The Cassandra Curse
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The Curse free porn video
The Curse
By GSElvis
(c) 2002
Hey, it's me. Look, I'm sorry to have woken you up.
But I never would have called you in the middle of
the night if it wasn't damned important.
I'm going to ask you a question, and I want you to
treat it as if it's the most important question anyone
has ever asked you. That means no kidding around,
no dodging it, no bullshit. You're the one person I
know who will tell me the truth. Everyone else has
gone crazy.
First, though, I want you to shut up and listen for a
few minutes while I tell you what's happened to me
over the past couple of days. Then, I'll ask my
question, and you are going to give me a straight
answer.
You remember Katy, my roommate. She was the
kind of short one with the long brown hair. But she
had the standard package I go for--big tits and nice
ass, a real woman's curves. Just like all my other
roommates. Plus, she had a real cute face, with the
high cheek bones and the little, thin nose, and
whenever she smiled, it was this big, wide grin that
showed a lot of teeth.
But her best feature was her eyes. She had a pair of
big, green eyes that were friendly most of the time,
but could bore right into you if she was mad. There
was something about the way she could look at you
that made it seem as if she was trying to drill two
lasers through you. She could be that intense.
Katy had been my roommate for about four months.
Well, girlfriend, actually. I mean, we were never
obvious about it. No holding hands, no kissing, no
public displays of affection. But, I figured you and
everyone else knew that we were an item.
We had only known each other a couple of weeks
when she had moved in. I could tell right away that
she took the relationship a lot more seriously than I
did. She started reminding me of our little
anniversaries. One day, it was one month since we
had met. Then, six weeks. Then, two months. And
so on. She always left little love notes stuck to the
refrigerator. Plus, she was always dropping hints
about how much she wanted to get married and
have kids. We'd drive by an old-fashioned stone
church and she'd say, "Wow, wouldn't that be a
great place to have a wedding!" She'd see parents
out with little kids and she'd coo and say, "Oh, don't
they look happy!" And so on.
Don't get me wrong. I liked her and the sex was
great. But there was no way I was getting married
or having kids. I don't play that game, and I told her
so, more than once.
Then, the night before last, we were sitting in my
apartment and the marriage stuff came up again.
One minute, we're sitting there watching the news.
The next--and I still can't remember how it started--
she's telling me that we should get engaged. Like
the other times, I say, no, that's not for me. This
time, though, she didn't let up. She started crying
and blubbering that I didn't take her seriously, that I
was using her without loving her. You know--
standard hurt-girl stuff.
Finally, I stood up and said, "Look, I like my life
just the way it is. You can either take me the way I
am or get out!" I put on my jacket. "I'm going out
for a couple of hours. You make up your mind
whether you want to stay or leave. But if you stay, I
don't ever want to hear this marriage junk again.
Otherwise, it's been great, really."
You know me. I gave her a clear choice--my way or
the highway. She was bawling pretty hard when I
closed the door behind me.
I headed to a bar. While I watched a baseball game
on the big-screen television, I nursed a couple of
beers. I also looked around for any available women
to start talking to, but it was a weeknight and the
place was almost empty. Slim pickings, at best. So,
when the game was over, I drove home, alone.
Like I figured, she had cleaned out all her stuff and
her car was gone. She was too much into the whole
marriage thing to stay. The only thing that Katy left
behind was a handwritten note on the dining room
table. It was her parting shot, and she gave me a
good one.
The first part of her letter was the usual break-up
stuff. She was angry. She loved me with all her
heart, and I had really hurt her. I would never be
truly happy until I had committed to a long-term
relationship. Blah, blah, blah.
But it was how the note ended that got me. She
wrote, "Your greatest fault is that you love yourself
too much to love others. And if I do nothing, you
will use and hurt some other woman. Thus, I will
make the penalty fit the crime.
In big, black letters across the bottom of the page,
she scrawled, "I curse you! From the depths of my
soul, and with all the powers at my disposal, I curse
you to lose your manhood. And the only one not to
know it, will be you."
I actually shuddered when I read that, even though I
didn't understand what she meant. Curse me? She
was always a little weird. But rather than think
about it any more, I crumpled up the paper and
threw it away. It was the last bit of garbage I shoved
into a plastic bag, and I took it right out to the
dumpster in the parking lot. I tossed it in with a hard
shove, and the bag made a ringing echo when it hit
the side of the metal canister. There, I thought, take
that Katy! You and your stupid curse.
I got back to my apartment and went to bed. I was
out right away. The next thing I knew, the alarm
clock was going off, buzzing and buzzing and
buzzing until I finally swung my arm over to shut it
off. That was the first thing that was unusual that
morning, because I usually could get up without the
alarm clock waking me up. But my mind was in a
real fog. Even though I had gotten my usual seven
hours of sleep, it was as if I hadn't slept at all. I was
so exhausted.
Still, I went through my daily going-to-work
routine: turn on the television, grab a big glass of
orange juice and a couple slices of buttered toast,
head to the bathroom to shower and shave. As I did,
though, there were a lot of little signs that
something was off. My hand could barely grip my
favorite big cup. When I showered, my skin felt soft
and sensitive, especially on my chest, and my legs
felt smooth to the touch. I shaved, but my face and
neck felt as clean as if I had already shaved that
morning. Plus, when I looked into the mirror over
the sink, I was looking at the bottom, instead of the
middle. When I put on my pants, shirt and tie,
everything felt baggy and too long, like I had
dropped about forty pounds. When I tightened my
belt, I had to keep going past the usual hole in the
loop, which fit my waist, all the way to the last
possible hole. Even that felt loose. And when I put
my shoes on, they were real loose, even though I
pulled the laces as tightly as I could.
Finally, I grabbed my briefcase and went out to the
car. As usual, I unlocked the door and tossed my
briefcase into the passenger seat. But when I sat in
the driver's seat, it was as if someone else had been
sitting there and had changed all the settings. It was
too low, and too far back. The steering wheel was
too high, and all the mirrors were off. I had to spend
a couple of minutes getting everything right, and the
whole time, I'm wondering who broke into my
locked car and messed everything up.
Then, I pulled my seat belt across my chest and
buckled myself in, but the belt seemed tight and
uncomfortable. And no matter how much I fiddled
with the belt adjustments, it kept pressing into my
chest, and rubbing my shirt against my skin.
The funny thing was that none of this made much of
an impression on me at the time. I was still in my
mental fog. After fighting rush hour traffic all the
way in, I was glad when I finally pulled into the
parking lot.
I walked through the front door and flashed my
usual confident smile. As I passed the front desk, I
nodded to Betty, the receptionist. But instead of
smiling back and giving me a breezy "Good
morning, Brian", her eyes went wide and she looked
me up and down. That made me do a double take.
Was there something wrong? Was my fly open?
Was my tie on wrong? As I kept walking past, I
gave myself a quick inspection, but everything was
clean and in place. Except for the bagginess of my
suit, I was your normal gray-suit office type,
heading into work. Yet, as I looked back at Betty,
she was still staring at me as if I had grown an extra
head. She gave me the willies.
I put my head down and walked a little faster to the
safety of my office, Room 213. My name and title
were still the same on the nameplate--B. Nelson,
Assistant Accounts Receivable Manager. I shoved
my key into the lock, pushed the door open and
slipped in quickly, shutting the door behind me. I
exhaled my relief. Maybe, I thought, I could finally
settle down and relax.
I sat down at my desk and started in on my work.
After a couple of minutes, this woman from across
the hall, Angela, knocked lightly and stuck her head
though the door. She had a big grin on her face.
"Mornin', Bee. How's every little thing?" Bee?
What was that about? But I just let it go.
Angela took a sip from a steaming mug of coffee
and said, "Did you see that cute delivery guy when
you came in?" She giggled, "Maybe I should order
something, just so he can deliver it to me."
Wow, I thought, she's acting strangely. She had
never talked to me like that before. I don't know
how to describe it, except "girly". She was friendly,
but real girly.
Anyway, Angela prattled on about her two little
kids and how adorable they were when she dropped
them off at school that morning. I smiled back at
her and nodded, pretending to give a damn.
I'd been working on her for weeks to get her to go
out with me. I mean, she was pretty hot, with a great
figure, plus deep, brown eyes and thick brown hair.
She's not shy about the skimpy little skirts she
wears, either.
But the other times I had talked to her, she always
seemed uncomfortable. I thought she was attracted
to me, but I guess the whole dating-at-work thing
kept her from accepting my invitations to get a
drink after work.
This time, though, Angela ended the conversation
by asking me to sit with her during lunch. I was
startled and my jaw almost hit the floor when she
asked. She was so warm and friendly about it, like
we were already best friends. Of course, I accepted.
She smiled and gave a little wave and closed the
door behind her.
Well, I thought, things were looking up. I felt a little
better as I went on with my work. Finally, noon
came. I stood up to leave, and I almost fell over,
tripping over the cuffs of my pants. I had to reach
down and pull the cuffs out from underneath my
heels. I couldn't figure that out, either. Had the
stitching come undone? I didn't have any pins, so I
rolled up the cuffs. It looked like hell, but at least I
wasn't going to keep stepping on my own pants.
I got to the cafeteria. The room was half full, with
people spread out among ten long tables. Everyone
turned and looked at me. That was strange, because
I knew them all, more or less, and I'd been eating
lunch in that same room for six and a half years. But
this time, for some reason, people were staring.
In the far corner, Angela raised herself out of her
chair and waved me over. I put my head down and
shuffled quickly over, ignoring the stares that
followed me. As I walked past Tom, Jeff and Andy-
-the three bozos I usually ate with--I heard them
snort and chuckle. I managed to give them a mean
look before I got to Kathy's table, but that only
made them laugh harder. I could feel my face
turning four shades of red.
I slid into the seat next to Angela and dropped my
bag lunch on the table. Finally, everyone else in the
room went back to their own business. As I slid my
daily allowance of junk food out onto the table,
Angela grinned and whispered into my ear, "Hey,
good going. You really got their attention."
I snorted my disgust. "Jerks. I should just go over
there and find out what's so damn funny. And I'll
beat the crap out of the one dumb enough to answer
me."
Angela frowned. I don't think she knew how to
answer that. After trying to think of something for a
couple of seconds, she changed the subject. "So,
how are you and your roommate getting along?"
I groaned. "Funny that you should mention my
roommate. We broke up last night." I sighed as if I
were upset. This was the perfect opportunity for me
to score sympathy points with Angela, and to let her
know I was available.
I leaned over and adopted a confidential tone. "She
wanted to get married, and I said there was no way I
ever would. And, I put my foot down--no way, I
told her. So, I left, and she was gone when I got
back."
Angela frowned as if she could not comprehend
what I was saying. Still, she stayed quiet while I
finished. "Anyway," I said, "the only thing she left
me was a little goodbye note. She cursed me, if you
can believe it. And I don't mean she swore at me. I
mean, she actually put a curse on me. Like she was
a witch and I was the prince that she wanted to turn
into a toad." I wanted to laugh, but this time I didn't
think my own joke was funny.
By the end of my story, Angela was totally
confused. "Get married? What are you talking
about? I thought you had a girl for a roommate."
I felt a little flash of temper, then. "Yeah, I just told
you! 'She'--that bitch Katy--put a curse on me.
Nothing's gone right for me since then."
For a second, I thought Angela was going to cry.
She stabbed her fork a couple of times into her
spaghetti, with this doe-eyed, hurt look on her face.
Finally, she sighed and started to eat. She didn't talk
much after that.
I stewed for a few minutes more before I settled
down and finished my meal. I knew my chances
with Angela were gone, but I wasn't going to admit
defeat by getting up and leaving. When one o'clock
rolled around, I was very civil and thanked Angela
for lunch and left. She gave me a little half-smile
and nodded, but stayed quiet. I guess I freaked her
out.
After I got back to my office, I worked for about an
hour. It helped me to calm down, moving papers
from the in to the out basket. But just when I
thought I might be able to make it through the rest
of the day without having to go out again, nature
called. It was time to pee, right then.
The bathrooms were just down the hall, so I was
hoping I could make it there and back without
running into anyone. I stuck my head out into the
hall, and it was quiet. I almost tiptoed down the
hall, and used my key to let myself into the men's
room.
There was only one other person in there--Tom, one
of the three guys who thought I was so funny at
lunch. I was still mad, so I looked right at him and
growled, "Hey, Tom. Buddy."
This time, though, he wasn't laughing. He stared
goggle-eyed at me as if I had grown antlers out of
the side of my head. And I don't know whether he
was coming in or going out, but he didn't stay long.
By the time I got to the urinal, he beat it out of
there.
That was fine with me, because I was in no mood to
converse. I unzipped my pants and got ready to
relieve my bladder. Then, I let loose.
But the damnedest thing happened. I wet myself!
All over my pants, all over the floor. Once I started,
I couldn't stop until I was completely soaked from
the waist down. Not one drop made it into the
urinal.
After it was over, I just stood there in shock. Urine
was dripping from my clothes into a big puddle on
the tile floor. I yelled, "Fuck!" The sound must have
echoed fifty times around that room.
I knew I had to do something before someone else
came in. I reached over to a dispenser on the wall
and pulled out two big handfuls of paper towels. I
dabbed my clothes and wiped the floor until I had
cleaned it up as best as I could. But the room
smelled like piss and I had big black stains all down
the front of my gray pants. And I just stewed the
whole time. This was the cap to a really bad day.
Then, as I was about to leave, something strange
happened. I was shoving the clump of wet towels
into a garbage can. Out of the corner of my eyes, I
saw a reflection in the bathroom mirror. It was this
petite, thin girl with short cut, sandy-blonde hair,
wearing a man's shirt and tie, standing next to the
garbage can. For a second, I froze, wondering if
someone else was in the room.
When I looked up and faced the mirror, though, she
was gone. It was just me, Brian Nelson, the idiot
who had pissed all over himself. I shook my head in
disgust. I thought I was going nuts.
I managed to get out of there and back to my office
without anyone seeing me. But I knew my workday
was over. There was no change of clothes in my
office, and I was just going to stink up the place if I
stayed. I turned my computer off and left a note on
my desk that I was sick and had to go home.
Not wanting to go back past Betty at the front
reception, I slipped out one of the side doors and
made it back to my car. A couple of people I didn't
know were out there, but they were on the other
side of the lot, and I was walking between cars.
They didn't pay any attention to me. I made it to my
car and got in as fast as I could.
As I pulled out of the lot, I took a big, deep breath
of relief. Maybe I could catch a break, and no one
would realize I had left early. I could get my head
together once I got home.
I made it to my apartment. Once inside my door, I
stripped, shoving my smelly clothes into the
washing machine. I headed to the bathroom, and
took a long, hot, relaxing shower. Going in, I had
felt dirty and disgusting. But the shower was wet
and warm, and I took my time. It hadn't felt that
good to clean myself in a long time. I enjoyed the
sensations of the lathering and rinsing as I washed
myself from head to toe. By the time I stepped out
from the stall and toweled off, I felt like a new man.
When I walked back into my bedroom, it was a
chilly contrast to the hot, moist air of the bathroom.
Goosebumps came up all over my naked body. I
wrapped myself in an old bathrobe, and right away
the fibers started to itch my skin. For some reason,
my favorite robe was too uncomfortable, so I
slipped on a loose-fitting tee shirt and a pair of gym
shorts. The soft cotton felt a lot better against my
body.
As I was rummaging through my dresser, though, I
noticed something strange. Mixed in with my
clothes, there were women's clothes--panties, bras,
halter-tops and blouses. I went to the closet. Among
my blue and gray suits and my white dress shirts,
there was a collection of multicolored dresses,
skirts, and pant suits. On the closet floor, mixed in
with my clunky men's dress shoes, there were
several pairs of girl's shoes--pumps, sandals, and
loafers.
This was really weird. I couldn't imagine Katy
leaving any of her stuff behind. Besides, she had her
own little dresser and a separate closet. She never
mixed her stuff in with mine.
I crossed to the other side of the bedroom. The
places where Katy had kept her clothes were empty.
Besides, this stuff didn't look like anything I had
ever seen Katy wearing. I couldn't figure it out.
As I stood there, a reflection in the dressing table
mirror caught my attention. For an instant, I saw the
same, petite, sandy-blonde haired woman I had seen
in the bathroom mirror at work. This time, though,
she was wearing my tee shirt and gym shorts,
standing where I should have seen myself.
Startled, I snapped my head around and faced the
mirror. But there was only me, Brian Nelson. I even
walked over and put my face right up to the
reflection. I was so close, I could see the stubble in
my half-day old beard. But my shirt and shorts
seemed way too loose on me, and I could swear I
was about three or four inches shorter than I should
have been.
Then, I remembered Katy's little goodbye note.
What had she said? I remembered the curse part, but
I couldn't remember the exact words. Right then, I
wished that I'd saved that piece of paper instead of
making such a point to throw it away.
As I searched my memory, I wandered back into the
main room of the apartment. Something on top of
the dining room table caught my eye--a little piece
of paper. A cold shot of fear went through me. It
couldn't be! But it was--Katy's note.
My hands were shaking as I picked it up and read it
again. There is was, the curse, in big, angry letters,
"From the depths of my soul, and with all the
powers at my disposal, I curse you to lose your
manhood. And the only one not to know it, will be
you." The same shiver went up my spine that I felt
when I read it the first time.
For the first time all day, I felt as if the fog was
starting to lift from my brain. All the little details
that made my day strange, the ones I barely noticed
as the day had gone along, started to link together.
Lose my manhood? It was a frightening thought. I
looked at myself again in the bedroom mirror. The
image reflected back was still me. But my memory
was haunted by the image that I had barely
glimpsed twice that day--the petite, sandy-blonde
haired woman wearing my clothes.
Then, a wild idea hit me. I thought about the
women's clothes mixed in with my own. They were
real. I had seen them, had touched them with my
fingers. If they were part of Katy's curse, then they
should fit me.
This sounds weird coming from me, I know. I had
never tried on female clothing before, even as a
joke. But at that moment, it seemed the best thing
for me to do. And all my regular clothes seemed
suddenly way too big.
I took off my tee shirt and gym shorts, and stood
completely naked in front of the mirror. Yup, I
thought, that's me. Brian Nelson, the same thirty
year old, slightly pudgy man with thinning brown
hair you know. I looked just the same as I always
had, penis included.
Then, almost as if I were handling radioactive
material, I picked out some of the women's clothing
in my dresser and closet. I put on some white cotton
panties. I wrapped a bra around my chest, snapped
the clasp and spun it around until the cups were in
front, then slipped the straps over my shoulders. For
a moment, it felt uncomfortable, then I pulled at the
elastic until the bra seemed to settle on my chest.
I moved to the bed and sat down. Slipping first one
foot and the other into a pair of white sheer
pantyhose, I slid the material slowly up my legs,
letting it cling to the contours of my calves and then
my thighs. Finally, I pulled the waistband over my
hips until the material wrapped tightly around my
lower body. But instead of feeling constricted in the
groin, or uncomfortable, it felt nice, almost
pleasurable.
To complete the outfit, I put on a collared, baby
blue short sleeve blouse, and a short, flower
patterned skirt that only went halfway down my
thighs. Finally, I slipped on a pair of black leather
mary janes, balancing myself on the three inch high
heels.
When I faced the mirror again, I burst out laughing.
A thirty year old guy in drag was reflected back,
complete with a little beer belly that filled out the
top of the pantyhose. I couldn't believe that I was so
stupid. Katy had really gotten into my head, to the
point where I was putting on women's clothing for
the first time in my life.
Then, my laughter slowed, then stopped. The
strange thing was that the clothes felt really good on
me, even the bra and pantyhose. When I had held
them in my hands, they seemed too small for my
body. I thought I was going to have to tug and pull
to put them on. But I didn't, and now that the
clothes were on me, they felt good. They felt like
they belonged.
As I stood there thinking about it, the absolute worst
thing that could have happened did happen. There
was a knock at my front door. I froze. Fear shot
through me like a lightening bolt. I waited,
listening. Maybe whoever it was would go away.
But after a couple of seconds, the knocks started
again, this time more insistent. A woman's voice
came through the door. "Hello? Are you awake?
Hello!" It was Angela, of all people.
I stood absolutely still, feeling my heart pounding in
my chest. I prayed she would give up and go away.
Angela, though, was insistent. "Come on, Bee.
What's wrong? Open up! I know you're in there."
She pounded harder. "If you don't open this door,
I'm going to call the police!"
Oh, God, I thought. This couldn't get any worse!
But I knew Angela was serious, so I did the only
thing I could do. Tottering on my new high heels, I
crossed the living room and went to the front door.
After taking one last, deep breath to calm myself, I
opened the door.
Angela, with a very worried expression on her face,
had her fist raised as if she were about to knock
again. "Oh, Bee! Thank goodness!" She pushed her
way past me through the door, almost knocking me
over. She was talking about a hundred miles an
hour. "I was so worried! I mean, you show up in a
man's clothes, and you're acting so strangely, and
Tom saw you in the men's bathroom and then heard
you yelling and when we looked for you, you were
gone!" She stopped to inhale, then patted herself on
her chest. "Oh, dear. I have to catch my breath!"
As she did, she did a double take and looked at me
up and down. Then, her face broke into a smile.
"Well, I just knew it was a joke! It didn't take long
for you to change back into your normal clothes, did
it?"
That stunned me. Normal clothes? I was standing
there in drag, half-expecting her to run from the
room screaming. Instead, she did the last thing I
thought would have happened. She wrapped her
arms around my shoulders, drew me toward her,
and gave me a big hug.
It was a good thing she did, because I was starting
to feel a little light-headed. For a couple of seconds,
I rested my head on her shoulders, not quite able to
believe what was happening.
Finally, she let me go, but continued to hold my
shoulders. She could see I was having trouble
standing. In a warm, friendly voice, she said, "But,
oh, honey! You're so pale. I can see why you need
to rest."
I opened my mouth, but it took a few more seconds
for me to find my voice. I croaked, "Yeah, rest." I
swallowed, but my mouth and throat were bone-dry.
My voice was hoarse and tense. "I didn't feel well
this afternoon, so I came home."
She patted me on the back and led me to the closest
chair. She cooed in a motherly tone, "Of course you
did, honey. But you really should have said
something. Everyone was so worried!"
I shook my head trying to clear it. Real tears were
starting to well up in my eyes. "I know. I'm sorry." I
cleared my throat and gathered myself as best I
could. In the most confident voice I could manage,
I said, "But, as you can see, I'm all right now. Just
needed a little rest, that's all."
To emphasize the point, I pushed Angela away and
stood up. It was a new experience to stand with
heels on, but I managed it probably better than I
should have.
I gave Angela a reassuring pat on the back and
began to guide her toward the front door. "Don't
worry, Angela. I'm just a little tired, that's all.
Tell everyone I'll be back tomorrow."
She nodded in obvious relief. "Fine, hon. See you
tomorrow then." She stood outside the door and
gave me a last little wave. "Good night, Bee."
I slammed the door in her face, and twisted the
deadbolt. Bee? What the hell was she talking
about?
Then, I saw a glint of gold on the kitchen
countertop, something I had not noticed before. I
walked over, and picked it up.
It was a thin, gold necklace, the kind that has a gold
plated name as part of the chain. And dangling
below my fingers, there was a small strip of gold
script. I straightened it out so I could read the name.
Beverly.
I passed out. I woke up a little while ago, the
necklace still in my hand, and with me wearing
women's clothes. Now you understand why I had to
call you in the middle of the night. Like I said, I
have to know the truth, and you are the one person I
trust to give it to me straight.
Tell me. Am I a girl?
Haven
- 05.07.2022
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