"Third, you may only pass on the curse on your deathbed. Fourth, you may only wear sexy clothing. Fifth, you'll mention your breasts often and will enjoy drawing attention to them."
Holy shit! Jen had to do something or she'd end up the fucking-est slut the school had ever seen!
"Kyle, please. Do you need to do anything more? As soon as you tell anyone I'm going to end up naked and fucking every guy in sight." Jen sniffled, suddenly aware she'd been crying for some time."I mean, even if you don't tell anyone they're going to figure it out pretty quickly; all someone has to do is tell me 'fuck off bitch' and I'll be, be--" Jen sobbed quietly.
"No, they'd need to call you 'bitch' *then* tell you to do something. Like 'Bitch, on your knees'--
Jen sat up, rolled over and was kneeling before she quite know what was happening. She flipped her hair back and spoke brightly into the phone "Sure thing Kyle! Want me to stick my tits out too?"
Jen bit her lip and glanced down at herself; one tit hanging out of a bra that was increasingly too small for her, cheer leading skirt wrinkled and mussed from where she'd been lying on it, thighs sticky with the aftermath of masturbating, and wearing smelly wet panties from the same. Hell, she'd never even found her other sock.
"Oh," Kyle said. "Um yeah, maybe you're right. Um fifth? sixth? uh, *lastly*, you won't do anything to get me in trouble over this. Okay? got all your directives?"
"Yes Kyle, you fucking son of a bitch!" Jen turned off the phone and wrapped her arms around her belly.
In a few hours she was going to look like Kyle's wet dream and do practically anything people told her to. She wondered if it was too late to drop out of school. Presumably she'd be able to get a modeling career, or at least act in pornos or something to pay the bills and keep as far away from everyone else as possible.