Only a little

Over the next few weeks, my life descended into a surreal, terrifying spiral. The changes, after that first, disastrous encounter with Liam, were undeniable. My breasts, no longer flat, had begun to bud, small, tender mounds that ached with a constant, low-level sensitivity. They were maybe a full A-cup now, noticeable enough that I had to start wearing baggy hoodies all the time, even in the sweltering California heat. My hips had widened further, my ass rounding out, making my old jeans feel uncomfortably tight. My face... my face was undeniably prettier, softer, more feminine, my eyes seeming larger, my lips fuller. I looked less like androgynous Ethan and more like... Ethan’s younger, prettier sister.

Liam, bless his loyal, guilt-ridden heart, tried his best. He researched ancient curses, obscure folklore, anything that might offer a clue. He even tried to find the source of the note, staking out my house, questioning neighbors. Nothing. The curse remained a mystery, its origins unknown, its rules absolute.

And the urges... they were getting stronger. More frequent. Harder to resist. The brief respite I felt after sex with Liam had been just that – brief. Soon, the gnawing, clawing need returned, sharper, more insistent. Proximity to any male, any hint of penis, sent my body into a frenzy of programmed desire. I became a prisoner in my own home, terrified to go out, terrified of who I might encounter, terrified of what my own treacherous body might do.