For the next fifteen minutes, Jennifer struggled to help Martha in the kitchen. She wasn't used to cooking the meals. The way she figured it, they were paying Martha to do it, not her. But she understood the importance of the dinner tonight. She was also too distracted with worry over her increasingly uncontrollable sexual urges. As she cut up a cucumber, she surprised herself by thinking how one might feel up her pussy.
She wasn't through having ditzy moments, either. Martha asked her to grab some spices. She looked all over the spice rack, but couldn't find one of them. "We're out of time," Jennifer said. Martha came over, muttering something about just having bought a bottle. She spotted it immediately. Jennifer saw the label that read "Thyme," not "Time." Of course, she knew it wasn't spelled that way. She just forgot. No big deal.
Unfortunately, it became a very big deal when Jennifer went to put the foil-wrapped potatoes in the oven. Martha stopped her just before she could press "Start." "What are you doing?!" she shouted, pulling the microwave door open and removing the baking tray. "I said the oven, not the microwave!"
"You know what? You can just, like, cook everything yourself then!" Jennifer screamed before storming out of the kitchen. She wanted to be pissed at Martha, but she knew it was all her own fault. Whatever was causing her to lose her smarts was starting to get serious. Pretty soon she'd probably forget how to read.
She was jolted out of her worrying by the phone. She almost called for Martha to grab it, but she knew Martha had her hands full. Grumbling to herself, she picked it up. She answered in a forcefully sweet voice, "Hello?"
"Why Jennifer," came a teenage boy's snarky voice. "I'm amazed you still know how to use a telephone."
"Who is this?"
"Well, the T or D must be working. Otherwise I don't know how you could forget the voice of the guy who cursed you."
"What?" In the murky depths of Jennifer's brain, she recalled something about the town curse, and her becoming hornier with every orgasm, but beyond that things kept falling into the fog.
"Yesterday morning, I cursed you to lose a little bit of intelligence every time you had an orgasm. I just called to see how you were doing."
"You cursed me?" Suddenly things made much more sense. The answers she kept searching for, finding, and then losing again with her next orgasm became clearer than they had all day. "So that's why I keep, like, getting stupider."
"Very good!" The boy answered as if Jennifer were a six-year-old solving a math problem. "I'll tell you, when your friend came crying to me after you cursed her to get you off, I couldn't believe you could be so cruel. Pantsing me is one thing, but doing that to your own friends?"
Jennifer was slowly remembering where she'd heard that voice before. The reference to pantsing caused a flicker of a memory to appear. That nerdy kid they'd had some fun with last week. His name still escaped her. Now suddenly she became aware of the growing desire to get off. It had been there for a while, but she was distracted because of the cooking and the phone call. Now, however, it was getting too strong to ignore.
"Anyway, she's obviously a bit sharper than you. She figured out where you got the curse from pretty quickly. She begged and pleaded with me to change you back. You shook her up good. I can't imagine how desperate you were for an orgasm. You must be even worse now."
Every time Jennifer thought back to what happened in the school bathroom, she felt herself become hotter and hotter. She couldn't deny her need for much longer.
"She gave the curse back to me," the boy said in a sinister tone. "If you would allow me, I'd like to curse you once again. Set a few things straight. Would you like that?"
Jennifer didn't know what to say. Was he going to fix everything? Would she no longer lust for her own self-pleasure? Or was he about to make her life even more unbearable than ever?
"Transform or Dare, Jennifer Smith?"