He didn’t want this. Evan could remember better now, that he was away from Robbie, who he’d been before. Not...all the way back, his recollections of the young twink in high school that he’d been were cloudy with his own, new memories of his own high school experience as a drop out--he’d been too busy sucking cock and drinking piss in filthy alleys and bathhouses to care much about school, after all. But he hadn’t always been this. He’d been a jock in college, he’d been a coach, he’d been trailer trash--he could go back, maybe. He could be better than this fat, stinking filthy faggot pig the curse had warped him into as some sick joke.
But what was he going to do? He didn’t exactly read like a faggot--not anymore. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had said something like that to his face. He was going to have to be a little more forward now, if he wanted a reaction. That, and he’d have to find a suitable target--though that was a bit harder than he’d expected. He kept walking, but he was exhausted after a long day at work already--and all he really wanted was to go home, have Robbie stuff him silly, and then sit on his face and fill his boyfriend with a load of his shit--and maybe get a taste of it himself. He was about to give up, and give in, when he saw someone approaching him--a beat cop with a reputation around here for roughing up twinks on occasion...though he wasn’t quite sure how he knew that. Whether the curse was offering him a way out, or whether he was just lucky, it didn’t matter--he hiked up his pants, went over to the cop, and said, “Fuck, ya look sexy as hell in that uniform buddy--let me suck that dick a yers,” the worst part, was how...authentic he sounded, when he said it. That, and he really did want the officer’s cock, he realized.
The officer recoiled away from him in disgust, just like Evan had hoped he would, “Get the fuck out of my face you dirty fucking faggot--talk to me again, and I’ll arrest you for indecency.”
The word washed over him like some soothing balm. The officer pushed past him, and Evan felt himself shifting--though perhaps not as much as he would have liked to. He grew a bit taller, but didn’t lose his entire gut. He was left with a hefty beer belly stretching out his shirt, which was growing cleaner, buttons appearing in the front as it morphed into a blue uniform shirt, his grubby jeans similarly changing into navy slacks. He felt the beard disappearing into his face, leaving him with just a thick bushy mustache trimmed to his lip, his hair buzzed down into a flat top under his patrolman’s hat. He was so relieved to be someone different, he didn’t even care about the disgusting homophobia welling up inside him--it was better than who he’d been, in any case.
He was Officer Evan Pittock now, and he’d been a beat cop for quite a while. He’d been passed over for promotions a few times, mostly because of his fairly common record of roughing up the queers he came across on the street, usually with his partner Harry. Both of them detested fags more than pretty much anything else, and had become fast friends on the force. Thanks to the police officer’s association, and their ability to back up one another’s story, they could get away with pretty much anything, so long as they used some flimsy charge as an excuse, which they usually dropped in exchange for the victim of their abuse not saying anything about what they’d done to him. He hurried along the sidewalk and caught up with Harry at the corner, and the two of them resumed their bullshitting, happy that their shift was nearly over as they headed back to the precinct, stopping only to call out a couple of faggy looking whores as they went.
In the locker room, as he was changing out of his uniform, he did his best to avoid looking at any of the other men around him. He’d always gotten...odd feelings, looking at guys in the locker room. Gay feelings, maybe, but he’d bottled them up for so long that he was used to avoiding thinking about them. No, he had a wife and two kids now. It didn’t matter that looking at her never managed to get his dick hard--unless he was taking her from behind, and better if he was fucking her ass. They just didn’t have much sex anymore--the only sex he’d gotten lately was one blowjob from a particularly desperate faggot he’d extorted one night while Harry was off...just...so he could know what it felt like.
Buried deep inside this new Evan’s mind, the curse roiled, urging him to warp his partner in revenge. He could think of so many things to do to him...but did he really want to? Evan was tired--what if he just...slipped away? Sure, life as some homophobic, closeted, overweight cop wasn’t...ideal, but it was still better than risking ending back up with Robbie, right?