When the class ended, Mike fought his way through the crowd of beautiful girls. He hoped that if he got away from all of the people he'd just transformed into Michelle Pinkerton he'd be able to clear his mind and change things back to normal. That plan was short lived once he exited the lecture hall.
The hallway was jammed with a sea of blonde, stacked sorority girls as far as Mike could see. They were all wearing identical miniskirts, tank-tops, and sandals. Mike fought his way through the throng, eliciting girlish gasps and shrieks whenever he brushed up against one of the lithe bodies. Once he was out of the building, the scene outside was more of the same.
It wasn't just the lecture hall, or the building, but it seemed like everyone on campus had become Michelle Pinkerton. Some were clustered together gossiping about God-knows-what, others were mindlessly texting on identically bedazzled pink iPhones, or touching up lip gloss. There wasn't a single male to be seen, or anybody who was the slightest bit different, except for Mike himself. A few of the Michelles shot him dirty glances, as though he didn't belong. Mike did his best to ignore the growing weirdness and tried to get back to his dorm.
Minutes later, he threw open the door to his dorm room, then froze. He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but he really shouldn't have been surprised. Instead of his roommate Brian, or even a lingerie model, yet another Michelle Pinkerton sat on the couch watching some terrible reality show.
She looked up at Mike and smiled.
"Hi Mike," she said. Mike said nothing, just stared.
"Say, can I borrow your..." she paused for a moment, then giggled. "Sorry, I was going to ask to borrow your mascara, but I forgot you're not a... Well, I'll just ask Michelle when she gets back."
Mike continued to stare, trying to think of how to fix this, all the while beginning to notice a growing tension in his groin.
