Cursed as a Busty Retail Worker

Everything hurt. Your lower back, your feet, your arms, your shoulders, your arms, everything! How could you feel so sore? It was only a single day, one day of working as a minimum wage retail employee. Yet it had been the worst day of your life. And the worst part was, that you would have to do the same thing again tomorrow, and the day after that, and after that as well, for the rest of your life. Such was the nature of the curse that had been put on you. It was harsh yes, much too harsh, but the witch that had been your judge, jury and executioner was not a lenient person, and did tend to go overboard. All it had taken was a little comment about how grocery store workers were always lounging, doing “inventory” or other crap to pretend to work, and poof, gone was your career as an aspiring lawyer. Now you would forever work in one branch of retail or another. But that wasn’t all.

The witch wanted to make sure you had the absolute worst experience possible. So, she made you a small girl with barely any muscle mass, and very short. Now, just carrying a few boxes around was an effort, let alone push a trolley full of items. And you were so short, you basically had to carry a step ladder everywhere you went when stocking shelves, or else you could never even hope of reaching the top shelves. She also made you very beautiful, a total knockout, but did not change your sexual preferences. That way you can experience first-hand the hell that women in the service industry go through every day, being hit on constantly by annoying and obnoxious customers, and sexually harassed by coworkers and even managers. You were a sexy girl now, so you had to be interested in men and looking for a good time, right? Wrong! But you would forever have to endure the “accidental” bumps into you, a quick touch on your voluptuous ass, a glance down your cleavage, a quick comment how you looked really fuckable today. There are some weirdos out there, some might even take quick subtle pictures of your feet to masturbate to later, or even take a long-drawn-out sniff of your hair as they pass by, taking in your flowery and sugary fragrance, as you leer at them with a disgusted face. But what can you do? Report them? Ban them from the store? There will always be more freaks and perverts out there to make your life as miserable as possible.

Speaking of fragrance, the curse has an extended beauty clause. You will get up every morning of your tortured existence and put on makeup, style your hair, and pretty yourself so you are as desirable as humanly possible. You will always be as pretty and as feminine as possible, to make sure you receive as many inappropriate stares and lewd comments as possible during the day. The witch really wanted you to suffer, endure the full extent of the pain of women in retail jobs.

She also made your tits huge. Very hefty, all-natural H cups. These things were massive, always in the way of everything you did. No bra could properly support them, so they swung, and they jiggled as you walked through the store, causing you to lurch painfully with every step. They stretched whatever bra that you did manage to fit on them, causing the straps to bite deeply in your shoulders. Removing that constricting piece of clothing was honestly the best part of your day. They also were in the way whenever you tried to restock shelves or do inventory. You didn’t even want to count the number of times you knocked down a whole row of freshly stacked boxes because you accidentally smashed your tits into them while turning, or accidentally leaned on them while reaching for a higher shelf. It basically took you almost twice as long as anyone else in the store to perform any tasks. Your manager could reprimand you, even fire you, it wouldn’t change much, as the only other places you could apply were other retail places, because of the curse. And so, you try to do your best, lest you be fired from so many places that you have to move, or commute an obscene amount of time, to get to work.

But that wasn’t even the worst part of it. No, worse than all of that, worse than being forced to work in retail, forced to make yourself as pretty as possible every day, forced endure the looks and touches of men around you, forced to have the biggest tits you had ever seen, was that you were still you. You weren’t a completely new person. You still had your male mind and your male aspirations. You could still act however you liked, apart from a few things the curse was blocking out, like referring to yourself as a man or by your old name. Now you could only refer to yourself as a girl, and identify yourself by your new name, Samantha. You also couldn’t tell anyone what had happened to you or tell them who you were before. All you could say is that you were Samantha, the 26-year-old girl who had always wanted to and would always work retail and loved to look pretty. But that was it. Apart from that you still had full control of your actions, of your thoughts, you were free to do as you wish. That made the experience much more impactful, much more personal.

It was you who put on your feminine panties every morning. It was you who clasped the bra behind your back, before putting your uniform on. Yes, you felt compelled to put makeup on, but it was you who chose the color and the brand. It was you who combed your long flowing hair. You were in full control of this womanly body; you were this woman. And yet you were trapped. There is nothing you could do to escape your fate. Every day you would wake up to this horrible life, in a lousy apartment, all you could afford with your minimum wage. Every day you would take the bus, cramped up with strangers pressing all over you because of lack of space, and because you couldn’t afford a car. Every day you would bust your ass off to try and not get fired, and end up sore all over, feet from walking, lower back from carrying your breasts around all day, arms from stretching them out while trying to restock the out of reach top shelves, shoulders from having your straps digging painfully into them. You could try and find the witch that did this to you and beg her to change her back, but you have a feeling that even if you did find her, she wouldn’t change you back, in fact she just might make things worse. And it terrified you.

Sometimes you wish she had taken your mind as well, erased your old self completely and left only this girl. Then you wouldn’t remember what you should have been, a successful lawyer, a man who would eventually have a wife and children. You would have been like all the others, stuck in a lousy life yes, but not tortured by the knowledge that you were destined for something better. But no longer. Always you would yearn for the life you should have had, while living this life that was imposed upon you, as a busty and feminine retail worker.

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