Smokin' New Life
|After leaving his life as Billy behind, DeShaun spent several weeks getting to know the rest of the cigar guys. He learned about their former lives, and many of them had stories similar to his. Travis, who looked like he belonged in an Abercrombie and Fitch ad, used to be Timmy, pushing 300 pounds as a high school senior. Bryan had been Bobby, a kid so clumsy both socially and physically, he literally and figuratively fell flat on his face day in and day out. Now, Bryan had the body of a pro linebacker.
DeShaun knew there were plenty of guys on campus who could benefit from the life change as he had. Where Billy had been shy, reserved and generally unattractive, DeShaun was confident, sexy and had a way of getting along with people, especially hot girls. He decided it would be his mission to transform as many of the unlucky kids at the university as he could.
One night, as he was getting ready to go out, decking himself out in as fashionable an outfit as he had, DeShaun got Nick to help him go around to the rest of his dorm floor and invite some of the less-than-perfect kids to the cigar house. Once they were there, DeShaun would bring them the black cigars and welcome them to their new realities.
Part of him wondered if this wasn't some really sick, twisted fantasy gone horribly wrong. But all he had to do was think back to who he used to be, and knew he was doing the right thing for these guys.
Just before midnight, Nick and DeShaun assembled their group and left the dorm. In tow were John, a former track athlete who'd let himself go; Steve, a pudgy kid who could barely bring himself to look a girl in the eye; Chip, a mama's boy who called home four times a day; and Greg, a positively fat man gaining even more weight thanks to his college meal plan.
They arrived at the house and led the boys inside, and watched as they reacted to the scene of hunky guys smoking cigars in much the same way DeShaun, then Billy, had. When the pleasantries had been completed, DeShaun brought them each a black cigar and helped them light them. He and Nick watched anxiously as they began to smoke the mystical stogies, all of them coughing, and Chip looking like he wanted to vomit.
Right as they were finishing, Nick had an idea. "Yo dude," he whispered to DeShaun, "since it takes two cigars to get the best results, why don't we just give them another one now, speed up the process a bit?" DeShaun smiled and nodded, locking arms with Nick in affirmation.
They presented Steve, Chip, John and Greg with their second black stogies and let them light them for themselves. By the time they were finished all four boys were exhausted, and asked Travis, who ran the house, if they could crash there. Travis agreed, and all four boys passed out on the floor of the living room.
Since DeShaun knew all of his changes had taken place overnight while he slept, he was excited to be able to watch his new bros make their changes. He settled in on the couch, smoking on a blunt and waiting impatiently for the transformations to begin.
Several minutes after the kids fell asleep, DeShaun noticed Greg's body trembling. "Aw yeah bro," he said to no one in particular, "here it goes." Greg, the monster of an 18-year-old, was losing fat at a rate impossible by any other means. Once all the fat had melted away, DeShaun gazed as the loose skin reformed itself and turned a golden brown. Greg's shoulder length blonde hair shortened to a buzz cut and turned jet black, much the same as Billy's intermediate form. Greg's facial features rearranged until the formerly plain boy was clearly becoming a Hispanic man.
Now was the most extreme part. Greg's body, stripped of all its former padding, began to inflate, only now in muscle instead of lard. His pecs ballooned out, the nipples eventually pointing straight down. His biceps grew to baseball size and kept on going, and DeShaun watched intently as Greg's lats pushed his ever expanding arms outward from his body. Abs began to poke through his midsection, first a weak four but quickly morphing into a shredded eight pack of washboard muscle. His stick legs exploded with mass, diamond shaped calves offsetting thick hams of Greg's thighs. Where Greg had just minutes earlier been a cow, he had become a Latin bull.
"Damn, yo," DeShaun said, toking on his second blunt of the night. Chip was next. His body most closely resembled Billy's original form, gaunt and acne-ridden. That wouldn't last long. Muscle exploded all over the frame, though not quite as extremely as Greg had. His forearms now were thicker than his legs had been before, and his traps pointed the way from his broad shoulders to his square-jawed face. Stubble grew in all over, a dirty blonde color, which would go nicely with the sky blue eyes he would discover in the morning. Chip's hair lightened to an almost bleached shade, spiked in the front and nearly shaved on the sides. The sheltered child had become the California surfer.
As Chip finished his transformation, Steve's began. Steve had been fat as well, but not nearly the tub of goo that Greg had been. His love handles receded, exposing y-shaped muscles that led seductively from his midsection to his crotch. Abs, arms, chest all grew out until Steve had a body that could win him a bodybuilding contest. As he slept, probably dreaming the same bizarre dreams DeShaun had, his massive pecs heaved up and down with every breath. The round face became strong and severe, a goatee shaping up in dark brown. All of Steve's hair fell out, and he was completely bald as Nick and DeShaun were.
"A'ight, dude, this is what I wanted," DeShaun said, knowing there was only one more change to be made. John still looked like he was relatively in shape, but his unremarkable features obviously weren't winning him much attention from the ladies. That wouldn't last long. He, just like the others, ballooned with new muscle, surpassing even the levels Greg and Steve had. He was huge, positively freaky, and completely shredded. Vascular forearms led the way to 24" biceps, accompanied by doorway-wide shoulders and a neck that looked like it had muscle on top of muscle. His legs, already toned from years of running, exploded into machine-like pistons of muscle and sinew, his thighs so wide he wouldn't be able to walk without swinging back and forth. Finally, as his body finished inflating, his skin changed color to a light tan, not as dark as the now-Hispanic Greg but certainly not pasty white as it had been. His eyelids flipped themselves inside out, and his cheekbones became more pronounced. His hair turned midnight black and formed into a flat top, and all semblance of facial hair disappeared. John (though maybe Jin was more appropriate) was now a Chinese muscle god, outweighing the others by a mile.
DeShaun looked over his new bros and exhaled a long stream of marijuana smoke. Finishing a third blunt, he laughed silently to himself as the sun came up outside. "Good fuckin' night, y'all."
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