Cursed thorns

The thorns weren't exactly cursed. They were more magically imbued objects.
A botanist had been experimenting with plants and discovered what he believed to be a sort of all-cure. This had upset a quite a few gods, especially those that fed on negative emotions and misfortune. One such god, the god of timidity and doubt had taken it upon himself to intervene. One night, as the botanist slept, Selucreh as he was known had paid him a visit and tampered with his memories and discovery, permanently erasing the all-cure from existence. Selucreh had also replaced his confidence and can-do attitude with thoughts of doubt and self pity, making sure that he would never rediscover the cure.

Selucreh's plan had gone near flawlessly, but an ember of his magic had transferred into one of the nearby plants in the botanist's apartment. It was a long green vine which had grown big and beautiful, covering a whole wall with it's green branches and leaves.

Some time after Selucreh's intervention, the botanist had become a mere shell of his former self. His body had shrunk and with it, his image of self worth. In a **** attempt at getting validation and attention he'd sought out a romantic partner. Time and time again he'd been shut down, never managing to find a girl who would love and care for him despite being a complete loser.
His misfortune had quickly turned to spite and he came to hate women and how they all seemed to have overinflated egos and standards that were unrealistic.

One evening, the botanist had been out and about when he came across a beautiful girl. She had long flowing blonde hair and a perfect body. Her eyes were clear and a sharp blue color.
Somehow the he'd managed to appear somewhat interesting when he revealed he grew flowers and herbs at home. The girl seemed more than interested in paying him a visit to look at his plants.
The involuntarily celibate had mistaken her politeness and interest in flowers for romantic interest and gotten his hopes up.
That same evening the two of them had gone to his cottage to look at his various exotic plants. His crown jewel, the vine, hung proudly and more beautifully than ever. Ever since Selucreh's appearance the vine had grown, and grown, and grown. It covered much more than just a wall, it's roots sat deep in the various cracks scattered around the room's walls, floor and ceilings.
The vine had caught the attention of the girl and she'd reached out to feel it's leaves. Hidden behind a leaf was one of it's many thorns. The thorn had stung the girl's finger and broken through her skin. Though the magical vine had done much more than just pierce her skin. She flinched from the sting. The botanist used the opportunity presented by his beloved vine to approach the girl. She'd flinched yet again at his advances and quickly excused herself before leaving the cottage in a hurry.

The two didn't meet for many months after that. That changed when the botanist once again found himself outside in the nearby forest, looking for herbs and berries. He'd come across the girl once more, though she looked nothing like what he remembered. Despite her face, which unmistakenly still belonged to her, her body had withered. Her once beautiful hair had turned stale and brown. Being an unruly mess rather than the blonde mane it used to be. Her breasts were saggy and repulsive, looking like they belonged to someone much older than herself. Even her eyes, which had been so bright and blue had shrunk and become dull and brown.
The botanist failed to understand why she'd suddenly become so unattractive. Curiosity had gotten the better of him and he'd approached her once more, asking her why she looked the way she did.

The girl had admitted that she didn't know what he was talking about and that she'd always looked the way she did. To his surprise, she'd also failed to remember their short meeting all those months ago.
After having conversed for a bit, the botanist caught notice of the change in her demeanor. She appeared more timid and insecure. At times it almost seemed as though she was flirting with him, desperately fighting to appear interesting and attractive. Her advances had worked and the botanist invited her home yet again.

The girl had once again found herself face to face with the vine that had stung her. She had no recollection of the incident, but felt as though there was some connection between herself and the plant. She'd tried to explain to the botanist what it was she was feeling, but he feigned ignorance and insisted that she'd never been there before, afraid that she would remember the awkward evening.

This time it was the girl that had thrown herself at the botanist and not the other way around. The incel had finally found what it was he'd been seeking for all those years, companionship. Though something had bugged him. Why had the girl had such a sudden change of heart? Not to mention the dramatic change in appearance.
Going by the only leads he had, he concluded it must've had something to do with the vine, specifically it's thorns.

To test his theory, he'd cut a branch off his vine and retrieved a few of it's thorns. That very next day he left for the nearest village and found the prettiest woman he could find. Standing in the town square was a beautiful tall redhead with fiery hair. He walked up to her and reached out to shake hands. The woman met his hand with her own and felt a sting as they shook. With no explanation of who he was or what he wanted, the botanist had simply asked for her name and departed.

Some time later he returned to the village and asked around for her name. A couple of helpful villagers had given him the directions he needed and he quickly found himself at the doorstep of a brothel. He specifically asked for the woman and was lead to a room where a chubby whore laid waiting for him on the bed. Amazed at his discovery the botanic had asked if she was in fact the woman he was searching for, to which she answered yes. Without even enjoying her services he'd left for his cottage in a hurry. With uncharacteristic determination the botanist had discovered part of the vine's potential, using it to create his very own harem of insecure and despairing women.

Even centuries later some of the remaining thorns could still be found out in the wild. After his ****, the botanist's cottage had decayed and become nothing but rubble on a field. The vine had also died, but it's thorns lived on. Many had been eaten by birds and transported across the lands before being ejected somewhere else, much like with seeds.

Hi! The story has progressed three additional chapters over at Patreon. I'll try to push out two chapters a week on this story, but I'll still have to balance this story with my other ongoing works. This particular branch is a commission, so feedback or suggestions might not be applicable if they're in conflict with the original prompt and request.
https://www.patreon.com/Felixfalck