Hey guys - I'm back, and I'm writing! Here's the first post for November. Hope you enjoy it – I know I loved writing it. Full disclosure, this one is inspired by a tweet I saw from HimboArchitect on Twitter.
Thanks for all your support over the past year and a half while I've been on hiatus. It's good to be BACK!
-Derek
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We were tied with two minutes left.
The quarterback was killing it out there. It was late October, about halfway through his last season playing college ball, and Pete was making it one to remember. The team was rallied behind him.
I was on the bench. I’m third on the depth chart, so I’ve never actually been on the field during a game. But whatever, a scholarship is a scholarship, and I’d be a senior soon enough. I’d have my chance to be the hero.
A sudden gasp went up from the crowd. Pete was down. Medical was out there, calling for a stretcher.
It was a break. His leg. Suddenly Pete’s football career was over. Those NFL scouts had seen his last game.
“Ryder,” Coach said, motioning to me. “You’re in.”
I glanced to my right. Clayton looked equal parts shocked and pissed.
“Clayton’s ahead of me coach!” I protested. “He’s got more experience.”
“You just jumped the line kid,” Coach Simpson said, settling the argument with a ferocious glance. “You’re fast and you’re ready, get your ass out there!”
I stepped out onto the field and... it wasn’t like practice and it wasn’t like high school – thousands of people were suddenly counting on me.
They’d be chanting my name – if they knew it.
“You got this Ryder,” Blake said, clamping a hand on my shoulder when I joined the huddle. He’s kind of my mentor, giving me tips even when the other guys ignore me. “Just remember what you practiced.”
I called the play. Snap. I had the ball.
I barely remember making the throw, but I’ll always remember – the stadium exploded with cheers.
It was still 20-17 at the final whistle. My teammates swept me off the ground, carrying me off the field while the crowd tried to chant my name.
“RIKER!” they screamed. “RIKER!”
My feet didn’t hit ground until the locker room. There was a dweeb there from the campus TikTok shoving his microphone in my face.
“Riker, how does it feel to throw the winning touchdown?” he asked. Whatever I said, this clip was going viral. I stuttered, totally overwhelmed by adrenaline.
Coach stepped in, throwing his arm around my shoulder and saving me.
“Let’s start with his name – this is Ryder Mackenzie,” Coach said, taking the question. “Kid’s got one hell of an arm.”
------------------------
My key missed the lock, leaving a long scratch in the wood of my dorm room. People kept buying me shots.
I wasn’t looking forward to the hangover.
Water, then sleep. I had a team lift in the morning, and there were only a few hours until dawn. I drank three cups of water from an old coffee mug, then stumbled straight for bed.
I stopped dead in my tracks. There was something small and pink in the middle of the tightly tucked bedspread.
“What the fuck bro…” I moaned, squinting at the pink thing. “Shit, am I in the wrong room?”
I looked around, bracing myself for pepper spray, but all my stuff was there — trophies, a framed Tom Brady jersey, a pile of textbooks still in the original shrink wrap.
Something was horribly wrong, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Still... it felt like a snake was about to strike.
I leaned in and took a closer look. It was underwear, or something... maybe something a chick would wear? Hot pink and silky and barely there.
I bet it’d look hot on my girlfriend.
I just knew I had to touch it. Pick it up. Put it on.
How drunk was I? I’m pretty sure underwear should never whisper in your mind. And it was getting louder... I was tempted to pick it up, just so the damn thing would quit nagging me.
But there was an alarm bell going off in the back of my head too. Wasn’t there like... a story about this? Blake told me when I was a froshie...?
I just wanted to collapse in bed. Grab the scrap of fabric and toss it to the side. Figure it out in the morning. Touch it... just for a second...
But what did Blake tell me again? Some kind of urban legend? Something about turning jocks... c’mon Ryder... this was important...
I pulled out my phone and googled. “urbn leggend pink boxers”.
I scrolled past site after site advertising underwear until I saw a YouTube link that seemed close enough. It was titled “curse of the college jocks - how the pink thong makes you gay”.
I tapped on the video.
“Uh, like... hey gurl!” an obviously gay guy said, his high pitched voice blaring from my phone speakers. I turned down the volume – I didn’t need anyone walking by and overhearing this shit. “So, like... if you’re watching this, I bet you found a pink thong on your bed. Don’t try to run, it’s too late for you “bro”. Running just makes it more extreme. Like... look at Carson!”
The camera panned over to a jock about my age, gripping a scrap of pink fabric. He looked totally zonked out, like he was high or something.
“Carson tried to avoid the curse,” the gay guy said with a smirk in his voice. “But now he’s just like the rest of us... or he will be soon. Go ahead baby... try it on for size!”
Carson moved in a daze, clutching the pink fabric as he pulled off his sweatpants. He was freeballing underneath, and I couldn’t believe I was watching some dude’s dick. I’ve spent my life in locker rooms – but why was this shit on YouTube?
My dick was bigger though, for whatever that’s worth.
Carson was working the thong up his legs, moaning in pleasure with every movement. Finally he pulled it over his dick, a little pouch barely containing it. He stuck his hand inside, rearranging so that the underwear made his package into a faggy bulge.
He moaned as he gave it one last tug, the shiny fabric snapping into place.
“Oh my god...” he rumbled in a deep voice.
It had to be special effects. Carson’s body was... morphing? He wasn’t turning into someone totally new or anything, but I swear he gained twenty or thirty pounds of muscle in just a few seconds. And his face... shifted? I don’t know how to describe it.
Little pink fireworks went off in his eyes. Suddenly he was sober, back from wherever some drug induced journey had taken him.
“Oh my god...” he repeated. That same deep rumble, but with a nasal whine on top of it. “Like... it feels soooooo goooooodd...”
The camera shook for a minute. The guy filming must have been propping it up somewhere, because a second later he came into view too, his own pink underwear on display. He straddled Carson, sitting on his lap and going in for the first of many kisses.
I threw my phone against the room. It hit the corner of my bookshelf and the screen cracked. Gay sex noises were still coming from the speaker.
I tasted something bitter in my mouth. That shit was totally fake... staged for the camera, right? But then again... I remembered Blake telling me about this dumb urban legend back when I joined the team.
We’d been three or four beers deep at the pub and I’d laughed it off.
“Believe what you want bro,” Blake had shrugged. “A senior on the wrestling team got cursed last year. Went from a ladies man to total faggot overnight. I heard it’s happened like a hundred times, all over the country!”
“Sounds like a closet case,” I snorted. “Besides, who’d wanna curse me?”
But now the same thong was on my bed. Whispering in my thoughts.
“Oh fuck no!” I hissed, pressing my body against the wall. If I just stayed away from it...
I reached out one hand to the bookshelf and grabbed my high school championship trophy. Look, I was really drunk... it seemed like the best way to protect myself.
The gay porn was still playing on my phone. Two dudes, grunting and moaning...
I needed to puke... Hundreds of jocks, all over America... The menacing thong on my bed... That look in Carson’s eyes...
“Yeah bro... split me open with that cock...” a voice begged on my phone.
“You’re not gonna get me,” I growled at the underwear, waving the trophy at it like a baseball bat.
I could swear, the pink thing was growling back. Taunting me. I wanted to touch it, just for a second... show it I was strong enough to resist...
The trophy dropped to the side, hanging loosely in one hand. My other hand drifted forward. Not consciously... it was more like gravity pulling a ball back to the earth...
I couldn’t turn away.
My fingers twitched as they got closer. I bet it felt soft and silky...
I’d know soon enough. I just wanted to touch that pink thong...
****HOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNK!!!****
A vuvuzela blared outside, snapping me out of my daze. Fans, still celebrating my win.
“Knock it off!” someone shouted from a nearby dorm. “Go to bed!”
My fingers pulled back. I hefted the trophy once more.
“No,” I said, pointing at the thong. “You’re not gonna get me.”
I circled around my bed carefully, keeping the trophy between me and the scrap of fabric. I felt flushed. Embarrassed. I couldn’t believe I’d almost given in.
My phone was lying on the floor, blasting the sounds of gay dudes having sex. “Yeah stud,” Carson moaned. “Right there baby. Right there.”
I wanted to smash it, but I couldn’t. I needed to call someone. Get some help.
I grabbed my phone and swiped away from YouTube, but... well, I’m on my free trial. The audio kept playing in the background. I didn’t want to open the app that see some dude taking it up the ass, so I just did my best to ignore the soundtrack.
Blake would know what to do.
I tapped on his contact and the video mercifully stopped playing. One ring, then right to voicemail. Right, it was 3 AM... dude probably had ‘do not disturb’.
I called again, and this time it went through.
“Hey all-star,” Blake moaned, half-asleep. “This better not be about some chick you fucked.”
“No,” I said. C’mon Blake... this was no time for jokes. “You remember that story you told me, about the pink underwear that... uh...”
“Makes you a fag?” Blake said, suddenly serious. “Yeah?”
“Well, I just got home and... it’s here bro,” I admitted. “Waiting for me. How do I make it go away?”
Fucker actually laughed at me.
“Sorry bro,” he chuckled. “Looks like you’re done with the ladies. Someone musta really hated that touchdown, huh?”
“Seriously dude?!” I shouted, suddenly angry. “You’re just giving up on me?”
“So what?” Blake yawned, somehow shrugging over the phone. “You’ll suck dick, you’ll still be one hell of a quarterback. Besides, I heard if you avoid it, the curse just gets worse... better slip that shit on bro.”
“Fuck you,” I snapped.
“Yeah, you wish,” Blake laughed. “Don’t hit on me bro. I’ll see your gay ass tomorrow.”
I snorted and ended the call. The audio for that damned video started up again. It sounded like Carson was really getting his ass railed.
Like Coach says, I’ve got one hell of an arm. This time the phone broke when it hit the wall. Thank fuck...
“Fuck this,” I said out loud, just so the thong would hear it. I threw a few things into my backpack and shot it one last glare.
At least I had somewhere to go.
------------------------
My girl Charlotte is a night owl – honestly, that’s kinda why I picked her. There’s nothing like a 3 AM booty call.
Usually I text her, she throws down the keys, and I go right up. Of course, usually my phone isn’t broken.
It’s cliche, but I tried the old ‘rocks on the window’ trick. I guess that only works in movies. After a few minutes of standing outside like an idiot, I went around to the door, just to see if it was open.
Some girl was coming out of the building. When she saw a man approaching, she made sure to close the door securely. At least until she recognized me.
“Oh my god,” she chirped, suddenly playing with her hair. “Are you that new quarterback? Uh... River or something?”
“Yeah,” I grinned with all the charm I could muster. “Ryder. I’m, uh... I’m just trying to visit my girlfriend. Can you let me inside?”
“Sure,” she smiled, unlocking the door for me. “I’m Jessie. Room 203.”
“Good to meet you Jessie.”
I knocked on Charlotte’s door until I started feeling like a creep. Maybe she wasn’t home. Still out at a party? Better not be fucking some other guy... sometimes I got the vibe she might be.
She must have been in the bathroom or something. Just about the time I was giving up, Charlotte opened the door, wide awake.
“Hey Ryder,” she said, faking a yawn. The same yawn she uses when she wants to skip out on a party. “I figured you’d be out celebrating after the game.”
“Yeah... I’m having a fucked up night,” I said, stumbling in my words. “Bad news, I guess... someone’s trying to turn me gay.”
“What?” she laughed. “Like some guy hit on you after the game? That’s gonna happen when you’re the star.”
“No, like... there’s this urban legend about a curse where... this is dumb... uh... pink underwear shows up in your room, and when you put it on... BOOM, you’re gay?”
“Wait, like that wrestler guy a few years back?” Charlotte asked. I was surprised she’d even heard the legend. “Baby, that’s just a story to scare froshies...”
“Yeah, but when I got home tonight... it was waiting for me.”
“Baby,” Charlotte said. “That is, without a doubt, the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. But if you wanna hide here tonight so the big bad underwear doesn’t find you...?”
My stomach unclenched. Just knowing I was safe here...
“You maybe... wanna fuck around a little?” I asked, pulling off my shirt and flexing my pecs at her. After the night I’d had, I wouldn’t mind proving my straight card.
“It’s like 3 AM,” she complained. “Besides, you’ve got team lift at ten. Let’s just cuddle, okay?”
I stripped down to my boxers – black and masculine and baggy – and climbed into bed with Charlotte. I wrapped her in my arms and felt perfectly safe.
I’d deal with the curse tomorrow.
------------------------
One time, Coach told me that the best part of being young is that hangovers are just a suggestion.
I woke up with the sun, and honestly, I felt great. I’d forgotten all about the curse and the thong and turning gay. All I remembered was my amazing pass and the way I felt when the team picked me up and the way Charlotte felt cradled in my arms.
I kissed her neck softly and she moved away, reaching for her phone.
“It’s almost eight,” she yawned. A real one this time. “You’d better get breakfast before the gym.”
“See you later babe,” I said, kissing her on the forehead.
------------------------
I jogged to the gym and rushed through changing. I’d taken too long at breakfast, taking selfies with people and hearing about how great I was. A man’s got to eat!
I could already hear the team working hard in the weight room.
“Morning princess,” I heard Coach shout from behind me. “You made one hell of a pass, but you’re starting next game. Time to get serious, okay? It’s fine to celebrate, but you still gotta do the grind!”
“Yes sir,” I said instinctively. “Sorry.”
I pulled on my pump cover and made for the weight room.
“Look at that, the king finally decided to show up!” Danny stood up and pointed when I walked in. A few of the guys laughed and I blushed red.
“Sorry bro,” I half-joked, giving him a fist bump. “Guess I let it go to my head. You guys must be talking about what a jerk I am.”
“Nah dude,” Danny said with a strained grin. “We’re all talking about Blake.”
“Huh?”
“Haven’t you heard? Dude got cursed by the pink thong last night. I always thought it was a joke, but...” Danny pointed across the gym at one of the deadlift platforms. A group of guys was gathered around it, watching Blake lift.
The guy on the deadlift... didn’t act like Blake. Instead of the baggy clothes he normally worked out in, his body was on display. A purple compression shirt that hugged his muscle, and a pair of sweatpants so thin his dick was easily visible.
He was lifting heavy, practically screaming with each rep as he pounded out a set of five.
He looked bigger than normal too. Blake usually kept his weight to a tightly packed 200 pounds of muscle on his five-foot-nine frame, but the new clothes made him look closer to 220. I thought about that video I watched... could Blake put on twenty pounds in the blink of an eye?
I didn’t want to suck dick, but twenty pounds of muscle...
He dropped the weight down onto the pads and looked around.
“Hey Ryder!” he sung out in his deep baritone, giving me a friendly wave. Blake stepped over the bar and jogged across the room. As he approached, I could see the pink fabric of a thong, peeking out where his t-shirt rode up, bright against his dark skin.
My stomach clenched again. I’d managed to avoid the curse, but someone was out there spreading it around. One of my best buddies was a cocksucker now. Was there anything I could have done?
“Uh... hey buddy,” I said, trying not to freak out. “How you doing?”
Now that Blake was closer, I saw all sorts of subtle changes. His lips were plumper than normal. His normally messy beard was trimmed. And of course... the way that thong framed his bulge...
It made his dick look huge. Not that I noticed.
“Bro, I got a whole new outlook,” Blake laughed, taking a long glance to the side where Danny was doing squats. “But I’m also deadlifting like... two plates more than yesterday? So win-win, right?”
“You’re fucking with me,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s a joke, right? Cause I woke you up last night?”
“Baby, if I wanna fuck with you...” Blake teased, tracing one thumb down the shiny fabric of his thong. It was nestled in the crease of his adonis belt... which he definitely didn’t have yesterday.
He saw the look on my face and broke out laughing.
“Relax boo,” he grinned. “I know you’re still straight. Still... you ever wanna give this a try...?”
He stuck his tongue out and headed back to the deadlift. Time for another record-breaking set.
I felt sick to my stomach. I grabbed Clayton and we went to work on our squats.
“Hey bro,” Ian said, tapping me on the shoulder a few minutes later. “First string is gonna grab a beer after practice – you’re in, right?”
Clayton rolled his eyes at me. I know – it shoulda been him.
“Yeah,” I said, loading up weight. “I’m gonna need one.”
------------------------
It was my first time out with the starters – twenty-two guys who are ‘the team’. I was one of them now. It was surreal. Yesterday I’d been a sub.
Today I was the starting quarterback. Leader of the pack. I couldn’t help but notice how everyone was talking to me a lot more.
We took over a bunch of tables at the campus pub. I tried to grab a seat away from Blake, but Danny waved him over and ordered a pitcher for the table. Whatever this pink thong curse was... I hoped you couldn’t catch it sharing a beer.
We talked about the game and my pass and practice... but after two beers and two shots, all the table really wanted to talk about was Blake.
“So... uh... have you actually hooked up with a guy yet?” Danny slurred. “I mean... how do you know you’re actually gay?”
“First off – fuck right off,” Blake laughed. “Trust me, you know, even if you’re not hooking up. Yesterday I couldn’ta told you who’s got the best ass on the team... now for sure... it’s Ryder.”
Again, I blushed red while the whole table laughed. Fuck, that pissed me off.
“But for real,” Blake leaned in close and lowered his voice. “Yeah, I was at breakfast this morning and locked eyes with this twink... like, total drama major, y’know? One look and he sucked me off in the stalls!”
“Holy shit,” Ian said with wide eyes. “I wish it was that easy for straight guys.”
Another laugh from the whole table.
I couldn’t handle it anymore – I grabbed my beer and went to hit on some girl. Britany or Barbie or something like that. It doesn’t matter, we chatted a while, but I accidentally mentioned my girlfriend and so I got a face full of vodka cranberry.
“Hey Romeo,” Blake said, sliding up next to me while I tried to dry off. He was standing so close I could smell his cologne. “So... where do you wanna start?”
“I don’t,” I snapped. “Go find some gay guy to fuck.”
“Relax bro,” Blake laughed. “Not why I’m here, even if you do got a hot ass. I just... look, I was an asshole last night, and it’s even worse than you know.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Charlotte, bro,” Blake admitted. “I’ve been hooking up with her for like a month. I was at her place when you called. And... this is shitty, but I was like... great! Now Ryder’s gonna be gay, he won’t care that I’m fuckin’ his girl. Win-win, am I right?”
“Dude,” I shouted. “What the fuck?”
“Relax girl, karma got me or whatever,” Blake shrugged, his overly tight t-shirt riding up and exposing that damn thong again. “You ducked out on the curse, but it came for me too. I climbed out her window while you pounded on her door, I was like... home free, right? But then I got back to mine and... shit dude, it was waiting for me. And like... I heard it gets worse if you try to fight it, so... yeah, I put it right on. You missed out, to be honest... I feel fucking incredible.”
I just stared at him. Blake’s always been a talker, but now he was just rambling.
“Anyway... we cool?”
I tried to be mad, but all I felt was a surge of relief. I mean... yeah, I was pissed, apparently one of my best friends was fucking my girl, but… that wasn’t a problem anymore, right?
“No worries bro,” I said, only lying a little. “I got the girl. You get the boys.”
“Yeah... what about this boy?” Blake asked, leaning in uncomfortably close. I could smell liquor on his breath, that cheap whisky he insists on drinking. “C’mon bro... you’re not even tempted?”
He leaned in and before I could move he kissed me. It wasn’t like any kiss I’d ever had before. Rough and masculine. I could feel Blake’s beard against my stubble.
I instinctively pushed Blake away. It was scary how much strength it took.
“Stay the fuck away from me,” I growled, backing away.
“Call me whenever,” Blake winked. “Especially at 3 AM.”
I turned and made for the exit.
“Dude, you okay?” Danny asked as I pushed past him. I didn’t answer – my heart was pounding and the taste of Blake’s kiss was still on my lips.
------------------------
I was home, but I wasn’t home free. There was another thong waiting on my bed.
I stared at it, even brighter and pinker and skimpier than before. It was noticeably gayer… and that’s saying something for a pink thong.
I could feel it singing when it saw me, trying to draw me closer. Too bad fucker, I’m not falling for that trick again.
“Leave me the fuck alone,” I growled, rubbing my jaw. I could still feel Blake’s stubble rough against my cheek, even after the chilly walk home.. “Haven’t you made enough weird shit happen for one day?”
When I’d started dating Charlotte, it had taken days before she’d let me kiss her. Weeks before she’d let me fuck her. If I was gay, Blake and I would probably be ex-boyfriends already. He saw me, and he wanted me, and I… I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
I shook my head and tried to get that gay shit out of my head. A dude just forced himself on me, of course it was racing through my mind. That doesn’t meant I want to hook up. It doesn’t mean I wanted to give in to the curse.
Even if it was calling to me. I plugged my ears but the call was coming from inside my head.
I stared at the thong. It was so shiny it was almost metallic. I wondered if the fabric still felt soft? If the string at the back would be comfortable, pressing up against my hole? There was only one way to find out…
I let my hand drift closer. It wouldn’t really be my fault.
Once I touched it, I wouldn’t be able to control myself. It would just be an accident, I wouldn’t be responsible for what happened next. I could pick up the phone and...
I wondered if Blake was a good cocksucker. My hand floated towards the thong.
I almost grabbed it, except for the sudden pounding on my door. I shook my head and tried to clear my mind. I didn’t mean to... I hadn’t...
Another knock. I answered the door. Coach was there, on the other side.
“Hey,” he said, “Mind if I come in?”
“Not right now,” I said quietly, pretending like I had someone in my bed. “I don’t wanna scare her away.”
“Good man,” Coach grinned. “Look, Danny texted me and told me what happened with Blake. I’m not allowed to kick him off the team just cause he’s gay now… but I’ve got other stuff.”
“No!” I said, too defensively. “No, I mean… he got hit by the pink thong, right? Dude’s still adjusting to a new life. Let’s cut him some slack.”
“Okay kid, but… you got potential. Say the word and we’ll clean up the team.”
“Coach… I gotta go,” I said tilting my head back at the imaginary girl inside. I didn’t want him coming in and seeing the thong waiting for me. He’d probably think I wanted it there.
“That’s my boy,” Coach said, clasping me on the shoulder. “Keep it up.”
I closed the door, counted to ten, and grabbed my backpack. I didn’t care if I had to abandon my dorm room forever. I was a man, and Coach was gonna be proud of me.
I headed for Charlotte’s dorm.
---
For my whole time at college, Coach wore the same thing to practice every day – khakis and a black golf shirt, the school logo stitched over his left pec. The fifty-something man was a former QB himself, and he still lived the life. Good diet and a healthy lifestyle. He even lifted with us every morning.
But the pink thong got Coach too. He showed up to team lift dressed in a neon green tank top and black compression shorts. I could see the outline of the thong under the stretchy fabric. Fuck… his bulge was so big…
“Coach… you get dressed in the dark?” Danny laughed.
“Laugh all you want to,” Coach grinned. “This improves circulation, speeds up recovery, and looks hot, all at once! I bought enough for everyone. Head back to the lockers and get changed – from now on we look like a team when we lift.”
There were grunts and moans around the room, but everyone obediently filed back to the locker room. Football was everything to us, and if Coach said so...
"Are we really gonna wear that shit?” I whispered to Clayton as I trailed him back to the locker room.
“Coach says so,” he said with a glare. “Go ahead get kicked off the team – I’m s’posed to be starting QB anyway.”
Who would want to curse a bunch of football players? I was starting to think Clayton was pissed enough to do it. I stole his spot on the lineup, Coach passed him over, and Blake... I dunno, but Blake was my buddy. Maybe Clayton was just that petty...
There was no time to think about it though. I had to dig through a big box of spandex shorts and another one with lime green compression tanks and one last one with classic white jockstraps.
“Find your sizes,” Coach ordered. “And grab a couple spares! Laundry day isn’t an excuse to break the team spirit!”
All around, I heard the crackle of plastic packaging as guys opened up their new workout clothes.
“Coach, do we gotta wear the jockstrap?” Blake complained, shaking his thong covered bulge with one hand. “You’re cramping my style.”
“We’ll make an exception for you,” Coach smirked suggestively, taking a long look at Blake’s bulge. Blake returned the look.
I dawdled so I’d be at the back of the line. My mind was racing… was this the curse? If I put on the jockstrap… would I end up as some kind of bottom? And what about the rest of it? I stared at the guys around me, already pulling on the jockstrap, totally unaware that this might be their last free moment.
For just a second, I wondered if I’d be good at sucking cock.
But that didn’t happen. Everyone seemed normal, except for Blake and Coach. Blake was telling guys they looked hot in the new gear. Coach was nodding approval and checking out bulges as guys made their way back to the gym.
Finally I realized I was the last one left. I had to... it was wear the gear or quit the team. I tugged on the jockstrap and… nothing. The compression shorts and nothing. The compression tank… still nothing. I stared at Coaches bulge… I remembered Blake’s stubble against my cheek…
I was getting kinda hard, but that’s just the way the jockstrap rubbed up against my dick, right?
I breathed a sign of relief. I was still straight, even if I looked gay as hell.
I walked out of the locker room. Coach gave my bulge a long hard look, then slapped me on the ass and I walked past.
“That’s a good boy,” Coach said, clearly enjoying what he saw. “You love the new gear, right boy?”
I didn’t say a word. Just let him check out my ass, following a few steps back as we walked down the hall.
Inside the gym it was business as usual. Just dudes working out.
But I glanced over at Ian and... have you ever seen a linebacker in spandex short-shorts? He looked like he wanted to kill someone.
I wondered if he’d still feel that way tomorrow.
------------------------
For the first time all year, I went to the library.
I figured they had to have some book that could tell me all about the curse — including how to escape it. That’s what libraries are for, right?
That, and hooking up with smart chicks.
I headed straight for the front desk. It was being staffed by a student librarian, this little emo twink. I wondered if the guy was actually gay... but did it matter? If the star quarterback asks for a blowjob, it happens, right?
“I’m looking for a book about curses,” I said, glancing around to make sure nobody was overhearing me. “The kind that get... uh... cast on jocks?”
The emo guy laughed at me.
“You don’t look like a freshman,” he chuckled.
“Huh?”
“Look, it’s usually the froshies who come in looking for that urban legend stuff,” the librarian shrugged. “The curse that turns jocks gay... yeah, I’ve heard of it, but we don’t have any books that can... wait... it’s already got you, hasn’t it?”
“No way dude,” I tried to laugh it off. “I’m just doing a report for... uh... a class?”
“Sure,” the twinky librarian chuckled and motioned to a row of computers along the far wall. “Look, have you tried Google? There’s got to be something.”
I went over and logged in. Sure, I’d basically done this the first night, but this time I wasn’t drunk and panicking. I just hoped I wouldn’t end up playing gay porn on the library computers.
I typed in ‘urban legend pink thong turns jocks gay’, took a deep breath, and clicked the search button.
The first dozen sites were just selling underwear. Thongs and jockstraps in various shades of the rainbow. I also saw that YouTube video from the other night. I turned the volume almost all the way down and clicked play.
“Uh, like... hey gurl!” that dude said into the camera. He looked like a football player himself. Maybe a linebacker? I must have missed it the first time – the sexy fucker was dressed like he was headed for the club. A fitted dress shirt with three buttons undone, bedhead hair, and a perfectly trimmed five-o’clock shadow.
“So, like... if you’re watching this, I bet you found a pink thong on your bed. Don’t try to run, it’s too late for you “bro”. Running just makes it more extreme. Like... look at Carson!”
The linebacker flipped his phone around and showed off his soon-to-be fuckbuddy. The thong was in his hand, like I remembered, but I thought he just looked zoned out – now I realized there was something else. He looked eager. Like he couldn’t wait to give in.
“Carson tried to avoid the curse,” the first guy said with a smirk in his voice. “But now he’s just like the rest of us... or he will be soon. Go ahead baby... try it on for size!”
I hit pause on the video and it mercifully stopped before Carson’s shrieks of ecstasy filled the library. He didn’t look much different from me, except for the glazed look on his eyes and the eager anticipation. A little stubble, a lot of muscle... I wondered what it’d feel like to kiss him.
My hand slid down to my lap and I gave my hardening cock a subconscious rub before jerking it away.
Click back. Keep scrolling. There had to be a way to stop the curse.
Another dozen ads for underwear, and I finally saw a link that seemed relevant. “The Curse of the Pink Thong – How To Turn a Straight Jock Gay”.
I clicked on the link and a hot-pink webpage loaded up. I glanced back at the front desk to see if anyone was staring, but nobody gave a fuck.
It was the right webpage alright, but it wasn’t written for me. It was a set of instructions about how to set off the curse – apparently you need a magic amulet, purchasable for $14.99 – and then there’s a silly little incantation. You also needed a pair of the cursed one’s underwear.
I blinked at that – let’s say Clayton was cursing people... how the hell did he get a pair of my underwear? I didn’t remember forgetting mine at practice. And somehow he got Blake’s too? And Coach? Coach didn’t even change with us!
There was a lot more webpage left to go, so I kept reading. A headline said “Before & After”, and there was a set of photos of a rugby player.
Before he looked like your standard issue rugby jock – solidly built, but a normal looking guy. Afterwards he had a pink thong peeking out of his shorts, and his rugby shirt had been cut short to show off his gorgeous abs.
He didn’t look like too much of a fag, but he was obviously gay, and from the look of his bulge, his sex drive was definitely set to maximum. Basically what happened with Blake. The caption underneath read “Cam Walker, before and after a typical encounter with the curse (2021).”
Below that the website continued.
“Effects: The curse will transform the cursed one into a gay version of themselves. They may resist the curse, but once cast it cannot be stopped.”
Once cast, it cannot be stopped? But that’s impossible – I’d dodged it twice so far. Blake and Coach hadn’t been so lucky when the curse got cast on them too. I hoped I wouldn’t have to spend the rest of my life avoiding some dumb piece of fabric.
There was a series of photos, labelled “Five Guys – One Curse”. Left to right, it was a guy with a lean build in a tight t-shirt and jeans with a pink thong peeking above the waistline, a muscular guy in a tanktop and pink shorts that clearly show his bulge while hiding the thong, an over-musculed wrestler in a mesh parody of a uniform, gripping his hard cock through the thong he was wearing underneath, a fabulous hottie in jean shorts and a white mesh shirt on a pride float, and a bottle blond stud wearing nothing but a sequinned pink thong and glitter while he posed his ass for the camera.
The caption underneath reads “Kevin Sanders (far right) avoided the curse for four nights before giving in and becoming an OnlyFans model. Pictured alongside his wrestling teammates. (2023)”
Wait... was this saying what I thought it was saying? I kept reading.
“Warning: Any delay will amplify the effects of the curse, making it more extreme with each passing day. Further, for each day the cursed one resists, one within their circle will reap the consequence.”
I stared at the photos of Kevin Sanders and his teammates. Five guys, each one more flamboyantly gay than the last. And it hadn’t been all of them cursed, just Kevin... the others just got caught in the crossfire.
I thought about Blake — basically a normal jock, except now he was into guys and he wore a tiny pink thong. Then Coach… he was blatantly ogling the team and making us wear those stupid new workout clothes…
What if neither of them had actually been cursed? What if they were just caught in the crossfire too? Clayton was pissed about getting passed over, he cast the curse on me, and now Blake and Coach had kissed heterosexuality goodbye?
I looked at the over-muscled wrestler in his mesh uniform... was that where I was headed now?
I glanced over at the next two. One guy shaking his ass on a Pride float... One dude posting his nudes on OnlyFans...
If I waited much longer, who would I be? I closed my eyes and prayed I could go back two days, just slide the thong on the first night I saw it. I’d do anything to end up a gaybro like Blake. Even an over-sexed flamer like Coach.
Though... and I say this as a totally straight guy – that mesh singlet was kinda hot, wasn’t it?
Next up was another headline: “The Cost of Casting”
This set of photos was another before and after, but with a nerdy guy instead of a jock – at least he was nerdy in the before shot. On the ‘after’ side his hair was buzzed short, his glasses were gone, and he was wearing a t-shirt with his college football logo across the chest. A beefy football player with a pink thong wrapped his arm around the transformed nerd.
The caption read “Marvin Miller (Caster) has a new boyfriend – and a new obsession with watching college football.”
That meant that if Clayton cast this thing on me, he’d be going through changes too, right? I’d have to keep an eye on him. If he cast it, maybe there was a way they could reverse the curse, or at least stop it from taking me too?
I kept reading.
“Disclaimer: No curse can be used without consequences. After the cursed one transforms into their final form, you should expect to see minor personality changes.*”
And then, in tiny little text next to a star: “When used with impure intent, results may be unpredictable.”
Below the last disclaimer, I saw a series of links. Twitter, Instagram, TikTok. I clicked on the Instagram link and a new tab popped open with that iconic grid of photos. Each square in the feed had a colourful background and a photo of a guy who had been transformed. I recognized Blake right away and clicked to make his photo full screen.
Blake was standing there in his training outfit from the gym – a pair of thin grey sweatpants and a purple compression shirt that rode up his abs just a little, the pink thong peeking out from underneath. The background of the photo was baby blue, and the word “BLAKE” was stamped on the background in. Little lines pointed at his body, labelling him in sans-serif font like it was a blueprint. “Sexualized Style” pointed at his outfit. “Thot Thoughts” pointed at his head. “Total Top” said the line going to his bulge.
I swiped up to the next photo and saw Coach, dressed up in his new team workout outfit. Compression shorts, and a lime green compression tank. The background was a dark purple and his name was stamped into it as “COACH SIMPSON”. His blueprint labels said “Full Cock”, “Team Spirit”, and “Muscle Addict”.
It was like trading cards for gay guys.
I swiped up one more time and saw a hot pink card with no photo, just a cutout shadow that looked suspiciously like my own physique. The text “NEXT UP” was stamped into the background, and the little labels said “BMOC”, “Sexual Fog”, and “Anal Fixation”.
I gulped – that was my fate... unless I dodged it again.
But then it got worse, right?
------------------------
I was planning to head straight to Charlotte’s place, but when I left the library my feet took me right back to my dorm room. I knew the thong would be waiting for me – it always would be – but what’s a boy to do?
Avoid it for one more day?
I tried to imagine my quarterback ass dancing on the college pride float, surrounded by screaming fans and admirers, everyone wanting to pound me til I couldn’t even walk straight.
All I ever wanted to do was play football. That third guy, the one in the mesh singlet – yeah, he was a gay slut, but he was also clearly still a wrestler, right? I wanted to stay a football player, not turn into some glorified gogo dancer.
If I pushed it of another day I’d probably end up becoming the campus slut. Or maybe even dropping out of school so that I could get whored out for cash. And that... that wasn’t what I wanted... was it?
I wasn’t sure. I was so confused. Blame it on the curse.
I slammed the door shut behind me and stared at the pink thong, lying there on my bed. The first version had just been a plain pink thong, like you might find in some random sex shop. The second one had more of a metallic look to it. This one was mesh, with a solid silk pocket for my cock... for my dick... for my cock...
I needed it on my cock...
My heart beat fast. How would it look on my body, especially with my cock so hard? I was tenting out my sweats already. God... I bet everyone saw me walking across campus like that, just another horny jock on his way to get laid.
If only they knew...
Would it feel too tight around my cock? Would it look stupid on me?
Or... maybe... hot as fuck?
I could feel the fabric reaching out to me, calling the play, urging me forward. I wanted to give in. Wanted to transform. Not like I’m a fag, but...
But I had to take one for the team, before the whole team got caught up in the curse too...
Yeah, I was just keeping my friends safe. It was a noble self-sacrifice. And besides... it was going to look so fucking hot on me, wasn’t it? Even if I could get away today, it’d still get me tomorrow... or the next day... or the next...
How many days until I was chained to a bench somewhere on campus, my ass on display for everyone to use? How many days until the whole damned football team was lined up behind me, pounding my hole with their big thick cocks, their loads dripping from me, serving as lube for the next cock to come along...
The thought made me hesitate. What if I just kept dodging it? Would the whole team end up slutty and gay and hot as fuck? Each one a bigger homo than the last, until finally I gave in and...
My fingertips caught against the fabric and a wave of lust blew away all my excuses. I wanted it. I needed it. The curse finally caught me, and now...
“No choice now,” I whispered to myself, letting my fingers wrap around the thong. I clutched it in my hand and trembled. It was so small, but it had me in it’s grip... I was big and fast and powerful... and I couldn’t resist anymore.
Blake hadn’t been able to resist.
Neither had Coach.
Yeah... it wasn’t my fault...
I shoved my sweats down to the ground and they carried my boxers with them. I kicked them off frantically, like they were about to burst into flame. My big cock stood proudly, dripping and eager for what was about to happen. My t-shirt didn’t matter... I’d deal with that later.
All that mattered was my cock.
I opened up the thong, confused, trying to understand where to stick my leg. There were so many straps, and the mesh didn’t make it any easier. Finally, I flipped it the right way and understood – the silky pocket up front, the thin strap for my thick ass... I jammed a foot between the straps and felt a thrill run through me.
My knees buckled with pleasure and I fell to the ground. No... I couldn’t stop now. I needed to feel that strap nestled between my meaty cheeks. I needed guys to stare at me, every movement of my body begging them to fuck.
I pulled at the thong and lined up the straps again. I kicked my right foot through the straps next and felt them slide up around my calves. The thong was stretched between my knees as I lay moaning on the dorm room floor, my back against the cold tile.
Anyone passing by thought I was having the best orgasm of my life. They weren’t wrong.
Inch by inch I worked the thong up my hairy thighs, stopping after every moment as bolts of pleasure ripped me apart. I stretched the waistband up until the pouch swallowed my rock hard cock. It stretched the thong, ridiculous and needy, making it clear to everyone that I was SO FUCKING HORNY.
Almost done, I pulled my knees up, using every ounce of strength to hold them against my chest. Football players don’t do a lot of yoga, but my ass was exposed now, lifted just slightly into the air. It felt so natural... one last thrust... the strap settled against my hole, swallowed up by my juicy ass.
“Uuuuuuuuuunnnnnggggghhhh...” I screamed, overwhelmed by the slight pressure against my ass. The thong had me now, pumping my mind full of new ideas and draining all the boring ones out. All that mattered was my hole. It was so hard to think... like someone pumped my whole brain full of cum...
Not like that’s a problem... My hole was the centre of my universe now. Who needs brains when you’re full of juicy cocks?
It felt like my whole body was shaking. Or was that the room? The building? Maybe the country? I heard my high school trophies rattle and move on the bookshelf. It had to be an earthquake – nothing else could do this!
I felt my body twisting and morphing. Holy fuck... my chest was growing so fast I could actually see it move. I’ve always had a good pair of pecs but... damn girl, these were muscle tits. Big and round and sensitive. I grabbed one through my overstretched tee and squeezed, screaming at how good it felt.
Against the floor, I could feel my ass going through the same process. I’ve done like... so many squats, but putting on the thong was like doing a million more. My back lifted off the floor, unable to lay flat anymore. I felt the thong settle in deeply... I was gonna look so fuckin’ slutty...
I stared up in bliss as my championship trophy teetered on the edge of it’s shelf, balancing precariously for one long second until it plunged down towards my face.
My favourite dildo bounced harmlessly beside me. As harmless as a nine inch dildo can. I laughed – the trophy was already fading from my memory – this was so much more important. I loved that dildo... it was the only one that filled me up all the way.
A bottle of lube dropped down beside me, falling from my shelf of sex toys. The tremors were dying down. I gasped, trying to catch my breath. I felt like Coach had just worked me over for hours.
My hands grasped the toy and brought it towards my hole. I needed to get filled. It had been too damn long... I’m so dumb, I couldn’t even remember the last guy who fucked me. Sure, Blake kissed me the other night, but... what a fuckin’ tease, y’know? Like, what a fuckin’ prude. Girl says he’s gay, but he barely advertises. Not me tho... everyone knew Ryder Mackenzie was always down to fuck... always down to fuck... and... and...
Shit, my head was spinning. Too many poppers girl... you gotta watch yo-self. I struggled to my feet and stared in the floor length mirror.
Look at my ass... it was perfect. Yeah, I’d gained some muscle, but it was like all my fat drained back there too. I had to rip off my shirt – no way it could get past my pecs – my abs were tight and defined for the first time ever! My ass was soooo big and bouncy. A bubble butt!
A funny idea drifted through my empty head. I used to be straight. Unbelievable, right?
But the pink thong fixed me good!
I glanced around his transformed room. A shelf of dildos and butt plugs and lube. A pink bedspread that made the room pop. The walls were covered in posters – models and football stars, mostly pics they got taken for charity. I loved it – guys always acted like it was bad to show some skin... but I knew better.
That’s why my drawer is full of thongs. Pink, slutty thongs. It was like... my trademark. A tribute to the curse.
Most of my clothes were slutty – except for the team lift uniform coach made us wear. Compression shorts and a tanktop? Puhleeeese... if I had my way, we’d lift in our underwear. Yeah, most of the guys had tragic taste, but I could teach them a thing or two... too bad I didn’t hold out longer... a few more thongs on the team would really change our dynamic...
But Coach said I’d love the uniform, so yeah bro, I love the uniform. You gotta do whatever Coach tells you. Lucky Coach has a full cock and lotsa team spirit... man... I can’t wait til he creams in my hole...
I could still feel the thong whispering in my mind. Not like... words. Vibes.
I needed cock like... now!
A quick search on my phone, and I knew exactly where to find it.
I grabbed the first clothes he could find – a backwards cap and a pair of workout shorts, barely bigger than the thong. Who cared? Clothes? Where we’re going, we don’t need clothes!
I grabbed my keys, slapped on the seat warmer in my SUV, and drove off-campus.
I was headed for the village.
------------------------
I pulled into the empty parking lot of an office building. Nine 'til five, it’d be busy with corporate drones. After dark, this stretch of city transformed. You were more likely to find a drone in a rubber suit. I locked the SUV and swaggered down concrete stairs to a plexiglass window.
“Hello,” a middle-aged man said, his eyes going wide when he saw my powerful body on display. Two hundred and forty pounds of muscle, six foot three inches tall, and with a waspish waist to make my ass look huge. If football didn’t pan out, I could always do porn.
“Welcome to The Steam Room,” the attendant stammered. “Would you like a one-time pass or a membership?”
“I’m gonna need the membership,” I grinned with charisma, slapping down my credit card.
“You know that’ll show on your statement,” the guy asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Baby, I’m out,” I laughed, the thong glowing with approval. “Ain’t no-one confused about me.”
“Lots of guys aren’t,” the man behind the plexiglass shrugged. He was somewhere in Gen X, pulled between the conservative shame of his parents and the modern boldness of my generation. “Monthly or yearly? It’s a 20% discount if you pay for the year.”
“Whatever daddy, I don’t do math,” I laughed again. “Just gimme what gets me cock.”
The guy behind the glass took my card and ran it.
“Get in there,” he said, buzzing the door open. “Seems like you need it.”
“Take a break and find out,” I flirted, treating him to a wink. I felt a little wave of pleasure run over me. The thong wanted me to be a slut... and I was nailing it!
Inside the bathhouse it felt like a maze, but it was only a few steps down to the change room. I found a locker, loving the stares I got from naked men as I stripped down to nothing. Soon I’d joined in, navigating down the twisty hallway and checking out the scene.
Most of the doors were closed, but I saw a few open, guys lying their with their ass exposed or their cock in the air. My body was a little too wide for the cramped passageways of The Steam Room, but I didn’t mind when my cock brushed against the first guy I encountered.
“Looking for someone?” the man said in a deep English accent.
The guy had at least twenty years on me, but that didn’t matter to my hole. It twitched as soon as we made eye contact. The Englishman was going grey, he was carrying thirty pounds of spare tire, and he’d missed the memo on sunscreen... but yeah... his cock was huge and hard.
“I’m just like... lookin’ for the steam room?” I joked, acting like a confused straight boy who wandered into the wrong establishment. I’m not the brightest bulb, but it felt sexy to play up my dumb jock vibe even more than normal.
“Let me show you,” the guy smirked. “It’s just over here.”
The guy turned and walked away, leaving me trailing in his wake. I couldn’t help but admire the confidence. It was turning me on, even more, if that was possible. Precum dripped off my cock... my balls were so full... I needed to get fucked soon...
Thirty seconds later we were in a sauna, seated next to each other on a cedar bench. Cold tile pressed against my back, hot steam filled my lungs.
“Glad we’re alone,” the Englishman said. “I don’t like an audience.” He leaned down and locked his lips around my cock, slurping off the salty head. “So what are you looking for boy?”
“I want you to fuck me,” I gasped as the Englishman dove onto my cock again. “I want you to take that big Daddy cock and fuck me.”
“You want me to suck you for a while first?” he teased.
“No Daddy,” I moaned. “I need you to fuck my ass. Please!”
“Please what?” the Englishman grinned.
I was the big man on campus, but we weren’t on campus, were we?
“Please sir!” I gasped instinctively. “Fuck my slutty hole!”
The Englishman reached back and pumped something from a dispenser on the wall, gripping his cock and coating it with something slippery. “Go on then,” he told me. “Get that hole lubed up for Daddy.”
I started with two pumps from the dispenser and reached backwards, rubbing the lube into my hole. All my life, I’d avoided my ass – that was gay after all. But damn... it felt so fucking good. Being gay felt so fucking good! I worked a finger into my hole aggressively.
“Go slow,” the Englishman whispered as he nibbled on my earlobe. “That’s a good boy... we’ve got all night.”
I was up to three fingers when the sauna door swung open and a dark-skinned man entered. He sat on the bench opposite to us, taking his cock in his hand and jerking himself off as he watched.
The Englishman glanced at me, tipping his head towards the door, but I ignored the gesture. One or two minutes to find an empty room... I didn’t know if I could wait that long. Besides... I could feel the thong whispering vibes from inside it’s locker... it was hot having someone watch...
So instead of moving rooms, I lowered myself onto the Englishman’s cock, my wide back pressed against his flabby chest, my own cock facing out towards the audience. My audience. I loved when people watched.
Underneath me, the Englishman was lost in pleasure, all thoughts of privacy washed away. My ass swallowed his cock whole.
“Fuck...” he moaned behind my hard-built body. “That’s right... fuck yourself on my Daddy cock... take it boy...”
I couldn’t believe how good I felt. Every thrust of the Englishman’s cock hit a spot deep inside of me, sending jolts of ecstasy through my body. It was the perfect throw, the perfect touchdown, the team chanting your name... all at once.
Someone’s gotta tell the straight guys... sex is way better than they think.
Lips pressed against mine and I opened my eyes. Another guy, a twinky little dude had joined the party. He ran his hands over my once-in-a-million body, straddling the line between appreciation and worship. I kissed back and bounced my pecs in perfect time to the cock inside me.
Fuck yeah. Whoever cursed me... thank you, thank you, thank you!
The guy across the sauna stood up and sat beside the Englishman, taking one of my pecs into his mouth and sucking while he jerked his own cock. I grabbed the back of his head held him there. It all felt so fucking good...
“Nnnnnnngggg....” the Englishman grunted from behind him. “Keep it up boy, I’m gonna... I’m gonna...”
I felt the cock jerk and pulse inside me, flooding my guts with cum for the very first time. The first of thousands. Millions maybe. I wasn’t any good with numbers, not anymore... all that mattered was taking loads.
There was some kind of reverb happening inside me. As the Englishman filled me with cum, the thong filled him with good vibes. He was vibrating under me as he heard the thong whisper into his mind for the first time.
The dark skinned guy wrapped his lips around my cock, barely grazing the head. It didn’t matter. I exploded instantly.
Shot after shot of sticky cum flowed down the cocksucker’s throat. And more vibes, more need, more lust from the thong.
“You still wanna go somewhere private?” I purred at the Englishman.
“Shut up boy,” he growled, clamping a hand over my mouth. Suddenly I was bent over, braced against the bench on my elbows, the Englishman lining up his cock for another pass. Both the other guys kept working my body as he fucked me... I managed to get my cock into one of their mouths... it didn’t matter which one...
I realized that yeah... technically I was cheating on Charlotte... but whatever, right? She cheated on me with Blake. Besides, I was gonna break up with her anyway. I needed to live like... my authentic life, y’know?
The Englishman dropped three more loads inside me.
I didn’t leave until long after midnight. By then the thong had whispered into a dozen different minds. It’s not like every guy that fucks me turns into a jock or whatever... but they definitely find their slutty side.
------------------------
With cum soaking through the back of my shorts, I drove down to Charlotte’s dorm and sent her a text.
“Hey gurl, I’m outside... we gotta talk lol”
No big deal, right? Your boyfriend got hit with a curse and now he’s a cock obsessed slut. Just like Blake, except Blake was like... a level one gay. I was a goddamn QUEEN. Still... if Blake wanted to fuck my ass...
Charlotte’s keys came flying out the window.
I hoped she wouldn’t make a big deal about this. Get all clingy and wanna go out clubbing with me. I needed cock and plenty of it – there was no time to babysit the straights.
The sooner this breakup was done, the better.
I hurried up the stairs to Charlotte’s room. When I stepped inside I just about dropped the keys. Charlotte wasn’t there – but some other guy was. He was totally hot – a couple inches shorter than me and packed with muscle. Dude looked flexible too... like maybe he could suck his own cock...
“About fuckin’ time,” the guy snapped at me, pulling me out of my fantasy. “Where the hell have you been?”
He was familiar, like Charlotte’s brother, like... if Charlotte had a brother. The same blond hair. That same set of dimples...
The thong urged me on. Fuck him... Fuck him right now...
“Uh... hey,” I said cautiously. “Who are you?”
“It’s Charlotte,” the hottie said, rolling his eyes. “But like... it’s Charlie now, okay? I guess my intent wasn’t pure or whatever, cause... well... results were fucking unpredictable.”
“I don’t get it,” I said, playing up my confusion. “Who are you, and like... why are you pissed at me?”
Charlie took a deep breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth.
“Sorry,” he says. “Testosterone’s one hell of a drug. I’m either pissed or horny... kinda both to be honest. One second I’m here scrolling TikTok, and suddenly...”
Charlie grabbed at his cock and squeezed.
“The curse?” I asked, starting to clue in. “The webpage said something about...?”
“Yeah,” Charlie signed, crashing backwards onto the bed. “Blake told me about it, and I found the page and figured... I mean, Blake and I were hooking up and you were playing second string and Blake figured we’d be a total power couple...”
“Dude...” I laughed, crashing down on the bed beside him. “You had to go with a magical curse? You couldn’t just dump me or whatever?”
“We just... I dunno, we thought it’d be easier,” Charlie shrugged, trying to look innocent. “The gay dudes woulda lined up for you, ya know?”
“So you cursed me?” I asked, staring with wide eyes. “And it changed you too, is that it?”
“Yeah, except instead of making me into a football fan or whatever, it went way further – I’m like, on the cheer squad now. Maybe it’s cause you resisted, maybe it’s cause I used it wrong, but... bro, looks like I’m your biggest fuckin' fan!”
I could feel my cock stiffening up in my shorts. This whole thing was fucked up, but Charlie was like... totally my type. And the biggest fan thing didn’t hurt either...
“Wait... how do you know that?” I asked with genuine confusion. “You totally look like you could do flips and shit, no lie there, but like... I didn’t exactly get a memo on the new me.”
“Fuuuuuck... you like... never check your phone, do ya?” Charlie laughed, grabbing his phone from its charger. “You know the curse has socials, right?”
He shoved his phone at my face. It was the instagram page, trading cards for gay guys, but where there’d just been a shadow before... now there was a photo of me and Charlie. The cheerleader’s arm was wrapped casually around my bare chest. Both of us looking relaxed and happy.
My labels were still intact, but a new set had been added for Charlie: “Dumb Blond”, “Cheerleader”, and for the line coming from his cock... “Obsessed with Ryder”.
There were more words down below, but I wasn’t interested in reading. Charlie’s cock was hard against his pyjama pants.
“I dunno bro,” I teased, grabbing onto Charlie’s cock and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Maybe you should give Blake a call... you two are fuckbuddies, arent’cha...?”
“We can call if you want,” Charlie shrugged. “But he’s gonna wanna top your gay ass.”
“And that’s different from you... how?” I said with playful grin.
“I’ll do it better,” Charlie winked. “Besides, I’m already here.”
Enough screwing around. I leaned in and kissed my boyfriend.
“One rule,” I said, working my hand over Charlie’s shaft. “No way we’re exclusive. I took like... six loads today.”
Charlie hooked his thumbs around my shorts and flung them to the floor. He flipped me over easily – I coulda stopped him, but it turned me on to submit. Besides, I knew exactly where this was heading.
I pushed my hips back, raising up my quarterback ass. Charlie pulled off my thong, clearing the way for his cock.
“Six loads,” he as he stuck a finger in my hole. “So far...”
We made it eight.