Synopsis: Jack is given a bong that changes his life.
Jack decided to start smoking grass before his senior year of high school.
“Everyone else does it…” he’d say.
Jack had been using crude tin foil bowls as a means for getting high until finally one day as Jack left school Billy, one of the potheads who’d always hang out in the schoolyard, offered to sell Jack a nice bong.
“I’ll bring it tomorrow,” the boy said. “Looks like you need it.”
“Uh ok, sure.” Jack responded.
Jack walked home unsure of what to think. “I’m not gunna be a pothead, just a little bud now and again is all.”
Jack’s popularity with teachers and friends was high. Jack’s clean-cut image was something he prided himself on.
That night Jack laid awake in bed thinking…
“I think that kid’s name was Billy…”
“Billy… is that the kid who everybody says is the pothead with no life?”
Jack thought of the stark differences between himself and Billy.
“For starters, I’m not a pothead…”
“…I just need a bong so I can smoke better.”
As he fell asleep Jack’s mind returned to thinking about his daily school work, along with a litany of normal things. The following day Jack met Billy around back toward the school’s access bays.
“Here it is man, freshly cleaned and everything!”
Billy handed the used bong to Jack, who yanked it fast out of Billy’s hands.
“Thanks,” he said.
* * *
That night as Jack took the first rip he couldn’t help but cough up a lung… and his high became extreme thereafter…
“Woah dude, dude, my head…” Jack said to himself aloud.
Jack’s mind clouded with images of bongs, jeebs, blunts, bowls, and rasta colored everything. “Huh?
Adding to the mix now was a certain rush of energy leading down to his dick…
“My- woah I’m high…” … “Horny?”
Jack was still wrapping his head around the high when he began itching all around his hardening cock…
In a matter of minutes Jack saw a cluster of new hairs begin to grow out all around his dick. The increasing pleasure from his hand scratching lead to a full-on jerking motion now.
“And wait a minute… am I shrinking?” Jack was using his memory of jerking motions and he realized the strokes were becoming shorter…
Jack yanked and massaged his dick as it throbbed… throbbed smaller… each throb had his dick shrinking in length mere centimeters…
By the time the horniness subsided Jack estimated his dick to be only five and a half inches… “and hairy as fuck all the sudden.”
“Aw fuck dude,” Jack could think of just one thing… “I wanna take another.”
Josh was a straight A, 4.0 GPA top student. But he always sort of envied the lazy stoner kids who barely put in any effort and hung out together, smoking their strange-smelling weed. Finally, with study sessions stressing him out, he went up with them and asked them if he could hang out. They were very happy to get a new friend. Of course, after a few tokes, he started feeling funny. He was hungry and felt so lazy and slow. Every bite of snacks made his belly bulge…and his crotch, too. He could feel his smarts and intelligence draining away and replaced with laid-back happiness. “Duuude, what’s in this stuff? You guys are starting to look like skunks…” “Hehehe, should we tell him?” “Sssh! You’ll spoil the surprise! Wait until he’s one of us for good…”
*Request for musclelover4826 sorry it took so long.
You and your older brother Chad weren’t like most brothers, you hung out every day playing video games, watching movies and just hanging out. That was until Shane moved next door. Shane introduced Chad to weed and then that was it. No more video games, no more movies, no more brother time. Chad spent all his time getting high with Shane. You needed your older brother back and it seemed the only way to do that was get rid of Shane. Chad and Shane had a system. Shane would leave weed under the floorboards of the porch once a week for Chad. You decided to come home early one day and hide the weed before Chad got it. Then he wouldn’t have any weed to smoke and he’d blame Shane, ending their friendship.
Making sure no one was watching you carefully extracted the baggie from under the floorboard. You were about to sneak back into your room when a strange desire hit you. You needed this weed. Your hands began shaking and drool dripped from your mouth at the site of the sticky kush. Almost in a trance you began rolling the weed into a blunt with the paper Shane had included. You licked it close enjoying the taste on your tongue, a sample of what was to come. You found a lighter Chad had left in the windowsill.
Puff puff
“Oh maaaaaan” you almost moaned, your voice deep and slow and full of smoke as you exhaled a fog of envoloping smoke. You felt the tingle hit every muscle in your body, sinking you into the chair. Everything felt so relaxed and itchy. You pulled up your shirt seeing thick black hairs crawing out of your skin and over your belly. “Ew gross where is all this hair coming from?” You tug at your shirt and pull it over your head in a hurry. The hair has reached your belly button and continues in an almost unbroken line between your pecs before spreading all over your chest. Your spare hand finds its way to your growing nipples which have become large and sensitive. Your pecs expand and soften with fat and you develop a bit of a belly beneath the dense treasure trail. You groan in pleasure and confusion before recognizing your larger hairy chest. “I’m becoming Shane…” you realize with a mix of terror and excitement.
Puff puff
“I’m becoming Shane…” you repeat with a flat voice and a dumb grin. You notice your arms bulking up, muscle and fat blossoming across them. Getting thick and strong. You flex a big bicep. “Yeah mayne…” you moan. Your hands swell, clumsy thick sausage fingers wrapping around the blunt as you continue puffing. Hair grows on the back of arms and hands, going down across your fingers. Shoulders swell and broaden and thick tuffs of hair erupt from under your arms evoking a famp musky aroma around you that mixes with the sweet smell of weed. You’re disgusted and aroused by your new stinky aura.
Puff puff
You hear a loud rip as Shane’s fat hairy toes pop out of your shoes. Your small size 7s expand across the hard floor, becoming long wide size 12 boats. The bottoms of your feet get hard and dirty. You laugh and easily kick off the bits of tattered fabric, wiggling your big toes and putting your smelly feet up on the guard rails. More and more hair crawls across your now thick legs, your thighs double in size and a thick, hairy ass pushes out from behind you, shredding your shorts and leaving you in just your tight underwear.
Puff puff
A fat, hairy cock flops out of your underwear and slaps against your belly, filling you with pleasure. Your tiny balls inflate with your new stoner cream and push hormones in your body. With one hand you grip your blunt while the other massages your large meaty cock.
Puff puff
A thick chinstrap forms over your face which ages and loses its youth and innocence. Your brow gets heavier and thicker. Your eyes turn dark and dull and youth mouth hangs open a dumb grin. Small studs appear in your ears and your hair shortens and becomes sweaty and unwashed.
Puff puff
You struggle one last time to fight Shane’s dominating presense. Your hand glued to your dick and each puff and stroke making it harder to think, harder to resist.
Puff puff
“I’m… not…”
Puff puff
“I’m…”
Puff puff splat
“I’m Shane bro” you give a goofy grin as you splatter cum all over your hairy belly and start rubbing it in. No more little bro to get between you and Chad now. You lean back and wait for your best friend to get home so you can smoke and stroke and chill. Just the two of you together forever now.
“I’m uhh…. wait… Why did you call me a dumb stoner a second ago? I’m nothing like one.”
What are you talking about Jack? You’re telling me you’re really not a stoner?
“I’m not Jack, I’m—,”
You’re who?
“—Jack?”
Jack you’re so high right now. You’re the laziest, most stupid stoner I’ve seen roaming the streets in a long time. We’ve all seen your type… When waking up all you do each morning is lay in bed and touch yourself, and take hits from your many bongs.
“No– I don’t… do that… I’m..”
Jack, you always do that. It’s all you think about doing. Even right now you’re hard and aching to touch yourself, aren’t you?
“I- uhh.”
Try to think about real life shit… you can’t, can you? Your dick keeps interrupting. Oh, and how do you even spell the word ‘rite?’ Is it ‘righte?’ Fuck you can’t even remember. Just think about your stoner dick man.
Hey I like that tattoo by the way, I like how it’s filled in green.
“Fuck dude im so horny ur rite.”
Well, get strokin’ man don’t wait for me! You love playing with that dumb stoner dick all the time. Stroke that thin 7-incher… up and down, up and down, you love pot and you love strokin’ all day long.
“Uhnnnn dude. up—- up and down, up and down.”
Up and down. Don’t bother cleaning up your spunk. Your room is a mess anyway.
I thought it was a joke at first when Kyle locked in me inside his bedroom… we’d just had a fight about life goals and the like. Maybe it wasn’t my place because I’d only known him for a few months via work but I knew he could do better with a little motivation to clean up his act. I had hoped coming over would show I was serious about helping him. Now I’m stuck trying to get out of his room!
Banging on the door didn’t work, yelling didn’t work, and there was no cell reception or window I could jump out of. Not only that but it was getting hot. I looked around and saw sports and gaming posters on the wall and a dirty, stained carpet with clothes littered everywhere. It smelled like a locker room too! I looked around and found empty liquor bottles, pot, and the like. There were even used condoms around the trash can on the effing floor!
I was trying to get out when the itching started and I had to take off my clothes to see what was happening. I saw a dusting of hair beginning to grow out on my chest, and my armpits were itchy as fuck. I walked around looking for anything that would help me get out but I was getting dizzy so I sat down in front of the mirror.
At first I swore my eyes were playing tricks but then I saw more chest hair growing. I felt it with my hands and it was real, and my hands were bigger also. It was so hot and it was getting harder to concentrate. I knew I needed to get out… of… m-my room… but why? There’s a guy… him! Ugh I don’t know. It’s just so hot in here and my d-dong stick… my fuckstick… UGH… My phatty dong. Shit! It’s so hard! WTF is wrong with my head, I can’t think for shit!
Maybe some gaming will help. I better have a handle of vodka in here too because it’s about the only thing I can think of that will calm me the fuck down! Actually fuck all that, I’m just gunna jack my phat dong off and try to shoot my load on the wall, haha.
One moment, you’re frantically cramming for your upcoming finals, and the next, you are standing outside, in the fog. The cold air is bracing against your skin, and you can see your breath misting up in front of your face. It’s spring. It shouldn’t be this cold. But that’s the least of your worries, as you’re in a city that you don’t recognize, at the corner of two streets that shouldn’t exist, in front of an imposing store front that is difficult to see through the haze.
You could go anywhere that you want. You feel that you have that choice. You could turn around and leave, or you could follow either road that was behind you, but you don’t. Your feet carry you forward, and as you push open the door, and the bell rings, you realize with a start that you’re elsewhere again.
You can feel the sun beating down on your back, but there’s a haze in front of your face again. At first, you find it weird, that the fog isn’t getting burned away by the bright daylight, but then you remember, silly you, that it isn’t fog. It’s smoke. You giggle to yourself, at first surprised to find how vapid and empty the sound is, only for the thought to slip promptly out of your grasp as you take another drag from the rolled up joint pressed between your lips.
Your head feels fuzzy… Foggy… It feels wrong… At least until you inhale more smoke, and then it feels just right. You know that you’re not supposed to feel this slow, this dumb, but your thoughts are going at a snail’s pace right now, and you’re not about to win any awards for complex ideas.
You giggle as you realize that your ass is hanging out of your shorts. What are you doing thinking about smart stuff? What are you doing thinking about thoughts? Everyone knows that you’re not very good at those. For a moment, you feel as though that’s wrong, that you’re really a very intelligent student, but another puff of smoke makes that thought pop like a delicate soap bubble, sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine.
“Hey babe,” someone says, as he comes up behind you and presses his crotch to your exposed ass, “thought I’d find you here… At your usual spot.” You giggle again, sounding so dumb, and so mindless, and so thoughtless that it makes your little dick hard. You grind your ass against your boyfriend’s hips and groan, begging for him to fuck you as you take another drag from your joint.
All it takes for you to forget the rest of your previous life is the feeling of your boyfriend sliding his cock up and down your crack and into your tight little hole. It’s the best feeling in the world, and you could almost feel your brain melting into a little puddle of mush, trickling out the tip of your cock.
Maybe you were looking for more of a temporary solution to your problem, a brief vacation, maybe, from all your smarts and all your anxiety, but doesn’t it feel so much better to be a good little stoned sexed-up, fucked-stupid slut for your boyfriend? Yeah. It does, doesn’t it?
Not like you know any better now, anyway…
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Thanks dude *giggle* me and him.are sooo happy now!
“You gotta try this weed, dude,” said my roommate, swaggering into my room in just a tank top and his underwear.
“I need to study,” I said, trying not to stare. he was a big muscle jock, always getting high with his friends and pumping iron when he wasn’t playing videogames.
“Just try,” he teased, his eyelids heavy as he leaned his face down next to me. I tried to look away, to fixate on the book I was trying to read. “Just try it. Just once.” I could smell the pot on his breath.
“No man,” I said. “Please just let me study.”
He took a long drag on the joint in his hand, then leaned back down in my face, holding his breath and smiling like an idiot.
“Just go awa–” I started, and then he coughed in my face, and all the smoke billowed around me. I gasped, inhaling a bunch of it, and suddenly I couldn’t remember what we were saying.
“What was that?” he said.
“Just… uh … lemme try it,” I slurred, feeling dumb and giddy. I put the joint in my mouth, inhaled, and felt so gooooood.
“Why you wearin’ clothes, man?” my roommate asked. I looked down. Why was I? I couldn’t remember what good clothes were. What’s the point? I pulled my pants down, and my roommate helped me yank off my shirt.
Naked, I leaned back on my bed, rubbing my long hair in relaxed bliss. My roommate crouched down at the bottom of the bed, grinning at me.
“Whaddya doin’?” I laughed.
He just took my foot in his mouth and started sucking. Mmmm, nice. I wiggled my toes for him, then noticed the plate of pot brownies he’d brought in and set near the bed. I grabbed one and took a bite – wow, so good. My head swam, my mind sunk, and by the time I finished the first brownie I couldn’t even tell you my name.
Read more tales of sexy gay transformation by Douglas Benjamin: http://bit.ly/DBGPlus
Its no secret that i like to get high every now and then. Like parties and lazy friday nights and stuff I’m usually kicking around with a joint in my pocket, ready to light up at the first oportunity.
I want to clear something up before we keep talkin about this tho. I’m not one of those lazy fucks who’s always just lying around playing video games or raiding the fridge. I just like using weed cause it turns my brain off for a few hours.
I still workout more than anyone I know. And I swim like six days a week. But I like the way I can barely think when I’m high – just chill out instead of talk talk talking all the time. Sometimes I get so high that I just forget whats going on half thru the sentence and…
Yeah. I luv that.
Where was I? Right, so like last weekend my buddy Paul corners me at Jess’s party and he tells me he’s got this bomber joint. Dude claims he paid a thousand bucks for this, and I’m just laughing along. No way right? Pauls always been kinda out there so just roll with it…
We go out on the deck and light up. Paul hands me the joint and tells me to take the first drag. I feel the smoke in my chest, hold it there, and release it in a long stream.
“Whoa…I said”. “That’s some good shit.”
It’s hitting me fast.
“Take another hit” Paul says handing me back the joint.
I do. Fuck yea, my brain is getting hazy already.
Next time Paul takes the joint, I notice that he doesn’t actually take a drag. He just waits, then hands it back to me…
So I take another
And another
Soon the joint is nearly gone, and Paul just keeps telling me to smoke more.
“You sure u don’t want…” I said
“Yeah bro,” he says. “I kinda got it for you.”
It’s hard to follow what he’s saying.
“It’s permaweed” he says. “You’re gonna stay this high forever. And with the sex drive it gives you, you’re gonna make me some sweet coin when I sell your swimmer ass to this rich fag that got me the joint.”
“Huh?” I say. That didn’t really make sense. What was…what’d he call it. Whatever.
“Take the last hit…” he hands me the joint. So I do what Paul says. It’s easy to just follow.
I inhale deep, and a funny idea comes into my head. I grab Paul and kiss him deep, exhaling into his lungs. His eyes get wide…Lol, I know he can feel a buzz off the weed, even with just one hit
I tell him to take another…one long drag that finishes off the joint. This is so fuckin funny. He takes it.
We ended out the night in my bed like we sumtimes do. When I woke up in the morning tho…my head was still like this. Weird. Nothin is making sense.
“Hey Marc…” says Paul. He’s got this goofy gleam in his eye. “Go shower. I’ll come in and join you soon…”
Sounds like a plan. Fuck I’m still so fucked up I think I’d do just about anything someone told me to.
Paul and I scrub eachother down in the shower. I suck his thick cock while he stands there, just enjoying the water.
“Marc, just put on your underwear.” he says after we get out. So I do. Then we walk to the front yard…to be honest I’m really just following Paul.
There’s this black limo there. Paul tells me to get in, so I do.
“Paul…” says a voice in the dark of the car. “Did u smoke any of that joint?”
Paul lets out this giggle.
“Get in the car Paul,” the voice commands.
A year later, I’ve gained 20 pounds of muscle, but I probably lost that much in brains haha. My owner does all my thinking for me and Paul. Paul is my gym buddy and my fuckboi now, except for the nites when our owner wants one of our asses.
It’s the fuckin life, I tell u bro. I just gotta lift and swim and walk around in nothin but a speedo or a bright colored jockstrap. Paul has his own costume… our owner has him working as a butler in just a white thong and a black bow tie.
If you can remember how he was before visiting me something must’ve gone wrong. It’s a shame I can’t change him back so that means I will have to change you instead. You say you were best friends? I will make you just like him then. This way you can be friends again. First your clothes need to change man. No more nerdy clothes for you. Let’s change your wardrobe to only contain t-shirts, skinny jeans, and sneakers. Then I will change your hair. Let’s give you long brown hair, that’ll suit you. Some nice muscles to rock the shirts and tanktops you’ll be wearing.
From now on school won’t be the most important thing in your life. That’s hanging and smoking with your best friend from now on. You can be best friends again. Isn’t that great?
He assumed that the magic basketball would turn him into a studly basketball jock. He was wrong. The chubby nerd’s layer of fat melted away but instead of turning into muscle it just stayed off, leaving him skinny and scrawny. He knew that his intelligence and booksmarts would drain away, but as his eyes dulled and his mouth hung open stupidly he didn’t feel the cocky, aggressive need for dominance he expected – no, he felt chill, relaxed, laidback. Soon a dopey grin would break out on his face. He’d still be a basketball player, just a different kind than he imagined – instead of a jock on the team, dedicated to the sport, he’d just be casually shooting hoops with his stoner buddies.
Muscle Tf Lover 