Arcane Allure: Branded and Cursed
Copyright© 2025 by Awkward Penn
Chapter 5: I’m Everyone’s Type
Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 5: I’m Everyone’s Type - A man's girlfriend catches him flirting with another woman and curses him to actually be the whore he thinks he is. The curse takes the form of a brand on his back. Bisexual hijinks follow.
Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Ma/Ma Mult Mind Control Reluctant Gay BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction Fairy Tale Workplace Magic DomSub MaleDom FemaleDom Swinging Anal Sex Oral Sex Revenge Slow
It wasn’t even lunchtime when I left my apartment with no destination in mind. I’d swapped out my semitransparent button-down for an opaque black t-shirt, then added my work shirt back on top, but open like a jacket. It may have been my brand talking, but the first thing I found on my phone was an adult bookstore I knew about but had never actually visited. They weren’t open, so I settled for another place I had never visited: a restaurant only half a block away.
If I didn’t think about it too hard, I could pretend the brand on my back was some kind of sadistic parlor trick: a chemical painted on me in my sleep, which took time or a catalyst to activate. If nothing else, I could plain not think about it.
The changes to my apartment were things I could have done if I had put in more effort and spent my money a bit differently. The mirror on the opposite side of the room brightened the room nicely. But teleporting furniture? Who knows what I would find when and if I ever went back.
As I approached the restaurant, I saw it was empty except for a man reading a newspaper behind the counter. The place was small, with barstools bolted to the floor on one side of the room and several empty booths on the opposite side. Just short of the door, my blonde hair tickled the back of my neck. I fished a hair tie out of my pocket and put it up in a high ponytail before I realized I hadn’t had long hair or a hair tie in my pocket moments before. I rushed to the last booth and put my back against the wall before anything else weird happened.
The man had a build more reminiscent of a stereotypical construction worker or butcher than a waiter. He fished a notepad out of his apron as he approached my table. My lips tingled, but he was staring at my chest. Fighting the urge to look for myself at what he was staring at, I unconsciously slumped my shoulders.
“Smile, darling,” he said with a grin. “Aint nothing in this world should make a pretty little thing like you sad.”
I smiled as instructed and sat up straight. My lips felt twice as thick as they had moments before, and a heavy weight pulled on my chest. Air brushed across my chest, my t-shirt now sporting a scoop neck. His own smile broadened. I looked away from his face, suddenly embarrassed by the way he was looking at me, realized I had glanced at his crotch, then looked back at his face, trying to smile, but instead licking my lips nervously.
“How much for a glass of water?” Why the hell had I said that? I wasn’t short on money, and most places like this served water for free.
“Are you a little short on money, darling?”
“I’ll let you touch my tits for a pitcher.”