Christian still never understood why dad would leave mom.
The curse peered in, noting that both of his parents made their separate ways as he was held on by his mom. The lack of parenting from his father, and the fact that he was a momma’s boy gave him an ever longing need for masculinity. Completely oblivious the reason for the whole was partly due to the fact his mom was also a lesbian, who was originally seeing Margaret before the two of them met their heterosexual fate.
Oblivious...such obliviousness.
Driving his transformation towards the empty hole, the craving for a manly fatherly father who could raise him-into the exact ideal Mexican papa who will treat her like a Daddy’s gal. Who is incredibly steeped in the tradition of Mexico, oblivious that his hermosa is yet again-in a relationship with-
‘Niguel Dela Cruz Muthafucka!’
He clutched his head, loud boisterous fiesta music blasted into his ears as his feet wobbled to get up, a bunch of noodles was his wiry frame as a silhouette of a hunky, Mexican model, began dancing in front of him-luring him out of the stall.
Step Step STEP!
He was entranced by the sexy steps of the dancer, as caramel coloration decorated his feet, spreading further down into his toes and up his heels as they BURST out bigger, and BIGGER with every step. Ones that have a flair for dancing, even though dads have left feet when they get goofy.
-Unlock-
Creeeeeeeak
The Fiesta music began an uproar, as his member throbbed longer and thicker to the beat, with a single step out, the ratty worn out sneakers snapped wide briefly, like a stage displaying ultimate masculinity before they polish themselves into size 16 Low heel Black polished dress shoes, ones fitting as dance shoes as an array of laces spring forth above, with wider black socks to cover the musky scent of salsa beneath em.
The silhouette gestured the man to walk forth.
His eyes are in an array of colors, spiraling as he took ungraceful-loud steps as though he were a dumb giant, hunched back and entranced, one foot after the other, making huge STOMP...STOMP....beyond the clunks of his stylish, retro and oriental shoes passed down from the Sanchez family.
‘Sanchez! Sanchez’
A mixture of Disco, retro, and fiesta took hold the bathroom. Like an ultimate Mexican man born in the 70s fantasy, as more and more silhouettes fill the crowd which was squeezed tightly in the small bathroom. An array of lights and a mixture of tons of cita musica blasted his ears.
He smiled, a wide dopey grin as his trunks slowly straighten up from their bent position, swelling incredibly as rips, rip RIPPPPPPPP echo out, revealing incredible hairs, blackish dark brown, sprouting out from strong beef that is cooked crisp brown with abuela’s secret recipe, the Sanchez blood.
Legs EXPLODE and SHOT up greatly, ripping apart his former pants to display those strong, humungous calves that simply is as huge one juicy piece of unsliced ham. The broken bits of fabric dropping downward to the floor, revealing a clean white piece of underwear that barely stood on with that giant sized bulge pushing out alongside those buttocks that cannot be contained! They need clothes from Mexico! Not some tiny American clothes!
The white tighty-whities began loosening up, as his lowering, expanding balls began churning with serum of his new-yet old, heritage. Shifting larger while becoming whiter than ever, almost as though its sucking up the caucasian in him as his ass squared brown, rounding up as it inflated into a pair of firm bubble butts as the whiteness consumed his behind. Incredible curls of hair sprouting from his groin, a pair of white underwear-boxers tightened against his throbbing member, reaching over 10 inches as it felt safe and comfortable in this little Mexico presented to him.
With that, his trousers began rewrapping himself, crawling over his legs as the material became a more expensive, dark blueish material, a couple of special white laces sewn at the side as it tightened around his larger waist and BUTTONED up with a long brown belt locking above his package with a metallic ‘C’ as the belt buckle. Proud of his new Mexican dress pants, he walked and began dancing, hips gyrating as he walked towards the long-muscular silhouette to the left of em’.
“Ayyyy C-Sanchez~”
His line of sight was directed to the front, towards a slender-voluptuous figure who called out to him with an incredible, lustful tang. As his member instantly rose to the top, his eyes jumped outward in hearts as he could visualise the lady in front of em like when he was a teen again.
A teen? He was confused...was he?
“Ayyy Mamacita!!!!!”
His direction turned back towards the incredibly, latino yell. Watching that masculine silhouette gyrating with another gorgeous latina babe whose silhouette...looked familiar, a tinge of jealousy surfaced in Christian briefly, initially gushing over the male before his mind questioned...what is there to be jealous about? They were just practicing their latin dance routine! And besides!
PUSH!
“You already have a partner...papi~”
As the music and surroundings shifted into a more atmospheric beat, losing the retro and gaining stylishness and orange light, his eyes were glued onto the female silhouette in front of him as she grabbed a hold of his strong bulge, pulling it downward, springing down his homosexuality before it ROSE UP with a loud cartoonish d-DOIng! He could remember how that silhouette looked in real life.
“Ah...mi dance partner...~”
He felt...happy for himself....happy for the both of them! Happy for her as memories pile on his belly as she gave it a great rub. Spoiling him with sacred rosary recipes while he worked hard in construction amidst his dance practices. Belly swelling as his core tightened into a large muscle gut, spilling over his tee as his belly button was encased in mass curls, black hairy curls, something only a true Mexican mama could understand.
The silhouette pressed her long, gorgeous arms over his back. Boobs pressed against his chest as his nipples obviously perked up in incredible arousal. They were just practicing right? Like long time dance partners?! Like how she’s digging into his back as it grew in stature, shoulders pushing apart as it was clear that she was now hovering over ground. His arms wrapped around her waist, as his face flushed in oblivious heterosexuality. Like a tight embrace as a hoard of hormones pelt his upper core, causing a large pair of pectorals to push outward, matching his mamacita’s femininity with his own masculinity with his own huge balloons filled with a chest filled of curls of overwhelming masculinity.
Somewhat fatty due to dozens of meals his partner made...his mamacita made, as his body became an even caramel brown, his neck and vocal chords strung thick, deep and stereotypical with a huge bulge at the edge of his throat. Like one who grew up in spanish and could only understand spanglish due to his low education upbringing, back grew thick and strong as though he could lift a copy of himself...himself. His mamacita....wait!
“Let’s Tango, marido~!”
“Ah yes....esposa~!”
Oh how can he be so clueless! All those years of dancing, all those years of meals, all those times she kept asking him if he would want to get married. She was his wife! His thick skull could not even realize that despite being made for construction and memorizing dance steps...’El stupido’ for him to not realize that! Especially after all the love they did after every contest since his wife’s quinceanera!
Which was a long time ago!
He probably would not even know if any of his children are to get married...even if the wedding invitation is right in front of him!
“Grande fuerte...that’s all you need to be~ To protect our family...”
Almost instantly, the brown coloration slid down his arms, as his biceps belted ten sizes larger with a tight SLAP! To both of them, as the sides get layered with thick curly hair, he gently lifted down his queen, burly arms still holding her tightly like she is the most precious thing to him, his whole family was precious! And like what his esposa has said! He had to be big and strong! That is all he needs to be!
As he grabbed hold of his way shorter queen, his palms finally exploded ten times larger than hers as they began to sweat with pores. Warm and huge, sausage fingers which are somewhat clumsy at dinner parties but never at playing the guitar or construction. They are made for em! That is his job as a family man!
“Marido...~”
“Esposa...~”
The tattered remains of his clothing began resurfacing onto his hulked exterior. Bulkiness gets compressed as an Extra large, short sleeved, orange buttoned down collared shirt with similar zig zag patterns as to the male masculine silhouette...Niguel?
‘Niguel Dela Cruz muthafucka!’
His eyes suddenly widened, as his head turned to the Niguel silhouette, his outer exterior growing a stylish, navy blue suit jacket with a red rose popping over at his left pocket as he tries his best to visualize the lady silhouette dancing with his young hombre. She looks...so familiar...
-Poke!-
“Back to business Papi~”
She stuck the rose from his suit jacket into his mouth, as he instinctively followed the beat and rhythm of his spouse, forgetting the duo as his eyes were completely on her as they did a fusion called, the tango salsa.
As he chewed on the stems, his teeth grew firm, straight and white. As the prize winnings were more than enough to cover his family’s dental care. Flashing a stylish fiesta grin, as his pinkish lips took on a darker brownish hue alongside the rest of his face, devoid of any evidence that this was a legal caucasian son of America.
A jaw dropping square jaw took hold, becoming huge and wide as while his head grew in size, his brain shrunk in book smarts, education and flamboyancy. He grinned widened even more as his old life was deleted in favor of his hot wife in front of him. He would not want anything other than that, as his hair was trimmed and cut massively, styled nicely and neatly like the dancing construction papa bear he is with an even medium length hair cut, with the top swept up, gelled, and raven. Trimmed the same way always since young, since the first time he danced with his wife, since....since...
“Always remember this, my dear Sanchez~”
She grabbed a hold of his left wrist, sliding on an antique-rosary watch given to her by her papa. As a surge load of memories of how he reminded her of goofy papa before things happened. It was like he filled in the void that was missing...missing since her birth.
His right index finger had their wedding ring slid on, opposite sides so that their rings always shone together when they are holding hands. An intricate rosary as well, resembling their faith, and how they intend to stick by Mexico as their home country no matter what the Americans say.
The conservatives gave a gentle look at one another, Mr Sanchez topping her as he bent her nearly all the way down, barely missing the floor. While old Christian would want a daddy to pull him in that position, the new Mr Sanchez pulled his wife into that position. As he leaned forward, her lips connected to his as his breath was a spicy salsa scent of Tacos.
His nose twitched, as it grew in size and plumped up thickly, nostrils flaring like a bull as two strips of facial hair grew left and right over his upper lip, split down the middle connecting section as they become a stereotypical Latino mustache with the dark ends curling up like they oughta.
He leaned in for the kiss
Kiss!
Click!
The music stopped, as his eyes stare at the mop in front of him.
KTHUNK!
Dropping it, he got back up to the bathroom sink to see 6ft 6, an enormous hunk of muscle that seemed to stand out like a giant. Something definitely Christian would be turned on, but as for the curse does not permit homosexuality in this new body, he only starred at himself cluelessly in the bathroom mirror.
He was...Mr Sanchez! Ah he must have had too many tortillas today...dreaming that he was some kid...a gay one in fact?!
‘Ay yay yay.... What would Kamila think if you were gay hombre?”
Gay?! No....he cannot be gay! That would be . Like how girls grab their diamonds for their femininity, he gripped his wrist, glad to see his rosary wedding ring in place. Definitely straight! Right Niguel?
Turning to the right, at the place where ‘Niguel’ and his partner danced was a large Mexican sombrero. Snagging it, placing it like a crown on his head, he recalled that he and his wife were the King and Queen of dance in Mexico back in the day! A construction worker and his wife dancing back and forth with the elites, a huge success story that went through the Spanish headlines.
His ears widened to the faint applause of generations, imagining his wife next to him as he held her invisible hand in the air. Oh Mrs Sanchez...if only you are here! As his heart, and member, throbbed in longing for his esposa.
This body definitely is turned on by women, his wife in particular, he even has the wedding ring to prove it. But Kamila? Kamila Sanchez?! That would also be wrong! She is family! Even the old Christian agreed with whatever strength he had left, completely forgotten his original relation to Kamila, other than an intense urge to protect her, almost as though he was...he was...
As he opened the bathroom door, he spotted Niguel and Kamila at the fountain...almost as though he has not seen them for ages. Best friends practicing their latin dance routine at the fountain!
He was...so proud...
As he shed a tear, his eyebrows arched two thick, neat strips, frowning his pupils into a caramel brown, framed over by his large-innocent, puppy dog eyes as his mouth widens in excitement! Making gigantic footsteps towards the duo as he gave a loud, hearty shout-
“Kamila!!! Mi pequeña niña!”
Si...Christo Sanchez..., that was his name! He was Kamila’s padre! Her father! She was always his little girl! Even when she grew up and snuck out alot with her good friend Niguel Dela Cruz! A fine strong Latino man who keeps and protects his hermosa from the wrong company.
“Eh...Padre...”
“Hola...Mr Sanchez...”
“Haha! ¡Qué bueno verte de nuevo! Great to see you again!”
Mexican Spanish tradition, taking hold. Instead of fear, was complete Mexican brotherhood and respect, from hombre to hombre, as he gave the lean, muscular model a tight big teddy hug.
"Niguel tu es mi hombre. mi hermosa hija tiene suerte de tener un buen amigo..."
“Ay....no homo hombre...”
“Ah...Si! Lo siento!”
He was shocked! There is such a thing as homosexuality?! This never existed back in his city of Mexico! All he understood was that beautiful gorgeous Chicas loved fiesta music, and how they flooded to him when he was a teenager, as well as how one of them came to be his wife till this day.
Ay Mami...
Gay and homosexuality was not good...it was terrible and he was grateful Kamila’s amigo, Niguel, taught him what was gay and what was not! And no matter what, he had to protect his family from that!
“Homosexuality must be an American thing....”
Giving a long convoluted, fatherly dialogue. About how he disciplined and taught the boys and girls back home at Mexico the essence of a true relationship between a man and woman, about how they should not be influenced by the Americans and their unnatural ways or-
“Los muertos los atraparán!”
“Eh Padre...can help me get some clothes from Latina’s Loves, Muchos Gracias!”
“Ah...si! Anything for mi hermosa!”
As the towering, gentle giant left with a dopey grin on his face, completely oblivious to the absolute sexual closeness between the two Mexican hotties, Kamila grabbed a hold of Niguel’s collar as the both of them gave each other a seductive look.
“Back to business Papi~”