The Puzzle Box Curse

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Who knew that one box could cause so much trouble?
14.6k words
4.54
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Part 1 of the 2 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 11/24/2009
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This story contains sexual content not suitable to minors. This content focuses around erotic transformation and some sex.


"Look, I just sat through your tattoo with you, Jenna. Going to a curio shop is the last thing I want to do. I just want to get back to my hotel room and make some edits to that press release." Violet was visibly annoyed. Jenna had made her go to this redneck vacation town for "a release," but everything had been awful. At the bar, she was hit on by some of the worst country rubes. The amusement park turned out to be an exercise in reliving the worst part of high school, idiotic teenagers being loud, obnoxious, and incapable of controlling their youthful lust. Then, she had to put up with Jenna's desire for a tattoo. "We could do that in Chicago," Violet had said. She didn't think that it was particularly more adventurous to do it in Missouri.

"Oh, come on. I'll buy you a shrunken head or something," Jenna jested. She wanted Violet to live a little, though in hindsight, maybe central Missouri wasn't the best place to get away for a commodity trading company lobbyist.

"Fine, then we go back to the hotel."

Bells on the door jangled as the door awkwardly swung open, the sloppily rigged spring mechanism making it slap back to shut with a thwap. A black man and his swooning white girlfriend were finalizing a purchase with the proprietor, and Jenna caught Violet's brief nose flair, knowing that Violet was always bothered by interracial couples. Jenna was going to have to pick on her for that later. The shop itself was a mess, as all curio shops are supposed to be. A mummified cowboy stood grinning in a glass case near the door, freaking out both ladies when they saw it—though they quickly adjusted. Several automatic fortune tellers were lined up like slot machines near the counter, and a confusing assortment of baubles, trinkets, ratty "period" clothing, and strange items filled the shelves, racks, and tables that haphazardly filled the floor.

Violet politely wandered the store, occasionally looking at an item just to keep herself occupied, while Jenna seemed to take great interest in many odd items. Violet was examining an odd box decorated with images of sensually clad female demons—or at least Violet guessed they were demons, since they had horns, tails, and so on—when she was startled by Jenna's shout. "Violet! Check it out! They have sex toys!" Violet dropped the box with a clank, as she jumped at the noise. Then, she was simultaneously embarrassed at two separate things: she had just dropped and possibly damaged store merchandise, and her friend had just yelled at her about a private matter in the middle of a store. Actually, Violet should have expected that. Jenna always liked to embarrass her. One time, they were at a fair in Chicago when Jenna unexpectedly yelled, "Don't touch my penis!" at the top of her lungs. The crowd scattered at the disturbance, and Violet and a grinning Jenna were left standing in the clear, angry parents and bemused youngsters staring at them. Jenna had a good laugh about it later.

"Jenna!" Violet half shouted, half whispered. The few other customers were clearly entertained by the situation, since they were the sort of people who go into curiosity shops. "Don't say that out loud." Violet picked up the box, but as she stood, she was facing the owner of the shop, a large man who, despite evidence to the contrary, didn't look like the stealthy type. His stature and his demeanor were creepy to Violet, and she barely choked back a scream.

"You will buy the puzzle box," he said.

"What? I just dropped it, and I don't think it's broken."

"It has a crack."

"No it..." Violet saw a hairline crack along the side of the box, and then she scanned her surroundings, realizing that it was a curio shop where half of the items were bound to be damaged or worn in one way or another. "Oh. Well, I didn't mean to."

"I didn't say you did. It will be thirty-five dollars." He clearly didn't lack confidence. A couple of decades of intimidating unruly teenagers had clearly given him some skills in this endeavor.

"Fine," she said. "I'll pay you when we go."

"Okay," he said as he turned to go back to his post behind the register.

Jenna gave Violet a look of sympathy as she joined her. "Come on. Let's go look at some dildos." The sympathy was somewhat limited to cruelty perpetrated by people other than Jenna herself, of course. She couldn't resist keeping Violet's face bright red. Violet followed her, still a bit shaken by the owner.

They looked at the toys, many of which looked like they had been used and only rinsed. Several vibrators looked like pieces from a museum on Nineteenth Century psychiatry. One had rubber belts on the outside that connected the filthy electric motor to the vibrating device. Cheap packages of silly "fetish clothing" from the Eighties were still on sale for their original price of $5.99. Given the disappointment, the two elected to pay for the strange box and return to their hotel.

Jenna went to the poolside for a tan, while Violet worked on her press release. At dinner, Jenna decided to press Violet about her reaction to the black and white couple leaving the store. "Why were you upset about the girl with her black boyfriend?" she asked.

"I wasn't," Violet replied.

"I saw you flair your nostrils. It's what you do when you are upset by something."

"I flared them, because the store smelled funny."

"No, you didn't. I remember that you were always trying come up with reasons to break up with Jason." Jason was Jenna's boyfriend for a time and is black. Jenna, incidentally, is white.

"He was an asshole," Violet said.

"Actually, he was sweet. I was just disappointed that his dick wasn't as big as advertised." Jenna was a bit of a size queen.

"As advertised?" Violet asked.

"You know. They say that the brothers are hung like mules."

"The brothers? Whatever. I'm not a racist."

"I didn't say you were, but you always seem uneasy about interracial couples."

"Fine. I don't think it's quite right, the races mixing like that. I wouldn't discriminate on the job about it, but I don't think they should marry." Violet felt like she couldn't quite get the words out right, like she was sounding more bigoted than she was. Jenna clearly picked up on this.

"You've never thought this through, have you?"

"I guess not. It just doesn't seem right to me. I mean, I want to marry a white man and have white children like all of my foremothers." She looked like she was trying to figure out how to make a speech of it; as a lobbyist, it was sort of her job.

"I don't know that that matters. There were only two things different about Jason. His skin and features were a bit different, and his hair products smelled funny. I don't think it made a difference," she said.

"Yeah, well, you dated a girl once, too," Violet said disapprovingly.

"It was kind of fun. I mean, don't knock it till you try it, but I don't think I'll do it again." Jenna had a nostalgic smile on her face, and Violet had a look of disgust on hers. She also gave her an inaudible prod to go on. "What? Women are crazy. I couldn't date one for too long. Besides, I'm a size queen and all that."

Violet sighed. "Well, anyway, I'm not racist. I just want to date a good man of my own race, culture, and creed."

"I thought that Southern Baptists were non-creedal."

"I suppose we are, but it sounded good."

"Right."

The trip home was uneventful. Violet took the elevator up to her condo overlooking Lake Michigan and began unpacking. She really didn't buy many things in Missouri, since the whole culture of the area she went to wasn't her thing. Dirty clothes went into her hamper; toiletries went back to the bathroom; shoes went into the closet. She pulled out the box. She didn't know why she packed it carefully with the clothes, as she would do with glassware or ceramics. Well, it was ceramic, she supposed, but it was rather odd. The material was jet black, and a bas-relief detailed a battle... no, an orgy! A naked woman with hooves, a pointed tail, and horns apparently was presiding over the festivities. She stood on what looked like a helmet, which was odd, because that would infer that she was tiny, like a fairy. She was clearly happy about the scene before her.

Then, Violet noticed something really odd. The hairline crack that she saw on it in the curio shop was missing. She prodded it and twisted it, trying to see if maybe the box needed to be torqued to show that jagged fracture, but it remained pristine. Further examination revealed odd runes and a series of sliding parts, but there was no rhyme or reason to them, so far as Violet could deduce. Deciding that she shouldn't be too curious about the strange thing, she set it on her coffee table and went to the kitchen for some water. That's when she heard it. A sort of crash emanated from her living room, and she darted back in to see what was amiss.

Amid sulfur-scented smoke, on top of her coffee table, the box sat, and atop that, a small woman, appearing as she was on the bas-relief of the box, sat, cross-legged. Once Violet walked in, the tiny woman, who must have been about nine inches tall, looked at her. Violet was stunned, frozen in space, not knowing what to do. She couldn't believe her eyes, as nothing in her life prepared her for meeting a being who was clearly physically impossible. She began to shake with fear: fear of this creature (who knows what it could do!), fear of the unknown, and fear of a world that turned out to be something besides what she thought. The little woman clearly didn't feel the same way.

"I'm Hamamelis. Who the fuck are you?" she said in a breathy alto voice, her hands resting on her ample hips in a sassy sort of way.

Visibly perturbed, her skin whiter than usual, and her blue eyes open very wide, Violet tried to say something, but only a couple of nonsensical consonants came out. She sort of lurched forward to get a closer look and to exhibit some form of courage.

"Okay, mute one, why am I in your apartment?" For ten seconds, nothing happened. Violet just sort of examined Hamamelis from ten feet away. The creature oozed with sensuality. Her proportions were that of an hourglass. She stood straight up, keeping good pose, and her cloven hooves seemed to act on her legs as high heels would act on an earthly woman. Her skin was a deep crimson red, and her nipples and lips were pitch black. She had a five-inch tail with a tiny black arrowhead-shaped barb on the end. A couple of prominent horns rose and curled from her long (well, long for a tiny woman like her) black hair. Hamamelis' facial features were strong but feminine; she looked like a supermodel who had just retired to take care of her kids, mature and confident.

"I'm Violet."

"Okay, we're now only one question behind. Why am I in your apartment?"

"I don't know." Violet kind of lied. She wasn't stupid. After all, she had brought in the box with the depiction of what was probably the little woman standing before her.

"I sense a lie," Hamamelis said, her eyes being to glow a little, giving her an aura of intimidation.

"I bought the box from a store, and I took it here."

"That's better. Okay, well, I suppose I should explain to you that you're now cursed. I'll be your roommate for a time, and you get to deal with the consequences of your curse," she said, matter-of-factly.

"Cursed?" Violet stuttered. "What do you mean?"

"Ah, it's good that you don't think that my company is a curse, as that would be rude. Yeah, you will affect people around you. They will be changed to suit my tastes... My tastes are erotic, I think. Anyone you talk to in person for a while will start to be different and oh so sexy," she said. Hamamelis was starting to get wistful.

"Uh, that doesn't sound good. Why are you doing this?"

"It's my nature, my dear. I am a little imp of sex, desire, lust, the erotic... It's who I am and how I was made. I love the chaos of unexpected desire, unwanted lust, and unfamiliar feelings. These things excite me, feed me, and make me what I am. As part of your curse, you may feel some of what I feel, but not yet. Not yet. There is a future which has not yet been met."

Violet sat on her couch, since the little imp was apparently not interested in violence. No, this situation seemed worse than that. As Hamamelis got down from the box and began exploring the surface of her coffee table, Violet contemplated what to do. She had gone to church all her life, and part of what she learned concerned the ultimate battle of good and evil that took place between God and Satan. As far as she could tell, it seemed obvious that Hamamelis was on Satan's side, since that fit pretty well. Southern Baptists were known to occasionally do exorcisms, so maybe she should do that. Yeah, that was the ticket. Violet would call her preacher tomorrow and let him know that he needed to come over and rid her apartment of evil. God and Jesus would take care of things, and her faith would be stronger.

Hamamelis jumped off the coffee table, since it was kind of boring. She began exploring the living room, taking great interest in her DVD collection. Did demons actively take interest in people's media collections? Violet wasn't sure, but this one seemed to be. "Is there a way for me to break the curse?" she asked.

"No. Besides, I like the curse. Why would I tell you such a thing?"

"I bet if I figure out the puzzle on this box, you'll have to lift it!"

"Give it your best shot, kid. It really doesn't have a lot to do with it."

For a time, Violet gave it her best shot. Games and puzzles weren't her strong suit. She was better at rote memorization, writing, managing, and understanding people. Logic was not her intellectual give. For an hour she tried it out, while Hamamelis apparently charted her entire apartment. It was getting late, though. Maybe she could work this out later; besides, Violet thought she'd have better luck with the preacher.

She went to her bedroom, looking around for Hamamelis. Apparently, she was in the kitchen taking an inventory of her cooking ware. Violet closed the door and began to strip so that she could change into her pajamas. Somehow, Hamamelis had gotten in the room. She was sitting on her bureau, legs dangling. She seemed suddenly really interested in Violet.

"Go ahead. I like a show," she said, leering.

"Get out of here!" Violet shouted. She hoped that she didn't alert the neighbors.

"No."

Irritated, Violet reached out and grasped Hammemelis. Or, at least, she tried to. It was like trying to swat a fly, if not worse. The little imp's agility was outstanding, and she dodged multiple attempts to grab, seemingly without any real difficulty. After knocking many things off of her furniture, Violet seethed, staring at the little bitch, hating her for intruding. Privacy was important to her, and anyone violating it was going to pay. Hammamelis was sitting on top of the shade of a floor lamp.

"Are you done? Well, clearly, you don't understand the arrangement of our relationship. I'm an imp, not a pet or a well-behaved guest. It is my nature to be ornery and a poor guest. Just to show how ornery I am, I'm going to have to put a little hex on you. It will be permanent, but I can always add to it, if you don't come around to understand your place relative to mine, okay?"

Violet just stared at her. Then, her skin started to itch. "What the...?" she muttered.

"Oh, so long as you're in your apartment, you are allergic to clothing—cotton, leather, synthetic, wool—it doesn't matter. If it's something you wear to cover yourself, it will bother you. Now, take it off, but I want a good show, or I make the hex worse, okay?"

Violet wasn't quite sure how to do such a thing. A show? Did Hamamelis mean a striptease? Violet couldn't dance, let alone dance erotically. She opted to just take it off. The itching had become burning, and it was getting unbearable. She pulled off her shirt and jeans, getting some relief. Her socks, panties, and bra were hurting like hell. She did her best to get it all off as fast as she could, clumsily collapsing on the bed when she finally got her panties off.

"When I said a show, I didn't mean a physical farce. Now, you've got another permanent problem. You will always be allergic to panties or anything that hugs right up to your pussy." The tiny woman had a giant grin on her face, clearly taking pleasure in her mischief.

"That's not fair! I don't even know how to dance!"

"Fairness and justice are not major weapons in my arsenal, deary. Now, stand up, so I can get a good eyeful."

"You're a little lesbo pervert," she said, even as she complied. It was a rough enough night already, getting cursed thrice.

"I'm not a lesbian, as you may eventually learn, but I am a pervert. Let's see. Average-sized breasts, lovely little nipples there," she said, as she hopped back on the dresser, just in reach of them. As she tweaked Violet's left nipple, Violet angrily tried to dodge. "Decent figure, my dear, but you could do better. Ah, you're a natural blonde, since the rugs match the curtains. You don't care much about keeping a well-groomed bush, do you?"

"I, uh, don't have any need to."

"Really? No boyfriend? I was hoping to have some fun with him, too."

"Not right now, and if I did, I wouldn't be letting him see my privates."

"Okay, well, that might mean... Go lay on your bed for me!" Hamamelis squealed.

"Okay," Violet complied.

"Spread your legs for me," Hamamelis said, as she hopped onto the foot of the bed. Still cowed, she did so. The tiny creature, apparently lacking any sort of manners pulled Violet's labia wide, arms outstretched, and took a long gander. Violet was starting to tear up.

"Oh, cut that out. You appear to be a virgin, as your hymen is still intact and is the sort of hymen that would break upon penetration. Sometimes, they don't. Sometimes, they break from stupid things like horseback riding—though there are more fun ways to break one's hymen with a horse!" Hamamelis giggled when she say it, a wistful look on her face. She hopped back off the bed and started going through desk drawers.

Violet pulled herself together, feeling violated. She headed to the shower. When she got it going, she saw her rude guest sitting on top of her shower head, watching. Still annoyed, she went ahead and tried to clean herself off. She wasn't going to take a shower, but she felt really dirty. She felt worse when she noticed that Hamamelis was masturbating as she watched. Violet's eyes went wide, her nose flaring. She was about to swat the little annoyance off of the shower head but realized that would be a really bad idea. She finished her shower and headed to bed. The towels didn't irritate her until she used them as a wrap. When she turned out the lights and pulled up the covers, Hamamelis crawled up on her pillow and went to sleep, much like some cats would.

Morning was awkward. When Violet woke up, she was sleeping on her side, and somehow, Hamamelis had worked her way into her cleavage, happily sleeping away. Violet, skill afraid of the Lilliputian devil, decided to carefully get her on the bed and out from between her breasts. She proceeded to get ready for work, realizing that she was going to have to put off getting dressed until the last minute. She hadn't spent this long naked her entire life, and it was still embarrassing, even with her tormentor asleep. She took another shower, ate a quick breakfast, put on her makeup, put her purse together, and finally put on a pair of suit pants. Briefly, she had forgotten about the panty thing, and she fixed that. Thankfully, the pants were loose enough that no one would see any cameltoe or anything. She was extremely uncomfortable by the time she got to the door, and her clothes were still a bit disheveled, but she could adjust them in the bathroom in the lobby of the apartment building.