Sitting alone at a table in the crowded cafeteria, Bryce picked at his lunch as he covertly kept an eye on his new target. In his back pocket, his phone vibrated, alerting him to yet another incoming text. His friends were looking for him, probably wondering why he wasn’t waiting at their usual table in the commons. It had been a week since they had taken their revenge on Finn, and while they all had plenty of ideas, they had yet to agree on who should next receive the magical justice coming to them. Bryce knew who he wanted—it kept him awake at night, jerking off as he planned out exactly what he was going to do—he just didn’t know how to break the news to his friends.

“There you are!” Oliver said, dropping down onto the seat beside Bryce.

Miguel sat across the table, curling his lip as he glanced around the institution-gray room. “What are you doing in here, amigo?” he asked in his sexy Spanish accent. “It’s gorgeous outside.”

“Are you avoiding us?” Oliver asked with a laugh, flipping his purple hair back out of his eyes. When Bryce didn’t answer, his smile faded. “You are! It is because of the history project?” That was their code for talking about the spell book Bryce had found in his grandfather’s attic.

“Look, I know I said we’d decide together, but this is just something I have to do,” Bryce said, glancing past Miguel to make sure his target was still eating lunch with her friends.

“Who?” Miguel asked, starting to turn in his seat.

“Don’t look,” Bryce hissed. “It’s Alice.”

Miguel raised his eyebrows. “Your ex-girlfriend who ruined Junior year for you? The bitch who outed you to the world on social media? Hell yeah, count me in.”

“Man, you should have just told us,” Oliver said. “You know we’ve got your back. She’s totally got it coming. So, when do we strike?”

Bryce poked at his lunch. “Yeah...that’s the thing...The, uh...history project that I want to do is kind of...a solo mission.”

“What?” Oliver said, looking crestfallen.

Miguel leaned across the table. “Is this because we saw each other’s dicks? You’re not feeling weird about that, are you?”

“No, of course not,” Bryce said. He’d watched the videos of what they did to Finn more than a few times. “It’s just, this spe- history project is the perfect mix of karmic retribution and ironic justice, but it only works with one person. I’m sorry.”

Oliver and Miguel exchanged glances.

“So...could we do solo history projects, too?”

“I mean, it would only be fair,” Miguel added.

Bryce tensed. Alice was getting up from her table. “Uh, yeah, sure,” he said, watching her wipe her mouth on a napkin, her lipstick leaving a rosy pink smear on the thin paper. Perfect. “Wait here,” he said, grabbing his half-eaten lunch and weaving through the crowded cafeteria, following her to the garbage cans. She dropped her trash into one and turned, almost bumping into him.

“Oh! I’m sor-” she started to say, but stopped when she realized it was him. Her warm, expressive brown eyes narrowed. “What do you want, pervert?” She said it loud enough that her gang of girlfriends turned to look at Bryce. His cutting comeback died on his lips, his courage withering under their intense, judgmental stares.

“Just throwing my trash away,” he muttered, stepping around her to get to the cans. His face hot and pulse racing, he listened to them walk away, laughing and making cruel remarks. Bitches.

He looked down into the half-full trash bin, for a moment seeing nothing except bits of pizza and hamburgers and french fries. He began to panic. People would notice if he stood there too long. Where was it?

A smear of pink caught his eye and he reached in, snatching up the crumpled napkin. Dropping the remains of his lunch, he hurried back to his friends, falling onto his seat with a sigh of relief.

“Did you get it?” Miguel asked.

Bryce showed them the used napkin, then folded it up and carefully tucked it away in his pocket.

“So, I know you said this was a solo project,” Oliver said, “but you can still tell us what you have planned, right?”

Bryce grinned and the three of them leaned close.

~*~*~*~

Lying in bed, waiting for his parents to fall asleep, was the most intensely boring hour of Bryce’s life. He passed the time by renewing his fury toward Alice, reminding himself of the depth of her betrayal.

They had been going out for more than a year, which was about eight months longer than any of his previous relationships. He had his license, so they went to movies and out to dinner, and sometimes they just parked near the woods and made out, but they hadn’t yet gone all the way. He wasn’t sure how to bring it up without seeming pushy, but that night—their last date, as it would happen to be—she asked him if he had protection.

He did, and he asked if she was sure. She said she was. He asked if she had ever done it before. He still remembered the way she blushed as she shook her head. Then she asked him the same.

“You should have told her no,” he whispered into the darkness of his bedroom.

Instead of a safe lie, he had given her a truth about himself that he had never shared with anyone. He trusted her with the most secret part of himself, a part he was still trying to understand and accept. He confessed that he’d been with a girl before. And a guy. Not at the same time, of course. He might be attracted to both men and women, but he promised to be faithful only to her.

He could tell she was in shock. He offered to drive her home and she agreed that would be best. Before they reached her driveway, he knew it was over. Being rejected hurt, but deep down, he wasn’t surprised. If only that had been the end of it.

The next day at school, he was nervous about seeing her in class. Would she say anything? As it turned out, she said plenty, but not at school. Walking through the halls, it felt like everyone was staring at him, snickers and whispers flying behind his back. It was Oliver who finally showed him the video she had made, telling the entire world how her boyfriend turned out to be a sexual deviant who would fuck anything, guys and girls, and probably farm animals if he could catch them.

Bryce had wanted to die. If it wasn’t for his friends, who never wavered from his side for a moment, who knows what he might have done.

Finally, it was after midnight, the house silent. Bryce got out of bed and turned on his desk lamp, opening his spell book and taking the crumpled napkin out of his pocket. Using a marker and a feather-light touch to keep from ripping the fragile paper, he copied down the complex spell equation, sweat beading his brow as he concentrated. He wasn’t sure what would happen if he copied something wrong, but the book insinuated that it would be bad, and not just in the oops, it didn’t work sort of way.

He finished and double-checked the incomprehensible string of symbols, then opened his desk drawer and pulled out his pocket knife. He wished his friends were there, but it seemed cruel to exclude them from the spell, and then ask them to babysit his body while his soul was busy elsewhere. He felt pretty safe in his room, but there was always the remote possibility of his parents checking on him and finding him unresponsive. He could just imagine how that would freak them out.

Bryce considered waiting, but he knew he was worried about nothing. And he had let Alice get away with what she had done for far too long. His voice low, he read the quantum incantation, as Oliver had begun calling it, feeling the subatomic world begin to resonate around him, a low-level hum that pressed against his ear drums, making them itch. As he reached the final syllables, he pressed the point of his knife into the pad of his thumb, a large, dark bead of blood welling up. Bryce squeezed his thumb, holding his breath as the drop of blood fell upon the napkin, a bright red stain spreading across the thin paper.

His lamp flickered and he stood, the room spinning around him. Taking a staggering step, he fell heavily upon his bed, the room going dark.

Bryce’s eyes snapped open, the world unfocused, but even blurry, he could tell he wasn’t in his room anymore. He blinked, his vision slowly clearing, and sat up, looking around at the stuffed animals at the foot of the bed, the flowered comforter spread over him, the posters of kpop bands on the walls. He reached down to push the comforter aside and froze, the hand before him slender and delicate, the nails painted glittery pink. He wiggled his fingers, watching that feminine hand respond.

“Holy shit, I did it,” he whispered, the hushed voice softer, higher than his own. He climbed out of bed and rushed over to the closet door, standing before the floor-length mirror, his heart racing. No, not his heart, her heart. He stared out of Alice’s brown eyes, reaching up to run his fingers back through her shoulder-length blonde hair. He touched the thin straps of her silky nightgown, shifting his weight to feel the material slide against her skin. This was amazing.

Bryce pulled the front of the nightgown down, exposing Alice’s bare breasts, her nipples peaking in the chill air, and he smirked as he cupped one firm mound, kneading the solid flesh.

What the fuck is going on?

Bryce jumped and whirled around, her hair falling across his eyes. He pushed it out of his face and scanned the room, but it was dark, quiet, and empty.

I must be dreaming. It had a hollow, distant quality, but Bryce could still recognize Alice’s voice, echoing like an errant thought in his head. Am I sleepwalking? I’ve never sleepwalked before.

The book hadn’t said anything about her being aware while he was doing this. He briefly considered aborting his mission and just lying back down until the spell wore off, but she didn’t seem aware of him, and she didn’t seem to be able to stop him. She was just a spectator, along for the ride. He smirked again and headed for the kitchen.

This is so weird, Alice said as he walked down the hall. He had only been in her house a few times, but he remembered the layout pretty well. He stepped into the kitchen, the stone tile floor cold against her bare feet, and opened the fridge. Oh, God, am I sleep-eating? Is this why I gained five pounds this month?

Stifling a chuckle, Bryce searched the shelves and drawers, pulling out a foot-long sausage over an inch in diameter and an ear of fresh corn that was almost two inches at its widest point.

Eww, put that back, Alice said. If you have to eat something, grab a yogurt, you fatass.

Bryce headed back to her room, absently wondering if she always talked to herself like that. Low self-esteem might explain a lot. Of course, it didn’t excuse anything. He closed her door and locked it, then sat down at her laptop. She had once told him that her password was the name of her first dog, so he confidently typed ‘buttercup’ into the entry field and got to work setting up her webcam to record.

Now what am I doing? she asked. Is this going to be one of those food-porn videos of me eating gross stuff?

He was tempted to tell her that she was getting warmer, but he kept his mouth shut. He was looking forward to the moment when she figured it out for herself and he didn’t want to spoil it. Once the webcam was up and recording, he looked straight at it and began to speak. It was surreal hearing his words in her voice, but he didn’t let that distract him from what he wanted to say.

“Hello, my name is Alice Newman and I am a Senior at Riverbend High School,” he said.

What am I doing? Stop that! Alice said as Bryce proceeded to dox her, stating her birth date and home address. He wanted to give out her social security number, but he didn’t know it and he didn’t feel like looking for her card. That wasn’t really the point of this, just an added benefit.

“About a year ago, I posted a video about my ex-boyfriend, saying terrible things about him because I was confused and jealous.”

No, I wasn’t. What the hell is this?

“I was wrong to say those things, because I really hurt someone that I cared about, and this video is my penance. I know I can’t take back the things I said, but I hope this proves how sorry I truly am.”

But I’m not sorry! That perv got what he deserved!

Any second thoughts or doubts Bryce might have had evaporated like rain in the desert. He slid the chair back from the camera, waiting for the auto-focus to catch up, and then he eased the strap of her nightie down off one shoulder.

“The truth is,” Bryce said as he did the same to the other strap, “my boyfriend wasn’t the pervert. I am. I’m a naughty girl who likes showing off her tits.”

Don’t you fucking dare! Alice screamed. Bryce just smiled at the camera and slid the silky nightgown down over her creamy breasts, her dark nipples hard. He teased the pebbled flesh, a soft moan escaping her lips. Wake up, wake up! Wake the fuck up! She sounded absolutely panicked.

“Do you like my titties?” Bryce asked the camera. “I know they’re a little small, but the boys never seem to mind.” He slowly stood up, letting the nightgown slink down her body and fall to the floor, revealing her pink cotton panties, the crotch already dark with moisture. “Oh, dear, I’m such a bad girl. I’ve gone and made my panties all damp.”

Bryce was really getting into it, her skin hot, her heart racing as he slid her hand down the front of her underwear, feeling her tight, wet curls, the slick, swollen flesh of her pussy lips. He slipped a finger into her wet heat and rubbed against her clit, the sensation making her knees wobble.

He pulled his hand free, holding his slick, shiny finger out for the camera, then he slowly brought it up to his lips, giving the camera a wicked smile before licking up her juices.

“If anyone wants a taste, I’ll spread any time,” Bryce said, shoving her panties down. “Oops, looks like I’m not a natural blonde!” He played with her dark, neatly trimmed bush for a minute, then sank back down into the chair. He adjusted the camera to point down at her lap, and then he leaned back in the chair and put her feet up on her desk, her legs spread wide. The camera had great resolution, her pink flesh glistening as her clit swelled.

Inside his head, Alice made wounded-animal noises, utterly humiliated. But Bryce wasn’t finished yet. He picked up the sausage that he’d found in the fridge and reached down between her legs, trailing the rounded tip down her slick crease.

Don’t, please, Alice begged. I’m a virgin!

Bryce looked into the camera. “I tell people that I’m a virgin, but I’m really a dirty whore who loves to have her pussy stuffed. I’ll fuck anything, as long as it fits.” He pressed the sausage between her lips, finding her hole and forcing it in. He felt her hymen tear, a slight flash of pain and a lingering discomfort as her tight tunnel stretched around the solid length of meat. He imagined this wasn’t very sanitary, but honestly, he didn’t care.

“Oh, that feels so good,” he moaned in her voice, one hand kneading her breast as the other thrust the sausage into her hot box again and again, as deep as it would go. He felt the pleasure building within her, a slow simmering that made him ache for more. He wanted it harder, faster...and bigger.

Bryce pulled out the sausage and set it aside, her pussy clenching in anticipation as he picked up the ear of corn, already husked and washed. He slid it along her slit, the bumpy kernels rubbing against her clit and making him pant and moan.

“Oh, yeah,” he gasped, placing the tapered tip against her opening. “I like ‘em big and hard. Oh, fuck yes!” He cried out in pleasure as he pushed on the ear of corn, sliding it into her. It was so tight, he had to twist it from side to side, coating the surface of the corn with her hot, slick juices as he worked it deep. “Oh, fuck, I’m gonna cum!” he exclaimed, her muscles clenching as waves of orgasm shuddered through her, leaving Bryce breathless and light-headed.

No more, Alice sobbed, pleading.

Bryce reached over and picked up the sausage again, still warm and slick.

“This naughty girl is never satisfied by just one,” he said. Holding the corn in place with one hand, he reached between her legs, leaning further back as he pressed the tip of the sausage against her puckered asshole. “Oh, yeah, fuck me in the ass! I like it in my ass!”

He pushed the sausage into her, deeper and deeper, until only a few inches of that foot-long wiener protruded from her asshole. Feet still braced against the edge of the desk, he began to fuck her pussy hard with the ear of corn, the wet, sucking sounds loud enough to be picked up by the microphone and echoed through the laptop speakers. He let go of the sausage with her other hand and dug her fingers into her wet mound, rubbing hard against her clit.

“Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, I’m cumming!” he cried, her muscles tensing as the throbbing pleasure neared a crescendo. “I’m cumming!” He pounded her quivering pussy until he thought she was going to pass out, the sausage sliding out of her gaping asshole as her body bucked and shuddered. Finally, trembling and exhausted, he had to call it quits. His time owning her body was almost up, and he still had work to do.

Bryce shut off the recording and loaded up her editing software, snipping the video here and there, replaying her orgasms in slow-motion, zooming in as the ear of corn made its first deep penetration, and adding a quick intro.

“Perfect,” he murmured, opening a browser window and logging into her video-sharing account. This video went against all of the site’s rules and would be flagged and reported, it would be taken down and her account suspended, but not before plenty of people had a chance to download it and spread it around to other, less scrupulous sites. Like they tried to warn kids these days, anything put online stays there forever.

Please, don’t do this, Alice said in the back of his head. Wake up before you ruin my life.

“My dear Alice, haven’t you realized by now, ruining your life is the whole point,” he said, not caring if she realized what was happening. Once the spell faded, she wouldn’t remember. “Why should anyone give a shit about your feelings when you have no regard for the feelings of others? You brought this on yourself.”

Oh, my God, I’m talking to myself! Do I have multiple personalities? Is that what this is?

Bryce rolled his eyes and hit upload, watching the little bar fill until it read 100%. He clicked on her stats page and watched the hit counter. It stayed at 0 for all of thirty seconds, and within a minute, it was into the thousands.

“And there we are,” Bryce said, leaning back in her chair with a sigh. “Now the whole world knows what a dirty little slut you are. How does it feel, Alice?” He could hear her sobbing in the back of his mind. He could also feel his hold on her slipping. His time was up. In one last, vindictive act, he picked up the ear of corn from where it had fallen, the kernels glistening as her juices ran down the cob, and he shoved it into her mouth, tasting her tangy flavor as the spell faded.

Bryce jerked wake, his heart pounding and his hard cock tenting the front of his pajamas. He stared up at his ceiling, his room lit by his desk lamp. Had that actually happened, or was he just dreaming? He grabbed his phone off the corner of his desk and searched for Alice’s username. Sure enough, her newest video began to play, and his hard-on strained to escape the confines of his pants. He fished it out and jerked off, cumming not once, but twice before the video finished playing.

Panting, he cleaned up and turned out the light.

~*~*~*~

Monday morning, Bryce waited at Miguel’s locker, practically dancing with excitement. He hadn’t dared send them a link to the video—passing around pornography would get him expelled, or maybe even arrested, so he couldn’t wait to tell him and Oliver about the success of his history project.

Apparently, they felt the same way. The first words out of Oliver’s mouth were, “So, how did it go?” In hushed tones, he began telling them all about the spell, but his story was interrupted by a cacophony of wolf whistles and catcalls. They looked down the hall as Alice hurried past a group of guys making lewd noises and rude gestures, her face beet red and streaked with tears.

“Ohh, perfecto, mi amigo,” Miguel said, dully impressed. “So, when do I get a turn with the book?”

“Excuse me?” Bryce said, arching an eyebrow.

“He’s right,” Oliver chimed in. “You said we could do solo projects. But I’m pretty sure you said I could go next.”

“He did not—”

“Guys, not now,” Bryce said. The principal had emerged from the front office, his large, imposing frame towering over the students. Rumor was that he used to play football, that he was going to go pro, and then an injury ended that. He did walk with a slight limp, so it could have been true.

“Miss Newman,” the principal called down the hall, his deep voice seeming to rattle Bryce to the bone. She looked up, her red face going white as a sheet. “My office. Now.”

“Boy, is she gonna get it,” Oliver said under his breath.

“She already did,” Miguel said with a snicker. “Bryce gave it to her good.”

They watched as Alice slunk past them. For a moment, she glanced up and Bryce met her eyes. He smirked and she looked away. One more history project in the books. Now, how to decide who got to go next?