The Wereslut Awaens

Foreword

: This follows

Curse of the Wereslut

(link)

.

Curse of the Wereslut

Chapter 2: The Wereslut Awakens

I was back at home and standing in the shower, trying to center myself. At that particular moment, I was leaning towards believing the whole thing was a hallucination or a drug trip or something like that. The idea that I had just been completely wrong about how deliciously hot Vicki was seemed more credible than the idea of magically contagious sluttiness. Even the fact that I was humping my loofah while remembering the impossibly torrid night of lesbian sex I'd enjoyed wasn't enough to sway my desperate conviction that it was all a fantasy or mistake.

My small climax in the tub only made me more horny, and I puttered around the house for a little while, feeling restless and energetic. Despite the fact that my hair was still damp from the shower, I decided to go for a jog to try to burn off some of my jitters, and the earlier I left the better, given the intense summer heat. My exercise outfit seemed a little tight, but a glance in the mirror convinced me that it looked fine; I caressed my curves appreciatively a few times before grabbing my supplies and heading out.

I'm a good-looking woman, objectively speaking. Even if I'm not on the tier of models and actresses, I'm accustomed to attracting a fair amount of attention when dressed in form-fitting clothes and making things flex and bounce. More heads were turning than normal that morning, and when I went around corners I could see that a small crowd of other joggers had decided to keep pace behind me. I think if that had happened in the past, I'd have been worried, uncomfortable, or maybe annoyed. In my new condition, it increased my lust.

Even though I was enjoying the attention, I did still feel an inkling of concern, so I increased my speed and turned onto a path that wound its way through a grassy park area. Most of my fan club dispersed, perhaps taking my faster stride as a sign of fear and feeling guilty for their actions; the small number that continued following me allowed themselves to fall further behind, which made me feel both relieved and disappointed.

I ran around the park three or four times, much more than I would ordinarily have done, yet I could tell I was nowhere near exhaustion. The runner's high was making me kind of euphoric, but even elevated levels of energy couldn't quench thirst, so I eventually forced myself to stop near the water fountain to take a long drink. I heard an indrawn breath behind me and turned my head enough to see a man, maybe a few years younger than me, with his eyes glued to my ass. From his attire I could see he was on the local college's track team, and I'm pretty sure he was in my original crowd of followers.

When the guy noticed me noticing him he blushed and tried to stammer an apology. I probably would have pretended to ignore him and continued my run if I'd been in my right mind, but instead I walked over and pressed my finger to his lips, shushing him, then took his hand in mine.

The young man didn't resist at all when I led him to the squat concrete box nearby that housed a few sinks and toilets. Entering the men's room, I turned around and stood on my toes to give him the most passionate kiss I could muster. I put one arm around his neck for support and let my other hand massage the growing bulge in his shorts. He was completely unsure what to do at first, and it seemed to take forever before his hands began hesitantly touching my hips.

I broke our kiss and pulled back slightly, which gave him a chance to try speaking. I shushed him again, before he managed to articulate anything other than a dazed-sounding, "What?"

"Shut up and play with my tits!" I demanded, pulling my exercise top up to expose the breasts in question. They were definitely larger than they had been earlier that morning, and it was something of a struggle to get them out of the stretchy material. My nipples were rigid and looked to be a brighter shade of red than normal. I moaned happily as he cupped my swollen orbs and brushed his thumbs against the hard nubs.

The strange man's fondling was honestly pretty clumsy, but my sensitivity to being touched was off the charts, so I was loving it just fine, even if a small part of my mind couldn't help imagining how much better it could be with a more experienced lover. I brought my hands up to his, directing him gently and murmuring suggestions or instructions. To his credit, he proved to be a quick study, and my pleasure intensified dramatically. I surprised both of us when I moaned, "I'm cumming!" in response to some basic nipple-pinching.

Once again, my climax seemed to be more of an appetizer than the main course. Before I quite knew what I was doing, I had dropped to the gritty floor of the restroom and pulled down the young man's pants, unveiling a pretty average-sized erection that smelled sweaty and musky. In my state of mind, however, that was irresistible. Once I'd swallowed his dick I only stopped blowing him long enough to say, "Shut up!" when he tried to talk again.

I didn't expect my partner to last very long, given my own experience with college guys and the tales of my girlfriends, so I snuck a hand into my increasingly tight shorts to diddle my clitty while I blew him. My plan was to get the stranger off and then get him hard again so he could give me a good fucking, but it went off the rails pretty quickly.

For one thing, my pussy's sensitivity had skyrocketed as well, even since my shower masturbation, so I wasn't mentally prepared for how much I would enjoy the fingering. That distraction prevented me from paying attention to the blowjob I was giving, so the jets of cum hitting the back of my throat were a surprise. I let the cock loose to savor the flavor, and moaned at the taste as well as the sensation of his last few spurts landing on my upturned face. I kept jilling as I swilled his cum around my mouth.

When I finally recovered from my latest orgasm I was alone. "That little punk!" I snarled, using my fingers and tongue to clear up the rest of the runaway's spunk. "I didn't even get a chance to fuck!" Livid, I stood up and brushed off my knees, then glared at my reflection. I noticed first that my titties were still hanging free, and they weren't ordinarily of a size to hang at all, unless I was on my hands and knees. That shocked me enough to make my gaze stray to my face.

I was barely recognizable as myself. All my features were basically the same, yet better. Something about tiny modifications to the size and placement served to turn a pretty face into a beautiful one. As I admired my plumper lips and slightly thinner nose, I corrected my first impression: my face was

sexy

, not beautiful. Even with the hints of surprise and anger still evident in my expression, it was a countenance that promised sensual delights were available.

"Well, fuck," I muttered, as my attempt at self-deceit came crashing down around me. It was impossible to deny the truth of what Victoria had said when I could see the echo of her incredible loveliness in my own features. "It looks like you really

are

a wereslut, Mandi." I frowned, because I hated that nickname, but it had felt right the moment I uttered it.

***

I jiggled my way home in an increasingly ill-fitted jogging outfit, doing my best to ignore the stares and occasional cat-calls directed my way, not to mention a disgusted or angry glare from a few people. Any kind of attention seemed to be boosting my libido; my nipples jutted out obscenely, and even my areolae were puffed up enough to make out their shape. My normal feeling of humiliation at exposure had evidently been redirected to my arousal.

Once back indoors, I scrambled around looking for the slip of paper Victoria had given me. I hadn't bothered reading it before, but it had her full name, two phone numbers, and several social media handles. My pussy convulsed as I briefly entertained an urge to check out the cam site listed, but I restrained myself. Squeezing my thicker thighs together to put pressure on my mound, I dialed the first number and waited impatiently for her to answer.

"Is this who I think it is?" asked the slightly familiar voice of the woman I both loathed and desired.

"It's Mandi, you slut!" I hissed. "The woman you fucked last night! In more ways than one!"

"I'm guessing you tried to have a normal day, got fucked, and now you're convinced I was telling the truth. Is that about right?" Vicki asked, sounding a bit amused.

"Worse!" I wailed. "The asshole left before he could fuck me!" Vicki's jovial tone was a departure from the sadness she had been expressing early that morning, but my analytical mind hazarded a guess that she was probably partially transformed into her slut-mode. She was likely to be about as turned on as I was; perhaps moreso, given that it was my initial change.

"The first night is the worst, everyone says so," Vicki told me in a softer voice. "It can be really traumatic if you don't have anyone to fuck. Do you need me to come over, or is there someone else you'd rather call?"

"Fuck! I don't know!" I said through gritted teeth, fumbling to pull down my shorts. "I guess you should come over, I don't want my friends to see me like this!" I groaned loudly as my fingers splashed wetly in my snatch.

"Oh, honey, that's a lost cause," Vicki said consolingly. "But if you'll send me your address I'll come over as quick as I can."

"Okay. Hurry!" I said breathlessly.

Before I could disconnect to message her, Victoria added, "If you've got a vibrator or dildo, use it. Or find something to improvise with. Distract yourself until I get there!"

"Hurry!" I repeated, then ended the call. I quickly typed out my address, but couldn't resist sending her a picture of my swollen sex along with the text. It made me boil, and I peeled off my top, needing to free my aching tits from their confinement. They were large enough now to bring a nipple to my mouth, which I happily did. I suckled myself greedily, then decided to take a selfie so I could see how hot I looked.

The picture came out fantastic, at least by my muddled standards, and I quickly posted it to my socials, not even caring that it would damage my reputation before someone reported it and it got taken down. It took only a couple of minutes for my friends and contacts to start commenting and messaging me. I barely read anything they said, but I had an impression of a mix of concern about being hacked and lusty delight at my outrageous change in behavior. I replied to every private message, regardless of the content, with more slutty pictures of myself.

I soon lost interest in my phone and tossed it aside, ignoring the steady chiming of new alerts. I tried to stand up so I could retrieve my vibrator from the bedroom, but my shorts were still around my lower legs, so I tripped and landed painfully on my tits. Even that only served to arouse me further, making me moan at the discomfort of slamming my hard nubs into the floor. I kicked myself free of my shoes and pants, leaving me with just my ankle socks as I crawled away in search of my toy.

I fortunately forgot to lock my door when I came home, so Vicki was able to enter without me needing to interrupt my frantic masturbation. I whimpered when I saw her looking down at me, almost as hot as before.

"Oh, you poor thing!" said the blonde bombshell. "Let Vicki have a taste, okay?" She slithered out of her dress, revealing her nude form, and joined me on the floor of my bedroom.

"It's barely lunchtime!" I whined. "I thought this was a moon thing!"

"It is, hon," Vicki said as she easily slid three fingers into my dripping crease. Over my grunts and moans, she explained, "After this first time, your daylight hours will be closer to normal, but your slut-body is creating itself." She paused briefly to lick her fingers clean, humming appreciatively, then resumed her frigging and talking. "You'll be more or less like this until tomorrow's sunrise."

"God, what a nightmare!" I exclaimed, bucking with a smallish orgasm. The part of me that was most like the old Amanda was aghast, horrified at the thought of spending something like eighteen hours in such a lusty, uncontrollable state. The additional possibility that someone would try to visit to check on me after my slutty sexting escapades was terrifying, yet arousing. "Fuck! I want to taste you!" I screamed, my mind unable to stay focused on anything but sex.

"Happy to oblige, Mandi!" my tormentor-slash-lover replied, spinning around and settling her hips over my face. I once again found myself trapped in a divine embrace, overwhelmed by her damp heat and heady aroma, and all of my anger and resentment seemed to drain away. I knew that those feelings would return, or at least I hoped they would. Then, I surrendered myself to joyful lust, letting everything I thought and felt become blurred and distant in the boiling fog of my sluttiness.