Jen couldn't take it anymore.
Her hand shot up into the air in a frantic wave, "Mr Brady? Mr Brady may I be excused?"
Beneath the desk Jen's feet bounced anxiously, her skirt rippling in her lap as she tried very hard to ignore the glances from her classmates all around her. Her knee hit the desk, causing it to squeak gratingly against the floor. Jen's thighs burned as she fought the urge to spread them more comfortably for relief.
Mr Brady, the history teacher, lowered the book he was lecturing from with a tired sigh, rolling his eyes over the rim of his glasses, "You can have three minutes Miss Smith... and not a second longer, understood?"
Jen didn't wait. She bolted from her seat, her body rocking slightly as she fought to keep her balance - she felt like she was going to pass out any second, "Yes Mr Brady!"
The cheerleader hurried out of the class, vision swaying as she rushed, legs apart in an awkward waddle. She barely took two steps beyond the door, with a quick look up and down the hall to confirm she was alone, before her hands plummeted frantically beneath her skirt.
Her fingers tore at her panties like they were drowning her, wildly dragging them half-way down her thighs with a gasping breath of relief.
Jen stood, panting, legs apart, leaning her body against the lockers, her hands clutching the hem of her cheerleading skirt as she held it open and away from her pussy.
Her vagina was hot, stifled - she knew it made no sense but her panties felt like they were suffocating her. She shuffled her legs a little wider apart, stretching her panties into string, swallowing down a helpless little moan of freedom.
Jen knew, with one mind, that what she was doing and feeling was deeply wrong. She was standing in the empty school hallway, baring her pussy to anyone that happened to round the corner. She was burning up with humiliation and frustration, confusion and horror that Kyle's curse was clearly scarily real.
And yet at the same time, she couldn't seem to fight the natural instincts that Kyle had artificially and magically put inside her. It didn't matter that she knew, logically, how wrong they were - because they felt right...
If she wasn't concentrating on controlling every little thing her hands and her face did, she would just casually fall into focussing on her vagina. Worse, her attention and every part of her consciousness felt hyper-fixated on every little thing her pussy was experiencing.
She could feel the folds of her labia in almost ultra-detail, the way her pink lips squished together and moved when she walked. She could feel her heartbeat in her needy little clit and the tingling sparkling excitement of her exact level of arousal in the very front of her mind. She could feel the soft downy hairs and the stubble above her lips, and the peach fuzz around her mound absolutely crying out to be dealt with.
She'd spent the last two hours feeling the tortorous, maddening, constrictingly hot cotton of her panties across every inch of her beautiful teen pussy. The way the fabric stuck to her folds, the little bits of lint an uncomfortable tacky dryness she desperately needed to soak away. The way it made her pussy hot, stifled without any fresh air or breeze - always pressing against her, soaking up her juices, drying her out, making her stuffy and hot and gross!
She rolled against the lockers, lifting her hips and flapping her skirt to waft a welcome refreshing breeze across her vagina to try and calm down.
It wasn't that she didn't still feel like all of her, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, Jen was still Jen. The issue was where in her she thought she was, where her focus was, where everything felt centered... not in her head, but her vagina.
Knowing she couldn't fight the inevitable any longer, Jen quickly snatched her panties down her legs, stepping out of them with an embarrassed and defeated cry. The blonde snatched them from the floor, bundling them quickly in her hand before she even realised she had nowhere to hide them.
Her bag was still in class, and despondently the blushing blonde was instead forced to carry her panties to the end of the hall - where she reluctantly dropped them into the swinging lid of the trash can.
"No one will find them..."
Jen cringed, experimentally swaying her hips as her blush grew an even deeper red. She'd been joking about giving all the boys a thrill by flashing them without her panties today - now she was faced with the embarrassing reality that she didn't really have a choice. The idea of putting panties on under her cheerleading skirt right now made her feel almost physically sick, her pussy scrunching up in disgust.
Jen flattened down the back of her skirt in an attempt at modesty. She felt a deep-seated confusion and conflict at what she was doing - on the one hand again, knowing this was wrong, that flashing her pussy to anyone was a humiliating social suicide, and yet, it was her wasn't it? Her vagina was cute, she was cute, she wanted to be seen being cute!
"God! No! I need to snap out of it. I'll... fix it..." Jen told herself. Stroking her exposed pussy beneath her skirt felt as natural to her now as hugging herself used to.
She had the curse. She held onto that thought for relief at least. That was it, she'd just use it on Susan or Cassie or someone that could use it to make her normal again. Then she'd focus on getting revenge on Kyle for the fucked up reality he'd put her in...
Without thinking Jen tousled her labia like she used to throw back her hair, and hurried back towards class.