WITCH’S CURSE — BITCH BECOMES A SLUT

Feature Writer: SilkStockingsLover

Feature Title: WITCH’S CURSE — BITCH BECOMES A SLUT

Published: 15.10.2012

Story Codes: Lesbian, Supernatural, Reluctant

Synopsis: A rich diva bitch is cursed and turned into a bimbo slut.

Witch’s Curse – Bitch Becomes a Slut

Mom always said I had to learn things the hard way and she was usually right. In retrospect I had it all: I was the captain of the cheerleaders, I was dating the high school quarterback and I was at the top of my class academically.

To make my blessed life even more envious to most, I come from a very wealthy family and I am very, very pretty. My long black as night hair, aqua blue eyes have gotten me the attention of many boys and men; my long legs have also been a great attention getter.

My only real flaw was my breasts were quite small, without the generous padding of my expensive bras I would be an A-cup. Mommy had agreed my graduation present would be breast implants, but she had not told Daddy yet. But Mommy was confident she could persuade him as he had bought her breast enlargements for their tenth year anniversary.

Anyway, the point is I lived a pretty charmed life and being popular I felt the school revolved around me. The cool kids hung out with me and were my minions; the rest of the girl population wished they could be me. Shallow I suppose, but it was the truth.

That said, being popular can bring out one’s dark side. In retrospect, I was a diva bitch. I mocked the stupid, ridiculed the fat, humiliated the ugly and I revelled in glorifying my position of popularity above all those unworthy below me.

There is a social hierarchy in high school and life for that matter and I was at the top. It wasn’t fair, but it was what it was. Unfortunately for me, I got pulled into the privileged lifestyle and began to believe I was better than everyone else. Sadly, I was to learn just how wrong I was about everything and just how quickly power can be taken away.

It was the day before Halloween, the day before my eighteenth birthday, when my life changed without me knowing it.

It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, as Amber and I planned my big eighteenth birthday party Halloween Bash at the cafeteria while our childish football boyfriends had a lunch football meeting.

They say you never know what one thing will push someone over the edge and what I said to her this time was nothing out of the ordinary or meaner than any other day, yet it was the straw that seemingly broke the camel’s back and eventually changed my life forever.

Heather, also known by my clique as the ‘sister of death’ because of her all black fashion sense, walked by us and I quipped, “Actually Heather Halloween is tomorrow.”

Heather startled us all by stopping and glaring at me, usually she scurried away like the insignificant mouse she was. A strange smirk crossed her face and she asked, “Don’t you turn eighteen tomorrow?”

“Why yes I do,” I replied, twirling my hair I asked, “Why? Are you going to buy me a present?”

“You could say that,” she smiled, her tone ominous and confident, strange for a nobody like her.

“Don’t bother. There is nothing you could possibly give me I don’t already have,” I smugly shot back.

“Wouldn’t you like some hills on that flat chest of yours?” Heather retorted, a confidence and smugness in her I didn’t know existed.

“Excuse me,” I gasped, shocked by this nobody’s nerve to stand up to me.

“Tits, don’t you wish you had tits? Like most woman do. Even your vapid followers have them. Actually, Amber’s are more like cow udders, but still better than nothing don’t you think, Kim?”

“You fucking bitch,” Amber snapped, standing up in a flash.

“Another great vocabulary lesson from the gospel according to Amber,” Heather retorted, not seemingly remotely threatened by Amber. I stopped Amber from ripping the peasant apart.

I was stunned. I couldn’t believe what was happening. Turning full bitch mode on, I went for the jugular, knowing the witch lived with her aunt. “At least I am not some butt ugly friendless loser lesbian whose parents didn’t even want her.”

As expected, I saw the hurt in her face but to my surprise she didn’t cry or run away like I expected she would. Instead, she recovered quickly, smiled and said ominously, “I can’t wait until tomorrow.”

“Why is that?” I snapped.

Ignoring my question, she asked, “What time were you born?”

“What the fuck?” Amber growled.

“Not here,” I warned, looking over at Mr. Hampton who was walking our way.

“You are such a good pawn. Always playing follow the leader, aren’t we Amber,” Heather sarcastically purred.

“You are dead,” Amber threatened through gritted teeth.

“Be careful or I will curse you too,” Heather threatened back.

“You cursed me?” I questioned with a chuckle.

“I am about to,” the dressed in black witch wannabe replied.

“Oooooh, I am so scared,” I mocked.

“Kim, I curse you. At whatever time you were born you will be bimbofied.”

“What?” I asked, now becoming greatly amused.

“What time were you born?” she asked me again.

“10:30 in the morning,” I replied, looking to my girls, “Why? Is that when the curse begins?”

“Delicious,” the sister of death said, her smile wide and seemingly out of place with her all black morbid attire, before walking away.

“She is fucking crazy,” I said turning to Amber.

“That she is,” Amber agreed, “and she needs to be put in her place.”

“Agreed,” I said, a variety of humiliating plots already spinning in my head. “But she is mine, is that understood?”

“Fine,” Amber reluctantly agreed, as she always did even though she wanted to take care of her herself.

The rest of the day was uneventful and that evening I was focused on planning for the Halloween party.

That night I had crazy dreams. In each of them I was transformed into a voluptuous blonde and ended up in sexual encounter after encounter with each dream ending with me crawling to Heather who was dressed as a witch and begging to be her slave. Each time I awoke in a sweat, my pussy damp and needy, but my mind reeling with mortification of such absurd thoughts.

When the last dream woke me up at 6:50, I was up ten minutes before my alarm and considered not working out because it was my sweet eighteenth, but I am a creature of habit and although distracted by my strange dreams, I sluggishly went to work out downstairs in the basement for my usual half hour.

After a light working out, I jumped into the shower and got dressed in my slutty but not as slutty as tonight’s costume (a 1920s flapper girl with the short hair wig, a sexy dress that was conservative by today’s standards, fishnet stockings and three inch heels). As I admired myself in the mirror and smiled knowing this costume was nowhere near as slutty as the costume I planned to wear to tonight’s party, then I finished putting on my make-up.

Going downstairs, Mom greeted me with a big hug. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

“Thanks, Mom,” I replied.

Dad quit reading the paper to also offer me birthday wishes. “Happy eighteenth, princess.”

“Thanks, Dad,” I said, as he came over to give me a hug.

Pulling a small box out of his pocket, he said, “I hope you like it.”

I had learned from experience that often the best presents come in small packages. My 16th birthday was a small box with keys to my new sports car. That Christmas I got diamond earrings. The following birthday a diamond necklace and this past Christmas a diamond graduation ring. I was actually wondering what other type of jewelry could fit in a small box.

I opened the box and it was a credit card. I gasped. “Really?”

“You are eighteen now, princess. You can choose your own gifts,” my Dad explained kissing my forehead.

“Oh my God. Thank you, thank you, thank you,” I replied giddily.

“Don’t you want to know your credit limit?” he smiled, returning to the table and his paper.

“Sure,” I replied, not even yet considering what the limit would be.

“Two thousand a month. No more,” he said, smiling knowing I was a rather frivolous spender. After a brief pause, he added, “but I did put ten thousand dollars already on the card for you to start with.”

“You’re giving me ten thousand dollars,” I gasped, not believing such a number.

“No silly, twelve actually as you also have your two thousand monthly limit,” he smiled, returning to the paper.

“You are the absolute best,” I squealed, running to him and hugging the life out of him.

“Now don’t you go and spend it all at one place,” Dad quipped.

“I’ve got to tell Amber,” I said, excited.

“Breakfast first missy,” Mom said, Cherise made your favorite.

Our maid, a sweet black woman named Cherise, brought me breakfast.

I thanked Cherise and began eating breakfast already making a mental list of all the things I planned to buy.

While I was eating, Dad stood up and said, “I guess I should get to work and make some money to pay for all this.”

My dad was CEO of a bank and thus we were very well off. At eighteen, I have travelled the world and my long term goal was to hit every beach in the top twenty-five beaches in the world. (I had already hit nine and would be hitting number ten during Christmas holidays this year).

“You may want to work a double shift,” I joked.

“You brat,” he joked, kissing my forehead. “Have a great party tonight.”

“Thanks, Dad,” I said, thrilled that they were actually going to their own Halloween Party at the lake and wouldn’t be back for a day or two.

I finished breakfast, called Amber to tell her about my gift and headed to school. Pulling into my parking spot, a benefit of being a senior, I was surprised to see Heather seemingly waiting for me, not surprisingly in a witch’s costume.

Getting out of my car, I glared at her. “What are you looking at, psycho?”

“The end of your tyranny,” she replied, still smirking.

“I am in way too good of a mood to deal with you today,” I replied, dismissing her with a wave.

“No problem, if you need me though, I will be in the south washroom from 10:25 to 10:35,” she said.

I shook my head at the absurdity of her statement even as I briefly recalled last night’s strange dreams. “Why would I ever need something from a nothing like you?”

She shrugged, that damn smug smile plastered on her face, “Oh, just a hunch.”

I walked away annoyed at her for dampening my happy birthday mood which was quickly rekindled when I entered the school and was sprayed with confetti. “Happy birthday,” all my fellow cheerleaders, dressed as flapper also.

“You guys,” I smiled, as I shook the confetti out of my fake hair.

I got hugs, best wishes and a couple of presents before Principal Hammerstone interrupted the party. “Happy birthday, Ms. Patterson.”

“Thank you Principal Hammerstone,” I smiled, attempting to look provocative. Principal Hammerstone was the hottest adult at school and all us girls had discussed ways to seduce him. He was black, bald and built. I was really curious if the black size reputation was true; I hoped to investigate and reveal the truth before the school year was over.

“I hope someone is going to clean this up,” Mr. Hammerstone said.

“Of course,” Amber smiled, “Carter.”

Three nerdy freshmen appeared seemingly out of nowhere and began cleaning up our mess. I smiled. Being at the top of the social hierarchy of high school was awesome.

Biology was it’s usually bore and later when I was in English class talking about the slow transformation of Hamlet when I started feeling something strange happening to me.

Ms. Fern asked my opinion on Hamlet’s relationship with his mother and my head gave a deep intelligent response on the complexity of their relationship, the ultimate love-hate son-mother complication, yet the words out of my mouth were insipid babble. “He like, wants to like, do her.”

I gasped as I heard my own voice, but not my words.

The class laughed thinking I was mocking the literature and Ms. Fern glared at me.

I started feeling my small breasts get heavy and looked at the clock. It was 10: 29. I remembered the curse and frantically asked, “Ms. Fern, I am not feeling well, may I, like go to pee-pee in the potty?”

“Of course,” she replied shaking her head, as I suddenly noticed how big and juicy her breasts were.

I scurried out and headed straight to the washroom that bitch witch said she would be. As I rushed, I could feel my breasts getting heavier, my head lighter and I could feel a hunger inside as my pussy started begging for attention.

Walking past the nerdy Simon, pocket protector and all, I briefly looked at his crotch wondering if his cock was big and hard. I shook my head and was surprised as I said to him, “Hey, big boy.”

He froze and stared at me as I continued walking mortified hearing more words I didn’t mean to say, yet obviously did. As I practically ran to the washroom, Simon’s cock popped into my head and my mouth watered with a sudden hunger. I shook my head desperate to get the absurd image of the scrawny nerd’s cock out of my head.

As I ran, I could literally feel my breasts getting heavier and heavier. I looked down at my usually small almost non-existent cleavage I was sure my breasts were getting substantially bigger.

I exploded into the bathroom, the door slamming behind me and yelled, “Heather! You better like be here you fucking crazy bitch!”

Heather was sitting on the counter with the same smug smile she had from earlier today and yesterday plastered on her face. “How are you feeling, Kim?” she asked, her facial expression knowing the answer already.

I wanted to slap that smile right off her fucking face but remained as calm as I could as I asked, through gritted teeth, “What like have you done to me?”

“Me? Nothing. But the curse, well that is another story altogether,” the witch replied.

Distracted, I glanced down at her black nylon covered legs and wondered if she was wearing pantyhose or stockings. Again I shook my head to get another ludicrous image out of my head.

“Something wrong?” she asked, her tone implying she knew that something was definitely wrong.

“Yes, something is wrong,” I snapped as my breasts continued to grow, making me wobble slightly. Staring down at my clearly growing breasts I asked, “What is happening to me?”

“It looks like you are getting the big tits you always wanted. At least now your mother won’t have to convince daddy dearest to buy you fake titties. Yours will be all natural”

Dumbfounded by the impossible transformation I was currently going through I stammered, “H-h-how is this happening?”

“The curse obviously,” the smiling bitch replied.

“But this isn’t like, like, like possible,” I retorted, again distracted by her legs which she opened a bit as if sensing my distraction.

“Well I guess the impossible just like happened,” she smiled, mocking my bimbo talk, laughing as my bra ripped in two from my still growing breasts.

“Why did you do this to me?” I asked, my breasts now so large now I could feel the strain on my back and I began to worry my dress may rip open if the growing didn’t stop soon.

She laughed harshly, a laugh eerily similar to my own spiteful one that I used on occasion. “So you can feel what it feels like to be judged based on appearance.”

“W-w-what?” I asked, again distracted as her left shoe fell to the floor and I could see her surprising cute pink painted toenails in sheer nylon.

“And revenge,” she added, “for all your bullying of me and the many others you have judged, ridiculed and humiliated.”

“T-t-that is like stupid,” I heard myself say, sounding like some vapid ditz.

“Like-like-like stupid,” she mocked.

I was furious at being ridiculed by this nobody but even as my anger boiled I continued to stare at her foot and leg which was now swinging slowly, like a hypnotist`s watch pulling me in. “What are you thinking, Kimmy?”

I glared at her. Nobody calls me Kimmy, no fucking body. I moved towards her and meant to threaten her, like I always did to the lowly peasants of the school, but again the words that were in my head were not what left my mouth. “I like can’t stop like staring at your sexy stocking legs.” I shook my head at what I just said and noticed thankfully my breasts had seemed to stop growing.

“You find my legs sexy, Kimmy?” she asked, allowing her other shoe to drop.

‘No I find you a fucking repulsive psycho,’ I thought to myself but said instead, “Yes, Heather, you have like sexiest legs like ever.”

“Sexier than yours?” she questioned.

Again, I couldn’t stop staring at her stocking-clad legs even as my mind demanded I walk out this moment, that I stand up for myself like I always have done. Yet again, I heard myself say, as I felt my panties getting wet, “Waaaaaaaay sexier than mine. You are like super fucking hot to trot. I wish I was as fucking hot as you.” ‘What?!?’ I screamed to myself am I saying. ‘Why?!?’ I screamed to myself am I saying such ridiculous lies. I don’t want to be like her.

“Are you hungry?” she asked, before adding, “Would you like to eat my cunt?”

I gasped again at her absurd question even as my eyes moved between her legs against my will. As my head screamed ‘fuck you, you dumb slag’, my pussy betrayed me by getting wetter and wetter. Yet again the words out of my mouth were not what I meant to say. “Like yes I’d like to eat your cunt. May I eat it?”

“But I thought I was repulsive?” she pointed out, opening her legs wide enough to reveal she was wearing stockings that again had my pussy tingling again. “You have told me so almost every day for the past year.”

‘Yes, you are fucking disgusting,’ I screamed inside my head, yet answered obtusely, “I was like dumb and mean and stupid and like jealous of like how much better than me you are. Please let me make it up to you by eating your cunt.”

“Come to me,” she ordered, her words again pulling me towards her against my will. I felt my body move, even as I desperately tried to resist the growing temptation to submit to the curse seemingly placed on me.

“On your knees, like a good slut, Kimmy,” she ordered, her smile wide. She was really enjoying humiliating me.

My face winced at her calling me a slut and at the absurd order she had just given me, yet suddenly my legs felt weak. I couldn’t believe it as I felt myself lowering to the ground on my knees. Inside I was a fiery mix of hate and lust. I desperately wanted to crush this bitch and put her in her place; yet another part of me, a growing part, hungered to obey her, to please her, to be put in my place.

“You want to lick my cunt right here in the bathroom don’t you? Even though anybody could walk in and see you eating me, see the popular head cheerleader eagerly eating the pussy of the crazy witch. Isn’t that what you and your diva clones call me?” she asked, clearly attempting to humiliate me.

‘Fuck no. I don’t want to do this’, I screamed at the top of my lungs, yet the words out of my sexual doppelgänger, made me sound like a dumb, blonde, bimbo. “Yes silly, like I don’t care who sees me. I just want to eat your cunt.”

“Go ahead, Kimmy, lick away,” the witch offered, opening her legs wide and presenting a panty less disgusting hairy cunt to me.

‘Fuck, it is 2012 for Christ sake. Shave that fucking cunt.’ I thought to myself, and ‘There is no way in hell I am licking that unkempt mess of a cunt’, but instead of resisting I heard myself giggle like a fucking two year old and say, “Yummy time.” ‘Yummy time?’ are you fucking kidding me? Yet, no matter how much I tried to fight it, desperately trying to hold my head back and resist, a sudden insatiable hunger grew. My cunt burned with desire and as I felt my head lean forward, between her stocking-clad legs and towards her hairy snatch.

“You are such a good girl, Kimmy,” she moaned like she was talking to a child as my tongue made contact on her pussy lips through her forest of hair.

The compliment, meant to humiliate, somehow lit yet another spark in my pussy. Each forced lick sent fireworks of pleasure throughout my entire body. Suddenly pleasing her was all that mattered. The feeling of euphoria my body was feeling was way greater than anything my boyfriend Miles had ever done to me or anything I had self-inflicted on myself for that matter. Her musky scent also seemed to short circuit my senses and slowly the rational me faded as I craved more of her sweet, sweet nectar.

“Kimmy, you are a natural born pussy pleaser,” the witch commented.

What should have been humiliating, insulting and infuriating, actually turned me on more and made me even more eager to please her and craving more of her delicious juice. Again my words were absurd. “Thank you for letting me like lick your cunt, it makes me like super happy.” ‘What the hell was happening to me? Why was I enjoying this? Saying this?’

“I know it does, Kimmy,” she moaned, “you will be a very good slut, won’t you?”

“The bestest,” I heard myself say. ‘Slut?’ I have only slept with Miles and one other yet being called a slut sent another wave of intense never before experienced pleasure through me. Unable to quench my hunger, I wanted more and I began licking faster and faster. I was parched and craving her cum to quench my thirst. I was like a woman lost in the desert desperate for water, but my water was her cum and I was determined to get it.

My mind shut off, I focused on the task at hand and took her hard clit in my mouth.

She moaned, “You nasty slut, I’m going to come soon. Have you been secretly eating cunt with Amber?”

I replied, reluctantly my desire to taste her cum all I could think about, “Like, this is my first time.”

“Of many,” she quipped back.

“Like whenever you want me,” I replied, again mortified by my response even as I returned to the obsession at hand. Each lick of her cunt had me craving more. After a couple minutes I felt her hands on my head and I was pulled deep into her cunt. I struggled to breathe as I continued to lick as she exploded her cum all over my lips and face.

“Swallow my cum, my slave,” I vaguely heard her scream, as her legs wrapped around my head.

I did as she ordered, swallowing as much of her sweet cum as possible. As she orgasmed, coating my face with her cum, I did too and experienced the most intense orgasm of my life. I couldn’t completely quench my thirst no matter how much of her cum I eagerly lapped up. I wanted more. I craved more. I needed more.

Suddenly, she let go off my head and pushed me away. I fell backwards onto the floor and on my ass, my wig falling off. Dazed by what had just transpired, mortified by my submission and disgusted by my weakness, I looked up to her from the floor.

“Enjoy yourself?” she asked, her smile and tone still smug as hell.

Although I couldn’t deny I did based on my soaking wet panties, I replied, “That was repulsive.” Suddenly I was in control of my thoughts. Feeling liberated I stood up and again feeling like the old me.

“You have five minutes,” the witch said, hopping off the counter.

I looked at her and gasped as I saw myself in the mirror. Besides the ridiculous mammoth breasts that were barely held in check by my outfit, my hair was as blonde as blonde gets without being white as snow.

“Besides now being a natural cunt licker and having large real breasts, you are now a natural blonde in looks and academia,” she explained, slipping back into her hideous one inch heels.

“This is permanent?” I asked, barely able to recognize myself.

“Only forever,” she replied, chuckling at her own lame ass joke as she pulled out her phone and took a picture of me.

“You are dead,” I snapped, moving towards her.

“Are you really threatening a witch? Last time you attempted to outwit me you received this curse,” she said, clearly not scared of me. “Plus the picture is just a memory of your pretty face covered in my cunt juice.”

“Give me that phone” I threatened.

“Three minutes,” she said, her voice cheery, moving the phone out of my reach.

“Until what?” I asked, my frustration ‘to the bent’, quoting Hamlet, feeling smart again.

“Until your clarity fades and you are back in bimbo mode,” she shrugged as if that was obvious.

“Excuse me?” I asked.

“Maybe the spell is flawed,” she pondered, before asking her tone clearly sarcastic, “are you already back to being a bimbo?”

“You fucking bitch,” I roared and pushed her against the wall.

“Hmmmm,” she smiled coyly, “getting a little rough. I like that.”

I glared at her trying to figure out what the hell to do.

“Two minutes,” she smiled, “so if you want to understand the curse you should probably let me go and listen.”

Realizing my predicament and her obvious power she seemed to have over me, I changed strategies. “Please Heather, we can work something out.”

“I agree,” she said.

“Thank you, Heather,” I replied, seeing a glimmer of hope after the complete humiliation I just endured.

“My cunt will always be available when the hunger calls and you can’t resist any longer,” she replied.

“What?”

“The curse is pretty simple. You are now a sex-craved bimbo, except for a brief period of clarity after you swallow the cum of any girl or guy,” she revealed.

“What?” I asked, disbelieving.

“For example, after your first swallow of cum of the day you get five minutes of utter clarity where the curse does not exist, except for the physical changes they are forever,” she explained.

“I will always look like this?” I asked, mortified by just how slutty and insipid I looked.

“Yes, but each time you swallow another load of cum that day you get an extra five minutes of free will. So when you swallow your next load of cum or allow a cunt to spray their juice in you, you will get ten minutes, the next time fifteen and so forth. That said, as soon as the clock strikes midnight, like Cinderella, you return to the beginning and start all over. In essence, you will be living Bimbo Groundhog Day, that Bill Murray movie, day after day after day.

“That is ludicrous,” I replied.

“So has been your treatment of most people,” she retorted, before adding, “When in bimbo mode, you will act like one, dress like one and talk like one, but you will still have full range of your thoughts, unless you are horny.”

I was stunned, but that was exactly what had just occurred.

“Also, I added a slut trigger to your curse; so that anytime someone calls you a derogatory name it gets you hornier and hornier which triggers your need to taste cum. The more you are humiliated the hornier you get and even your moral fibre and thoughts weaken until you submit unconditionally to your desire to submit,” the witch explained.

“Oh my God,” I said, completely stunned by the full impact of the curse.

“Oh my God, indeed,” she quipped back, revelling in her power over me.

“And I can’t break it?” I asked, praying there was a loophole.

“Thirty seconds,” she announced, ignoring my question.

“Please,” I begged, understanding in crystal clear clarity the full breadth of the curse.

“Also, you can only come when you make someone else come. You will always be on the brink of an orgasm, but unable to explode without the taste of cum in your mouth.

“You can’t be serious,” I said, but realizing how horny I got, getting more and more intense as the humiliation intensified, and yet unable to cum until the moment she did; I realized she was not lying.

She began walking to the door before stopping. “You know they say blondes have more fun. Let’s find out if it is true.”

“Heather, please, we can work something out,” I begged.

“Oh one more thing I almost forgot,” she said. “The last additional quirk I added to your curse is you will obey any order anyone gives you. Always.”

“No please,” I pleaded, believing every word she said now.

“Five, four, three, two, one,” she counted down, clearly amused at what she had done to me. “Back to bimbo mode. Slap yourself in the face.”

‘There is no way I am doing that’ I thought to myself as I felt the hot burn of my hand on my face as I slapped myself.

“Jump up and down on one foot,” she ordered as she aimed her phone at me.

I wanted to beg for her to stop again, but the words I spoke instead as I began to hop, my humongous breasts almost hitting me in the face, were, “Like how fun.”

I was furious inside assuming she was taping me for nefarious reasons all the while she was laughing at me…oh how the tides had turned.

“Blow me a kiss, my cunt-licker,” she ordered.

Another order, another derogatory name and my pussy was getting wetter as I blew her a kiss and added, “Kisses, sexy.”

“Give me your number,” she ordered.

I heard myself give her my cell number even as I demanded myself not to.

“Get on all fours, slut,” she demanded, her evil smile back.

I obeyed instantly even though I didn’t want to, as another tingle hit my hungry cunt.

“Masturbate for me,” she ordered, her iPhone pointing at me.

My hand went directly under my skimpy dress and to my sopping wet cunt. I felt a jolt of pleasure instantly, even as my mind protested.

“Tell me you are a nasty, bitch,” she demanded.

I repeated her words exactly as more pulsations triggered my cunt, my strong willed mind breaking again. “I am a nasty bitch?”

“Who is?” she questioned.

“Kim Patterson is a nasty bitch,” I announced to the camera.

“Tell me how much you loved eating my cunt,” she ordered, moving closer to me.

The transition inside my head was shifting as I was becoming a cum hungry bimbo, my pussy taking control of my body and thoughts. “I fucking loved licking your cunt,” I admitted and I did and I wanted to again. I craved it. I needed it.

“You’re hungry for my cunt again, aren’t you?” she asked, smugly; now just a foot away from me.

Far away in my subconscious I heard faint screams of ‘nooooo’ but they were silenced by my insatiable hunger and declaration, “I like desperately want to lick you again.” My hand was now frantically rubbing my cunt, but the orgasm that should have hit by now continued to burn just below the volcanic rupture point.

“Look directly at the camera and using your name tell me what you are and who is your Mistress,” she instructed.

The word ‘Mistress’ suddenly seemed so natural, so right. I was her bimbo sub and she was my Mistress. I saw that clearly now. Looking directly at the camera, opening my legs to allow her to see me slide two fingers inside my desperate inferno of desire, I declared, “My name is Kim Patterson and I am like a bimbo slut who was created for the use of my Mistress, Mistress Heather.”

“That was very good,” she replied, straddling my face.

Her words of approval excited me, her legs straddling me brought undeniable hunger as I looked forward to tasting her again; suddenly nothing else mattered.

“You crave my cunt, don’t you?” she asked.

“Like yes,” I admitted, leaning up.

“Do you think you deserve it?” she teased, waving her hairy cunt above me.

“Like, I will do like anything,” I said, meaning it. Tasting her again all that mattered in my tiny brain.

“Too bad,” she shrugged, adding, “the bell is going to ring in a minute. You cunt, you slut, you whore, you bitch, you cocksucker, cunt-licker, tramp.”

The machine-gun verbal attack had me collapse onto the floor as my cunt felt intense feelings of pleasure. My desire to come so intense now it was the only thought in my mind. I begged, “Please, please, please, let me lick you, Mistress.”

She laughed as she moved away from me. “Sorry, class is over. You should probably get yourself respectable before someone comes in.”

Before I could respond, my need to come overwhelming everything else, she walked out the bathroom leaving me alone. I heard her say to someone, “Thanks for covering the entrance for me.”

“Did it work?” the voice asked.

“Go see for yourself,” Heather said amused.

Before I could move, one of her geeky friends, Sandra, the Preacher’s daughter, peeked inside and gasped. I should have been mortified, but my first thought was ‘I bet her cunt would taste good’. Yet, just as quickly as she came in, she was gone and I was left alone horny and dishevelled.

Seconds later the bell rang and I quickly got up, still completely distracted by my desperate need to come. I was just washing my face when others came sauntering into the bathroom as morning break had just started.

My hunger to come became a hunger for cum and I was not thinking rationally but only with my overcharged libido.

Hands trembling, I texted Miles, ‘Car, now, hungry 4 ur cock.’ I hurried out of the bathroom; I was overwhelmed with sexual desire. Every girl I walked by my mouth watered knowing their cunt could satisfy my hunger; each guy that passed had my head wondering if I could just devour their cock full and felt that everyone was staring at my big tits.

Just as I was near the door to break free from the swarm of cocks and cunts I craved, I passed Mr. Hammerstone.

“You ok, Kim?” he asked.

All I could think about was his hammer pounding my throat. I stammered, “Like, just got to come, like I mean, meet Miles.” I scurried out the door resisting the temptation to fall to my knees and satisfy my craving by devouring our sexy Principal.

Outside, I quickly headed to my car when Amber called out. I ignored her and continued to the car.

Miles was walking all laissez-faire to the car when I snapped, “Like, get the fuck over here, now.”

Miles knowing that tone, assuming he was in trouble, hurried to me. “You went blonde?” he asked with a surprised look on his face.

“I wanna be sexy, and slutty and like blondes have like more fun,” I flirted, my hunger all that mattered.

“And your breasts are huge,” he said, staring at my newfound chest.

“All bimbos have big tits,” I replied, content with who I was, a cum-craving slut.

“W-w-what is up?” he stammered, confused by my aggressive out of character behavior.

“It better be your cock,” I replied, reaching for his cock outside the car. No longer caring who saw us, I began pulling his cock out of his pants.

“Wow, Kim,” he protested, “anyone can see.”

“Give me your cock now, Miles, or I will find someone else who is more willing,” I snapped, ignoring his protest.

“Let’s at least get in the car,” he said, moving to the car, quickly.

“Fuck, fine, you fucking prude,” I said, pissed at him delaying my need to come.

Once in the car, I pulled his cock out and bobbed on it up and down like I was in the cocksucking speed Olympics. Thankfully, Miles has an incredibly quick trigger and in only a couple of minutes of pornstar sucking, all the while I frantically rubbed myself, I felt the double explosion of his cum spraying down my throat. My own orgasm shuttered through me like an earthquake as my body was split in two. Bimbo me quivered, quaked and screamed like a whore finally reaching the denied orgasm that had been simmering through me since the humiliation in the bathroom; the real me, watched in awestruck frustration at what I had become, how completely the need to come had overtaken my being and how quickly I was myself once I had accomplished the task.

If the bitch witch was right I had ten minutes of freedom. Even as my orgasm continued quivering through me, I said to Miles, “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”

“Fuck, don’t be sorry. I think we should make this a regular thing,” he replied, like a typical guy.

“No, listen Miles, I have been,” I said, but the word cursed didn’t come out.

“You have been, what?” he asked, seeing my frazzled look.

I screamed ‘cursed’ but nothing came out at all, just my mouth open like a mime. I reworded “That bitch Heather cursed me into a bimbo,” but the words he actually heard was ‘That bitch me into a bimbo.’

He looked at me confused as he put his penis back in his pants.

Frustrated, I tried to word it another way. “I am no longer in control of myself.”

“What?” he asked.

“I have been made into a slut,” I explained.

“Oooooo-K,” he said, clearly not understanding what I was saying.

“I can’t say no to you,” I said, trying a different approach.

“I know, I am irresistible,” he smiled back, thinking I was complimenting him.

The clock ticking away, I was getting frantic. “Miles fucking listen I don’t have much time. I am no longer me.”

His facial expression told me he understood I wasn’t kidding, but clearly he had no idea what I was trying to say.

“I have been turned into a slut,” I reworded the same message.

“Turned into a slut?” he repeated.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, that fucking bitch,” I cursed, unable to explain my plight.

“What bitch?” he asked.

I said, ‘Heather’, but no name escaped my lips. I repeated her name over and over and yet nothing came out. As my boyfriend looked at me like I was insane, an idea popped into my head. Obviously, the curse prevented me from revealing the curse verbally, but it couldn’t stop me from writing my problem.

Grabbing a napkin from the floor of the car and a pen, I quickly wrote, ‘I have been cursed by Heather and turned into a bimbo, please help me before I am turned into a slave.’ I double- checked to make sure what I wrote was what I was thinking before handing it to him.

I handed him the note and he read it as his eyes got wide. “You sure?” he asked.

“Yes,” I replied, relieved that he finally understood what I was trying to say.

“You’re fucking with me,” he said, clearly skeptical.

“No, I am not,” I said, my eyes big, desperate for him to completely understand. “Will you help me?”

“I don’t know,” he hesitated, “this doesn’t seem like a good idea.”

“What do you mean,” I sighed with frustration, “It isn’t an idea, it is the reality I am currently living.”

“You’re sure,” he asked, clearly not wanting to be a part of it.

“Of course I am sure,” I snapped, frustrated at his lack of concern. “What are you going to do about it?”

“I don’t know,” he said, his discomfort obvious.

“Shit, it is almost time,” I panicked, knowing I had less than a minute.

“Time for what?” he asked, looking at me like I was crazy, which I was beginning to think I was.

“Please, Miles, promise me you will help me,” I pleaded.

“Ok, ok,” he agreed, “but I can’t believe this is what you want, even if I have thought about it many times.”

“Thought about what?” I asked. Suddenly it was my turn to be confused.

“What do you mean? Oh man is this a test?” he asked, his eyes giving away he thought it was too good to be true.

“This is not a fucking test, Miles. Fuck, why is this so fucking complicated. What are you going to do about it? Are you a man or a mouse?” I questioned.

“Ok, ok, fuck what is wrong with you?” he said, clearly thinking I was overreacting.

“What is wrong with me? What is wrong with me? Are you illiterate?” I snapped, grabbing the napkin and yelling, “This is what is wrong with me?” Looking at it my world suddenly stopped. I could feel the color drain from my face. I could feel my will to win shattered. I could feel the clock ticking to zero. It was my hand writing, yet it was not the words I had written and I even double checked before giving it to him. The note said, ‘I want you to fuck my ass and treat me like a bimbo-slave tonight.’