As the very well coordinated and tactical Ms. Olive opened the door, her and her new Secretaries were approached by flocks of perfectly 'teacherized' well, Teachers, all looking dazed and preparing lines of worried un-perfected students. It was a sight that brought Olive back to her senses a tad because they didn't look or behave identical, and the pangs of fear revealed themselves in their eyes.
"Ms. Olive, is that you? You look much too strict, too overdone. You need to lay back, be a proper teacher, a casual and well educating one like us." One of the near-identical teachers, with her brown pantyhose, crisp bob hair, heels and blouse said cheerily. Said teacher grabbed a panicking student who cried out for help, but within so few second, he morphed rapidly, and than adjusted her new skirt and bobbed hair, giving the teacher a polite thank you and a desire to be taught.
Olive bit her tongue, her professional empowerment slipping slightly as the her underneath, the less rational parts still capable of fear and insecurities lingered. How would she get past all these teachers, did she have enough Secretaries yet, could she convert them towards her aim before they did it to her?
"Well well well, what do we have here? A little busybody worrywart, I'm guessing?" A voice rang out to her.
She didn't have time to reason any plan out, as a tapping foot behind her signaled her hopes were dashed. Standing behind her, was the teacher that'd converted her own son, with a certain Imp snickering on her shoulder.
