Wereslut Amok

Curse of the Wereslut

Chapter 3: Wereslut Amok

It was jarring to wake up on Sunday morning still horny, albeit not uncontrollably so. "Do you wanna fuck one more time before I leave?" Victoria asked me from the other side of my bed.

"Goddammit!" I muttered, but it took only seconds for me to declare, "Yeah, I do. I wanna sit on your face." I was angry with myself for the total lack of restraint and willpower I was displaying. It was like being trapped in a current too strong to fight; I could steer a little bit, but only within a narrow channel, and turning back was out of the question.

"Climb aboard, then," Vicki said, rolling onto her back and tossing away the sheet covering her. I hesitated a moment, deciding which way to face, but finally decided to position myself so I could look into her eyes as I rode her. It was a strange mix of intimacy and dominance, aggressively grinding my sex against her mouth and nose, and occasionally hissing insults at her. "That's right, drink my cunt juice, you worthless piece of shit!" I growled. "I ought to suffocate you with my pussy for turning me into a slut-monster like you!"

I could see sadness in her pale eyes at my words, which made me feel a little guilty, although she didn't stop licking to protest. As mad as I was, and as justified as my anger might be, I didn't really want to hurt Victoria, much less literally kill her. The more I thought about it, the more ashamed I got about my threats. I couldn't stop myself from trying to cum, but I did at least manage to corral my hateful invective.

"I'm sorry," I whispered a short time later, while licking my own cream off of Vicki's face. "I didn't mean what I said. I would never do anything like that."

"It's okay, I understand," Victoria said with a wan smile, giving me a brief peck of a kiss. "I was angry, too, back when it happened to me."

"Any other horrible behaviors I should be on the lookout for?" I asked, rolling over beside her and staring at the ceiling.

"It varies, but you'll probably go through those grief stages," Vicki said with a sigh. "Denial never lasts long with a condition like this, but in my case, I spent several months bouncing back and forth between various kinds of anger and depression. I'm not sure if being resigned to my fate is considered acceptance or just another flavor of despair, though."

"I couldn't tell you," I said grimly. "What about bargaining? Isn't that the other stage?"

"It's one of them, depending on whose version you're referring to," Vicki answered, putting her hand tentatively atop my own. I allowed it to happen, and she continued, "It's maybe the most fucked-up stage."

After a lengthy pause I prodded, "Care to elaborate?

Sighing again, Vicki said, "I tried a bunch of things hoping to prevent my changes, or else control them. Alcohol, and all kinds of drugs, even stuff that isn't safe for humans. I'm still not entirely sure it wasn't a half-assed suicide attempt, but if there's a silver lining to this condition, it's that we seem to be extremely resistant to any other kinds of chemical manipulation or disease."

"So we can't get drunk or high or sick?" I asked, somewhat incredulous.

"Not really, or at least not for very long," Vicki confirmed. "I guess whatever it is that changes our bodies and minds is too powerful to be defeated by mundane things like drugs or bacteria."

"I guess it is kind of fucked-up that you might have tried to kill yourself," I offered hesitantly. "I mean it when I say I'm glad you didn't."

"Thank you," Victoria said, giving me another small, sad smile. "It'd be better for you if I had, though." I couldn't deny that, and couldn't think of an appropriate response, so I just frowned and avoided eye contact. After a minute or two of awkward silence, Victoria sat up and said, "I should get going, but there's another element of my 'bargaining' phase I should mention."

"Go on," I said, also rising from the bed and wrinkling my nose at the large wet stains we'd made.

"When I failed to chemically subdue my wereslut side, I tried to regulate my behavior," Vicki said, looking around for her clothes. "Denying my urges was too hard, so I leaned heavily in the other direction for a while." Shaking her head, she clarified, "I thought that maybe if I acted like a slut all the time, it would satisfy the curse or whatever, and I could at least pick my partners and avoid all the transformations. It was a dumb idea, and I ended up fucking my cousin anyway. So in the end, it didn't matter at all."

***

I guess I was still a little bit in the denial phase when Monday rolled around and it was time to go back to work. I'd mostly managed to convince people that my phone had been hacked by some joker, who had used AI to make a bunch of fake nudes of me, in order to explain the slutty pictures I'd posted and finally deleted, for whatever good it would do. The fact that I was partially transformed at the time actually helped sell my story, since people who knew me well could tell I didn't look like myself. But as I stood in front of the mirror getting ready for work, I feared that excuse would fall apart once they beheld the 'new me' the curse or virus or whatever had constructed. I could apparently look forward to nicer skin and bigger boobs even when the moon was past full.

I also couldn't help but dress to show off my new assets. None of my bras fit very well anymore, so perhaps I had justification for propping my swollen girls up on a quarter-cup silk number that I ordinarily only wore for seduction, leaving me with bulging cleavage thanks to a low-cut top. It was borderline inappropriate for work, and I both dreaded and anticipated the attention I expected to receive. The translucent thong that went with the bra did almost nothing to protect my modesty, assuming I still had such a thing, if anyone happened to get a glimpse up my skirt.

Being an office drone meant that, under ordinary circumstances, I mostly flew under the radar at work. Yes, I was pretty enough that I got some attention that wasn't always comfortable, but not so desirable that men were willing to risk their jobs or more just for the chance to fuck me. That started changing before I even sat down in my cubicle.

Eyes focused on me as soon as I entered the building, and each obvious stare or insinuating compliment revved me up a little more. My nipples had been semi-erect all morning, partly thanks to my naughty underwear choice, but they got bigger and longer than I'd ever seen them before. I assumed that was attributable to my transformation, but with my bra not even covering them, they were outrageously noticeable.

Every time someone would say something like, "Looking good, Amanda," or, "I love the blouse, Amanda," I would smile like a bimbo and thank them cheerfully, usually blowing them a kiss and telling them to call me Mandi instead.

"I kind of wish I had your confidence, girl," said one of my co-drones when I finally managed to escape the crowd of admirers, who were threatening to become a throng, or even a mob. "You look like you spent the weekend at a spa or something," she added, admiring my body almost as openly as the men had been.

"Nope, just glowing from some really great sex!" I chirped, cringing internally at the bimbo-like tone of voice I adopted. For better or worse, she just chuckled and gave me a conspiratorial wink before getting started on the day's work. It was both a relief and a disappointment that being mostly isolated from view meant that my more sluttish behaviors subsided. It meant I was able to do my work as efficiently as ever, but made it seem even more dull than usual.

"Hey there, Mandi? Wanna go grab some lunch?" said the voice of one of my admirers from that morning. The guy was a junior executive something-or-other and had a mildly predatory vibe. He seemed oily to me, and was the kind of man who ordinarily considered women like me beneath his notice. Again, it wasn't a question of not being good-looking, but about not wanting to play the game of using sex appeal for advantages from men like him, who preferred that kind of girl. To my chagrin, that was exactly the kind of girl a wereslut wants to be.

"Absolutely!" I said with a big, idiotic grin. "Let me just freshen up a bit first!" I immediately saved my work and bounced out of my chair, brushing my lunch date with my breasts as I squeezed past him on the way to the ladies' room. I could feel his eyes on my ass as I walked, so I put a little extra wiggle in my hips.

Subtle seduction was no longer of any interest to me, so when I came back I tucked my panties into his hand and asked, "Where did you wanna go, babe?" I don't know if he originally intended to actually buy me lunch, but his ego was sufficiently swollen that he clearly assumed I found him irresistible, so a few minutes later I was in his office and sucking his dick.

The part of me that I thought of as 'core Amanda' was screaming and weeping at my behavior, because it struck her as a betrayal by her own body and mind. Even the Mandi-me understood that, and I felt sorry for her, or for myself, but not enough to stop blowing what's-his-face.

I think I was starting to develop some kind of supernatural 'slut senses' when it comes to cumming. I could tell the guy was getting close, which may not seem very special, but I could also tell that he wasn't the kind who would recover quickly or reciprocate in the meantime. Or maybe my impression of him was just cynicism about the guy's character mixed with horniness. Either way, after my disappointment in the park, I wasn't going to take any chances.

Spitting out the man's dick, I spun around and hiked my skirt up to my hips. "Fuck me!" I demanded, widening my stance to really display my dripping pussy to good effect.

"What a slut you turned out to be!" the guy said with a chuckle. I had mixed feelings about him taking the time to put on a condom. It was frustrating to wait, and I craved the feeling of a bareback fucking followed by a creampie, but at that time I still wasn't sure about my supposed immunity to STIs, and had no idea about pregnancy as a wereslut, so I forced myself to endure the delay.

To my very great lack of surprise, the dude enjoyed saying demeaning things to his partner while fucking her. Or maybe he was just that way with me, because I honestly was acting like a slut for him, groaning and agreeing with every nasty name he called me. I got so into it that he finally gagged me with my own panties to make me be quiet.

He lasted about three minutes in my pussy, and I would have been deeply disappointed except that my sluttiness was such that making someone cum sent me over the edge reflexively. I wailed as best I could through my mouthful of silky underwear, wondering if he thought I was faking it, or if he ever questioned whether or not he'd made a woman climax. I didn't get a chance to ask, because he was soon ushering me out of his office.

"That was great, babe! We should do it again sometime, but I've gotta get ready for a meeting. See you later!" he said, shutting the door in my face.

Mandi was pleased with herself for a job well done, but Amanda was seething inside. As appalling as my slutty behavior was, the casual brush-off at the end was even worse for her. Noticing that one of the guy's rival junior executive 'whatevers' was staring at me and frowning, Amanda learned that it was possible for her to assert some measure of control after all, as long as she used Mandi as the tool.

I strutted into the other man's office and pulled my panties out of my mouth ostentatiously, saying, "My lunch break isn't over, and he wasn't able to fill me up. Can you help a girl out?"

The new guy wasn't really any better than the first, although I came again when he did. I made sure to do so quite loudly, at least at first, before I wound up getting panty-gagged again. But my orgasmic cries had served their purpose. When I exited the second office, guy number one was watching, and it was plain to see that my tryst with his rival left him feeling enraged and possibly emasculated.

The two men started yelling at one another, which of course drew a small crowd, although neither of them had lasted long enough for us to reach the end of the lunch hour. I wondered if they might actually physically assault one another, but Amanda once again asserted herself and found a way to defuse the situation. The fact that it knocked both guys down a peg or two was just icing on the cake.

"Hey there, I'm Mandi!" I said, introducing myself to another junior executive, the only one in our department who happened to be a woman. She wasn't particularly good-looking, and did nothing to emphasize her best features, so I was pretty confident that she'd earned her position with exceptional talent. My slut-senses also tingled and told me she would like what I had to offer.

"I had two lunch dates today, but neither of them gave me anything to eat. You wouldn't let a girl go hungry, would you?" I asked, smiling brightly as I ran my finger down the lapel of her power suit. It was such a blatantly obvious innuendo that I can't believe it would have worked under normal circumstances, or even almost any abnormal circumstances. But between my enhanced looks, obnoxious confidence, and clear desire to show up her rivals, there was evidently enough of a lure to convince the lady executive to take me up on my offer.

"We'll dine out," the woman said, blushing only slightly as she led me away. I smiled and winked at the two dismayed men as I allowed myself to be ushered into the elevator. Mandi was looking forward to another taste of pussy, while Amanda was sighing, but consoling herself that at least neither guy had wound up with our expensive silk panties as a trophy.