The Awakening of Destiny

Destiny James was the type of girl most people overlooked. Standing at just 5'1, she was soft-spoken, thick in all the right places with a flat stomach and smooth brown skin, but she drowned herself in oversized sweats, hoodies, and glasses too big for her face. She had full lips she never painted, a heart-shaped ass she kept hidden, and thighs that jiggled in ways that made men bite their lip when she walked past--if they ever looked long enough to notice.

But they didn't.

Destiny kept her head down at Crown University, an HBCU tucked deep in the South. She rolled with a group of girls just like her--pretty, smart, and invisible. They were all tucked under their own insecurities and trauma, blending in instead of standing out. They stuck to themselves, didn't really go to parties, and lived at the library like it was church. Nobody knew much about them except they were always together, always quiet, and always watching.

Destiny was a psych major with a minor in pre-law, but the stress of school, family expectations, and being broke as hell had her spiraling. Midterms were around the corner, and all she could think about was how tired she was of being the good girl nobody noticed.

One Saturday afternoon, after missing her third class in a row and crying in the middle of a dollar store, she saw a flyer taped to a crooked pole outside a corner store in the city:

"Free Mindful Meditation: Unlock Your Inner Self. Come As You Are."

The address looked sketchy as hell, but Destiny was tired. Tired of anxiety. Tired of always doing what was "right." She rolled her eyes and whispered to herself, "What the hell... maybe I need this."

**

The building was tucked between a pawn shop and a store that only sold durags and incense. The door creaked when she opened it, and the inside smelled like old wood and mystery. A woman stood at the far end of the room. Her skin was a rich mahogany, her hair a silver cloud, and her eyes... they saw everything. Destiny instantly thought of the witch from Hansel and Gretel.

"You here for the cleansing?" the woman asked, smiling with too many teeth.

Destiny hesitated but nodded.

The room was dim, lit only by candles. She sat cross-legged on a thin cushion as the woman chanted and waved some kind of smoky herb over her head. The smell burned her nose but calmed her nerves. Destiny closed her eyes.

"You are no longer bound," the woman whispered. "Inhibitions are chains... and you're now free."

**

Destiny walked out of that building feeling... different. She didn't notice it at first, but something deep inside had shifted. That night, when she came back to campus, she didn't reach for her hoodie. She wore leggings that hugged her ass and a crop top that showed a sliver of her stomach. It wasn't even cold outside, but the chill gave her nipples the perfect rise beneath her shirt. People looked. Boys looked.

The next day, she sat in the front row of class, leaned back, and smirked at the finest dude in her seminar--Jayceon, a dark-skinned future NFL draft pick with a smile that could melt panties. Destiny, still quiet, leaned over mid-lecture and whispered:

"You ever wonder what I'd sound like moaning your name?"

Jayceon damn near choked on his spit.

Destiny giggled to herself. This wasn't like her. But it felt good.

Soon, Destiny was saying and doing what she wanted. On the outside, she was still the soft-spoken, studious girl in glasses and curls--but at night? She was something else.

She'd spot a man on the yard, compliment his walk, and invite him back to her dorm like it was nothing. And when she closed that door, she turned into somebody entirely different. She'd strip down, climb on top, and ride with a hunger that left them speechless. She didn't cuddle. She didn't stay. She'd fix her bun, throw her glasses back on, and tell them, "You was just tonight's craving."

It wasn't dating. It was... feeding.

Her girls--Tamera, Nia, and Jazz--noticed.

"Girl, what the hell is going on with you?" Tamera asked one night over a late-night Waffle House run. "You done flipped the whole damn script."

Destiny sipped her iced tea and smirked. "I found my peace."

Nia blinked. "Peace? Girl, you out here talking like a sex demon. You just told a whole line brother he had the kind of stroke that'd make a bitch start tithing."

Jazz leaned in, wide-eyed. "Where did this even start?"

Destiny paused, then told them about the building. The woman. The meditation. The shift. Her girls exchanged looks. They didn't believe her. But they were curious.

So the next weekend, they all piled in Jazz's car and drove back to the city. The building looked just as grimy and weird, but something pulled them inside. The same woman stood there, like she was waiting on them.

"Y'all ready to be free?" she asked.

No one answered. They just sat down and closed their eyes.

**

That next week?

Everything changed.

Tamera, once shy and soft-spoken, was seen gripping the campus pastor's dreadlocks while riding him in his parked car behind the chapel.

Nia seduced the campus weed man with nothing but a red lace bra and her mama's peach cobbler recipe.

Jazz, who used to blush at the word "penis," got caught on camera getting her back blown out by the drum major in the studio.

The crew went from the "quiet girls" to legends. Nobody saw it coming. But the men... they noticed now.

And they couldn't handle them.

The girls were bold, bad, and didn't give a damn. They didn't chase. They picked. They didn't beg. They commanded. And their taste? Only the finest--tall, built, big black men with confidence, stamina, and no strings attached.

Campus whispered about them constantly.

"They don't date... they hunt."

They were like superheroes with secret identities. During the day, they still wore their glasses and sipped coffee in study hall. But at night? They hit the streets in heels, beat faces, mini dresses, and condoms in their purses. Destiny was like Clark Kent and Superman. One minute she was tutoring underclassmen in sociology, the next she was throat-deep on the dean's assistant, making him beg for mercy.

The crew had rules though:

No falling in love.

No repeats.

No messy business.

If he ain't swinging heavy, keep it moving.

And Destiny? She was the queen of the crew.

The leader. The one who started it all.

One day, she walked past a group of Alphas on the quad. A tall, caramel brother with tattoos and a beard called out, "Hey shorty, you lookin' edible today."

Destiny turned around slowly, walked right up to him, stared him in the eyes and said, "Meet me behind the journalism building in twenty minutes. And don't come if you ain't packin' ten inches or more."

His jaw dropped.

She winked.

Her friends stood behind her, laughing like a pack of wolves.

**

The transformation was complete.

No one knew what that lady in the city really did. Some called it witchcraft. Others said it was just some hippy voodoo. But Destiny and her girls knew one thing: they were finally free. Free from fear, free from shame, free from hiding.

They had taken control of their bodies, their pleasure, and their narrative.

They weren't hoes. They were goddesses--pleasure-seeking, soul-snatching Black girls who finally understood the power between their thighs and the fire in their spirit.

Destiny still went to class. Still got good grades. But now? She lived on her terms.

No more holding her tongue.

No more shrinking herself.

And no more letting the world decide who she got to be.

Destiny wasn't lost anymore.

She'd been awakened.

And baby... she wasn't ever going back to sleep.