I’m not sure how my curse got started.

Odds are innocently enough with a normal amount of online porn in my formative years. All I know for sure is that I fell into porn addiction around age 18. A few years later, I managed to find a few other porn addicted men like me online. Brad was the oldest at 27, then there was Mike, and Joe, both of whom were 23. I myself was 21. We chatted a bunch of times online, and since we lived in the same city, eventually we all met up in person at a local bar. I didn’t know what to expect when Brad suggested we all gather at his house after. He had a state of the art media room that was perfect for a live gooning session. Nobody objected, and we even ended up making it a weekly thing.

I know that may seem odd behavior coming from a couple of self proclaimed hetero dude-bros. But we had a strict ‘eyes on the screen only’ policy, which made it all seem less gay. Still, it was odd for me the first couple times. Doing something as private and personal as masturbating with a few other men around my age wasn’t something I ever planned on doing. Though I gotta admit, after a few epic edging sessions, it all felt pretty normal. That’s when things started getting truly weird.

At first it was little mind-fucky things.

A few times, I found myself staring at my buds pounding on their goonsticks instead of watching the porn on screen. I noticed their cocks were bigger than my own, especially Brad’s, and watching them seemed to excite me more than the smut on the screen. Especially when I knew they were about to cum. Watching their cocks spasm, twitch, throb and spew out sticky white ropes of cum made me lose my edge and cum more than once.

But I was here to look at the pretty girls on screen, or so I told myself.

Not long after these weekly meet ups started, when gooning solo at home, I found that women just didn’t work for me like they used to. They stirred up powerful emotions in me, just not lust. I was getting into harder stuff, pun intended. Blowjob gif’s where girls with pretty faces sucked on porn cocks. Bukkake scenes where one woman is surrounded by several hard cocks, glazing her face with their sticky loads. Shemale’s jerking off and sucking on each other. I’m sure you can see the pattern emerging. Porn cocks, multiple cocks, and shecocks. I tried to delude myself into thinking it was the pretty girl or shemale involved that was arousing to me. Eventually, I figured out the powerful emotion the girls made me feel was jealousy, not lust. I even began to eat my own load after I blew it, gross as it sounds, and found I enjoyed the salty-sour taste quite a bit.

If only I’d stopped myself there, maybe things would have worked out different for me.

But I didn’t. I just kept my confusion to myself, and kept gooning with my buds, and sneaking peaks at their cocks. Usually we gathered online, but I lived for those Saturday’s when Brad had the whole gang over. One time at Brad’s, I accidentally let out a totally sensual, decidedly feminine moan just before cumming. My buds all looked over at me like, ‘dude… wtf?!’ I played it off as a joke, of course. An impression of one of the female performers on screen. In reality, it just kinda slipped out. I had no idea why, or how, or where it came from. It was odd. Of course, it wasn’t as funny the next time it happened… or the time after that.

By then, I had other things to worry about than moans.

I think it was a few days after that initial moan that I started ordering women’s clothing online. Porny stuff. Sexy lingerie, skimpy dresses, wigs, shoes, makeup, even false breasts made of super soft, space-aged silicone. I placed the orders while gooning out solo, when my porn addled brain was barely functioning. I later regretted the order and the money spent, but thought I might as well use what I ordered once before I bin it. Get my money’s worth, and get whatever the hell made me order all this out of my system.

A few days later, when the stuff arrived in the mail, just holding it made me feel naughty and excited.

I took my time getting ready, showering, shaving my body and face. I’d queued up a few YouTube makeup tutorials and videos on how to attach a wig, and followed those instructions carefully. The bra, falsies, and panties were next, and I took my time carefully positioning each. At long last, it was time for the black sheer satin mini dress. It took a little over an hour to get everything just right, but when I did… tingles. Goosebumps at the site of ‘girl me’ looking back in the mirror. Suddenly without warning, a throbbing four alarm erection tented my sexy little black dress. Overcome with arousal, I giddily stroked and edged my cock for hours. Eventually I came so hard, my mind went totally blank for a minute or two.

I was in gooner Nirvana that night, feeling as though I had become porn itself.

So much for binning it. Any delusions I’d harbored about getting something out of my system lay shattered before me. A small part of my brain objected, ‘What am I doing? Am I turning into some kind of sissy faggot? Dressing up like a girl, jerking off to cock. What’s happening to me?’ it was shame like I’d never felt before. I decided it would be best to not tell my gooning buds about my new crossdressing habit. I doubted they would understand as they all seemed so cis and hetero. But despite the shame and that increasingly enfeebled part of my brain objecting, I kept on dressing up in secret during my solo goon time.

And kept on accidentally moaning during the Saturday goon-a-thons at Brads.

Mike and Joe made fun of me a few times. All I could do was blush. They said I sounded like a goonette, whatever that was. They even teased me for stroking like a girl, noticing the reverse grip I’d recently started using. When I objected to them watching me stroke instead of watching the screen, they backed down. Brad didn’t comment, but I could tell he knew something was up. More than once, he saw me staring intently at the other guys as they stroked their decent sized cocks. And he smiled when he caught me staring at his monster porn-cock with awestruck eyes one day. I moaned like a girl and almost lost my edge and blew my load right there, but he didn’t make it awkward, he just kept pumping as I watched.

Like I said, it was all kinda mind-fucky stuff at first.

Then I woke up one Sunday morning and saw something disturbing in the bathroom mirror that should have given me pause. My nipples looked darker, wider, bigger. Like a girls. Immediately, the gooner part of my brain was triggered. The erection was immediate and throbbing like never before. I stroked my cock in the shower, tweaking my suddenly sensitive, feminine looking nipples as I pounded. The sensation was incredible. Not as strong as when I stroked my cock, but powerfully, deliciously arousing in an exciting new way.

I dressed up good and girly, and gooned my entire Sunday away.

Monday morning, I woke up with the coppery taste of stale cum on my palette. I was dressed in a skimpy nightie, and covered in my own jizz. Several tabs were open on my browser, a massive, cum pumping cock in every goddamned window. In the mirror, I noticed my feminine looking nipples, my smooth, hairless skin and the party clown looking make-up smeared on my face. And that small, still masculine, defiantly heterosexual part of my brain reasserted itself. ‘Look at you… look at your nipples. Are there a little bump behind them? Are you sprouting tits? This is not normal. Something is seriously wrong here…’

Looking back, it was likely already too late, but God help me, I tried to pull back.

Disgusted with myself, I got a cardboard box and dumped all my crossdressing gear into it. After cocooning it with tape and tossing it in the back of my closet, I felt a little more in control. I got on noFAP, researched deporning and committed to the program. I sailed through the work week, never once logging into my porn accounts, or looking at any porn at all. To keep busy, I played video games, read books and watched tv. Triggers were literally everywhere, but I managed to resist my urge to goon out. I was proud of myself on Friday at bedtime, when I realized I hadn’t cum in a full 5 days!

But then Brad called on Saturday morning.

The guys had missed me online, and wanted to see if I was ‘cumming’ over this Saturday. I rationalized accepting his invitation in the following ways. I was horny… really horny. I don’t think I’d gone this long without pumping out a load since my first time jerking off! Surely I deserved this session. Besides, what harm can it do? If I’m responsible and jerk off only once per week at Brad’s, it’s not really an addiction. I won’t be dressing up and gooning all day, gobbling cum like some greedy goblin. It’s just a few hours of porn on a Saturday evening. No biggie.

I had so many excuses that cleared the way for me to go.

I wore a baggy black hoodie to conceal my perky and excitable nipples that day. Despite being porn deprived for 5 whole days, a big accomplishment for me, I had trouble getting myself going. It wasn’t until I snuck a peek at Brad, gracefully handling his colossal cum cannon, that I stiffened up. I discretely pawed at my engorged nipples beneath the baggy hoodie to keep my edge. Brad clearly saw me cupping my chest as I stroked, and smiled and winked at me.

We stroked for hours as usual. I could feel my goon stick throbbing in my hands, hard as a rock, but was it… smaller? No, it had to be my imagination. At the end of the session, I came with the rest of them. Unlike their thick, manly loads, erupting as though shot from a skin toned volcano, my wimpy load was a thin gruel that dripped out of my cock like a leaky faucet. Why did it still feel so amazing?

When I awoke on Sunday, after dreaming of Brad’s big goopy load yesterday, I was still in goon mode.

So when I saw my nipples, now perched atop tiny twin cones of subcutaneous fat, my cock and my nipples hardened instantly. I looked like a transfemme 6 months or so into HRT! This triggered me instantly. My body went on autopilot as I dug through my closet for the box, cut the cocoon of tape around it, and freed my feminine finery. After carefully dressing up, I logged into all of my raunchiest porn accounts, toying with my nipples and feeling my cock twitch with anticipation. Within an hour, I was at it again, fully femmed out, pounding away at my suddenly smaller cock, and gripping up my smallish new teats. And that’s how I spent my entire Sunday… again.

Monday morning, my shame returned.

I was getting ready for work, trying not to look at myself in the mirror lest the site of my small tits trigger me again. I could feel them there, jiggling around slightly as I moved. But it wasn’t until I tried to pull on my pants that I noticed something new. The cuffs of my slacks were dragging on the ground, like the inseam was too long. Was I shorter? I also felt how tight my trousers seemed to hug my hips and ass. How loose they were in my diminishing waistline. My receding male essence piped up again, ‘This is not normal….You need to stop before it’s too late.’ I really wanted to heed this warning.

But I surprised myself by calling in sick to work instead, promptly removing my tight pants and icky boxers, and drinking in the sight of my nude reflection.

Girly nipples stiffened on my chest, sitting atop full on A cups. My ass stuck out further behind me, each cheek a supple, shapely bubble of feminine flesh. My hips seemed wider, as though my pelvis had broadened. My shoulders appeared narrower too, and my arms thin and lithe, devoid of any musculature. I had thicker thighs, a stubble free face with puffier dick sucking lips, and my hair even seemed thicker, slightly longer. I saw my cock, significantly smaller than usual, but harder than rocket science at the sight of me. Within moments, I was fully dressed, aside from the silicone breastforms that I no longer even needed. I had my own real tits now, and the look and feel of them filled my gooner brain with joy.

I wasn’t expecting Brad’s call that evening when it came.

He asked if he could come over to talk to me, and said it was important. Despite the attraction I felt towards him, I wanted to say no. My apartment was littered with girl clothes. I was fully dressed and made up. And I was mortified that he would see me… like this! So why was I desperate to say yes to him? But that’s exactly what I did. The instant he was off the phone, I set about cleaning up my girly clothes. Washing off my makeup. Putting away my wig and everything else. I put on a pair of loose old sweatpants and the now considerably baggie black hoodie, noticing how big and ill fitting they were on my smaller frame.

But I was back to boy mode when Brad knocked, or at least as close as I could manage given recent… developments.

I was nervous as I opened the door to let him in, arms carefully crossed over the chest to conceal my lady lumps. Longer, thicker hair hidden by an old ballcap. I lopped myself on the sofa to hide my height loss. Brad entered energetically and wasted no time explaining why he was here. It would have sounded ludicrous to anyone, unless they were going through what I’d been going through.

“Have you ever heard of the goonette curse?” Brad asked point blank.

Of course I hadn’t, but he wasted no time explaining. Occasionally, in a goon gang like ours, the weakest, lest masculine member will start to go through certain… changes. It happened to a ‘guy’ in Brad’s first goon gang, years ago. First, his sexual orientation changed. Then, his mind and body feminized gradually. It was like… he was leaking masculinity and absorbing femininity with each goon session. At first, he tried to hide these changes, but eventually he began to flaunt them. He started showing up dressed like a girl and ‘helping his buds’ during our weekly goon sessions. He was tugging and sucking their cocks, slurping their cum and loving every second as the curse irreversibly changed his body and mind.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is, the guys and I have discussed it… and if you ever want to ‘help out your buds,’ it’s OK with us.” Brad said with a trademark smile and wink.

“What do you mean?” I asked meekly, looking down at the floor. My heart was pounding in my chest, my temples whooshing. I was so humiliated, yet totally flattered, aroused and confused all at once. Could I have this curse myself? I couldn’t bring myself to deny it, or tell him he was wrong. I was actually fairly intimidated by Brad, who towered over my diminished frame. Plus, what he said, it made sense given what I’d experienced.

“You know what I mean. We’ve all noticed that you’re turning. The moans, the smaller cock and nipple play is a dead giveaway. At least admit that your body is changing. Look at you! Going goonette is nothing to be ashamed of.” Brad said comfortingly, taking a seat beside me on the sofa. “You can be yourself around us, we want you to know that. Besides, it’s not gay if you’re actually turning into a girl.” He added stoically.

“What happened to your friend?” I inquired nervously.

Brad did better than tell me. He pulled up an Only Fans page for a model named ‘Thirsty’ Kirsty Coxxx on his phone, and explained that this was her. They still met up in person once in a while. In due course, she’d fully feminized, and now made her living doing porn. In effect, she had become her addiction, transformed into porn itself. They maintained their relationship, though obviously the nature of it had changed. Just like the nature of our relationship would inevitably change, just like my body and mind were in the process of changing. It was a lot to think about after he left.

Why did the very idea of turning into a goonette and becoming porn turn me on so much? Why did I keep fapping to my feminizing body, and loving every second of it? Why did I squander what little remained of my waning masculinity instead of fighting for it, pulling back? Why did I even join this little goon gang in the first freaking place? And why the hell couldn’t I quit? I didn’t have any answers to those questions, but realized Kirsty might.

I got her attention on Only Fans, and told her about what Brad told me. I confessed what was happening to my body and mind. I admitted to being scared, confused and also undeniably excited and aroused. I even asked if there was a way to stop the changes and reverse the curse. To go back to being my old guy self.

She giggled at the last question, telling me I was too far gone for that already, and asking why I would want to go back anyway. Didn’t she look happy, living as a porn girl, helping real men all over the world get off? Wasn’t the thought of it happening to me exciting, liberating even? She then asked me to imagine a world in which I would actually get paid well to be what I loved most. To become porn. To her, it wasn’t a curse at all, but a blessing to be thankful for. Kirsty even offered some advice…

“If anything, you’ll want to speed up the process by cumming away the last of your masculinity, not that there’s all that much left.” She said matter of factly.

According to Kirsty, the more cum I pimped out or consumed, the quicker my body feminized. My cock would keep shrinking, my tits and ass would keep inflating, and eventually, I’d become as female as her, pussy and all. One sure fire way speed things up was to suck a real man’s dick. An alpha porn cock. And it just so happens she had the perfect guy in mind. I could come over to her house, and her friend big dick Nick could cum all over me.

I felt possessed as I made my way over to her house. It was even nicer than the one Brad lived in. Kirsty helped me get ready and called Nick. I was nervous when he arrived and looked at me like I was a meal to be consumed, a body ripe for plunder. Even with Kirsty there to encourage me, I was shaking like a leaf when I dropped to my knees in front of him. It quickly became apparent that he deserved his nickname when he popped out his massive cock mere inches from my slutty face.

Feeling it’s weight in my dainty little hands made my little shecock snap to attention. Inhaling the musky scent had my mouth watering. The little voice in my head I’d all but learned to ignore pleaded with me. ‘Don’t put it in your mouth. Don’t be a faggot… you might get turned on, you might like it too much…’ but it was too late. The salty taste of his tool under my tongue was already registering in my brain, and in my loins.

My lips parted, Kirsty cheering me on as I bobbed my head, worked the shaft with my free hands and felt Nick’s dick throbbing in my warm, wet mouth. I felt my cock twitch and leak. Kirsty encouraged me to relax, explaining how to open my throat, suppress my gag reflex. What began as a nervous, sloppy blowjob became more confident, smoother and professional in that pornographic sense of the word. It took close to 30 minutes of me sucking and stroking and bobbing my head for Nick to cum. He did so without warning, and I could feel my eyes going crossed as he pumped rope after rope of salty-sour alpha male jizz down my throat. When a little spilled out of my cheeks and dribbled onto my little breasts, I eagerly lapped it up.

I was a natural.

Waking up at Kirsty’s house the next day, I took in the changes that Nick’s load had wrought upon my still changing body. My tits were at least a B cup, my cock a tiny nub. Flared out hips, a thin waspy waist and a thicc girly ass graced my midsection. My face was unrecognizable, looking girlier and pornier than ever before. And as elated as I was, I started to cry. It was the last of my masculine essence accepting defeat. I knew right them and there I would never go to work again. I would never be able to pass for the man I once was.

Kirsty heard me and came in to find me sobbing. She understood. There was nowhere to go but deeper into girlhood, severing the final attachments to my male life before. She was there for me when I called in to quit my job. She promised to help me create my own Only Fans page to make up for the lost income. She even arranged to have me drain Nick’s balls each day remaining in the week, which forever severed that last thread of masculinity I possessed. My cock was officially gone by Friday, replaced by a pretty pink pussy. My tits ballooned up to bouncy, full DD’s. And as much as I loved my girly new bod, I wasn’t sure if I was ready to be seen as a girl by my gooner buds.

When Saturday arrived, I found myself knocking on Brad’s door.

Brad looked disappointed when he answered the door for me that afternoon. I was in the same baggy clothes and ballcap as he’d seen me wearing on his Monday evening visit. But he welcomed me in and I took my place amongst the guys. Little did he know (or maybe he suspected) that underneath my sweats, I was now fully female. A sexy pair of pink panties covered my flat, smooth crotch. With Kirsty’s help, I’d binded down my new DDcup tits with an Ace bandage. The ballcap covering my longer, lustrous hair also shadowed my pretty face. Concealed in the middle pocket, I’d brought enough make-up to give myself an impromptu makeover in the bathroom, and a bra that matched my pink panties too.

We started gooning out not long after I arrived. The fellas treated me like one of the guys, unaware of how much effort I had put in to sustain the illusion. Their manly cocks were out, but my girly hand was down the front of my pants, jamming away at my clam, focusing on the super sensitive clit. Until a day ago, when it shrank down and tucked itself away between my pussy lips, it had been my cock. Maybe it wasn’t ever as big as the other guys, but I couldn’t help but felt like a fraud as I watched them pump hard as I diddled myself gently.

Stifling involuntary moans, I gently tugged and rubbed my minuscule clitty bean with two slim, girlified fingers. Pawing at my binder encased tits enhanced the experience for me too. But an hour into the session I was losing my edge. Even looking at the fellas with their fat, juicy cocks in hand wasn’t enough to get me off. So I excused myself to the bathroom quietly, their porned out brains not noticing me slip out.

I had a conflicted dialogue with myself in the privacy of the bathroom that went a little something like this… “Am I ready for this? To be seen as a girl by them?” Realistically, I knew my male disguise would not hold up to even basic scrutiny for long. Only the distraction of porn was preventing them from seeing what I had turned into. “If I sneak out quietly now, maybe I can delay coming out to them for another week.” But really, how much longer could I put it off the reveal? “If I go out like this, our relationship will be forever changed.” I said quietly to myself as I stripped to my snug fitting pink panties, unbound my soft tits and put on my lacy bra. “I won’t be able to control my urges, and end up being their girly little goonette, just like Brad said I would.” I mused, removing my ballcap, brushing my long hair out into a neat pony tail the way Kirsty had taught me before applying my makeup.

Slowly, the doubt evaporated into lust. The conversation with myself turned into a pep talk. “Come on girl. I already know I love sucking cock thanks to Nick…” I admitted, pouting my lips to spread my electric pink lipstick out evenly. “And I’ve been fantasizing about helping my buds for a while now.” I recalled all the dreams and jerk off fantasies that landed me in this new and unfamiliar body. “And they won’t think it’s gay now, since I’m a girl…” I reasoned. “Face facts, girl. You don’t have to do this, you want to do this…”

Almost as if to reassure myself, I gazed into the mirror to check myself over one last time.

Tressed of long, flowing hair cascaded bound up in a pony tail tickled the back of my shoulders. Perky DD cup tits encased is a pretty pink bra looked positively alluring. Broad, feminine hips that swiveled when I walked and a narrow, sunken in waist begged for a real man’s attention. A bubbly girl butt bounced along behind me everywhere I went, and was fully on display in these skimpy panties. My curves and assets were sure to get noticed now. A smooth, flat crotch adorned with nothing but a tight, vertical slit down the middle proved I was no longer a man at all. I deemed myself ready for cock.

I emerged from the bathroom, full of nervous excitement.

I sauntered quietly into the room, where my buds were totally fixated on the screen closest to them. The delighted at sight of my friends, pumping away, the salty sour smell of precum in the air, the sound of porn ringing in my ears. I took a moment to enjoy it all unseen. I approached Brad first. He didn’t notice me until I spoke in a soft, high, unmistakably feminine voice.

“Need a little help, bud?”

(The goonette curse is becoming more and more common these days. Who will be it’s next victim? Could it be you?)