Irene backed away from the pastor, who by now was practically frothing at the mouth. She’d always thought that curses were the domain of gypsies, or witch doctors ... when she’d asked Father O’Shea for guidance about losing her virginity, she certainly hadn’t expected him to reply by putting a curse on her.

“Well, if you’re going to become a harlot...” he’d said, standing fiercely and pointing one accusatory finger at her, “ ... let’s see how much of a harlot ye can be!”

With that, he’d started chanting in Latin - she’d backed away, and reached for the door handle. She’d managed to get away, but not before he’d finished.

Irene had only studied Latin for a few years, and she was quite rusty, but she’d been able to make out a few words of Father O’Shea’s rant - “whatever they say, you shall become” - something like that.

She was running across the front yard of the church she’d gone to her whole life, when she heard Father O’Shea’s voice behind her. Looking up, she saw that he was poking his head out of the window of his office.

“I do wish you wouldn’t run on the grass!” he said, and though Irene wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible, she found her legs slowing down.

Without any conscious control, the dark-skinned girl moved over to the path. Only when she felt the firm concrete beneath her feet could she start running again, and she did, fleeing the sacred ground as quickly as possible, the mad cackling of her priest following her as she did...

Once Irene got into town, she slowed down, and sighed a breath of relief. A stranger stopped to make sure that she was okay - although his concern was probably inspired, at least in part, by her beauty. Irene stood at just under six feet tall, with long, toned legs and a large chest that she had no aversion to showing off. Sure, she was a church-going girl, but no one ever went to hell for showing a bit of cleavage.

“I’m fine,” she said gratefully, turning to face him. He was older than her, in his mid-thirties at least. “I’m just on my way to my boyfriend’s house...”

“I wish I was your boyfriend,” he said with a chuckle, and Irene’s body language instantly changed.

“You are,” she purred, taking a step toward him, and putting her hand around his waist. “Thanks so much for taking care of me, sweetie.”

Standing on her tip-toes, Irene gave the stranger a kiss. His eyes opened wide in confusion, but he soon returned her kiss.

While her tongue danced with the older man’s, Irene wondered what the hell she was doing. She’d never met this man in her life, but here she was, making out with him like he was ... like they were dating.

They were dating, she suddenly realized. Even though she had no idea who he was, she couldn’t deny the fact that yes, this was the man she was dating.

The curse.

Abruptly breaking off the kiss, Irene stared at the man in shock.

“I’ve got to go,” she said, and began running before he could say a word.

She tried to stick to her original plan, and head to her boyfriend’s house, but whenever she tried to remember where he lived, she just got confused, and ended up running around in circles. Her boyfriend was the man from the street, and she had no idea where he lived. Finally, she managed to trick her own brain by heading not to her boyfriend’s house, but instead just to “Jem’s place”.

Irene had been dating Jem for almost a year now, and was the reason that she’d gone to visit the church in the first place. She truly loved him, and though they were both teenagers, she knew that he was the one that she wanted to lose her virginity to. Now, of course, they weren’t dating ... but if she spent too long thinking about that, her mind tied itself in knots, so instead she just focussed on her predicament.

Jem answered the door with a smile, but when he leaned in for a kiss, Irene recoiled. She couldn’t kiss this man, and cheat on her boyfriend ... truth be told, she wasn’t even sure if she wanted to tell him about the curse. It all sounded so ... so silly.

“Irene, what’s wrong?” Jem asked, and when she didn’t reply, instead just staring at him sadly, he looked concerned, and began to make her a hot chocolate - her favorite.

“I...” she said, sipping on the warm liquid he’d brought her. “I ... oh, Jem...”

Jem went to hug her, but when she again recoiled, grimaced impatiently.

“I do wish you’d tell me what’s wrong,” he said, and so she did. She told him of her visit to Father O’Shea, about the curse, she told him what the man on the street had said ... Jem just sat there and listened patiently, but when she’d finished, an evil glint came into his eye.

“So you’re saying that if I wish something, it comes true?”

Irene nodded dumbly. She loved Jem ... well, she thought she did, but her boyfriend ... it was all so confusing.

“Okay,” Jem said slowly. “I wish that you hated hot chocolate.”

He immediately regretted the timing of his wish, as Irene had just taken a large sip - she instinctively spat it out ... all over Jem.

“Oh, Jem, I’m so sorry!” she said, putting the mug of vile liquid down. “Oh please, let me wash that out for you!”

“You stupid bitch,” he snapped, looking down at the stain on his shirt. “This was my favorite shirt, damn it!”

“Please, let me make it up to you!”

“I will,” he said, glaring at her. “I wish that you’d strip off your clothes for me, right now.”

Irene’s eyes widened as her body stood up and began moving to an unheard tune. She’d never exposed herself to anyone, and she’d never imagined her first time was like this. She’d predicted romance, candle-light, a slow, mutual removal of clothes over the course of the evening ... she certainly hadn’t thought that Jem would just order that she undress, and watch her as she did.

“Yes,” he said, as her midriff came into view. “Nice.”

Jem had been driven wild by Irene’s body for the entire time that they’d been dating - he thought that he’d been close to finally getting her in the sack, so when she’d told him the reason she was visiting Father O’Shea, it made sense. But the curse? The curse meant he didn’t have to keep on doing any of that lovey-dovey shit. He could just see what he wanted ... and then take the black bitch as his own.

His erection grew as she removed her bra, revealing two large-but-perky breasts.

“I wish those were bigger,” he muttered under his breath, and was amazed as they began to grow before his eyes.

Irene, too, was shocked at the sight of her own rapidly-expanding breasts. They only grew a cup-size or two, and her heart sank as she realized that she was going to have to buy a whole new set of bras ... As if that’s my main worry, she thought to herself, remembering her situation as she slid her panties down, exposing her hairy pussy to Jem.

“I wish that you were shaved,” he said, and the two teenagers stared as her pubic hair fell off into a small pile onto the floor.

“Oh boy,” Jem said with a grin, “I’m going to enjoy this ... play with yourself.”

Irene just stared at him in shock, the boy that she’d fallen in love had immediately been replaced by a sex-hungry man with no regard for her.

“Whoops.” Jem quickly realized his mistake. “I wish that you’d play with yourself ... and blow me while you do so.”

One of Irene’s hands immediately dove between her legs as she fell to her knees in front of her ... ex? She tried to distract herself by ruminating on the nature of their relationship, but just got hit by a wave of guilt as she realized that as well as being forced into sexual acts by someone she’d once loved ... she was cheating on her boyfriend at the same time.

Her fingers played against her freshly-shaven pussy-lips, enjoying the different sensation, while Jem unbuckled his pants and pulled out his erection. She didn’t hesitate and tried not to think about what she was doing as her mouth opened, and his rock-hard cock began forcing its way into her mouth.

Before they could continue, however, Jem’s phone rang.

“Shit,” he said, his eyes flicking toward the naked girl kneeling in front of him, and his home phone, ringing like crazy. He’d been waiting all day for the call - his brother was bringing around his old car for Jem to buy. A smile crept over his face as he realized that with complete control over Irene, there was no hurry - he could talk to his brother, and she’d still be waiting, naked and ready for him.

“I wish that you’d stay here,” he said. “I wish that you wouldn’t put your clothes back on, and I wish that you wouldn’t call anyone for help ... in fact, I wish that you wouldn’t even talk to anyone. And I wish that the longer you’re away from me, the more turned on you get. I want you standing a pool of your own juices by the time I return...”

Irene just glared at him as he put his pants back on and ran into the adjacent room. She could hear him talking and laughing with his brother, and - just as he’d wished - she couldn’t move at all.

Her phone began to ring, and while at first she just glared at it, when she realized that Jem’s wishes hadn’t prohibited her from answering, her face lit up with hope.

It was her mother, and though she couldn’t speak, she could clearly hear what her mother was saying on the other end of the line.

“Hello? Hello? Irene, it’s your mother ... Irene? I hope you haven’t sat on your phone or anything like that...”