Jack’s job is to save the universe, one curse at a time.
Jack looked at his checkboard. There were over 100 entries! HQ just kept giving the field agents more and more work to do, even though they were already understaffed.
“Let’s see, first off the rank,” he said, reading the list, “Mandy has ordered a curse on Lochie Evans, age 26 of Liverpool Drive. Says here he groped her last week at work.”
He hopped on his motorcycle and drove to Liverpool Drive. He arrived just in time to see Lochie and two of his mates jump in a car and go speeding off. According to his magical computer they were headed to a mall. Jack followed them. He didn’t have much time, so as soon as they were inside, he raised his hands and cast the curse.
Inside the mall, Lochie was walking along with his friends Matt and Kyle when he felt a tingling in his body.
“What’s that?” asked Matt, pointing at Lochie’s chest. Lochie was wearing a tight white t-shirt that showed off his impressive body, but now two large wet spots were appearing over his nipples.
Lochie looked down in alarm. “What the fuck??? Hang here, I’ll be right back.”
He ran to the men’s bathroom and shut the door to a stall. Two large wet-spots had appeared on his t-shirt, and his chest was tingling like crazy. He lifted up the fabric and was shocked to see fluid oozing out of his nipples. Not only that, but his nipples looked puffy and swollen. He gave one a squeeze and a thin squirt of milk shot out.
“WHAT THE FUCK!” yelled Lochie. Even as he watched, his pecs slowly ballooned up. He ran to the mirror, his chest, his well defined pecs, were changing, they were becoming breasts! Lochie stared in horror. Little did he know they would keep growing for the next two days until they became large fertile breasts that needed constant milking.
“That was easy,” said Jack, crossing Lochie off his list. “Who’s next? Ah, Paulo Kennedy, says here he always makes fun of Chuck Malone for being fat, and now Chuck wants a curse on Paulo. I can do that.”
With a chuckle, he jumped on his bike and sped off. It wasn’t even half an hour before he found Paulo sitting at a coffee shop and snacking on a bagel (whole wheat, of course.) Paulo wasn’t skinny but lean and tall and athletic and handsome. Jack wasn’t psychic, at least not without the proper spells, but he could almost feel Paulo’s arrogance. While Paulo sat by a large window, Jack passed by him on his way to a nearby table. Their eyes locked briefly but Paulo broke off first with a sniff. Why Paulo had reacted as such was a mystery to Jack but it only justified his mission.
As soon as Paulo wasn’t looking, Jack flicked his fingers and spoke the curse. Taking his seat, Jack averted his eyes but he could feel the magic working within Paulo. He didn’t look over until he hear the first burp.
Paulo held his hand over his mouth as if he were suddenly sick. A sudden gleam of sweat had appeared over him. A second burp, much stronger than the first, and now Lochie could see a softness appear to the fine features of Paulo’s body. “BURAAAAPP!!” Everyone in the coffee shop looked over to see who was making such disgusting noises, but their eyes stayed locked when they realized that not only were they coming from a handsome young man, but that the handsome young man was suddenly becoming less handsome. Where he’d once had a lean six pack, Paulo now had a round gut starting to push at his shirt. “BUURRUURRPP!!” The shirt which was still fitting before was suddenly tight, showing off a big and round fat stomach and thick man boobs, not to mention sausage arms. Paulo’s long, graceful neck was now thick and accompanied by a double chin, all topped by a thick plump face that only seconds before hand been handsomely teetering towards the gaunt. His ass was growing too, widening, getting bigger and rounder.
“H…Help!” Paulo said. He looked out onto the coffee shop patrons and staff, tears welling in his eyes. Some of the witnesses held their hands over their mouths in shock. Others just shook their heads. Jack chose the shocked and frightened look. And covering his mouth was the perfect was to cover his spellcasting. As soon as Paulo looked him again in the eye Jack, he doubled the curse.
“AARRRRPP!!” The belch and the shock of the magic doubled Paulo over. His thickening and fat body burst the seams of his clothing, getting hairy by the second. In his position he reminded Lochie of a boar. As he shivered and jiggled on his hands and knees the coffee shop patrons started to leave, some of them running for the door before whatever had fattened up that young man came around to make them fat too. “GRAAAAUUUUURRRRPPP!!!” Even Jack hadn’t expected the final burst of the curse. Every last remnant of Paulo’s clothing was burst apart by his widening body. His gut touched the floor, too big to get his arms around it. He begun to cum uncontrollably, as his new gained hairy tonnage were making him loose all control.
One man went over to Paulo as Jack (and many of the other patrons) left. Just as he had locked briefly onto Paulo’s face before casting the curse, Jack’s eyes connected with the helpful stranger’s. For a moment his heart stopped. The man had incredibly bright blue eyes. Even through the stranger’s glasses, Jack could see that the man had handsome eyes. And with his strong face, golden hair, and a slight bit of grizzle, the stranger had a perfect combination of features to knock Jack off of his feet. But there were other missions to accomplish–no time for flirtation.
With regret, Jack left the coffee shop and looked at his checkboard again: “Mike Castle, age 21. Norton Waterbury was embarrassed when Mike found and displayed Norton’s collection of muscle-man drawings. Now he wants Mike turned into one of those muscle men as revenge.” With the order were some examples of Norton’s favorites. While none of them were as handsome as the helpful stranger in the coffee shop (how could any drawing capture someone so handsome?) they were right up Jack’s alley. Huge muscles, hairy bodies, big dicks. Jack knew he couldn’t just do a regular transformation on Mike. Norton didn’t realize it but he had asked for something extra special and Jack was going to go the extra mile for his lucky clients.
Mike was walking casually past a Gym when the urge struck him. He had always laughed at the types that obsessively worked out at a gym, so he took the opportunity to look inside, at worst he would see a few well-built men, at best a group of muscle marys to taunt.
Mike looked inside the gym for some muscle head to mock but then noticed a few really hot looking women. Mike grinned and started to approach them but stopped when he saw that these two babes were starting to work out and were pumping a lot more iron than he could do.
“Can I help you, sir?” Mike turned around and saw that a large muscular and hairy man was addressing him. He looked like all those faggot gym bunnies that he loved to mock, but because of seeing how wimpy he was compared to the women he didn’t say anything.
Instead he looked back at the women who weren’t even breaking a sweat yet and then back at the guy before him. “Uh, well… I was wondering…” Mike thought for a moment. If babes as hot as these two came into this gym, then maybe joining up and working out would be a good way to improve his body and score some babes to fuck and enjoy. “I was wondering, if I could talk to you about joining up here and getting a membership.”
What Mike didn’t know though was that Jack had already placed his curse on this man and would help make Mike the kind of guy that he so loved to make fun of as Norton had wanted. The man gave a warm smile and pat Mike on his shoulder leading him to what appeared to be an office. “Sure thing, buddy. Just come with me, and we’ll get you set up and working out getting buff in no time.” Mike just nodded and followed the man, forgetting that the name of the gym was Delta Muscle with a rainbow triangle between the words on the sign.
“Hey Jessica, you see that guy checking us out?” One of the women from before said to her work out partner.
“Yeah, Angie, so sad when the boys can’t take their eyes off of us. But enough about men, what’ll we do for our anniversary tonight, hun?” And while Mike walked to the back office, the two lesbians that had inadvertently lured him there continued to talk between themselves during their workout.
Mike walked into the office with the man who sat down behind a desk and took a seat in front of the man. “So what kind of membership are you looking for? We have memberships for durations of 1 month, 6 months, and a year, and for 25, 150, and 250 dollars respectfully, you get access to all of our gym’s facilities. And if you sign up today you get a free work out outfit and bag, so what do you think?”
Mike thought about the two girls again, and how impressed they would be with him flexing a huge, glistening bicep, and smiled. If he was going to be doing this, he might as well go all the way if he wanted any kind of results. “I guess I’ll take the full year, uh…”
“Craig, and so one full year membership. Here’s your free stuff and if you will just sign these forms and pay your fee you can hit the lockerroom and get started.”
Mike handed him his credit card and took his bag and headed to the lockerroom, unaware that the bag had been cursed.
Mike went into the lockerroom and found a locker. He laid his bag down and opened it up. Inside was a white jockstrap, a tight blue tank top with the gym’s logo on the back, a pair of black bike shorts, and a white towel. It wasn’t great, but it was free. Mike took off his shirt revealing a modestly built chest that he kept shaved. He put his old clothes into the locker before he slipped on the tank top. Once it was on, Mike felt a slight wave run over his body that gave him a slight tingle. He rubbed his body for a moment and then disregarded the feeling, if he was going to get to working out and checking out those ladies, then he was going to have to hurry. So Mike took the rest of his clothes off, revealing a modest 7 inch dick and fair runners legs with little hair on them before slipping on his new jock and shirts, getting a similar tingling feeling from them once they were on.
Once Mike was ready to go, he walked out of the lockerroom scratching at his chest and crotch. He looked around for the two women from before but did not see them anywhere. Sighing at having missed the two babes, Mike decided to go do some bench presses and start working out. He walked over to the bench press and loaded the bar up with a modest 120 pounds to start off with.
He got under the bar to start and was about to heave when he heard a voice.
“Whoa, buddy, you shouldn’t be doing that alone. Need a work out partner?” Mike looked up and saw Craig standing next to him smiling, and Mike had to shake his head for a moment. Had Craig changed in the last ten minutes? Mike looked at him, it was like seeing a totally different person. Before Craig had just been another gym jockey, taking his money and showing him to the locker-room. Now something was different. Mike look at Craig, trying to figure out what was different.
Craig had long blond hair that went down to just above his wide muscular shoulders, piercing blue eyes, and a trimmed goatee of a darker blond color. He was maybe 25 and was tall and well built and had bulges and muscles that most guys would love to have, but what really caught Mike’s eye this time was the pelt of fur Craig had on his chest that was poking out of his shirt and going up his throat and went down his arms and thickened all the way to fan out a bit over his palms. The man was a true blond bear and while looking down at the sculpted marble legs covered in the same blond hair, Mike noticed a rather large bulge at his crotch showing what would obviously be a very big dick.
Mike shook his head quickly and looked back at Craig’s face again, he didn’t know why he was admiring this gym bunny, even if he was a gorgeous hunk of man. “Uh… yeah, I guess I do need a workout partner if you don’t mind. Don’t want to be a burden.”
“Nonsense, it’s a slow day so I can help you out and give you a good workout, before my shift is over and I shower and go home. Now, let’s really get you pumping iron, Mikie.”
So for the next 90 minutes, Craig took Mike on various work out machines, pumping his muscles like they’d never been pumped before. All the while, Mike couldn’t seem to stop scratching at random parts of his body and readjusting his crotch while he worked out. He also couldn’t get over the smells that drifted up his nose that came from Craig and seemed to spur on his workout and almost be able to keep up with the muscle bound guy.
After the strenuous workout, Mike felt sore and tired, but pumped up and happy at the same time. This must have been one of those “runner’s highs” he had heard of before, where the endorphins had made the pain of being tired become more pleasurable. Craig was towelling off his sweaty head and was walking to the lockerroom and Mike followed after him.
Craig talked to Mike a bit while they undressed and stuffed their gear into the locker, and Mike found himself an eager participant talking about the things they had in common. When Craig was naked Mike saw that he was right about Craig’s endowment and complimented him on it, it was a thick cock that looked to be about 10 inches soft, and when he looked over Craig’s body he couldn’t help but notice how much he looked like those drawings that queer Norton Waterbury had drawn.
Craig chuckled and tossed Mike a shower bag with some soap and shampoo in it before thanking him and turning around to walk to the showers. Mike just looked after the man and smacked his lips at the firm perfect ass that the guy had, covered in a fine bit of hair. He snapped himself out of this thought though and got to undressing, he couldn’t be thinking such faggish thoughts. He just had to get out of there and get home to call one of his girlfriends for a one night stand.
He opened his locker and took off his shirt and looked down in surprise. He had hair! An actual light brushing of brown chest hair, and not only that but Mike looked over his body and saw that he had somehow not only the light brushings of a full pelt of hair but also seemed to be much buffer and had more muscles than he had had earlier that day. He then took off his shorts, shoes and socks and then looked down at his larger and much hairier legs. He rubbed his new hairy and muscular body to see that it was real and let out a soft sigh of enjoyment as he felt his strong manly body. What had he been thinking all these years, shaving his chest and trimming his pits and pubes, this was what a real man was like, hairy, muscular, and big.
Mike smiled as he felt his way down his now hairy six pack. If all his muscled had grown and gotten hairier, what would his cock be like. He pulled off the jock he had been wearing and looked down at his now 7 inch soft cock and large lush bush that was in between his legs. He couldn’t believe how hot he looked now, Mike lifted his arms and smelled his pits and groped himself at the same time. He was so hot and his smell was so erotic.
“HEY MAN, YOU COMIN’?” Mike snapped out of his daydream and picked up his towel and the soaps and went to the showers. There was no one around but him and Craig so it was just the two of them. Mike let out a whimper and went to a shower head in the corner of the showers and started washing and soapin his body.
He let out a soft moan as he scrubbed the soap all over his body. He felt so hot with his new body and he could feel his new thicker dick start to grow at his washing. He kept on glancing back over to take short glances at Craig as he washed his stronger and hairier body. He was so hot, and manly, Mike looked at him lustfully and wanted to be just like him. Craig looked over at Mike then and he quickly averted his gaze and turned on the cold water to try to soften his hardening cock.
Suddenly a pair of hands were on his shoulders and he was being humped and rubbed against his butt. “I saw you looking at me stud… and that hot ass of yours is just begging to get fucked. You want a real stud like me don’t ya? You want to become a real man, all hairy and masculine like me don’t you?”
Mike moaned softly and nodded, he couldn’t help the way he was feeling. Craig was just so masculine and so manly that he couldn’t deny anything he said, even though he thought he was straight still.
Bill and Tony were the two best footballers on the college team, but they were bullies. Their nights may have been filled with wooing the ladies, but their days were filled with petty cruelty. In fact, Jack arrived just in time to see them push over a man as he cycled past the two jocks.
“FUUUUCCCCK” the man yelled as his bike left the path and ploughed into some bushes.
Bill and Tony gave each other a high five. Jack whispered the curse and watched in satisfaction as the auras on the two jocks changed colours. He glanced at his watch. “Shit, I’m late,” he said. Pity he wasn’t going to have time to watch the effects of the curse, but he had to get to his next destination. “Those guys were such good friends, I bet they enjoying sharing everything.”
Bill and Tony arrived back at their shared apartment after going to the gym.
“Want a beer?” asked Tony, throwing his work-out bag in the corner.
“Yeah, but later, gotta have a shower first,” said Bill, pointing at his sweaty armpits.
“Yeah, I’ll have one after you.”
Bill walked into the bathroom and shut the door. He undressed and stared at himself in the mirror. Man he was hot, all buffed up after the gym. He had been doing a lot of tanning recently, and his skin glowed. No girl could resist him, and his dick! Man, it was a prize pussy stuffer. He looked at his impressive 6 inch soft tube hanging there. He had also sunbathed nude and so his nether regions were also golden tanned.
Suddenly he felt a tingle as the curse did its work and suddenly his dick was different.
“What the fuck???” Instead of his nice big tanned dick there was a slightly smaller pale white cock. His jet black pubic hair was now dirty blonde.
“WHAT THE FUCK!” he yelled. He grabbed at it, and as soon as he did he heard a yelp from the other room.
Bill began to panic, he couldn’t feel it! He tugged at it, but nothing. It was like a dead appendage. In the loungeroom, he could hear Tony yelling.
He wrapped a towel around his waist and rushed out to see if Tony was okay.
He found Tony wide-eyed and freaked out in the living room.
“Tony, Tony, oh my god,” said Bill, freaking out too.
“What, what is it, Bill?”
“It’s my … my dick .. something … something …”
“You felt it too, like a hand on your dick???” asked Tony.
“What, no, I felt nothing … but … it’s different. It’s changed colour.”
“My dick … it’s changed colour, aw fuck.”
“What do you mean?”
Bill unwrapped his towel, and let Tony look at it. Tony saw it and gasped. “That’s … That’s … MY DICK!”
In horror, he pulled down his own gym shorts. Nestled amongst Tony’s pale groin was Bill’s dark monster. Tony’s blonde pubic hair was gone, replaced with Bill’s wiry black thatch.
“OOOOHHHH FUCK!” screamed Tony.
“FUCK FUCK FUCK!” yelled Bill. “Give it back,” he said.
“WHAT???” yelled Tony. “YOU GIVE MY DICK BACK, YOU FUCKER.”
They lunged across the room at each other and fell to the ground in a tussle. Bill grabbed hold of Tony’s new dark cock and gave it a yank, hoping that somehow it would transfer back. As he wrapped his hand around it, he felt a hand, his hand, wrap around his own cock. Before he could stop himself, he completed the yank, except it felt like he was trying to pull his own cock off his own body.
“Argh!” he went, letting go. Tony stared at him. “Stop stop stop!” said Bill. “Let’s think about this.”
They both got up. Bill was shocked and fascinated to his cock, his beautiful long dick with his black curly pubic hair protruding from Tony’s groin. It looked comical on the pale blonde super star - a dark Mediterranean cock on a blonde jock.
Tony was also amazed by what he saw. Bill’s groin was pasty white, with blonde pubes, while his chest and legs were still covered in black hair.
“Somehow, our dicks have swapped, but we can still feel them.”
“What do you mean?” asked Tony.
Bill tugged on the pale cock attached to his own nether regions, Tony shuddered. “Our cocks have swapped but they’re still … attached somehow to our brains. When I touch this cock, you feel it.”
“Fuck man, stop that!” said Tony, shuddering. Even though Bill could not feel a thing, his gentle stroking of Tony’s dick had made it start to plump up.
“Fuck, this is some weird shit,” said Bill, falling down on the lounge.
“What are we gonna do?” ask Tony, sitting down next to him.
“What do you mean?” asked Bill.
“I can’t … I mean … I NEED my dick. I get so horny that I need to fuck some pussy or jerk off, sometimes twice a day.”
“Well, you can count that out. There’s no way I’m jerking off someone else’s cock.”
“I won’t jerk you off if you don’t jerk me off,” said Tony, giving his new balls a mild slap that caused Bill to wince. Bill retaliated by roughly tugging at his new penis a couple times.
“And what about going to the toilet. And, fuck, how am I gonna explain this to Suzette?”
The boys had only just begun to realize the strange life they were about to start having.
As they looked at each other in fear, Bill looked at Tony, “Why’d you say something about havin’ to take a piss, now I have to go.” As he wandered to the bathroom he looked down at the thing between his legs, he had never seen another guy’s cock up close and this one was so different than his own. It was smaller and thinner. As he started to piss he realized that he could not feel or even see any piss coming out. Instead, he realized that the cock (he could not think of it as his) was starting to thicken and get hard.
Suddenly Bill heard Tony scream in the other room!
“TONY! What the hell!”
Tony had begun masturbating the dick attached to his groin, when instead of getting hard, it began streaming a thick stream of steaming hot piss all over himself and the couch he was splayed out on. BILL’S piss!
Sitting drenched in a puddle Bill’s piss, shot from the dick attached to his body, they both realized that they would now have to notify the other every time they wanted to piss or else find the dick the other man controlled would be pissing themselves at inopportune moments. Man, they would never be able to be apart!
Tony went to the bathroom and cleaned himself up. Looking at his new piece, he marvelled at how big it looked. He looked at himself in the mirror and began to understand why the girls liked Bill. And then he felt hands reach down and start holding ‘him’ and then he could feel them shake his cock, and he started to get hard. He was snapped out of his reverie by Bill with what used to be his prick half-hard.
“Uh, Bill, it just felt so good when you were holding it and uh, well, I didn’t last night and I uh, never mind. Shit, I can’t believe this is happening! Fuck! Hey, how big is this thing anyway?” Tony asked, wanting to change the topic to anything other then the fact that his cock, on another guy, was now hard as a rock."
“Shut up about my cock dude, we need to figure this out, and get rid of this boner or I am gonna do it for you!” Bill grabbed a nut and acted like he was going to squeeze it … it felt so strange to be holding what should have been his own, sizeable ball, but this one was so much smaller, and he could not feel anything."
The look on Tony’s face was instantaneous and he stifled a gasp, “NO! Please, it is just so strange … watch!” and he reached down and slowly ran his fingers over the long cock. He marvelled at the length and still wondered what it would look like hard. I mean, it was attached to him, so it was not gay or anything like that. Guys like their own cocks, and this was his, well, sorta.
Bill looked at Tony in terror, “No, stop! What are you doing, you can’t do this!” But in his own mind he was thinking about how good it felt and he could feel the blood surging, even if it was not attached to him. “Tony, you’ve got to stop!”
Tony looked down at ‘his’ new cock. It was starting to expand. It was interesting to watch it grow, to expand and stiffen and not to feel anything. He liked the way it surged and jumped and he grasped it like he used to grab his own cock, but unlike his ‘old’ cock, this one was bigger, almost a full eight inches and he could barely get his hand all the way around the shaft, his fingers would not touch when they encircled the mushroom head. He realized that he kinda liked the way the veins on his new cock stood out and he gave it a few more strokes. A gasp shocked him out of his exploration.
Now, everyone knows that someone else’s hand always feels different, better, but there is always something missing. That other hand is at a different angle then one is used to when one jerks-off. But the boys had switched, they were at the correct angle.
Bill looked at Tony, “Stop, you’ve got to stop, this isn’t right.”
Tony just smiled and kept his hand moving. He looked over at Bill and saw his stiffie jutting up between Tony’s muscular legs and the thought came unbidden to his mind, wow, that is small. I must have three or more inches on him!
Bill was freaking out, it felt so good, he was so horny, but it was a GUY making him feel this way, and his cock was on another guy! He was just thinking how lucky he was that Bill was not exploring his balls, his weak spot, when he felt his left nut being gently touched, tugged on, his nutsack being caressed. He thought he was going to lose his mind, it was just too much. And he could not stop Tony. He moaned out, “Yeah, my balls!” and then realized what he had said.
This brought a huge grin to Tony’s face. "You like it when I play with MY balls, Bill? How about this? Tony went back to stroking the eight-incher with his right hand and playing with his balls with his left, this caused a huge glob of pre-cum to slowly spew out and while part of his was repulsed, he still thought of this as his cock now, and he used it to lubricate the head. He watched as Bill jerked and sighed. He could feel his balls start to tighten, but not in the normal way, he felt it with his hand. He stopped.
Bill could not help himself, “Dude, why’d you stop, you can’t stop!”
“Sure I can. I get nothing out of it. I was just exploring anyway, I just wanted to see how big it gets.”
Bill was panting, “Please, you can’t stop now, I was so close!”
Bill just had to have more, so he came to a decision, if he jerked Tony’s cock, Tony would need to jerk his.
Meanwhile, two streets over, Jack let himself into Mario’s apartment. Mario had taken photos of his ex-girlfriend in the shower and when they had broken up, he had put them on the internet.
“Who the hell are you?” asked Mario, as he spied the stranger in his hallway.
“Oh, I’m Jack. I’ve just come to give you this professional camera and stand,” he said, conjuring up a tripod and camera from nothing. “I think you’ll find them useful.”
Mario nodded, and took the equipment off Jack. Jack nodded, smiled and left. “This is going quicker than I thought.”
Mario put the equipment in the hallway and went back to the kitchen. He hadn’t planned anything that evening, just watching tv and reading a report. But after 10 minutes he began to feel bored, and a little bit horny. He decided to jerk-off to relieve some tension.
He went into the bedroom and lay down on the bed. He was jacking off when he suddenly had an interesting idea. “It’s naughty, I know,” he thought to himself, “but why don’t I film myself jerking off? That’d be kind kinky.”
Mario took his hand off his dick and went into the hallway. He grabbed the equipment and set it up in his bedroom. It was really easy to set it up, and he felt like a professional. Satisfied the lighting was correct, Mario lay down and jerked off to climax. It was very satisfying, indeed. He was normally quiet, but today he couldn’t help a moan.
Afterwards he watched the playback. It was good, but a little boring. “I liked the moan at the end,” he said, watching it. “It looked good.”
What Mario didn’t know is that he was cursed to film his own performances and start putting them on a gay porn website. By the end of the week he was filming regularly and putting on the best show possible, moaning like a whore, using all sorts of toys on himself. He enjoyed the role so much he never realized his friends might find out one day.
Not only did his friends find out, but many of the local guys who had watched the shows on line also discovered who he was and where he lived.
Mario’s life changed considerably as more and more guys joined in the shows.
Little did he know three months later, an automated email containing the link to Mario’s gay sex shows would arrive in his ex-girlfriend’s inbox.
Dirk sat in class, bored, but just about listening to the instructor. Mostly his mind was centered on the class sissy, a pale boy by the name Sami. Probably a wannabe-cheerleader, Dirk thought.
Dirk just couldn’t understand guys like that. A man should act like a man.
He hated effeminate men and Sami who was quite effeminate had put up with his insults many times. If someone acted like that he deserves all I give him thought Dirk. His biggest mistake was to be so blatant with his bigoted outlook. One of the goth students, friends of Sami, who had also been tormented by Dirk had phoned in a curse to Jack’s organization.
After class, Dirk went to the restroom. It wasn’t until Dirk was washing his hands after using the restroom that he noticed something strange … his eyes seemed darker than normal and his lips were … shiny. He rubbed his lips, there was definitely something on them. Lip gloss! “What the… and why do they look so big?”, he thought to himself. However, as he studied them more closely,he couldn’t help but think how sexy and pouty they looked and how much he’d love to plant them on a handsome gay man. “Where did that come from?”, he gasped in a voice that sounded curiously different, “I hate queers.” Quickly his attention moved to his eyes. Around his eyes, there was a slight hint of some eyeliner. How the hell did that get there??? He quickly scrubbed off the makeup, hoping nobody would notice. He looked at his face in the mirror. It was clean, but his normally rugged face still seemed different … his jaw wasn’t so square and Man, I’m going crazy, he thought.
Dirk pondered long and hard how he had gotten make up on his face, he was pissed off and freaked out at the same time. He grabbed his bookbag and headed towards the door, but For some reason his jeans felt weird, had he picked up the wrong pants at the gym? He glanced into the fuller length mirror near the door and was shocked his jeans normally loose and baggy had changed into a pair of extremely tight low rider jeans, and his t-shirt had shrunk to skin tight exposing his midriff and belly button. Emblazoned across his shirt was the word Brat in bright pink letters. The make up was back as well but this time it was much more obvious his eyebrows were very thin and pointed just like a girls and he had on dark eyeliner with eye shadow and his lips were red with lipstick and blush was on his cheeks. He even had nail polish on his frigging fingernails!
“What the fuck?”,he said immediately grabbing his mouth. His voice- it was messed up, it was extremely high pitched and effeminate.
“Like, Oh my god”!, he said out loud, something was horribly wrong. His normal buzzed haircut was now grown out, tightly-curled and gelled-up into a bit of a receding blond, noticeably highlighted pompadour. His dramatic “Notice me” look complemented his handsomer-than-ever features but was also the style choice of a very into-his-looks, likely effeminate queer man. He couldn’t resist the urge to run his hands across and through his pomaded blond kinked curls. He loved the texture.
He stopped. Suddenly, second thoughts ran through his head, his hair was the same as normal, wasn’t it? He loved getting his hair tightly permed and highlighted. Getting to spend time in his tiny red perm rods and highlight foil, while another definitely gay hairstylist did his hair, was almost as big a kick as the final result. What had he been thinking of? He said out loud softly, “Honey, you are too young to be having a senior moment.” His voice sounded gayer than ever, this time there was even the hint of an effeminate lisp, but it sounded so right. He’d always been something of a flamer, hadn’t he? Granted, he had tried to pass as straight for quite a while but that had clearly been a lost cause for a man as queer as he was.
Looking again at the mirror, he couldn’t help but say out loud, “Girlfriend, you look gorgeous.” He wet his hands, smoothed his tiny curls back into place, checked that his subtle make-up did not need refreshing and swished his way out of the restroom.
He was due to meet his best friend and boo Sami in the mall to go window shopping and then he had a two o’clock at the salon. It was amazing the clientele he’d built up recently. So many men he’d given haircuts to were coming back to get their hair colored, highlighted, permed, pompadoured, flat-topped. He chalked it up to his imagination or even wishful thinking, but most of the time recently his male clients actually seemed “gayer”, more effeminate, “flirtier,” after he’d done their hair. “What was up with that?”, he thought to himself.
Jack crossed another name off his list. He was pleased with himself, the irony was delicious. Not only was Dirk as queer as they come now, but he was spreading the cause. Dirk’s enchantment was transferable. Depending on the client’s own natural inclinations, they left their cut somewhat-to-vastly stereotypically “gayer”. The spectrum ranged from men who suddenly were much more concerned with their appearance and other mens to gents who’d acquired a sudden interest in interior design to guys who suddenly “discovered” they were screaming gay queens. It was only late morning, but he had already done a whole heap of curses. He looked at the next name on his list. The elderly Mrs Johnson, of Privet Drive, was tired of the jock next door, Kyle, swearing all the time. The curse she had requested was unusual but typical of the old biddy, Jack decided.
He arrived at Kyle’s house and found him out the front pushing the mower. It was an old non-motor one, and judging by the exertion and sweat and swearing coming from Kyle, it was tough.
“Fuck, shit.” swore Kyle. He had taken off his t-shirt and now used it to mop his brow. The damn mower was pissing him off, and he wanted the world to know.
“You fucking piece of shit,” he said.
Jack stared in appreciation of the topless jock. He was totally muscled, with a big tribal tattoo that began on the small of his back, covered his shoulders and went down his arm.
“FUCK IT!” Kyle yelled. “YOU FUCKING PIECE OF …”
Jack sent a curse hurtling at Kyle. It hit him square in the back.
“… POOP” finished Kyle. Kyle startled. He had meant to say, “shit”, but instead at the last second had changed to “poop”. He pushed the mower again, but it jammed for the tenth time that day. “Fuck,” he swore again, “fiddle sticks and poppy cock.”
Kyle frowned. He kicked the mower, and succeed in only hurting his foot. “Oh, sunshine!” he exclaimed. He looked over and saw Mrs Johnson staring at him over the fence. He went to give her the finger but then changed his mind and gave her a wave. He wanted to say “What are you staring at, you old cow?” but it came out as “Beautiful weather today, isn’t Mrs Johnson”
Mrs Johnson smiled and went back inside.
Kyle suddenly became conscious he was topless. “Oh dearie me! Why am I out here topless?” He ran inside and put on a neat shirt. It wasn’t ironed like it should have been, but he wanted to cover up his nasty tattoo. And being outside shirtless, flaunting himself was ever so vulgar! What kind of brute was he? Hadn’t he always been a brute? Wasn’t that who he was? However it was, he was glad to be more presentable outside.
Just as Jack was preparing to leave, Mrs Johnson came up to him.
“Excuse me, dear, but are you the one from the agency?”
Jack panicked for a moment, realizing that he hadn’t been as discreet as he should have been.
“Um, yes, I am. But let’s keep it quiet. It wouldn’t do to have everyone knowing I’m the curse slinger in town.” Jack glanced over at Kyle who was now cheerfully back to mowing.
“Of course, of course. But can I make one tiny extra request?”
“Oh, I suppose so but my schedule is tight. What did you need?”
“Nothing. But I can’t help but notice that now that Kyle has straightened up he’s also covering up. I just wanted him to be a gentleman and to stop using foul language. I couldn’t bear to have him going past with his shirt on all the time. He has such a nice body, you know.”
“I see.” And Jack was glad that they both saw eye to eye. “How about I fix it that Kyle doesn’t wear a shirt while mowing or working on his yard?”
Jack flicked a quick curse at Kyle while the mowing man’s back was turned. Kyle continued mowing as if nothing had happened.
“Just watch the show, ma’am. Take care!”
Jack went on his way and Mrs. Johnson got back to her porch just in time to see the second curse take effect.
Kyle continued his mowing and thought things were going to go a little better when he started to feel an itch across his chest. Much as he wanted to scratch it he knew how rude it was to scratch one self in public so he just clenched his jaw and carried on. He thought it would go away on its own but the itching started to spread across his chest and everywhere under his shirt. And the shirt itself was so scratchy and tight. It was as if it were getting smaller. on him. Kyle couldn’t help himself; he just had to scratch a little bit. But that just seemed to make things worse, as if he had a rash over his body. No, the shirt was the rash! And it was starting to strangle him! Suddenly he heard a ripping sound over his shoulder. He placed his hand where his skin was so lewdly exposed and felt his itching intensify. More rips and more itching ensued and Kyle lost control. In one fast movement he tore the shirt off completely and scratched and rubbed his poor exposed skin until he felt the most incredible sensation of relief, one even better than those times he had given into his most vulgar urges to have “relations” with women.
“Ahhh!” He moaned as he rubbed his exposed and liberated torso. And then he saw Mrs. Johnson.
“Oh my!” she said.
“Mrs. Johnson! I–I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me!”
“That’s quite all right, dear. Sometimes we can’t help ourselves.”
Kyle returned to his yard work, feeling relieved to get the shirt on. “Nothings wrong with not wearing a shirt while doing yardwork”, he thought.
And all the while Mrs. Johnson looked at Kyle, she thought of her dear departed Mr. Johnson and how Kyle looked so much like him–except for that nasty tattoo.
Jack arrived at George Tyler’s home and reread his assignment. George had been making fun of the guys on the swim team since they had to wear speedos for competition. He called them fags and basically was just a big Jerk, being a beefy and chunky lineman on the football team he couldn’t understand why any dude would wear those gay little swim trunks, and the shaving off of their body hair I mean how gay could you get!
George was sitting in his room in his boxers playing video games when all the sudden his boxers felt weird like they’d shrunk or something. He looked down and saw that he was now wearing a pair of tiny pink speedos. Immediately he jumped up and pulled at the shorts. Try as he might, however, the speedo wouldn’t come off. Even though he could pull parts of it away from his skin it always snapped back in place. As he tried to pull the faggoty pink things off he couldn’t help but notice how smooth they felt against his crotch. It didn’t help either that he kept rubbing his hands up against his big dick. Soon he wasn’t interested in pulling off the speedo to get rid of it. George had to get inside to stroke his throbbing cock.
Rubbing his cock through the shiny pink fabric George couldn’t help but notice how much bigger and thicker his cock looked encased in the speedos. Not only did it look bigger, he was certain it was bigger too. And a lot thicker! And getting bigger by the second. He watched with awe and not a little delight as it thickened and lengthened in its pretty pink prison. He realized that the tingling sensation was because his snaking tool was leaking precum. George felt it try to find a way out of its captivity and was freaked as the thick drooling head leaked A trail of ooze. His now bare crotch was clearly visible against the sheer fabric of his speedos, making public the intention trapped inside.
Not only was the size of his cock increasing but his nuts seemed to be growing as well, and with them his desire and needs grew stronger and stronger. Since he couldn’t take the speedos off, the only way he satisfied this desire was by rubbing his hands against the slicked speedos, accompanied by occasionally humping the sofa. His thick new cock had made it’s way snakelike down to his own ass, between his legs and it pushed its head into his virgin hole. His ass was growing too and his frame was widening to allow his now thickest cock to pass between his legs.
As one hand rubbed at his overgrown crotch, his other hand ran across his thick body. George didn’t notice that his skin was more sensitive than before, nor did he notice the hair that fell out everywhere his hand went. In seconds his body was completely devoid of hair except for his eyebrows and eyelashes. Even his once thick hairdo had fallen away, the hairs disintegrating into nothingness as if they had never existed.
With his body hair history he was soon rubbing his ass trying to get his dick more and more inside his ass. He moaned as he was in a sexual frenzy, horrified by what he was doing but unable to stop, getting hornier by the moment, feeling his ass full of his own oversized cock.
As George lay there, madly rubbing himself and humping the couch in a vain attempt to get himself off, and at the same time being fucked with his own, now massive, dong, Jack smirked and walked off, satisfied with his work. There was a good amount of work to do yet, and he didn’t have time to stop and enjoy the view, even if it was very satisfying.
Luckily, the next job wasn’t far from there at all. His clipboard told him the next target’s name was Gordon, and upon reading his description, he seemed pretty typical for a young executive. He was in his early twenties, and always wore the most expensive of clothes, with everything from his hair to his shoes screaming he was better than you. He dated the kinds of girls that pretty well had price tags, and seemed pretty typical for a prick of that type.
The complaint, however, wasn’t so typical. It wasn’t a jealous co-worker, or even a disgruntled boss. It was from one of his girlfriends, who had in truth only been with him for his money. While out at a club with her, he’d talked down to (and called security on) a couple of rough-looking guys there, probably bikers of some kind, calling them fags and lowlifes. That had been the last straw of his idiocy for her, as they hadn’t even so much as looked at him, let alone spoke. Jack smiled again. He had just the curse for this.
He didn’t even have to meet Gordon, in his van he had a box of fancy-dress clothes that would do what was needed, all he needed to do was place a curse on the box so that Gordon would be compelled to open it and try on the contents. The box was marked “Acme Fancy Dress” Hells Angel Costume, including tattoos and piercings.
Jack left the box outside Gordon’s door, he knew it was safe as the box had a built in ‘addressee only’ curse on it. All Jack had to do was get on with his next task while the box did this task. Jack wished every job was that easy.
Gordon heard a knock at his apartment door, but when he went to see who it was he only found the box lying below. He hadn’t been expecting any packages, but was more than happy to take in the large box and see what it was. Gordon put the box on his dining room table and opened it but when he saw what was inside he sneered. A costume? And a goofy looking biker costume to boot! The kit included a leather jacket (made out of plastic), a helmet, a pair of boots, chaps, a t-shirt, sunglasses, several sheets of fake tattoos, and a dozen fake gold rings for “piercings”. All Gordon had to do was supply jeans and he was already wearing them for his date with Vanessa. He knew he should have thrown the stuff in the trash or stowed the stuff away for Halloween but he couldn’t resist the urge to at least try the costume on. Vanessa was coming over in a few minutes anyway. Maybe it would be laugh for her after seeing those disgusting bikers at the club the other night.
Gordon took off his shoes and his polo shirt, revealing his lean and ripped body, freshly waxed by Taki (one of his side girlfriends.) He could have put on one of his own t-shirts, but he slipped on the provided white T instead and felt a subtle shock within. The shirt was too loose on him, and Gordon couldn’t figure out what the problem was. It wasn’t that the shirt was too big for him; for some reason it was more that he was too small for the shirt. Hell, he should have been near tearing that fucking shirt apart! Gordon shook his head with a chill. Where had he gotten that idea? Whatever it was, he still felt comfortable in the shirt. Too large or not, it felt good on him, but he had the feeling that he should or needed to grow to fill the shirt. He dismissed the idea as a silly notion and continued with the next item. He reached for the chaps, like the jacket they were made of a plasticky/nylony material, he thought to himself that if he had ordered this costume he would have gone for a far better quality.
The chaps slipped up over his jeans and after doing up the belt, he found he had the same strange feeling that he had felt earlier, that he was too small for the chaps and this time even too small for his expensive tailored jeans. He would have to eat.
He checked out the icebox and settled for a deep dish pizza, the kind he kept around for weekends when his little brother would drop in from the university campus to visit. Gordon usually preferred more elegant fare like the macrobiotic organic vegetarian sushi rolls he bought from Sue Doe’s Healthy Foods but he was a real man, dammit! A real man needs real food, not that fucking tree-hugger rabbit food–What was he thinking? Gordon wiped his face with his hand and shook himself again. He wondered if someone had put some sort of curse on him but he laughed it off. Why would anyone put a curse on him?
As he returned to the costume Gordon realized he was even hungrier to try on more of the costume than to eat the pizza, and he was starving! He’d grabbed a beer from the fridge and took a huge swig as he surveyed the other costume pieces. Gordon thought the beer was okay but he thought back to his college and high school days when he would drink any old American beer from the can or kegger, rather than the fancy imported stuff he’d begun buying. He made a resolution to go back to the cheap but proud American beer instead of the sissy foreign stuff he’d been wasting money on and then he picked up the fake boots and put them on…but when he did he got the same weird feeling he’d gotten from the chaps and the t-shirt before. When Gordon was younger he’d been embarrassed about his big feet until a friend had told him that big feet on a guy meant a big dick. Surely, Gordon thought, he could fill in the boots, but even then he felt he was too small for the fake boots. But, man, wouldn’t it be awesome if he did fill in those boots? Wouldn’t it be bad-ass if they were real motorcycle boots and he was a real biker? Riding across the country? Not taking shit from anyone? Doing whatever he wanted? Doing whoever he wanted?
Gordon almost grabbed the motorcycle jacket but something told him that it was the final piece. Instead he popped on the sunglasses and the helmet but took the helmet off when he realized he’d forgotten about the tattoos and piercings. A biker just ain’t a biker without tattoos and piercings, Gordon thought. He grabbed the tattoos first and saw that they were just like stickers; he could peel one off and just stick it to his skin. Gordon peeled off a long barbed wire tattoo and wrapped it around his left bicep. He thought it looked all right but suddenly he felt it begin to sting. He wanted to scream but instead grunted. The stinging vanished in a few seconds and Gordon looked at his arm to see that the fake tattoo looked even better than before. It almost looked real! And it even made his arm look bigger too. Who knew? Gordon grabbed a second barbed wire tattoo and wrapped it around his other bicep, felt the sting of the needle, and saw that it looked fucking bad-ass, the tat of a rottweiler’s head on his neck would set them off well he decided and applied it straight away. Again there was momentary stinging, but he told himself that they looked hot, and they made him feel fucking hot too. He looked over his other choices and decided to try the others later and moved on to the piercings.
Gordon was about to put one in his ear when he got a strange idea. He had plenty of rings, why put one only in his ear? He ended up deciding on 5 along the edge of his left ear. Hell, it was just a costume. Why not have fun with it? Gordon lifted up his shirt, not noticing the dusting of hair over his formerly smooth torso, and worked one little ring onto his left nipple and then another two into his right one. Sure, it was kinda faggy, but maybe he could be a gay biker. They had those, right? No, wait. Gay wasn’t the word. He wasn’t one of those San Francisco queers. He was a real man. A real biker. All that stuff he’d been doing, the fancy night clubs and the sushi crap–that was what was really queer. The rings were a symbol of who he was: a real man who could take pain and make it pleasure. And only a real man could fuck another man. Only a real man could get fucked by another man. Women? What could they do? The rings felt right on his nipples and the tiny bit of blood that had welled up had soon vanished back into the skin.
Gordon held up another ring and examined it. He’d gone too far to go back. Once that ring was put on, once that jacket was on his back, everything he’d been before would be gone. If he was going all the way, why not go all the fucking way? Gordon unzipped his fly and pulled his dick out. It felt bigger than it had before. Maybe it was getting bigger. Gordon didn’t really care as long as he kept on feeling the way he was feeling. He put the ring onto his dick, Prince Albert style, and grimaced. Instead of blood coming out from the wound, precum started flowing from his dick.
Leaving his dick out to drool on the carpet, Gordon put his shades back on and then the helmet. Then, finally, he put on the jacket. Again he felt like he was too small for it but at least it fit better. Everything fit better but Gordon didn’t want to fit. He wanted to stretch the fuckers out! No one could make clothes big enough for a real man like he was going to be.
The bell on the oven went off. Gordon went over to the kitchen, feeling up his big hard biker cock all the way. He took the pizza out of the oven and started gobbling the meat loaded slices down like he was starving. He grabbed a beer halfway through the pizza, finished the beer, and had to grab another before finishing the pie off. When he finished off beer number three he noticed the beer bottle and then noticed his cock. Putting the two side by side he saw that–Holy fuck!–his dick was bigger than the bottle. If his cock hadn’t been hot before it had just turned hotter than the sun! Gordon threw the pussy foreign beer bottle against the wall and started stroking his huge, heavy pecs while his other hand sped along his monster biker cock.
He heard the knock at the door and got up with his cock still hanging out of his pants. He pulled it open with a grunt. Some bitch he didn’t know stood there, and looked pretty fucking shocked. “Who the fuck are you, and where’s Gordon?!” She screeched, and it irritated him. “Fuck off, cunt!” And with that, he slammed the door in her face and made his way back to the kitchen, knocking back another beer, then another. He had a lot of money, right? It was time to get a Harley and be a fuckin’ real man.
The next on the list was Brian Johnson. He’d bashed a gay guy coming out of the gay bar last weekend, and someone anonymous wanted him to pay.
This one will be fun, but deciding which curse to use was always a problem.
Jack thought, should I make him gay and let him see what its like to be on the receiving end, or how about a straight man but a masochist who needs gay men to beat and humiliate him as he did to them. Decisions, decisions!
And then Jack realized he didn’t have to choose one way or the other. As he walked into the police station he wore an invisibility glamour. Before long he found Officer Johnson, a healthy looking blond thirty-something with a face and body just a bit too rugged to be model perfect.
“And you think you deserve to wear that uniform. Coward.” Jack muttered. An officer who was walking by stopped and looked right at Jack but saw nothing, then walked away much faster than before muttering “Damn place is haunted!”
Jack chuckled to himself but realized that he’d get an even bigger chuckle out of the curse. He stretched out his hand and spoke the words of the curse. Brian had no reaction but every man around him froze for just a moment, and every eye went towards the blond policeman.
During shift changes the locker room could get pretty crowded but everyone knew to make way for Brian. Everyone knew he was the roughest, baddest beat cop on the force, and they knew he didn’t take grief from anyone, not even fellow officers, and certainly not when he was getting off work. Brian went to his locker and started unbuttoning his shirt, not realizing that all the guys around him had stopped dressing and chatting. All eyes were on Brian as he pulled his uniform shirt off. Someone next to Brian whistled.
“Lookin’ good, buddy.” It was Diego Rodruiguez, the only beat cop Brian considered to be near as good as himself. “Lookin’ real good.”
“Fuck you!” Brian said. He laughed it off as a joke but something about Diego wasn’t right. Brian had seen Diego give that look before, but it was always directed at some hot chick, not at a guy, and certainly not at him. In fact, Diego wasn’t the only person who had that hungry look on his face. Brian looked around and saw that everyone was staring at him. Guys were walking over from other parts of the locker room just to look at him.
“Is this some kind of joke guys?” Brian said. He looked himself over and didn’t see anything unusual. No weird signs on his back or on his locker. And he wasn’t one for practical jokes like the sarge was so he wasn’t up for any revenge pranks, right? The guys kept staring with those crazy, hungry expressions. Some of them were licking their lips. Other guys were touching themselves. A violent surge went up in Brian. He wanted to kick every one of their asses. But he couldn’t help but notice that anger wasn’t the only thing he was feeling. Suddenly his cock was hard, very hard. He needed pussy and bad. But it wasn’t just his cock that was tingling. His own hunger was worsening…in his ass?
“What the fuck is going on, guys? This ain’t no bathhouse!”
Brian looked around as his fellow cops surrounded him. Diego stood in front of him, his partially buttoned fly making it clear that something was turning him on. What was worse, was that Brian’s own cock was leaking and making a stain in his pants.
“Time to get dressed, Brian.” Brian looked up at the sound of Diego’s voice to see his friend dangling a thick studded leather collar in front of him. Before he could do anything, hands grabbed him from behind and held him in place as Diego strapped and locked the collar around his neck. With a grunt, Brian’s cock exploded as he came, getting a roar of laughter from the room.
“Looks like this bitch is hot, guys. Let’s give him what he wants.”
From all sides, hands ripped at Brian’s clothing, reducing it to shreds and leaving him naked except for his uniform boots. Brian opened his mouth to yell and Diego stuffed a large red rubber ball gag inside it, using straps to secure it behind Brian’s head and under his chin. He submissively bowed his head as unseen hands locked fist mitts on his hands and forced him to all fours.
Brian looked up at the cops surrounding him, aroused by the site of these masculine, musky men as they fingered their cocks. Without prompting, he lowered his gagged face and raised his arse into the air, helpless to stop himself, even though inside his brain was screaming that this was just not right.
His own cock was still hard as a rock and leaking precum. He couldn’t understand why this was happening.
“This Bitch needs it’s pussy filled boys.” Said Diego as he smacked Brian on his ass.
“Don’t you, Pussy boy?” asked Diego Brian felt himself nod his head in agreement. His ass needed cock. It was a burning hunger which couldn’t be denied. His ass and its need for cock, to his horror, controlled all his being. He uncontrollably began to twitch his asshole, asking desperately for thick cock.
Diego lined up his shaft and pushed it in balls deep Brian had never felt anything so good in his entire life. He was utterly horrified as Diego began to piston in and out, Brian felt himself begin to buck his ass back to catch each stroke, this had to be a sick dream….
Jack laughed. He was sure the precinct would love their new full-time playtoy. He headed towards his next stop at Bill Michael’s flat. He’d been recently on TV castigating gays and basically condemning them to hell. Only problem was that he’d been spotted having illicit trysts at the park of all places! While the Johns had enjoyed Bill’s presence, a few of the regulars figured that Bill needed to be taught a lesson about hypocrisy and Jack knew just what to do.
Peering through Bill’s window, Jack saw Bill, handsome despite his age and less-than-stellar body. But the old troll was looking at internet porn! Didn’t Bill know that God killed a kitten every time someone masturbated? Indeed, Bill needed to be taught a lesson…or perhaps he just needed to come to term with his inner demons. Jack cast his curse and left for his next assignment hoping none of Bill’s friends would call an exorcist.
Bill really wanted to stop. He did! He knew that it was wrong and evil and sick of himself to look at all those naked men, especially men tied up and being whipped and spanked and…tickled! Next Sunday he would have an even better sermon than ever. That would make God happy, right? Gosh darn it, Bill figured that if he couldn’t cure himself of his disease then at least he could preach against it. Besides, he was a Christian and that made him better than those homos in the park. He only went there because of his sinful nature but at least he knew he was sick. He wasn’t like those disgusting homosexuals who openly paraded in the streets declaring their gay pride and wearing no shirts to cover their lustfully sculpted bodies. Sometimes they would even hold hands and kiss! Right there! IN FRONT OF STRAIGHT PEOPLE! Bill wished God would come down and lock them all away in Hell where they could burn for eternity in the fires of their hot lust. All of those pretty boys would be tied up and shackled and…
Bill whimpered as he felt his orgasm building, and boy howdy was it a doozy! He hadn’t felt close to an orgasm like it in years. Not since he’d first started masturbating at the tender age of 21. Such a wonderful, sweet pressure he felt building up! And he was so hot! It was like he was about to fire magma from his swollen, sin-inducing penis. In fact, his penis looked the part. It was so red, redder than he’d ever seen it before. It felt so hot Bill wanted to take his hand away but the heat felt good at the same time so he didn’t dare stop. And, for some reason he couldn’t explain, his penis felt much larger and thicker that day. It was as if it had swollen bigger than ever before.
In the weeks that followed, Bill’s parish following fell apart like a poorly constructed sandcastle, but Bill could not really care less. When Bill missed the first weekend sermon, a couple of the churchgoers tried to find him at his home, only to find Bill compulsively masturbating to Internet gay porn. Not only that, he was surrounded by discarded FedEx boxes of more illicit DVDs, magazines and sextoys. The house reeked of crotch musk. Apparently, Bill had used the money from the church, as well as his task force against gay porn, to finance his addiction to gay porn. For his part, Bill would just masturbate whenever he can, while images of naked teens and men danced in his own addled mind.
Paul’s selfishness and lack of consideration for others was legendary. Almost as legendary as his good looks and body. Paul cut a swathe through high society, dating woman he wanted. But once he had them, Paul treated them like his own property, ordering them about. To him, a woman was only good as a trophy.
One dumped ex-girlfriend had ordered a curse, and Jack was happy to deliver it. “You like to buy and sell things, don’t you Paul, so let’s see how you go when you’re the one for sale,” said Jack.
Paul was sitting in his office when the phone rang. It was Mr Johnson, one owner of one of their larger accounts.
“Hi Paul, it’s Tim Johnson here, from CPO industries,”
“Hi Tim,” said Paul, swivelling on his chair. He was immaculate.
“Look, I’m calling up with a proposal that’s unrelated to the account. I’ve got a dinner to go to tonight and I was wondering if you’d accompany me, as my companion.”
“Uh, that’s very flattering Tim,” said Paul, almost gagging, “But I’m afraid I’m uh …” he didn’t want to upset a big client, “… uh busy tonight.”
“Here’s the delicate part, I can pay you. I thought $500 for the evening?”
Paul went bug eyed, was Johnson trying to buy his services like some cheap prostitute??? “Well, look Tim, I, uh,” then the weirdest thing happened. Paul’s mind tripped. “Um, $500, for 3 hours, OK? See you there?”
“That’s great,” said Mr Johnson, “and, uh, wear something nice.”
That was weird, thought Paul. “I guess I said it to keep the old guy happy.”
Right at 7 o’clock, Paul found himself waiting outside his building. Normally when he was going out to a business meal he wore his finest Italian suit, but tonight he had dressed down a bit, wearing jeans and a tight white t-shirt that showed off his chest.
A limo pulled up in front of him.
“Hi Paul,” said Mr Johnson.
“Uh, hi,” said Paul, entering the vehicle.
“Thanks for coming,” said the older man, eyeing Paul up and down.
“You know you’re one of my best clients … I mean, er, one of our company’s best clients.” Paul said.
He’d seen Tim Johnson many times before but as Paul looked the businessman over it was as if he had never truly seen the man before. Johnson had gray and white hair in a modern but professional style, with a full but lean beard. Despite being 55 he’d kept himself in fantastic shape. If it weren’t for his white hair he could have passed for a man in his late thirties. And all that money! Sure, the company had to keep CPO’s account but when would Johnson see any of that money for himself unless…
The images that flashed in his mind should have made him sick but instead Paul found himself wriggling his hips. Suddenly he realized that he wasn’t wearing any underwear! And he was getting hard and horny right there in the limo with Tim Johnson watching! Paul wanted to throw open the door and jump out, even if it meant injury or death, but he felt so heated. And Johnson had loosened his tie. He was unbuttoning his shirt. He was leaning over.
No. Paul couldn’t do it. He wasn’t some gay circuit boy. He was a businessman. There were limits to a relationship like this and Johnson was crossing the line. He had to take a stand.
Paul grabbed Johnson by the shoulder and pushed back. “Pay first.” he said. “Play later.”
“But, Paul,” Johnson ran his hand over Paul’s chest and centered his touch on Paul’s nipple. “I thought we could.”
“No.” Paul grabbed Johnson’s and and threw it off. He didn’t know what was happening to him but if he couldn’t stop what was happening to him then at least he would take charge of the situation. “Pay first. Play later. Give me the money or get your hands off of me.”
“I don’t think I like your tone, young man. But if that’s the way you want it then I’ll give you half now–”
“All of it.” Paul said. “If you don’t want to go home and settle for Rosy Palmer then pay me the full amount. NOW.”
Johnson handed over the cash, Paul checked it and put it in his wallet, he got a frisson of pleasure to be selling himself.
“Ok, I’m all yours,” said Paul.
“Hmm,” said Johnson, frowning.
“What? Don’t you like what you see?” asked Paul.
Johnson sneered, “I told you this was a work function, and you’re wearing jeans and a t-shirt.”
“So, uh, well…” stumbled Paul. Why had he worn such casual clothing?
“That’s OK,” said Johnson, “I didn’t think you’d have a suit, so I packed one in just in case.”
He handed Paul a suit on a hanger. “What, you want me to change … here?” asked Paul incredulously.
“I can’t have you at this function in jeans. Come on, I’m paying you a lot.”
“Fine,” said Paul, grabbing the suit. If it made the old man happy … Paul looked at the suit. It was cheaper than the usual fine suits he wore. It was like a guy’s first suit, cheap and ill-fitting. “I’m going to look like a try-hard in this thing,” he thought.
He wiggled out of his jeans, conscious that Mr Johnson was eyeing him appreciatively. The idea that he was selling his body to Tim Johnson had Paul harder than he thought possible and as soon as his dick popped out it was thrusting right into Johnson’s hand.
“And here I thought I was the horny one.” Johnson said. “We have plenty of time tonight. This won’t be the first time you’ll get your dick off, I promise.” Johnson then planted his mouth down on Paul’s crotch and bobbed on Paul’s cock but it wasn’t much more than a minute before Paul started growling. “Shit, I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna cum!!!” The load wasn’t phenomenal but Johnson couldn’t keep all of it in his mouth.
“Mmm. Paul, my boy, you are delicious.” Johnson wiped his mouth and licked off the remaining cum. “Get dressed,” he commanded.
Paul pulled the suit pants up over his softening dick. It was worse than he thought, the suit was ill-fitting and made him feel like he was a young inexperienced lower ranked executive again. He pulled on the suit jacked. He hastily did his tie as the limo pulled up at the hall.
“Remember, I’m paying you good money tonight, so treat me with respect, be nice to the men, and don’t act too smart,” ordered Johnson, stepping out.
“Y … yes sir,” said Paul. He followed Johnson meekly out of the limo and into his new life as an escort.
Jack pulled up outside Tornados, a club that featured guys dancing on stage. Someone had ordered a curse on Palo, a smooth twink who had a thing about security guards. Apparently he made a habit of making their lives difficult. Demanding special treatment for him and his friends, and treating them like lowly slaves. He had even called one of the hairy ones an “idiot caveman ape”.
Palo was the furthest thing from a caveman or an ape but Jack wasn’t so sure he could go around calling people idiots. A crowd was forming, unusual for that time of day but likely because they were Palo’s fans and Palo was working them up, giggling and flirting like a school girl trapped in a school boys body. As Palo made his way up to the stage Jack headed towards the DJ booth and knocked on the door.
“Hey, Jack! How are you!” the DJ said when he opened up.
“I’m good, Kasey. Hey, remember that favor you owe me? I need to cash in.”
He told Kasey what to do. The DJ sent work back stage as Jack slipped into the booth and pulled out a CD.
“And now, gentlemen, here he is! Making a rare early performance, Tornados number one dancer. The joi boi himself, Palo!”
Palo didn’t recognize the voice of the announcer but he ignored it. He stood on stage wearing a tight, pink tank top and tight jeans that showed off his cute bubble butt. He had body glitter spread all over himself, even on his pristine black hair. Quickly, Palo blew a kiss out to the crowd and saw a few men reach up and grab it. “Old trolls” Palo thought. Only the security men were uglier to Palo. Their roided up muscles and especially that ape Ralph with all that body hair? Disgusting? Why couldn’t they be pretty like himself?
Taking his pose, Palo waited for the music to start but at the first note he knew something was wrong. Where was his Madonna Mega-Mix? He was supposed to start off to “Lucky Star”, not some dumb tribal music? And yet, even though he wanted to run off to the DJ and rip his head off, he couldn’t help but start dancing. And, wow, was he ever dancing! Palo didn’t know where the moves came from but it was as if he’d known the dance all his life. And the crowd was screaming regardless so Palo continued his dance. The beat was so heavy and driving, but fast and getting faster. It sounded like a heart beat mixed with strange flutes and something that sounded like animal calls. Palo started to feel warm but the warmth was stronger than usual. And it was so relaxing and hypnotic. It was almost as if he were a puppet on the music’s strings. The beat carried his body away.
And his transformation began.
Palo had such a feminine face that he would often get mistaken for a girl with his thick, soft lips and flat brow. He never minded before (it probably helped to get him in bed with some of the closet cases he liked to turn tricks for on the side.) He’d never had much facial hair to begin with either but he kept what little he could grow off of his face. But as he danced to the strange music he didn’t notice what some of his most ardent fans did: he was beginning to sport a shadow. Suddenly his pretty face had acquired a strain of ruggedness and it wasn’t the the only change.
His body, lean and graceful, but small and delicate, was getting larger with each blast of the beat. Palo was too entranced by the music to notice his thighs were swelling out of the seams of his jeans. Before then had been just as smooth as his face but now they were sporting more than stubble. When wanted to remove his tank top he ended up tearing it open, revealing his once lean chest which was suddenly bulging with muscle and hair.
He never lost his rhythm but instead of the light and sharp dance moves he’d been perfecting on the stage, he was stomping and thrusting. He never looked clumsy but he moved with an even greater weight than he was carrying.
The music rose to a sudden climax and stopped. Palo let out a roar. Where before there had been an fun-and-flirty twink boy, there was now a man…or something closely related to a man. The new Palo stood slightly stooped and was heavy with muscles. Even the bodyguards were smaller than the new Palo. His face had lost the delicacy and softness his fans had craved. It was as if he were one of the TV Cavemen, perhaps more handsome, but certainly more brutish.
Suddenly Palo leapt from the stage and onto a table. “Palo hard!” he said (or grunted) “Fuck now!” Palo tore off what was left of the pink thong he’d wanted to debut that day, revealing an oversized cock and a tangle of hair that looked like it belonged on his head. Palo moved to face fuck the patron sitting there but, before he could get the man’s head on his cock, Ralph the security guard tackled him to the ground.
“Bad, Palo, bad!” He said. “You know better!” Ralph and two other guards restrained Palo and took him away from the cheering crowd, he shambled ape-like rather than walked.
“Did you see that?” one club goer said. “If they have more shows like that then I’m coming here every day!”
In Palo’s dressing room the guards secured the twink-turned-caveman to manacles on the wall, Palo hung there broody and surly, his humungous erection showed a head that was swollen and bloated with primeval animal lust, drool poured from his leering mouth.
“That was very bad, Palo. Very bad. You know how it works.” Ralph grinned and looked to the two men beside him before all three of the men took off their shirts. “If Palo wants to cum then Palo has to make us cum first.” Ralph undid his fly and pulled out his own large dick and brought it to Jaco’s mouth. Palo looked at it and then up into Ralph’s face as he started to suck. Ralph brought his hand to Palo’s head and stroked.
“That’s good, Palo. Mmm… Very good.”
Jack opened up the door to Comic Book World and found his next target: Feargus McDonnell, Age 32, needing cursing because his parents wanted him out of their basement. “Wow,” Jack thought “this guy needs to do a lot more than move out n his own.” It wasn’t that Feargus was incredibly fat–even bigger than Jack had made Paulo earlier. It wasn’t that Feargus was nerdy either as Jack had gone into magic because of Doctor Strange comics so he couldn’t fault Feargus that. No. What bothered Jack the most was that Feargus looked like the most miserable person in the world.
Feargus saw Jack and smiled weakly. “Hi. Can I help you find anything?”
“No, I already found what I was looking for. Thanks.”
“Okay. When you’re ready to check out, let me know.”
Feargus went back to looking out of the window and Jack started cooking up a plan. Getting the man out of his parents’ basement would be easy, however Jack did it. But Jack realized he wanted to do something nice for Feargus rather than implement the usual curse cruelty. The real question was how he could do it and have some fun too?
Jack decided that Feargus would enjoy the life that Jack lived. But how to do that. Then a thought crossed his mind, if there were two of him they could work more curses. He would make Feargus his identical twin!
Jack was staring intently at Feargus, getting ready to cast his curse, when suddenly a young man hit him in the back of his head, hard. He turned around just in time to see the face of Peter Wills, someone he had cursed when he first started. Peter had been a spoiled boy and as he got older, he remained spoiled. His girlfriend ordered a curse on him to stop him being so spoiled.
Jack had willingly obliged, cursing that Peter would maintain, without relief to himself, a permanent erection until he had fucked 101 guys and made sure they had cum. For the first time in his life, Peter had to care about other people. Jack recalled that it had been particularly difficult for Peter. Being a straight stud he had at first refused to have sex with other men, but his desperation at not being able to cum himself had finally driven him to seek out men. Jack had heard it had taken Peter nearly a year to find 101 men to ram his permanently hard cock into.
But all that was years ago. “What, why?” asked Jack, looking up at his aggressor. Peter had filled out nicely during the years and was now quite muscly.
“That year of hell you put me through. Giving me a permanent erection that I was unable to jerk off. I had to fuck men, I had to beg them. I had to make sure they had cum. Well, I’ve spent the last two years hunting you down, and now I’m going to get revenge,” he said. “Get up, so I can knock you down again.”
Jack flung a curse at Peter. “You think that last one was bad? How about this. Not only do you have a permanent hard on, but your dick is now 16 inches long and as thick as a beer can.”
Peter stared in horror as his dick sprang to attention. It turned dark red and with a whack, pushed its way upright out of his pants.
“Wha ??? NO!!” He tried pushing it down but it was ramrod hard and could only point skyward. Even as he grabbed at it, it began to expand. Lengthening and widening. 10 inches, 12 … 14 … it was becoming obscene.
“At this size and at this angle … there’s no way I can hide it from anyone!” said Peter. “I couldn’t even strap it down like last time.”
“You should’ve thought about that before you tracked me down.”
“Where am I going to find 101 guys that can take this monster???” asked Peter, gesturing down at his monster cock that stuck out of his pants like a Patrick Fillion character.
“I’ve made some modifications to Feargus here. He should be able to accommodate you OK, but you’re going to have to woo him a bit … ask him to move in with you …” said Jack. It was all fitting together nicely. “But I don’t have time to play match maker with you two all evening. I’ve got work to do!”
I had certainly made modifications to Feargus, he was now a fit man with a swimmer’s build, but a total bottom who needed a large dicked man to satisfy him.
Dominic was a stud, in every sense of the word. He also liked to prove it. His main delight was to split up a couple by seducing the girl away from her boy friend and then dumping the girl. Jack had had many many requests for Dominic to be cursed, equally from the girls and their boyfriends.
The choice was immense, some wanted Dominic castrated, some wanted him feminised, some wanted his looks to fade, and some wanted him to age dramatically, they all wanted him to be unable to pull. Jack had to make a decision.
Jack finally had an idea, since Dominic was a destroyer of a couple’s loyalty, he’d curse him in a way that he’d be loyal to only one man and do whatever he said. He’d give him the loyalty of a canine and make him more submissive and sweet so that he wouldn’t be hurting anyone again and would work for the rest of his life to make up for all the heartache he’d caused, helping his new love interest and atoning for what he’d done.
Jack opened up his lap top and pulled up Dominic, he was sitting at a bar wearing a tight button up shirt with the first few buttons undone and tight pair of designer jeans. He really was a good looking man, and wasn’t really evil, just extremely full of himself and conceited. Jack type in the curse and looked around and found the other half that was needed for the curse and pressed enter watching to see what happened and would make changes where needed.
Jack looked around and cracked a smile as Dominic stood up. He was good-looking, no doubt of it - 6ft2" of sculpted muscle, long blonde hair, blue eyes and a chiselled jaw that made his constant grin sit easily on his face. Dominic stretched langorously and looked around. His jeans were tailored to show off his thighs, calves and impressive packet, his polo shirt clung to his chest and washboard abs like a second skin. For a moment, everyone looked at him. He grinned at the effect he had caused and sat down again.
Dominic looked around to see who was watching him, ignoring the man sat at the bar with his laptop. Jack grinned as he pressed enter and the other half of the equation walked into the room. Darryl would never normally come into this kind of bar, but his truck had run out of fuel outside and he needed to use a phone. He was dressed for clubbing - leather jeans and chaps, chest harness, bike jacket, muir cap and dehners. This gear sat well on his 6ft frame, bulked up as it was by years of physical labour. He removed his cap to reveal tightly cropped black hair and leant over the bar to ask the barman to use his phone. Dominic for some reason couldn’t look away from this guy. As Darryl walked over to the phone in the corner, Dominic was entranced by the sight of the older man’s muscular arse encased in tight black leather. He felt his own cock growing down his pants leg. He completely ignored the girl that was making eyes at him and moved for a better view.
When Darryl came back from the phone to find this tall surfer-type staring at him. With a grin, he recognised the stare and returned it. As Dominic averted his eyes slightly, Darryl walked over to him.
“Hey, boy, see something you like?”
Dominic blushed and turned away slightly, his cock rockhard. The whole room could see the stain his precum was making in his jeans.
“No, I’m not, I mean, nice gear.”
Darryl laughed at Dominic’s obvious confusion.
“Wish I could say the same for you, boy, you’re a fucking mess”
Dominic realised that this guy was right - his clothes were totally inappropriate, Without a further thought he unbuttoned his shirt and removed it, revealing his sculpted and furry torso to the astonished bar. Darryl laughed.
“Hold up, boy, I have some stuff for you in my truck. Might as well get you dressed appropriately while waiting for my bud to turn up.”
Darryl led Dominic outside and around to the backdoors of his black truck. The more time Dominic spent with Darryl, the more he found himself fascinated by this man. Somewhere inside him, something was telling him this was wrong, but he knew as well that this was what he wanted. When Darryl told him to strip, he didn’t hesitate and soon stood naked on the asphalt of the car park.
Darryl unlocked the back door of the van to reveal several boxes filled with black leather and a large dog cage. He rummaged around and soon had the items he wanted for Dominic. First he got a 2" thick leather collar, studded and spiked with “DOG” on the front in steel letters. The collar was buckled around Dominic’s thick neck and locked on. As soon as it was, Dominc dropped to all fours.
Next Darryl brought out a pair of leather chaps. Sliding them over Dominic’s thick legs they showed them off to perfection without in any way hiding his arse or his increasingly hard cock. Darryl paused to run his gloved hand over the perfect globes of Dominics arse and slide a finger inside. Dominic responded instantly, growling with pleasure. Darryl tousled Dominic’s blonde hair and realised that would have to go.
Pulling out a set of battery operated clippers, he quickly shaved Dominic’s head down to a military buzzcut, converting his surfer-boy looks into something harder. Then a pair of heavy leather fist mitts were locked on Dominic’s hands, rendering them helpless. Finally, a standard leather “X” harness was buckled on, a leather muzzle was locked around Dominic’s head, and a heavy leash clipped to the back of his collar.
By the time Darryl’s friend arrived with the fuel, Dominic was shackled inside the cage, a buttplug and tail up his arse, and his leaking cock testament to his pleasure at his new position. “Get some rest in there, pup. As soon as we get home, I’m gonna break you in a bit and then tomorrow you’re going to start helping me out, I do lots of charity work and help out a lotta people so you’re going to be helping me out with my good work.” Dominic looked around the dark truck, seeing packages of food and toys for needing people. He smiled to himself, he had such a handsome and kind master now and would work to serve him in and out of bed. He was happy that he had finally found his place in life, he was owned and would spend his life as his Masters pet pooch, helping him in with his work during the day and serving as his pet dog to use as he wanted in bed each night.
After the truck was filled Darryl went up to the cage and looked at him smiling at the hunkish dog he now had. “Well boy, we’re ready to go, but before we do I think that I should give you a name, now that you’re my dog boy.”
Dominic looked up at his master as his cock drooled pre and throbbed in need. Being given a name would mean that he was truly owned and would belong to his wonderful master. He wagged the tail that was stuck in his ass as he waited and saw his burly master reach into his pocket and pull out a small blue shaped dog tag and attatch it to his collar.
“I like the name Karman for you boy… I don’t know why but it just seems to fit you.” Darryl reached in and pet his boy’s head and run his paw down his back and then gave a pat to his ass. Dominic, now who would be known as Karman, shivered at the touch and shot his load up at his chest and all over his cage. He panted and whined as his cum went all over him some going all the way up to his chin. Darryl smiled and closed the door to his truck before heading home with his new pet. “Heheh… good boy, we’re gonna get along just fine…”
Back in the bar, Jack smiled, karma was a funny thing sometimes and in this case all of Dominic’s bad karma had come back at him in a very appropriate way. Jack just chuckled as he looked at his laptop and wondered where to go next.
Jack couldn’t believe he had made it to the end of his list. His next port of call was his final one for the day, and it was a doozy … the fire station! It was an unusual request but a sweet one. It wasn’t just one person requested to be cursed, but the entire station.
Apparently they had recently hosted a Bachelor Party and the entire staff became waste early on, so when the stripper arrived things got out of control. The poor girl was threatened and abused to go further than what she agreed to do and was even raped by a few of the guys. She wanted them to feel how degraded she was made to feel that night.
Jack cast the invisibility spell on himself and walked into the station. The crew was sitting around the work area - a large open-plan lounge with kitchen, couches, a console and a few desks. They were in various states of undress. None were in the full uniform, but they all had on at least a shirt, suspenders and fire-fighting pants.
Jack flipped through his book of curses. None of the regular ones seemed appropriate. He wanted something special … something he didn’t do that often. Finally he found it. “Aha!” he thought.
He summoned up a lot of energy and sent the curse sweeping across the room. The six fire fighters didn’t notice any difference.
Jack removed the invisibility curse from himself.
“Hey! Who are you?” asked Dino, one of the senior fire fighters. The other men looked up from their magazines, paper work and console game.
“Me, I’m here to have some fun with you.”
“This is a restricted area …”
“Quiet!” ordered Jack. The beefy man fell silent.
“All of you, stand up, in a row.”
The six men, with puzzled expressions on their faces, all lined up in front of Jack.
“You had sex with that dancer the other night, so tonight I’m going to have sex with you. Strip! All of you.”
The six men, under Jack’s control, undid their braces, pulled down their fire-fighting pants, pulled off their boots, and finally removed their shirts. Each man was buff and muscled.
“Turn around so I can see your asses,” said Jack.
The firemen turned around so their beefy asses and taut backs were presented to Jack.
“You treated that woman, like an object, from now on it would be your turn” he said while cursing them. “Bend over.”
As one, the six men bent over. Jack admired their hot bodies. He summoned up some lube and walked to the first man. He grinned as the man grimaced as Jack smeared the cold lube over the man’s ass crack.
“Don’t worry, stud, this will be the first of countless times you’re gonna be raped. After tonight, you’ll get addicted to it. You will hate being a sexual object, but you will find it impossible to avoid getting raped again and again.”
“Think of it, you will taunt every man to get him horny as hell, teasing him and leading him on, give him signals and so that finally he will rape you and cum inside you”
“Only after he cums inside your ass will you cum. This addiction will slowly grow, so after ten or so rapes all of you will be reduced to a fucking machine, needing cock all the time to feel good. Being rabidly heterosexual, you will hate yourselves more and more, so you will seek more humiliation, more rape. That would be what makes you feel full”
“Feel my cock in your ass? You are beginning to develop your rape addiction. Cant you feel it man? You hate it but you need it. You need a man’s cock inside you, making you an object. So moan, bitch!”
Jack thought the dialogue was laughable, but he was only following the script as written by the hooker herself.
As ordered, the fireman moaned loudly as Jack’s thick cock penetrated his ass. Unable to help himself, he pushed his tight ass down hard against Jack’s groin, trying to get as much of himself impaled as possible. In his head, and to his horror, all he could think was “I could get used to this. I could get used to this.”
By the end of the session, Jack had turned the firemen from arrogant thugs into desperate fags. The next time the hooker would see them, they would be working around the corner from her, prancing and teasing any guy that walked or drove past.
Jack leaned back on his balcony overlooking the city. He took a sip from his wine glass. It had been a long day, but as he looked over the cityscape, teeming with millions of people, he thought fondly of the day’s events. His job was unusual, it was true, and to an outsider it might even seem cruel. But Jack was happy with the knowledge that without the constant discharge of magical energies from by him and his co-workers, focused tightly in controlled bursts organised by his organisation, the resultant build up of energy would have destroyed the universe a long time ago. They could never tell anyone, and so it was his burden to bear. So sure, the hours were long and sometimes the tears were real, but, he sipped on his wine again, it was a small price to pay for such a worthwhile job.
What adventures would tomorrow bring? Only time would tell.
This story was written by readers of the gay fiction website, the Narcissus Cursed Men Collection (NCMC). There were 146 edits. It is distributed under the Attribution - Non-Commercial - Share-a-like 2.0 Creative Commons License. You must follow the conditions laid down in that license, or else you are forbidden by copyright law to duplicate this story in any form. This message is considered part of this work.