Wonderland was more than disorganized; chairs were mismatched, people were closed in far tighter than they should have been, and just about everything else was in some form of disarray. Still, the dimly lit room was packed with people waiting for the next big show, blissfully unaware of the lack of proper management that was present. Between minor bouts of the club's less attractive girls, the speakers muddled their way on.

"Uhh, hi..." The voice was unfamiliar to the repeat patrons. It was also lacking that confidence, apathy, knowingness, and snark that Queen's voice carried. "So, Queen's out right now. Something about calling in a lot of favors, vengeful women, and a need to get out of town for some vacation time. I'm one of those favors, and frankly, he didn't leave too many instructions on how this whole place operates, so I apologize for the mess. He told me to tell all of you that he's got another favor from a 'not old friend– yeah, in quotations– that'll be our main event. So... Uhh... Where's the damn li–" The mike cut off despite a few extra moments spent with the lights on before everything was left in darkness.

"I guess go? Turn the lights, and... Here, here we go. I got this I promise. Queen also said to mention that this one, and I quote, 'manages to be 36, 24, 35 and who knows what else all at the same time.'"

Glynda scowled. Most of her expression was aimed at the poor replacement who knew nothing about maintaining an order, along with the mess he had created in Queen's absence. She hated messes, but she really hated people who couldn't be organized. Another portion of her poor mood was directed towards Queen himself. By no means were they ever friends, or really anything more than casual acquaintances that had known each other years ago due to circumstance. All she remembered was that he was, at least at one point, was a well intentioned person that also happened to hate disorder and clutter, and that he was on a path to a reputable life before dropping everything and starting what was far more than a strip club if the past few headlines were anything to go by. His note about her assumed measurements didn't really help, though Glynda couldn't help but feel the slightest bit flattered. The last of her annoyance was at herself, mostly for her hypocritical choices; as much as her mind told her she shouldn't be there, Glynda Goodwitch was standing behind a red curtain blushing at the fact that someone complimented her body, seconds away from being the main event at a strip club. Her reasons were entirely selfish, but she tried to quiet her thoughts by convincing her mind that this was purely for stress relief.

"You know, I still can't believe that you actually showed up here. I was not expecting my call to go literally anywhere. Funnily enough, I don't even remember why I had your number when you helped with that wall a while back. I know we've never really talked outside of that, but if you're here, then I feel safe in assuming that you're interested in my offer?"

Glynda had hesitantly nodded her head to Queen's question, unsure of herself and clearly out of her comfort zone. It was true that she had come to talk with the intent of something, but she was still trying to decide if that something was what she wanted. She thought of how her students seemed to be a lot more comfortable with their sexuality and their willingness to show off. She had heard about a certain blonde's latest escapade, and felt a mix of jealously at her sense of freedom and secondhand shame at her... Deplorable actions.

"Look, if you don't want to, you don't have to, but I do implore you to make a decision. Assuming things happen the way I want them to, I'll be taking some... Vacation days far away from here, so I need to work out some scheduling. I promise my clients will love such a beautiful woman like you."

Glynda had chided Queen for his attempts at wooing her into accepting, though she'd be lying if she said the notion didn't intrigue her. As a teacher and a very busy woman, she didn't spend an extended amount of time thinking about sex, so the thought of being admired for her body was nothing short of exciting. The thought had led her to try to forget that some of her braver students took more interest in her skirt length than her lessons. She had thought about how she still hadn't made any effort to wear longer skirts, nor cover up her very unprofessional amount of cleavage. She'd never admit it, but she liked when she heard cameras go off when she bent over in class. She nodded, far more confidently.

"Excellent. And I don't end being called a liar, you know. Now, unfortunately, I probably won't be around to see you off, but I do hope my replacement keeps things running smoothly. And if I may make a suggestion, few people disapprove of the idea of a woman like you... How do I put this? Becoming a mess. If memory serves and if that glare you're giving me denotes anything, it's that you're still the perfectly organized woman you always were, and letting loose might be something to think about."

A bright purple light shined over the curtain, off center and unfocused. After a second of correcting, the curtains pulled away to reveal... Something. It was too far to make out details, but whatever it was was large and mostly shapeless outside of being vaguely cylindrical, muting everything in a purple tinted blob of shadow. The shadow solidified into a large mass of swirling white cloth, colored pink in the lights and held up through unknown means to form a levitating curtain. A silhouette swayed as both it and the curtain moved down the catwalk.

"Step in time. For the moment, you're hidden." Glynda was still trying to decide a reason that she was here. "And just like that, you're not," she thought, coercing a smile as she used her Semblance to pull back the curtain that she was levitating above her head, bunching it up to free her form and cover whatever else the curtains swallowed.

Glynda's appearance was immediately met with a near unified sound of people shooting out of their chairs; her light blonde hair was done up in an impossibly uniformed bun, a curl of gold falling over the side of her face. It passed over her very studious looking glasses, her piercing green eyes shooting straight through anyone they looked at as if judging them for ogling her. Cyan sparkled as the lights glinted off her earrings, along with another glow adorning her neck. It covered a collar, which spread down into a lush white shirt with a simply stunning amount of cleavage when one considered she wore it when she taught teenage boys. The considerable portion of her flushed red breasts stuck out against her pure white top, which covered her arms, tightened around her wrists, then splayed out to free her hands. Holding up her considerable chest was a combination of a skirt and bodice, tightly covering her stomach with black interspersed with golden buttons placed exactly where they were supposed to be and not an inch out of place. The calculated precision of her buttons contrasted with a cape adorning her back; it was black, lined with purple, and beyond tattered, the defined points at the hem forming arrows and points that were misaligned in the perfect contrast to the rest of the woman's studious appearance. Her skirt was long, far longer than anything the crowd would have expected, but the stockings peeking out and falling into her boots ensured that nobody cared. Glynda's uneasy and forced smile lightened into a cute smirk in response to the noises of the crowd. She pushed up her glasses, unaware of how much of a dream that made her, and continued walking.

"Well, he was telling the truth..." Glynda thought, reddening at the thought of being in such an unprofessional environment. She reached the midway point of the catwalk, her blob of a curtain tailing her in an oddly rectangular shape. "That's something to note." Her step hesitated for a split second. "I still can't believe I'm here. I still can't believe I'm starting to enjoy myself."

Glynda reached the end of the catwalk and passed onto the main stage, gently stepping between the two poles in her way and allowing herself to be viewed in full as her curtain and whatever it covered gently touched the floor. The audience continued to stare and roar, drowning out the mechanical beat of the music. Glynda responded by doing something she hadn't done outside of her home in a very long time; without significant hesitation that was made abundantly clear to the audience, she reached up, pulled a pin out of her hair, and felt her pale gold locks fall over her neck and onto her back. The crowd agreed she looked gorgeous with her perfect bun, and even more so with her luscious hair down. Glynda's smirk turned to a lascivious grin, unheard of in her life.

Glynda thought about how irrelevant her undoing of her bun was to anyone other than herself. "I can't even remember the last time I had my hair down. 'Becoming a mess' he says..." She hadn't had her hair down aside from when she slept or bathed in what felt like a lifetime. The feeling of it brushing her neck was invigorating. "I guess it's a start." She felt sexy. She felt free. She felt like she didn't have to be the stuffy old teacher she usually was now that there weren't students around. She felt the last part dissipate when it occurred to her that it was entirely possible that some of her students were present in the crowd. "Considering half my female students have been making their rounds here, why wouldn't they? Oh, if one of them sees me like this... I'd be teaching those people." Glynda silently thanked the crowd for drowning out her concerns with their catcalling and letting her focus on her show.

With a slightly begrudging look, Glynda stretched out an arm and grabbed the pole behind her. She let herself fall, only to lazily twirl around the shaft with a hesitant expression a few times before drawing herself close to it in a tight embrace. She felt the metal touch the skin of her cleavage, making her shudder from the cool metal. She held it tighter, feeling it warm around her breasts and face. She decided that she definitely wanted to be where she was and that she definitely was done hesitating. People were waiting for her, and she decided she didn't want them to wait any longer.

"Queen wants a mess?" Glynda thought as she pushed off the pole with a huff. She bent forward, lowering her torso and showing more of her cleavage before tightly gripping the side hem of her skirt with both hands. "He'll get a MESS!" she nearly blurted out as she pulled her vicing hands apart; with a loud sound, the side of her skirt was messily torn up her leg, leaving a grand gap of skin and stocking that was once covered by material. Her waist was still clothed, but now, her left leg was visible through the slit from her boot to thigh level, the pale skin meeting the brown stockings she wore. Glynda looked up to see the crowd cheering louder than ever. She felt their desire, and she liked it.

Glynda repeated the process of stripping on the opposite side of her skirt, tearing an uneven slit and vastly lowering the tightness of her skirt to earn herself far more movement options with her legs. She felt the tightness of her skirt disappear along with a modicum of her modesty. She wasn't used to not wearing such restricting, professional clothes. The studious woman in her began falling apart, becoming more of the mess she had been asked to be.

"Become a mess," Glynda repeated. The more she thought about the idea, the more she realized she wanted it to happen. While her personality was and is still the slightly stuffy professional that likes order and tact, the teacher was becoming more and more enamored with letting that part of herself go, just for a very, very short while. "I guess it's better to do that here..." Glynda felt that everything that plagued her about her life would become infinitely better if she just enjoyed these sparse moments of freedom. No more tests, no more papers, no more misbehaving students, just a woman enjoying herself for one night. "One night. That's all I need." She meant it. All this woman needed was stress relief, and dancing would fulfill that. Afterward, she'd return to her everyday life and be happier for it.

"And if that's the case..."

Glynda diverted from her original plan. Tearing her skirt and maybe her shirt was all she had really intended to do before repairing them with her Semblance, and then she planned a treat if she decided to go all in, but she felt a flash of inspiration. She remembered her brave students, and she remembered the justification for their actions; she was an authority figure, and a very attractive one at that, and of course a bunch of teenagers would agree with that notion. She decided that she felt like one of those powerful women– like those women that were like her– she'd seen in movies, and she decided that there was at least one scene she could have fun reenacting.

Glynda lifted her arm up and waved at an empty table, thinking, "Up... And... Here!" as she levitated a spare chair to land behind her. With a stuffy, "Humph," and the loud sound of her well defined rear hitting it, she sat in the chair and crossed one leg over the other. She pushed up her glasses, just to remind everyone of the fact that she knew better than them. "Pay attention, class, this is important," she thought, laughing to herself as she pretended she was in front of a chalkboard. She waited until she was certain every eye was on her and her crossed legs and until she could hear the audience begging to see past them. With a lovingly satisfied smile, she made a grand show of her uncrossing her leg, letting everyone get a momentary glimpse of her bright purple panties before blocking the view as she crossed them again. She threw her head back and stopped herself from laughing.

Glynda swiveled her body on her chair, turning her body sideways as she stretched out her long legs and felt gravity pull her chest downward now that she was only hanging on by her waist and a hand on the back of the chair. She slid the hand not supporting her over the slit in her skirt, raising the cloth up slightly to reveal more of her leg. She pulled herself up, grabbed her hem once more, and dramatically lowered the length of her skirt with another strong tear before discarding the rough strap of cloth that once covered her knees. Glynda stood up to let the audience see the very rough angle that her tear had made, not measured or straight in the slightest. The crowd was now allowed to look at the termination of her stockings, the garters visible as they traced up her significantly barer thighs. The teacher's skirt was still just long enough on both sides to let her keep her modesty, but eyes went to her breasts as the woman bent over and fidgeted around in her boots.

"This was a good idea. This was a very good idea." Glynda listened to the cheers in her name as she drew an object out of a holster. The crowd only grew louder as the teacher turned to disciplinarian with the reveal of a riding crop in her hands, impatiently being tapped by the woman with a strict, almost angry look in her face. Each tap of the crop onto her open palm elicited a loud smack, clearly audible over the low hum of the music. Glynda slowly began increasing the power of each strike, making every hit louder as she just stood in front of the audience. The only think betraying that she wasn't about to punish a misbehaving student with an archaic method was the fact that her skirt was both short and impossibly asymmetrical. Glynda realized her misappropriated manner of dress and decided that such improper attire was worthy of punishment. She turned the chair around and straddled it.

"Detention, Ms. Goodwitch. We aim to look proper, and we can't have such scandalous dress in our midst."

A loud cry was hear as Glynda used her crop for exactly the purpose the crowd wanted her too. With her ass facing the crowd, prominent in her torn skirt, Glynda smacked her rear once more, eliciting another yelp of pleasure as she struck herself. She lost herself to thoughts of her punishment despite knowing full well that her mind was full of unfounded fantasies.

"Naughty students get reprimanded."

Glynda spent a significant amount of time turning her cheeks red as she continued slapping her rear with a crop and fulfilling the lifelong fantasies of teacher fetishes belonging to the crowd. With each hit, she added more and more force until she forgot whether or not her cries were accentuated or not. After feeling her ass start to sting with pleasure, she unstraddled the chair and straightened out.

"Messy, messy, messy," Glynda repeated to herself, red in the face from the thought of tearing her clothes apart and spanking herself. Sure, she could and would repair her outfit with a few waves of her hand, but the fact that she was doing it to begin with excited her. "We're just getting started in making a mess," she exerted as she heard a piercing rip, the buttons over her stomach starting to burst off of her. Her bodice, or rather, what was left of it, flopped over her waist, starting to fall off of her body now that it had lost any structural integrity. Her blouse was now a jacket, the flash of pale skin contrasting with a purple and black bra that was far too scandalous for a teacher to wear. Before the crowd received a sufficient look at her bare stomach, heaving breasts, and the panties quickly being revealed by her failing skirt, the curtain arose and circled around the woman on stage, giving her the perfect changing room while still maintaining her full figured silhouette.

The spotlights focused their heavy beams at the curtain, fully illuminating the makeshift stall and showing every single curve the silhouette it circled had, muddled only by her jagged cape and a large rectangle hovering around. The shadow of Glynda's full figure was completely apparent as she stood in her bra, panties, stockings, and boots after removing what was left of her top, trying to steady her breath and pretend she was at home by herself. She immediately dropped any chance of that happening as she made exaggerated movements so that everyone saw her shadowy form reach behind her back and grab at her bra clasp.

"Here we go..." Glynda thought, quietly cursing herself as she made a show of sliding her body out of her bra. "They think you're topless. Ignore that and move on." Glynda was really grateful that she had worn pasties, just for that one bit of knowledge that she was still covered, but she knew that everyone looking at her silhouette saw her dangling her bra out to the side and imagined the best. "Make a mess," she repeated, trying to force the words to become a source of comfort as she felt herself losing control of her Semblance, watching the curtain shake as she tried to figure out if she wanted it to fall. Her heart was racing and her body felt flushed, but there was still a large part of her screaming that this was a bad idea. She ignored it as she watched her shadow bend over and slip off its panties. "And now they think you're naked. Bless, I haven't felt this kind of atmosphere since school. Everyone always wanting the stern Ms. Goodwitch to be that fantasy..." As far as the crowd was concerned, Glynda Goodwitch was naked with nothing but boots, a cape, and a thin curtain separating her from dozens. She was still wearing pasties and admittedly very feeble black panties, but the crowd was not made aware of this fact and were left with the tantalizing dream.

The assumed naked Glynda very shyly parted the curtain and poked her head out, struggling to gather as much cloth as possible to cover her mostly uncovered breasts. A look of shame adorned her face as she levitated her stolen chair inside her changing room, revealing nothing but her glorious expression in the process. She sat it squarely in the center of her cover, sat down, and drew out her leg, letting the audience look at her silhouette do the same. Both removed their boots and showed off their perfectly defined legs before pulling off their stockings, furthering their descent into becoming a mess of nudity and joy.

Glynda struggled to maintain both her curtain and her illusion of nudity as brought the torn pieces of her clothes to her hands, still repeating, "Messy, messy, messy," under her breath. She hated messes. She loved messes. She hated the freedom the night was giving her. She loved the freedom the night was giving her. She hated that this was only going to be one single night. She loved that this was only going to be a single night.

"Can't have such a mess."

The crowd watched as Glynda's top reformed into a single garment. There was a cry of disappointment when her shadow brought it to her chest, but the noise was silenced immediately as the figure began turning it into a nice, clean fold that she placed on the floating shelf, carefully positioned like it was in a clothing store to be sold. Her skirt followed shortly after, the tantalizing fragments returning to a modest garment to be folded neatly and aligned with the matching top. She retrieved her stockings, methodically put them as they should be, and placed them on the shelf, and she placed her boots with her crop in them on it afterward. Glynda removed her mismatched cape and quietly folded it as best she could and more or less admired her work. The audience watched with an audible curiosity as the saw a shadow of a seemingly completely naked and behind gorgeous woman... Neatly put her clothes away. The near silence was broken by a shout that resonated with something akin to fury.

"CAN'T HAVE SUCH A MESS!"

Glynda violently slammed her hands on her shelf, breaking the calming tranquility of her neatness. With a similarly violent tear, the steaming witch tore her hands across the shelf, angrily shooting her neatly folded clothes everywhere. Her top unfluttered as it burst out of her curtain. Her skirt fell limply to the ground as it passed outside of the changing room. Her boots and stockings hit the stage as Glynda's fury burst out of her cover. The shelf crashed into the gutter as the crowd shouted with joyous acceptance of the woman's refusal for cleanliness and order. She had become a perfect mess if her tantrum was anything to go by.

"I must admit, that was some very nice stress relief," Glynda thought as she calmed down. She had gotten everything out of her system. She had made her mess. She had made a mess of herself. She was back to being her normal, studious, stuck up, beautiful self. She was also still on stage.

"Let's finish this then. It's improper to leave something incomplete."

Glynda looked around, knowing full well her shapely shadow was visible as she stood, nearly naked behind her curtain. It had returned to being secure, not a single thread out of place and not a single shaking side in the perfect circle holding it up. A number of thoughts rounded her head about how to complete her routine, but now that she was done playing around like a horny college student, she could cross a large number of them off. She wasn't going to drop the curtain and show off her pasties and her tiny panties. That wasn't her. That wasn't the other her, either.

"That should work. Let's do it, then."

Glynda posed. Her seemingly naked silhouette made a large number of demure, professional looking poses as it danced across the curtain. She turned her body every which way, letting the audience memorize the curves of her rear, the roundness of her breasts, and the sculpted look of her legs, all while maintaining her modesty. She took one last drawing pose that was immediately recognizable to everyone in the crowd as the image of a beautiful, powerful, lascivious woman slowly and sensually removed her glasses like every one of her type does in dreams and fantasy. Satisfied, she allowed the last remnants of her messy side to return to her.

"One last time."

Glynda gripped the bottom of her curtain, making her shadow bend over and display her rear for no reason other than that she could, and tore. Hidden by her angle, the woman tore a long, messy strip of white cloth colored pink in the lights. She continued ruining her cover while just remaining out of sight to hide her bare body and continue letting the crowd believe she was naked. After a few minutes of ripping messy holes in her curtain, Glynda made use of her Semblance. The scraps lining the floor around her rose, danced in a short flurry of pink snow, then adhered to her body as she levitated them in just the perfect way to make a makeshift outfit.

"Here's your beautiful mess, everyone," Glynda joyously thought as her curtain lost the invisible strings holding it up. The woman's eyes gleamed as her golden hair traipsed down her head and fell over her shoulders. Mismatched sections of white clung to her through an impossible means, not held up by string, belt, or anything other that what seemed like pure will. Glynda Goodwitch stood before her crowd, dramatically displaying her hands as what was little more than a bikini covered her. Her breasts were barely hidden, the scraps of cloth adhering to her nipples and little else, letting her soft globes hang out and provide supple amounts of her pale under bust in addition to cleavage. An asymmetric line wrapped around her body and touched her arm, giving her a luscious sash that followed her bows and displays. Messy bits of cloth formed a sort of skirt, rounding her waist and covering her mound as another piece flowed off into nothing. Without her glasses, this woman looked straight out of an art piece from a decade long gone, the image of a divine presence turned teacher baring herself for the crowd. They cheered, hollered, threw their money, or otherwise sat in awe.

"I guess messy can be good sometimes."

Glynda brushed a lock of messy hair out of her face and fought the urge to put in back in a bun. She resisted, bowed, and made for backstage, her curtain and clothes following shortly after as she listened to the crowd explode.

And thus ended the tenth night of Club Wonderland's new line up of dancers.