Chris the busboy just sighed as he heard the loud customer start to rant about ‘the gays’. Working in a diner in the middle of nowhere like he did, Chris was used to that sort of language, but it still pissed him off inside, maybe even more than it would most young gays like him. As far as the manager of the diner knew, Chris was eighteen and just out of school, saving up to go to college, but that was all fiction. In fact, Chris was only sixteen, had dropped out of high school after his family disowned him after catching him in bed with his boyfriend, and was basically homeless and wandering the countryside trying to survive. So, to say that he was more than a little irritated by these loudmouthed bigots taking up half the restaurant would be an understatement.
Unbeknownst to Chris, of course, he’d already had the were-breeder curse passed on to him with the first slur uttered. Even worse, if there was one thing that young Chris found attractive in men, it was military men, or at least anyone wearing a uniform. So, annoying as he was, a few lingering glances at Sgt. Marty Madsen was more than able to get Chris aroused enough to trigger the curse and begin his own transformation.
“Excuse me!” Nicholas Gospel shouted out to the other customers. “Me and mah family would invite y’all to join us in sayin’ grace before our meal. Would ya’ll bow your heads and pray with me?”
Nicholas said this in a manner that implied it wouldn’t be a choice (not that most of the customers in the diner objected to it), and a sharp glare from Chris’ manager was enough to convince Chris to go along with this loud customer’s demands.
“Lord God, please bless our food and our community, and for putting clothes on our backs…” Nicholas began to intone.
Chris reluctantly bowed his head and closed his eyes, feeling a strange sense of disorientation pass over him. If his eyes had been open, he might have noticed the changes travelling over his body. The curse started simple by morphing his clothes to suit his new role in life. The shabby t-shirt, kitchen apron, and ragged jeans he’d been wearing seemed to twist and warp around him. The kitchen stains on his shirt quickly faded into nothing, and the fabric grew tighter and tighter on his thin frame, until…
*RRRIP*!
Chris t-shirt ripped right down the chest, but it soon mended itself as a row of shiny buttons appeared and pulled attached themselves. Faded colors became bright like new and shifted around before settling on a striking plaid patterned dress shirt. His jeans likewise mended themselves, and darkened in color from acid-washed to a pure, crisp dark blue denim. A thick strip of dark leather seemed to materialize from nowhere and snaked its way around his waist, settling into place before tightening and fastening with a large gold buckle shaped like a cow’s skull. The dust and dirt on his battered sneaker appeared to melt away, while the white canvas rose higher and higher up his legs, changing in material and construction until a very expensive pair of white leather cowboy boots adorned his feet. Finally, the dirty apron Chris had been wearing dropped from his shoulders and fell into his hands, warping and shifting from cheap cotton to dark felt, shaping itself into a fine cowboy hat. Chris held his hat tightly in his hands, remembering that it wasn’t proper for a southern boy to wear his hat indoors.
“And bless our families, which we pray will grow and prosper…” Nicholas continued to say grace, and Chris bowed his head deeper, becoming absorbed in the man’s words.
Now, the curse began to change Chris at a deeper level. His dark tan and sunburnt skin, earned from hard days wandering the streets, lightened into a much fairer complexion, lightly golden but carefully maintained and smooth; the skin of a young man who spends time outside on his own terms, not because of need. Beneath his new clothes, lean muscles grew thicker and thicker. Chris’ skinny shoulders broadened and swelled with muscles, his biceps pushed up against the tight fabric of his dress shirt, and thick, well-developed thighs stretches the fabric of his expensive jeans. As his body grew, his shirt stretched tight, until a button at the top popped open, revealing the top of a perfect six-pack that Chris never would have dreamed of having (had be been aware of his changes, that is.) Speaking of swelling, a noticeable bulge began to push against the front of Chris’s jeans as his balls grew larger and drooped lower while his cock thickened and lengthened, all barely contained inside the extra-large jockstrap he hadn’t noticed had materialized around his waist.
Still keeping his eyes tightly closed in prayer, Chris felt a tingling, itching feeling traveling across his body as soft, thick hair spread over his body, focusing itself into a broad treasure trail traveling from his newly improved cock to the top of his six-pack, dusting his ripped legs, and exploding out from beneath his muscular arms. The hair on his head lightened to a perfect golden blond and sucked back into his scalp before flawless parting itself across his head. Behind closed eyelids, the lifeless brown of his eyes lightened to a sky blue.
“Before I finish, I would like to hear from my brother’s son… Cornelius Junior. Would you help bless our meal?” Nicholas Gospel turned to face the young man who had unknowingly moved closer to his family’s table.
Chris’s eyes snapped open at the man’s words. This man… he seems really familiar… Uncle Nicholas! Of course! The name Chris instantly disappeared from the young man’s mind, and the name Cornelius Gospel Junior (just ‘Junior’ to his family, except when they were upset) appeared in its place. Still a bit disoriented, Junior stepped up to his uncle, as if his feet were on autopilot, and an unfamiliar, confident voice spoke out through his lips.
“I only pray to God and Jesus that a full life awaits us all, a woman for every man in holy marriage, and a family full of faithful children.” Junior felt a feeling of disgust rising in his throat as he spoke… He didn’t really mean to say that! He was ga-… He was homos-… A fag? Hell no he wasn’t a faggot! He was a pure, straight Christian boy, and anyone who though otherwise had another thing coming to them! Spotting a hot girl about his age seated at another table, he felt his cock growing hard thinking about pinning her to the wall and adding her to his list of conquests, his lingering homosexuality seeming to evaporate into less than nothing. He winked to her in a way that clearly communicated his interest in her from across the restaurant, causing her to blush and giggle in response.
“And I pray that any man or woman who has lost their way and given into the sin of homosexuality finds Jesus before they burn for all eternity. Amen!” Cornelius Junior finished and smiled to his mother and father before seating himself next to them, and before soon plate after plate of hearty, greasy food arrived and the whole family dug in. Just in time, too! A athletic boy like him needed a lot of food to keep going, after all. Memories of playing football his entire life filled his head as reality adjusted to accommodate the newest member of the Gospel family: Cornelius Gospel Junior, the sixteen-year old football star of his high school team and son of Cornelius and Greta Gospel.
Having added another to its ranks, the curse grew more and more influential and powerful… and hungry for more. What is its next move?