Yes he most certainly will

“Maya...” I gasped, my voice trembling, my eyes locking onto hers, pleading, ****. “Oh, god... I... I need...”

She looked at me, truly looked at me, and I think she saw it all. The curse. The compulsion. The ****, unwilling desire. And in her eyes, I saw not disgust, not fear, but a flicker of something else. Empathy? Curiosity? Maybe even a hint of... shared otherness?

“Okay, Ethan,” she said softly, her voice still calm, but with a new, deeper resonance. She stood up, her movements fluid, graceful. “Not here. Too public.” She glanced around the silent library. “Come on. Girls’ locker room is empty this time of day. After-school clubs haven’t started yet.”

Numbly, my body already moving on autopilot, a **** to the curse’s command, I followed her. Through the silent hallways, out into the fading afternoon light, across the deserted campus green, towards the familiar, dreaded sanctuary of the girls’ locker room. The place I hadn’t dared enter since my own transformation began. Inside, the air was cool, smelling faintly of chlorine and old gym socks. The rows of metal lockers stood silent, expectant. Maya locked the door behind us, the click echoing in the sudden stillness.

She turned to face me, her expression unreadable. “So,” she said, her voice still quiet, but with an undercurrent of something new, something charged. “This... urge. What exactly does it... want?”

I couldn’t speak. My body was trembling, my pussy aching, slick with a humiliating, undeniable wetness. I just looked at her, my eyes probably wide with a mixture of terror and ****, programmed need. Maya sighed again, a soft, almost weary sound. She reached for the hem of her t-shirt, pulling it off over her head in one smooth motion. Her chest was lean, athletic, her breasts small but perfectly formed, nipples already hard, dark against her skin. Then, her hands went to the drawstring of her sweatpants. She pushed them down, kicking them aside, revealing her strong, sculpted legs, her flat stomach, and... it. Her penis. Soft, yes, nestled in a dark thatch of hair, but undeniably present. Beautiful, in its own unexpected, incongruous way. My gaze was riveted. The curse sang in my veins, a siren song of submission and need.

“Well?” Maya prompted gently, standing before me, naked, ****, yet radiating a strange, quiet confidence. “Is this... what you need, Ethan?”

I could only nod, a choked sob escaping my lips. She stepped closer, her hands coming up to cup my face, her thumbs brushing away the tears that were starting to fall.

“Okay, Ethan,” she whispered, her breath warm against my skin. “Okay. Let’s see if we can’t... quiet those urges. Just for a little while. Her lips met mine then. Soft. Hesitant at first, then deepening, exploring. It wasn’t the brutal **** of Marcus, or the ****, confused fumbling with Liam, or the impersonal transaction with the delivery driver. This was... different. Tender. Almost... understanding. The sex that followed was a slow, hesitant exploration. It was missionary again, my body arching instinctively to meet hers, craving the fullness, the friction. She was gentle, almost tentative, as she entered me, her penis, surprisingly firm now, sliding into my wet, waiting heat. It felt... good. Frighteningly good. The curse thrummed with satisfaction, but beneath it, there was something else. A connection. A shared moment of strange, unexpected intimacy between two people navigating bodies and desires that defied easy categorization.

She moved slowly, rhythmically, her eyes locked on mine, searching, questioning. I moaned softly, my hands clinging to her strong shoulders, my feminized body responding with an eagerness that was both shameful and undeniably, intensely pleasurable. When I came, it was with a quiet sob, a release that was less about overwhelming sensation and more about a profound, if temporary, easing of the constant tension, the constant fear. Maya held me close, murmuring soft, comforting words, until the shudders subsided.