As a teenager, Wendy experimented with witchcraft, as teenaged girls sometimes do. She was unlucky, though, in that she succeeded in summoning an incubus – a male-aspected demon of lust.
Overwhelmingly handsome, commanding, and intoxicating, it introduced its goals to her honestly – it wanted to rape her, and for each time she orgasmed to its demonic cock, she would receive a curse that marked her as a whore.
She swore never to fuck the spirit, but night after night it whispered lewd fantasies in her ear as she tried to sleep, used its powers to make her breasts and pussy throb with need, and eventually she spread her legs for it and let it use her.
She orgasmed three times.
The incubus hadn’t lied. It left her with three curses. First, every Sunday, she would wake up horny, and become steadily more aroused over the course of the day, and be unable to achieve orgasm until she made a permanent change to her life that made her more likely to be raped in future.
Second, when any man saw her exposed nipples, her tits would grow a little larger, and she would become a little sluttier and stupider.
And thirdly, she could take no action, in any circumstances, that would make her *less* likely to be raped.
Wendy searched for a cure to the curse, but could find none. Nor could she resist her cunt on Sundays, no matter how hard she tried. The first Sunday, she tried to resist, but by lunch she was masturbating furiously without orgasm. She sobbed with frustration. By mid-afternoon she had taken all her panties out into the backyard and burnt them in an incinerator, vowing to never wear panties again, and after that she was able to orgasm.
The second Sunday she threw out the rest of her clothes, and bought new, sluttier ones.
On the third Sunday she started answering “housemate wanted” ads online, until she found one placed by a guy who set off all her “sex creep” warnings. She immediately moved in with him.
When she woke up on her third morning in the house and found that her breasts were noticeably bigger, she knew that he had entered her room while she slept and exposed her tits to look at them. She wanted to accuse him – but that might make her less likely to be raped, so she was unable to speak.
On the fourth morning, they were bigger still, with a sticky white residue on them. He had ejaculated on her in her sleep.
She wanted to move out. She wanted to scream. She wanted to call the police. All of these would make her less likely to be raped. So she pretended she either didn’t know what was happening, or didn’t object.
On the following Sunday, she tried one last time to resist the curse. Her cunt overruled her and, broken, she promised herself she would from then on shower and change clothes with the door open, so that her housemate could see her.
And see her he did. She struggled to always cover her tits with one arm as she showered or changed, but sometimes he did see her nipples. After a while, seeing she didn’t object, he would come in and watch her shower from beginning to end, staring at her barely-covered tits and naked pussy. And, in any case, he would inspect her and give her tits a sticky lotion-bath every night, and she would wake up with her fuckmelons a little larger and her brain a little dumber.
The incubus’ curse was powerful, and effective.
And by the time she woke up in the middle of the night – exactly two months after she had fucked the incubus – to find her housemate vigorously raping her in her bed, she was far too big-titted and stupid to even want to object…
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