Nick and Corey spent the day at the work site, laboring under the hot summer sun, but even to his currently dull mind, Nick could sense that something about Corey was...strange. He just...didn’t quite seem to be his usual self. It was most pronounced during their lunch break. While Nick spent the whole time catcalling women as they passed them by, elbowing his friend whenever he thought he got in a good one, Corey seemed...preoccupied with something else. He hollered too, but he didn’t seem quite as interested, and whenever a particularly burly or chubby guy walked past them, he would...stare at them. In fact, as the afternoon wore on, he noticed his roommate staring at him often as well.
Nick seemed to remember...Corey fucking him, but that wasn’t right. He wasn’t a faggot, after all, nothing would ever get in his ass if he could help it. The only thing a fag was good for was a bashing. But something in Corey’s eyes--and in Corey’s pants, he saw, gave Nick the sneaking suspicion that his “roommate” might be a secret faggot after all. After work, Corey wanted to go home, but Nick demanded that they go out to a strip club--Corey relented, but he didn’t seem excited by the prospect, and that, to Nick, was the final straw.
“What the fuck is up wit’ you?” he finally said, “Yer actin’ like a fuckin’ faggot taday.”
Corey looked alarmed. “What the fuck ya talkin’ about?”
“Ya haven’t looked twice at a single bitch taday, ya don’t wanna go tah the strip club, and I’ve caught ya lookin’ at mah junk twice tahday. Yer a fuckin’ fag, aren’t you!”
Corey objected, but Nick just knew it in his gut, he knew he’d been had. Just cause he was dumb didn’t make him a fucking fool. He clocked Corey in the face with one heavy fist, before stomping off, leaving Corey nursing a fat lip and bloody nose in the dirt. Nick didn’t know where he was going to go later, but he sure as hell wasn’t going home with a faggot. He ended up going to the strip club alone, buying a bit of extra time with one of the girls in a motel room, which made him feel a bit better. Pussy always made him feel better, even if she hadn’t liked it very much. Why the fuck should he care what a whore thinks though? It was his money--he could use her how he wanted. By the time he stumbled out of the room, still drunk from the club, his changes were slowly reverting, leaving Nick, tanned and muscular in the empty night streets with a raging hangover and the realization he’d punched his boyfriend in the face hours earlier.
He hurried back to their apartment, walking through the dead night streets, before getting to their apartment...but he couldn’t find his key on his keychain for some reason. He knocked on the door, and was surprised to find Corey open the door, still a laborer, still with a fat lip and a bit of blood around his nose. “Who the fuck ‘r you?” he said. It was clear he’d been drinking--and crying?--but why hadn’t he changed back? With a sinking feeling, Nick realized why--when they’d fucked earlier, Corey hadn’t shot outside of him--he’d shot in his ass. And just like when he’d drank Christian’s cum, it didn’t look like his boyfriend was going to be changing back anytime soon.
“I...uh...sorry, I was...looking for someone else.”
“Whatever, faggot,” Corey said, and slammed the door in his face. Great--his boyfriend was stuck as a straight, homophobic laborer, he was still cursed, and he had no idea what to do next--he didn’t even know if he had a place to go home to for the night. He started to walk away from the apartment, when the door opened a crack, “Hey...hey! You. You...you are a fag...right? I mean, I know I shouldn’t say fag, but...” Corey trailed off when Nick turned around and stared at him.
Nick wasn’t sure what to say.
“Look...I don’t...if ya...want to, we could...you know...” Corey asked, “I ain’t got nothin’ else tah do, ‘n I don’ get tah...have sex very often,” Corey said, “Gotta...keep up the act, you know?”
Nick thought his old self had just been a paranoid homophobe, but had he been right? Was Corey not only a laborer, but also gay and deep in the closet? But what about Christian? He hadn’t seemed gay, but maybe he in the closet too then? If it was a guy that you had sex with, did that make you gay? He couldn’t know for sure--but hell, he didn’t know how any part of this curse worked for sure, but what if...“You...you want me, to have sex with you?”
“Shhhh!” Corey said, his already tanned, beaten face turning red, “Not...not so loud. I can...I got some money, but not a whole lot, if ya want. I just...it’s been a day, ya know?”
Nick did his best to keep himself under control. It might be a trick, after all. Corey might just be luring him in to beat him to a pulp. Then again, he knew this version of Corey pretty well, and he wasn’t that clever. If he was going to bash Corey, he would have just done it in the hallway. He also knew that if he went in there, he’d just turn back into his old, slobby form...but was that really such a bad idea? If he...if he shot his load in Corey, then they could...maybe they could still be together, in a way, maybe.
No, what in the hell was he even thinking? He had to figure out how to stop this. There had to be some way to reverse this curse completely, and free both him and his boyfriend, and everyone else he’d infected for that matter. They could still maybe go back to their old lives--he didn’t want to be some fat slob laborer for the rest of his life, but his cock was starting to perk up--if he didn’t run now, he would change no matter what. What should he do?