Frustrated, Nick left his newly straight and Mexican acquaintance to his own devices. He had no idea how long the transformation would last, and he had no intention of sticking around long enough to get horny and find himself with another set of disgusting new urges. He was lucky that his jock mind hadn’t found any willing women, because he was certain he would have slept with them. Just the thought of existing inside a vagina made him shudder. He’d done it once when he was born and had no interest in doing it again.
He couldn’t go back to the beach for fear of running into Corey and accidentally passing the curse onto him, so he decided to head back to his apartment and lie down. Maybe he’d watch a movie. Bridesmaids or something, so there was no chance of him getting turned on. He unlocked the door and took off his shoes, then stripped down to his underwear and hung his wet board shorts in the shower rod. His muscular body glinted in the mirror, but he wasn’t so vain as to be turned on by that. The real trouble began when he returned to his bedroom. The picture of Corey on his nightstand reminded him of the romantic anniversary night they had spent together a week before… Uh oh.
Nick felt his boner stiffening. He bit his cheek hard enough to draw blood, but he was still at half-mast. Flustered, he hurried to the front door. Maybe the fresh air would do him some good. If he wasn’t in the bedroom, maybe – He flung open the door and, to his surprise, saw a staircase instead of his beachfront apartment railing.
He hesitated, then climbed the stairs into a well-appointed kitchen. A large, matronly woman was busying herself at the counter, marinating a chicken in a glass container.
“Mom?” The woman turned to look at him.
“Nicholas, good heavens! What on God’s green Earth are you doing prancing around in your underwear? It’s indecent, go put some clothes on!”
“Sorry mom, I guess I just… forgot,” said Nick. Confused, he headed back down the staircase and opened the door. Instead of his modernly furnished one bedroom apartment, he saw a dingy basement with a rumpled bed, empty pizza boxes littering the floor, and a well-kept entertainment unit stacked with video games. Playboy posters adorned the walls, each girl more beautiful and exotic than the last.
“What the hell?” he said. He stepped into the room and, as soon as he passed the threshold, felt a jolt of electricity through his body. He stopped in his tracks and his stomach began o feel intensely full, as though he had just eaten a five course meal. The feeling increased until his stomach actually expanded, testing the elastic on his underwear and forming a veritable beer belly. His pecs swiftly joined it, elongating and becoming a set of soft moobs resting atop his belly. Greasy fuzz rapidly grew up past his navel, covering his soft body in a scratchy pelt of body hair.
He felt a tingle in his chin as fat dripped down his face, collecting in a set of jowls that hung loosely around his throat. The tingling continued as a patchy beard grew in only along the neck area. He felt his hair grow greasy and unkempt, hanging over his face like a set of sweaty curtains. Acne began to dot his forehead and nose.
“Goddamit,” said Nick. “at least I got to be attractive last time.” And with that, Nick was gone, replaced by Nicholas, the sweaty, slobby loser living in his mother’s basement.
His boner, now hidden beneath the layer of paunch on his stomach, jutted out urgently. Nicholas let out a belch and picked up a Penthouse magazine from the coffee table, furiously pleasuring himself to his favorite cover spread.
Once he was finished, he played a little Call of Duty with his old friends from high school, but quickly grew bored. He opened his laptop and the very first item on his home page was news of the passing of gay marriage in some state or another. The thought of the government acknowledging the rights of those perverts infuriated him and he decided to livestream his opinion on his YouTube channel: NickPix.
Click.
“Goddamn faggots think they own the world now that the hippie liberal government is on their side. They’re nothing but a bunch of cocksuckers. If you’re one of those homo queers, feel free to go die in a hole. Thank you, good night.”
As he finished the video, he noticed that his hairy balls were visible on camera inside his Pac-Man boxer shorts. “Oh well,” he sighed. “The Internet has seen worse.”
“Dinner!” shouted his mother. He slipped on a ratty white XL T-shirt and a pair of gym shorts, then ascended the stairs, huffing and puffing as he went.
He sat down to eat his mother’s chicken and as the meal went on, he gradually reverted to his old self. Just a charming gay surfer boi visiting his mother for a nice meal. He breathed a sigh of relief as his abs tightened up inside his shirt. At least he wasn’t likely to have slept with anybody this time around. That form was just disgusting.
When Nick retuned to normal, so did the basement. It was now filled with its usual assortment of lawn mower parts and tennis rackets. On a desk, an old computer turned on. Still open to Nicholas’ rant on his YouTube channel, the web page showed the view count rising exponentially. His exposed testicles were going viral!
The curse would soon spread to every gay guy with a modem who watched the video.