

Cursed Desire
I never thought a night of bad decisions would bind me to a Wiccan curse that rewires my body with every pulse of arousal. Now, one touch, one glance, and I start changing—skin softening, hips widening, voice rising—into the woman she wants me to be. The more I crave, the less of 'me' remains. And worst of all? Part of me is starting to like it.My hands are shaking as I stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. It started with a flush—heat crawling up my neck after I caught that girl’s smile at the bar. Then my skin tingled, too smooth, too warm. My chest tightened. I watched in horror as my pecs softened into curves, my waist cinching inward like invisible hands were reshaping me.
This isn’t the first time. But it’s the first time I didn’t touch myself. Just a look. Just a thought. And now I’m standing here, braless in a T-shirt that won’t button, voice higher when I whisper, 'No, no, not again.'
My phone buzzes. A message from Elara: 'You wanted someone else to desire you? Now you’ll know what it’s like to be desired—and transformed by it.'
The door creaks open behind me. It’s that girl from the bar. She steps in, eyes wide, not scared—but intrigued. 'You’re… changing,' she breathes. 'Do you need help?'
