Curse of the Homophobe (Part 7)

The rest of the week, even though Evan was around Jerry fairly often, he never managed to regain enough control over this persona to force work the curse upon him–mostly because now that he was a coach, and just as much of a bigot and homophobe as Jerry, they were fast friends and comrades in arms. Evan would always have Jerry’s back, no matter what–after all, the school was on a militant streak, faggots were on every corner, and what, they were just supposed to let this school fall into moral decay? They didn’t have much power beyond the athletic programs, but they sure as hell weren’t about to let the young men under their watch be anything less than real men. If that meant sliding rape accusations under the rug, what harm was there really? Both him and Jerry had “raped” girls back in college by these new standards, anyway. Boys would be boys, after all.

Deep down, Evan–the real Evan–struggled against the pull of this awful person he’d become, and he secretly suspected that the curse was punishing him for going so long without the curse activating. If he was going to try and live as normal a life as he could, he was, apparently, going to have to suffer as a homophobe longer in exchange. At long last, at the end of the week, he got his chance, at the monthly poker game Jerry held at his home for all of the coaches on the team–six men in total, and no wives allowed. They would smoke cigars, drink scotch, bullshit about the team, and usually had a good time…but as Evan got drunker, he felt the curse’s homophobic hold on his tongue loosen–and he made his play.

“Hey, Jerry, get me another glass of scotch, would you?” he said.

Jerry hated having to play waiter–he considered it a woman’s job. On poker nights, he expected the men to all serve themselves. “Get it yourself, what, are your legs broken?”

“Bitch, I said get your fat ass up, and bring me another glass of scotch,” Evan sneered at him, feeling the curse’s built up energy stream into his target…and fuck, it felt good. Evan’s cock hardened immediately, as he watched the shock in Jerry’s face turn to confusion, and he got up, adjusting his shirt as his small paunch began to expand against the polo shirt he was wearing. All of the other coaches just stared, not at all sure what they should say…or if this was some joke or prank the two of them were playing on the rest of the staff. Jerry…never served anyone, after all. But he got the scotch in silence, and then brought it back, and set it down beside Evan.

“Now, what do you say?” Evan asked him in the same cold voice.

“E-Excuse me?”

“You worthless piece of faggot shit, what do you fucking say for talking back to a superior man?” Evan shouted at him, spittle flying from him, and he could feel his frame expanding with muscle as he did, voice dropping, beard filling out and turning whiter.

“S-Sorry sir…” Jerry said, his voice quiet and meek…and the rest of him was changing as well, his polo shrinking as he grew fatter until it tore away, leaving him wearing nothing other than a leather collar around his neck. In a couple of moments, he was completely naked, aside from the collar–that, and a metal cage around his cock. The other coaches were trying to process what they were seeing, but all of them were starting to change as well, growing burlier, hairier, and hornier. None of them became gay–but all of them sneered at the old, fat faggot slave Evan had found somewhere. The faggot who had begged him for the honor to serve them during their monthly poker game.

“On your knees, and open your dirty mouth,” Evan said, and Jerry obeyed without a second thought. Evan rolled the cinder of his cigar over the slave’s tongue, his cock throbbing as the faggot moaned in delight. “Don’t even know how to punish you, given how much you like having me and all my friends beat your ass to bits, you masochistic pervert.”

“Thank you sir, it’s an honor to serve you, always, please, abuse me however you want, I’ll do anything to serve my alpha masters.”

“Then get over here and polish my boots, cocksucker,” Hawke said on the other side of the table, leering around his cigar. The beard and the muscle looked…damn good on him, but Evan quashed that thought. He liked his friends plenty, but not like that–sure, he might use a faggot like this sorry piece of shit on occasion, mostly because of how pitiful they all were. Especially Jerry, who he had to admit was his favorite one to beat on. But Evan wasn’t a queer–he was a rough, abusive fucker, and he’d take whatever hole he wanted to–faggot or bitch. It just so happened that he tended to prefer faggots, not that he’d ever tell anyone that.

The rest of the evening was eventful in many ways. Jerry licked clean everyone’s boots, served as the communal ashtray, and when he got sick and puked the ash up after an hour, Evan shoved the old faggot’s fat face into it and made him eat it back up off the floor, thinking about how hard he was going to pound this pig’s hole after all of this friend’s left. Jerry wanted the fuck just as much as he did though–he begged for it, and Evan made him work for it–lashing him for every mistake he’d made during the evening, real or imagined, before finally plowing his hole with his nine inch cock. Afterwards, the faggot had the audacity to ask Evan when he might be able to cum again–and Evan responded by riveting the cage shut then and there. As far as he was concerned, no faggot was worthy of that kind of pleasure. Faggots like Jerry were meant to serve after all, and that was all the reminder he needed, that his old, worthless cock wasn’t worth his attention. Then, Evan sent him on his way.

Alone again, with himself, Evan was shaking with terror. He…couldn’t believe he’d just done that to someone–and that he’d enjoyed it more than anything in his life. The curse was ebbing slightly–if he focused, he’d probably be able to shift back…but he liked this power, too. Head coach by day; abusive cigar master by night–he could get used to this, probably, if he wasn’t careful, but the curse was whispering to him, telling him not to mind that too much. He should allow himself a bit of indulgence before going back–after all, there were so many people who deserved punishment, right?


The curse is getting stronger, and Evan’s resolve is getting weaker and so there’s a possible chance of the story ending no matter what option you choose. Also, I don’t know if I’ll restart this one right away–I’ll probably do a poll to see if people enjoyed it, or I’ll start a different interactive instead.

He tries to change back now, but the curse pushes back and tries to convince him to stay. (20%)

He meets with the scouts as the new head coach and corrupts them into football obsessed perverts. (40%)

The redneck in him comes back out, and he changes his homophobic son into a cock hungry cubslave. (60%)

He gets angry, drunk, and goes to a frat house, where he changes all the bros there into filthy fetish pigs. (80%)

Here is the twitter poll

Here is the patron only poll

Polls close on Wednesday!

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