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.