Midas' Touch

Mysterious Bracelet

Brandon's weary feet dragged along the sidewalk as he returned home from another tedious day working part-time at the restaurant. His body ached, and his mind was numb from the endless routine of serving customers and clearing tables. As he approached his apartment door, he noticed an unusual package sitting on his doorstep.

"What is this?"

Brandon couldn't help but wonder. He reached for the unmarked box, gently lifting its lid to reveal its contents. His eyes widened at the sight of a bracelet, made of smooth and polished metallic stones carefully bound together on a bed of black velvet.

"Who would send me something like this?" Brandon wondered aloud. However, as soon as his skin made contact with the band, a searing pain shot through his entire body. The agony was unbearable, forcing a guttural scream from his lips.

"Fuck!" he yelled, collapsing in his doorway, his senses beginning to fade. Before his vision turned to darkness, the bracelet seemed to dissolve into his wrist, vanishing completely.

When Brandon awoke, disoriented and still throbbing with residual pain, he found himself lying on the cold, hard floor of his apartment. His mind swirled with confusion, but before he could even begin to make sense of what had just happened, a voice echoed inside his head.

"Good morning, master." A voice echoed in his head. "I'm The Bracelet. You are now my owner."

"Your owner? Bullshit!" Brandon angrily retorted. "You fucking devoured me."

"Sorry master, I needed to test you first." the voice calmly replied. "Now after I saw your potential, I'm here to serve and help you change your life."

"Change my life? How?" he questioned, bewildered by the situation.

"When you feed me with sexual desire you fulfill, I will return you with points. You can use those points to improve your strengths, intelligence, charm, and physical appearance, whatever you like." The voice answered.

"So being a pervert can help me improve those stats?" Brandon asked, incredulity lacing his voice.

"Something like that, master." the sultry voice replied. "When I'm get stronger. I will have some new abilities to improve your life more."

"If you say so..." Brandon decided to play along. "What is my stats by the way?"

"Strength: 30/65. Intelligence: 80/85. Charisma: 10/100. Appearance: 50/65."

"Damn, my charisma that low? Wonder why I can't get girls." he whispered, realizing how underwhelming his attributes were. "And why the limit numbers are so odds."

"That is the limit I can change, master. If I do more than that, I don't think your body can handle it."

"So... how can I increase the limit?"

"By doing the mundane tasks, master. Such as work out, doing homework, talk to people... However, seem like you have talked to a lot of people. As the result, the limit of charisma I can change is much higher."

He silently thanked him for being a server in the restaurant. His mind now was flooded with thoughts as he pondered the different possibilities. But first, his charisma was in need of improvement. However, his train of thought was abruptly interrupted by the sound of his alarm.

"Fuck... Is it already morning?" He rushed to his room and changed clothes. "I have Calculus today."

*****

Brandon squeezed onto the crowded bus, feeling the press of bodies against him. The scent of sweat and perfume filled his nostrils as he gripped the overhead rail to steady himself. He glanced around, searching for a familiar face amidst the sea of strangers.

"Excuse me," a voice said curtly.

The familiar voice made him turn around. It was Catherine, his Calculus professor, standing next to him. Brandon couldn't help but be mesmerized by her presence. The sleek, form-fitting skirt hugged every curve of her body, accentuating her natural beauty. Even with her glasses and serious expression, Catherine's radiance could not be concealed. He was certain that every boy in the class harbored a secret crush on her. Rumors circulated that she was still single, adding to her allure and mystique.

"Sorry." he stuttered, shifting uncomfortably to give her some room, hoping she wouldn't recognize him as one of her countless students.

"Thank you," she replied, adjusting her glasses and focusing on a point somewhere in the distance.

A sudden urge to test the power of the bracelet overtook Brandon. He couldn't resist moving his hands to her bottom. With so many people standing around them on the bus, he knew no one would notice his indecency act.

He shifted his gaze to Ms. Catherine's face. Seem like she remained unaware of his actions. His hands tentatively reached towards her buttocks, exploring the soft curves and feeling their bouncy resilience beneath his touch. He glanced up at her expression, expecting a reaction, but she remained impassive. Her face held a serene calmness as his fingers traced patterns over her tight dress. He couldn't resist the urge to squeeze and knead the soft flesh, marveling at its plumpness and smoothness under his fingertips. Again he looked up, searching for any signs of discomfort or pleasure on Ms. Catherine's face, but still found none. He continued until the bus reached their destination at the university and they had to disembark.

"Congratulation, master. You have received 10 points. How would you like to use it?"

"Charisma, of course."

Brandon answered the voice and went straight up to his classroom. However, Catherine wasn't there yet even though she went off the bus before him. He didn't think much about it and settled into his usual seat in the lecture room.

*****

As for Catherine, she was locked in her private office. The memory of someone audacious ministrations were an aphrodisiac, fueling her body with an unfamiliar heat. Her heart pounded with the thrill of the unexpected violation, her mind spinning with confusion and lust. She was a woman of control and dignity, not given to public indecency or casual dalliances. Yet here she was, alone in her office, touching herself while reliving the rush of the anonymous encounter on the bus.

Her fingers danced along the hem of her skirt, hitching it up until her hand dove beneath the fabric. Goosebumps prickled along her thighs at the contact; her breath hitched as she delved deeper into her panties. The memory of his firm hands ghosted over her skin - kneading, squeezing - as if he knew every contour and crevice of her body. A soft moan escaped from between her lips as she traced delicate circles around her clit.

Thrusts against soft fabric became bolder and quicker as she drowned in the sensation that only intensified with each stroke - an intoxicating dance between pleasure and guilt, rightness and wrongness. The thought that she'd allowed his touch brought a shameful blush to her cheeks but also heightened arousal deep within.

Suddenly, a wave crashed through Catherine: a climax that left her breathless. The world outside her office faded to insignificance as she rode through the pleasure overload, relishing in the tingling sensation that trailed along her fingers and spread warmth throughout her body. When she finally recovered, she was left panting, flushed, with a sense of fulfillment she hadn't experienced before.

*****

"My apologies for being late, class. I had some urgent matters to attend to." Catherine made her way to the podium and retrieved her lesson plans as if nothing had happened. "Now, shall we begin?"