“You fucking faggot! I am calling the manager!”
Peter had just lost it, as he stormed off to the nearest waitress with his fiancée trailing behind him in contempt.
Justin’s face melted with horror, as he immediately dashed to the employee’s restroom as his co-worker Abby noticed it- intending to reassure him that everything will be alright-but instead decided the best option was to calm down the raging couple.
Not knowing that she will be missing out the transformation that Justin’s gonna undergo.
———————
Justin splashed water into his tear ducts, sobbing massively as though he just had enough.
He underwent through a massive breakup recently with his boyfriend dumping him coldly for some British Celebrity-calling off their engagement and even blocking him off from every contact they had a connection with.
To make matters worse, he had to witness the newly engaged couple, whereby the man looked incredibly similar to his ex, lash out extreme hostility towards him because of his gay behavior.
“Maybe it would be better if I could turn straight to forget it all...” He spoke in between sobs and lisps. “I got dumped, discriminated and now a stain in my record, maybe its better if the world doesn’t remember Justin anymore......”
He then paused, as the curse took effect, his eyes turned blank, as though files were being deleted in his brain-as he spoke.
“Wait...whose Justin?”
He rubbed his hair, scratching it to indicate confusion-who was Justin? Was he Justin? Actually-Who is he?
“Ah...Fuck, probably cause of the migraine from inventing new recipes every night?” He spoke, suddenly eyes lit up as though new memories have been found, as his back straightened up-feeling much stronger and more masculine as it strained against his waiter uniform.
“Ah yes...” His tone had a new form of clarity towards it, like the lisp just suddenly vanished alongside his old memories of his Justin self. “I am a Chef after all am I?”
His confidence soared through the roof, as the man smiled once more-his past self freed of the condemnation of being a gay waiter as he felt his legs rising in his newfound pride.
“Gotta maintain my hygiene before going back to my craft.”
He washed his hands fervently, as they thickened up with age. Rubbing with technique as his rubbed those pores on his fingers as they became more weary yet tougher with age, enlarging with experience in culinary skills , workouts and in bed, man-he missed his wife-
“Wife?” He questioned, looking at his fingers as he noticed a lighter hue in them yet with an understandable tan-its as though he were British...or Scottish. As his eyes widened in shock-but not at the change in skin tone-or the longer, thicker fingers.
“Ah Bloody hell! Where did my ring went?”
His voice took on a completely different influx, a more manlier tone with a tendency to yell a lot, but with a polite tonality and grace as though he were raised from England himself.
SPLASH!
The Curse controlled his manlier-husband fingers as they splashed water all over his uniform-drenching him wet from the top to the bottom as he cried out.
“Ah! BLOODY HELL!”
His testosterone levels raged, he would probably yell at one of his fag employees if he was not desperate to find his ring right now-or that he was being filmed on camera from the moment he steps out.
His very own waiter uniform soaked in the water, as they went all the way down to his skin, it too shifting to light British hue as fine hairs start appearing in a foreign way.
His arms met the same fate, as they grew much tougher-with his biceps bulging decently as though he were in the navy. Fine beauties as they would smash junk crappy chefs made on TV-too bad they are covered by his uniform-for now.
His shoulders widened, spreading out deep and cool masculinity as it blended in with his wider and larger back-complimented by longer and taller legs that brings him up to a powerful domineering 6ft 2. Nobody can question his sexuality.
“Nobody can question my sexuality....” He echoed, the ring was a sure sign of his manhood-and his union to his dear wife-he will not abandon him nor be questioned of his sexuality! That is why he needs to find it.
His legs widened apart as his member rose up in frustration. The bulge at the front much thicker and more prominent than his ex gay self. His buttocks firmed and pushed outwards, tight Scott buttcheeks that has been captured on tele as a form of service to his fans-even the gay ones.
“Ugh...!” He thought about it, as his nose wrinkled in disgust, hopefully those gays will turn straight by the end of every episode.
His shoes grew much larger and polished black as it grew to be accustomed to his new fatherly feet, trousers loosened up briefly as well, giving his tighter muscles more space, as his attire remained unchanged for the most part-until it reached his chest.
The tight fitting white dress shirt and red bowtie can barely stand the newfound fame and maleness of the man wearing it, in an instant, his chest ready to soar as his pecs PUSHED OUT in authority, his cornerstone abs glistening in sweat with his furry body as they exposed themselves in the mirror in front.
The bow tie flying forward as it hits the mirror with a loud DING! As it shifts to his men’s wedding ring. The Chef smiled as he picked it up, his very own broken down dress shirt unraveling the sleeves, revealing his scotish tan as his muscles flex in delight. The dress shirt enlongating at the bottom, expanding with an array of buttons to make up the new chef’s attire he was wearing.
“Ah! There’s my ring.” He grabbed hold of it instantly, sliding in perfectly on his ring finger as he smiled briefly-before the final touches of his transformation begin, as he brought his palms to his face.
“Can’t imagine what I’d do if I lost it.” A look of panic ,yet relief, appeared on his face. He truly did deeply care for his wife and kids back home, losing the ring is like losing his wife-especially since he’s overseeing his Michelin French Restaurant in the US.
His rubbed his face, the caucasian accentuating as it matches the rest of his body, rubbing his hair as the hair gel lost its touch-alongside the platinum product as his hair took on a true blonde-shifting to a short but messy top as though it was his iconic hair.
His piercings popped out of his ear as they went and hit onto various area, turning into equipment as some turned into his trusty rolex, a bottle of chef’s hand sanitizer and some even kitchen equipment such as knives even. The Master Chef rubbed his ears, as the holes they once had disappeared into oblivion.
He was not a millennial after all.
He rubbed the rest of his face, prominent wrinkles appearing over his forehead as his jaw squared out, his nose scented the fresh cooked food from the kitchen nearby.
As he rubbed his eyes, tears began falling once again, but not out of sorrows, but of joy. This old man...well middle aged, was proud he had a wonderful life and kids and rose up to become one of the top chefs in the world. He loved his life, and he loved being straight.
As the tears were rubbed away, his baby blue eyes showed determination as though he was born again. Jordan Randalls went out of the employee’s restroom-noticing the angry businessman man with his fiancée.
“Hi, what seems to be the problem?”
Peter and Mary turned around and was astonished to see the famous chef behind him. He spoke firmly-despite the nervousness in his tone towards the taller alpha male.
“Oh, one of your waiters spilled water onto both my wife’s dress and my suit.” Peter remarked.
“And he was Gay!” Mary added in.
“Oh not to worry! That waiter has been fired from my establishment.” Jordan smiled, suddenly a memory of him firing the old Justin just moments ago surfaced in his head-despite Justin being actually him.
“Splendid decision Mr Randalls. My company will be investing into your business as a form of respect.”
Jordan Randalls smiled as he gave Peter a firm, welcome shake. As they continued on with their conversation.