Curse of the Homophobe (Part 12)

Evan pushed the temptation away. He didn’t…want this life, did he? He just wanted to be normal. He wanted to go back to the way things were before, he wanted to just…be himself. Alone in the locker room, he sat down on the bench and just thought about himself, about all the selves he’d been, trying to piece something together about who he’d been, but everything was such a jumble now, that nothing seemed…right. Everything he could recall about who he’d been seemed right when looked at from one angle, and wrong from another. He just…wanted to be happy, didn’t he? When had he last been happy?

I know what makes you happy, Evan.

Robbie popped into his mind then, and his stomach turned. It wasn’t true. What he’d done with him was sick, every time he and Robbie got together, no matter who he was…it was awful. Back in that trailer, when he’d turned him into a pig, in that apartment when he’d worshiped his young, dirty, athletic body, in the apartment earlier, thinking about…about all the filthy fun they got into when they were alone…

I know what makes you happy, Evan, because it makes me happy too, watching you give in. You don’t want to want it, but you can’t help yourself, can you? Well, don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re together again, since that’s what we both want, right?

[random check, dirty sheriff or mall cop…dirty redneck sheriff it is!]

He…smelled himself then. The musk wafting up around him, growing stronger, and he pushed back. He wasn’t some dirty construction worker, he wasn’t! He…he was an officer of the law, he was in control, he had power, he was important!

Yes, you are, aren’t you? A very important man in these parts…

On the bench, he felt himself shifting, growing taller, feet expanding, his hefty gut pushing out, covered in grey hair, the smell of himself shifting. It was more than sweat now–it was…whiskey, and dirt, and…and cigar smoke. Plenty of smoke, after all, he was never without a cigar in his mouth, usually. He shook his head, trying to focus, trying to push back, but the world around him was already here–he wasn’t in a locker room, he was in his…office. The county sheriff’s office, that is. He wasn’t naked anymore either, he was in his tan uniform, sweat marks under his arms in the summer heat, a full ashtray on his desk, cowboy boots on his feet, his beard trimmed back into a set of friendly mutton chops, just like his pappy had, when he’d been sheriff. He groped himself, feeling his anxiety and fear dropping as he settled into his new life, and leaned back in his chair. “Harry?” he hollared around his cigar, “Got one last thing fer ya, deputy.”

After a moment, Harry came to the door…looking rather similar to the short, chubby cub he’d been in the locker room earlier, but with a few…redneck twists, including his own cigar shoved in his young mouth. Evan couldn’t stand the idea of a boy like that not smoking like him, after all, so he’d been working hard on getting the young cubby deputy well addicted to them over the last few months. “Y-Yes sir?”

“Come on boy, get yer mouth o’er here–fergot tah piss.”

Harry gulped, but got down in front of his sheriff, drank down his piss and ate his ash, before being excused for the evening. He’d have the deputy spend a weekend with him and Robbie soon enough–then he’d have a full service toilet for himself both at home, and at the office. This was good enough for now–he’d chosen well, after all, finding this willing young pig desperate to serve him on the force. Once he’d left, Harry closed up his files and hit the road, climbing into his patrol car, which he had smelling nice and smoky, lit up another cigar, and drove home.

He and Robbie were together, and most everyone in the county knew about the arrangement, but most everyone was scared enough of Evan that they knew better than to say anything. Besides, crime was down (not that it had ever really been up) and he had his Pappy’s name, so Evan wasn’t too worried about having anyone contest him in an election. If someone did…well, he’d be able to put them in place quick enough, he figured. He could afford to live in town somewhere, of course, but he liked…his distance. Fewer questions, and Robbie wasn’t usually fit for polite company, anyway. No use scaring anyone with his filthy pig of a boyfriend, after all.

He did stop on his way out of town and picked up five pizzas–his usual order, and then headed home. He parked on the gravel outside the trailer, and undressed there–wouldn’t do to get his uniform dirtier than it had to be, after all. Naked, he got his pizzas out and headed for the door, cock already hardening from the smell of their grungy life together. Inside, Robbie was where he always was, on the filthy couch in his piss and shit stained clothes, watching old porn on VHS–the classics. Evan stuffed his fat face, and then made the pig beg for the load of shit he’d been carrying around for him all day. He never got tired of listening to the pig beg, after all.

Later, as they fell asleep on the bed, and Evan came back to himself…somewhat. He couldn’t escape this–the spirit wouldn’t let him escape it. It wanted to see him suffer like this, wanted to see him succumb to this…corruption. Worse…he really did enjoy it. He was happy here, as sick as that was…and maybe, the curse would finally let him rest.


I’m gonna call it good here on this one! I’ll run a poll here in a bit (probably for Patrons only) on some possible ideas for another interactive that I’ll start next week sometime.

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