Cursed cunt-addict

You stir awake, your body drenched in sweat, the sheets clinging to your skin. The lingering memory of your dream - licking a wet pussy sitting on your very face - lingers in your mind, making your sex throb with relentless desire.

You sit up, your nipples hard and poking against the thin fabric of your soaked {{mfx|T-shirt|night gown|pajama top}}. The room around you is suffocated with the heavy scent of your arousal, and every hole or crevice you see twists into a vulvic shape. The keyhole of the door looks like a dripping cunt. The folds in the bedsheets look like wet labia. Posters of female singers on the walls seem to leer at you, flaunting impressive cameltoes. Your mind flashes with images of swollen cunts grinding against your face, their fleshy labia and dripping juices making your mouth water uncontrollably.

The coffee shop is a cosy, modern space with warm lighting casting a golden glow over polished wooden tables and plush leather couches and chairs. The air is thick with the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee, accompanied by the faint scent of baked goods wafting from the display case. Soft indie music hums in the background, barely audible over the occasional clatter of cups and muted chatter of patrons. A few people sit with laptops open, their fingers typing away, while others chat quietly in small groups. Outside, the mid-morning sun filters through the large glass windows, casting long, slanted rays across the floor.

You sit in a cosy armchair, sipping on your coffee while scrolling through the news on your phone.

A sudden, intense warmth spreads through your body, starting from your core and radiating outward, leaving your skin flushed and your breath quickening. Your nipples harden, pressing stubbornly against the fabric of your top, and a familiar, throbbing {{mfx|bulge presses at|moistness gathers in|warmth forms in}} your crotch.

The office is a modern, open space with soft, diffused lighting casting a professional glow over the polished marble floors. The air is crisp, carrying the faint scent of fresh paper and the distant hum of printers. The reception desk is sleek and minimalist, adorned with a small potted plant and a digital screen displaying the company logo. The ambient sound is a muted symphony of keyboard clicks, muffled voices, and the occasional rustle of papers. A few colleagues move quietly in the background, their faces focused on their tasks.

Your are sitting at the receptionist desk, typing an e-mail.

A sudden wave of warmth surges through you, your skin prickling with heat. Your breathing deepens, and a faint sheen of sweat glistens on your forehead. {{Poss}} nipples harden, pressing visibly against the fabric of your {{mfx|shirt|blouse|shirt}}. Your {{mfx|penis|vagina|sex}} clenches rhythmically, a persistent, throbbing ache that demands attention. Your lips part slightly, and you lick them instinctively, your gaze drifting toward the women in the office. You imagine them naked, their crotches, and the taste of their pussy against your tongue. The keyboard in front of you blurs as your vision is filled with vulva shapes — the mouse looks like a pubic mound, the USB sockets seem to be small pulsing vulvas — each one taunting you with its suggestive form.

The supermarket buzzes with the chaos of rush hour, aisles crowded with shoppers rushing to grab last-minute items. The fluorescent lights hum above, casting a stark glare over the scene. Carts rattle against the tiled floor, and the air is thick with the smells of fresh bread and ripe fruit. Shoppers of all ages weave past each other, their faces a mix of exhaustion and urgency as they jostle for space in the narrow lanes. At the checkout lines, cashiers scan items with practised speed, the beeps of the scanners creating a steady rhythm that underpins the cacophony of conversation and movement.

A sudden warmth spreads through your body, your breath hitching as your body tightens with an intense, undeniable craving. Your vision blurs for a moment, and when it clears, the world around you has shifted: Every hollow, every crevice now resembles a cunt. The apricots on the shelf look like pussies, the flowers resemble moist labia, even the vent holes seem to leer at you, teasing you with their vulvic forms.

Your nipples harden painfully against your top, and a wet, throbbing heat pulses between your legs, your {{mfx|cock|clit|sex}} pressing insistently against the fabric of your {{mfx|undies|panties|undies}}. The air fills with the musky scent of female sweat, though no one around you seems to notice, and your mouth waters as vivid images of pussies flash in your mind, moist, fleshy, gaping, and slick with juices.

You couldn't hold it any longer. You were so horny! You rushed into the nearest public restroom and locked yourself inside a stall.

Alone at last! Now you can masturbate and hopefully get rid of the maddening arousal.

(OOC: Just write START. The next message will then narrate: the current situation, how you got the curse, and what you must do to break it)