah’s contralto.

“It’s the girls!” Mike hissed, hauling them both to their feet. “Vanessa and Katy. They’re here. And they look pissed. Like, break-your-kneecaps pissed. They’re demanding to see you two. Right now.”

A cold dread, entirely separate from the magical hangover, washed over Philip. The fantasy was over. Reality, with all its consequences, was pounding on the frat house door. They stumbled downstairs, the other brothers parting for them with a mixture of concern and morbid curiosity.

There, in the grimy foyer of Delta Epsilon, stood Vanessa and Katy. They were a stark, furious contrast to the opulent party-goers of just moments before. Vanessa had her arms crossed, her jaw set, her eyes blazing. Katy looked similarly severe, tapping her foot impatiently on the stained linoleum.

The entire fraternity seemed to be holding its breath. This was it. They were about to be exposed, arrested, expelled—their lives ruined by a magic panty raid.

Vanessa’s steely gaze locked onto Philip. Katy’s found Jack. They took a synchronized step forward.

Then, in perfect unison, they winked.

The ferocious masks melted away, replaced by expressions of sly, knowing amusement. The entire room seemed to gasp.

Vanessa reached into the pocket of her jeans. With a deliberate, theatrical flourish, she pulled out a scrap of delicate, lilac lace. She held it up, letting it dangle from her finger for the whole room to see. It was unmistakably a pair of women’s panties.

“I believe these are yours,” she said, her voice loud and clear. She stepped forward and pressed them into Philip’s stunned, unresisting hand. The silk was still faintly warm.

Before he could process it, Katy did the same, producing a pair of black, satin bikini cut panties and handing them to a gobsmacked Jack. “You forgot something,” she said, a bubble of laughter in her voice.

The frat house was utterly silent, forty brothers frozen in confusion.

Vanessa leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper meant only for Philip and Jack, but carrying in the dead quiet. “Hi, boys. Had a fun night at the gala?” She grinned, a flash of white teeth. “Karen and Sarah send their regards. They said you were… very thorough researchers.”

Katy nodded, linking her arm with Vanessa’s. “Turns out that spell of yours? It’s a two-way street. You didn’t just borrow our bodies for a night. You left a… a piece of yourselves behind. A reflection. They woke up this morning with all your memories from last night, and all of ours. They’re a bit confused, but very intrigued.”

“So,” Vanessa continued, her eyes dancing with mischief. “Consider this an open invitation. The lines of communication are open. If you ever want to… explore further. To really learn what it’s like.” She gestured to the lilac lace now crumpled in Philip’s fist. “Just think of those as a souvenir. And a promise.”

With a final, devastating wink at the room full of gaping frat boys, the two girls turned and sauntered out the front door, leaving behind a silence so profound you could hear the dust settle.

Then the chaos erupted.

“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!”
“DID THEY JUST GIVE YOU THEIR PANTIES?”
“WHO ARE KAREN AND SARAH?!”
“WHAT GALA?!”

Philip and Jack stood in the center of the maelstrom, clutching the silken evidence. The phantom sensations of the night—the slide of satin, the grip of powerful hands, the shattering peaks of alien pleasure—were still echoing in their nervous systems, overlaying the gritty reality of the frat house.

Jack looked down at the black panties in his hand, then over at Philip. The shock in his eyes was slowly being replaced by a dawning, awe-struck comprehension. A grin, the first genuine one since they’d returned, spread across his face.

“An open invitation,” Jack breathed, the words barely audible over the brothers’ demands.

Philip stared at the lilac lace. It wasn’t just a trophy from a heist. It was a key. A key to a door they hadn't even known they’d unlocked. Karen and Sarah were out there, right now, living their lives, but with a part of them inside. And Vanessa and Katy… they knew everything. And they were amused.

The world hadn’t shrunk back to normal. It had just gotten infinitely, terrifyingly, wonderfully bigger. The panty raid was over. The real adventure, it seemed, was just beginning.