Always Try the House Blend
by Flashpoint
Joey had had to search all over town to find a shop that sold pipes and pipe tobacco. He had started working in this town three months earlier but had decided to still live in his home 20 miles away. It made for a commute, but he didn't want to give up his apartment... the rent was excellent. Besides which, he loved his job, and for that, he'd work in, and even commute to, a small town if he had to, but he hated living in them.
Joey had been talking with an internet buddy into pipes and cigars, and had acquired a sort of interest in them.. yes, yes, he knew all about the dangers of smoking, had studied them at length in school and had them pounded into his head on a regular basis every day. But there was definitely something about a pipe that interested him, although he could not say what.. he'd been feeling a particular heat in his belly for them in recent days. He didn't know why…
But things were leading him to it.. he kept smelling the sweet pungent odor of a pipe somewhere around him all the time, no matter where he was.. someone smoking one near where he worked and the aroma wafted in his window, that unique scent coming into his car from a nearby one while waiting for a stoplight, someone in passing mentioning it unsolicited. He finally succumbed when he was driving to run an errand for work and was stuck behind a large trailer bed full of grass clippings, smelling strongly of the sweet odor of.. well, you know. After that, he went directly to the phone book, to find the only two tobacco shops in the town, incontinently located from anywhere. It took driving for awhile, but he finally found got to one of them, tucked into the shopping mall in a catty-corner to Sears and almost invisible.
Joey had a notion of going in as though he knew exactly what he was looking for, but discarded it immediately; he wasn't the bluffing type, and besides which, he had a genuine desire to learn what he could about them. He probably wouldn't buy anything this first go, but he'd see what there was, in any event.
The shop was a little dark, but not unpleasantly so, and the aroma of tobacco from cigars and loose pipe tobacco was pungent, but not overwhelming. And the displays were neat, well put-together, and the place was clean. He nodded to himself, pleased.. he'd been in dank, dirty "smoke shops" before. Looking around, he was pleased by what he saw, but then, they *were* in a family shopping mall. They *had* to follow a certain look and style.
The cashier was busy with a line of customers at front, and Joey took the opportunity to look at the pipe display unmolested. He didn't dislike salespeople, but sometimes, they were just too pushy to make the sale when, in fact, he didn't know what he wanted and would prefer to think without interruption. In this case, it was perfect. He got a good long look at a number of pipes in the display case, some very nicely made ones, all elegant carving and delicate curves, and quite a few that were simple but even they had a good look to them. Even the ones that were inexpensive - he could only see the prices on a few - were well made and attractive. He still didn't know what he was doing or what he was after, but at least he felt a bit more confident having been exposed to them.
And with perfect timing, just when Joey felt ready to ask questions, the clerk finished with his customers and strolled back to the pipe display case. "Are you finding everything all right?"
Joey looked at him and kept the answer he wanted to make ("Fine, now that I've found you") to himself. The clerk was a very attractive man, and Joey felt a vague stirring in his groin. He was a little taller than Joey's 5'11", with black, trimmed hair and a dazzling smile. Also, he was young, very young.. he had to be early to mid-20s. His clothes were the style worn by his age group, shiny blue polyester shirt (how many esters died to make that shirt?) and jeans a bit wide in the leg (waste of good fabric). Joey was a good ten years older and although not conservative by any means, his mode of dress, polo shirt and tan shorts, was, shall we say, just a tad more on the sedate side. What set it off was Joey's shaved head and hoop earring. Joey and the clerk were definitely on different sides of the fashion wall. "Well, I had a few questions," Joey began. "I've just started pipe smoking" - that was patently false, he hadn't even tried one yet - "and I wanted to see what type of pipes you had. Also, can you recommend a good "starter" pipe tobacco to try?"
The clerk - his tag said Jared - smiled that dazzling smile. "Of course. Let me show you what I've got." I can see exactly what you've got, Joey thought, watching his shapely ass move toward the largest display case in the shop. He pointed out various briars, their attributes and differences, the value of meerschaum, the various types of construction. "We have them in all prices, ranging from $20 to $1200."
Joey's heart skipped a beat when he heard that top price and hurriedly said, "Uh, let's try more toward the lower price range." The clerk smiled a bit at that; he'd obviously heard that before. "What about those?" he said, picking out a handful right in front of him.
Jared took three or four pipes out of the collection there and put them on the counter. "Now, here we have stem shapes ranging from a straight, a one-quarter bend, a half-bend, a three-quarter bend, and a full bend. Now, I personally don't like a straight pipe, like this one," he said, holding one up, "I personally lean more toward a one-quarter bend."
Joey looked at them and they all seemed all right. He leaned away from the straight pipe as well.. there was nothing inherently bad about it, it just seemed too "Father Knows Best" for his taste. His eye was caught by the full bend - his internet buddy had one, he recalled, and it looked kind of sexy on him (having of course received numerous pics from him), but Joey decided maybe it was a bit extreme of a look for himself. Finally, he settled on the three-quarter bend.. there was something about this pipe that was different from the rest, and not just the degree of bend. It had a translucent stem, unlike the other ones, and a texture to the wood of the briar that the others did not, like an exotic hardwood. He knew it wasn't, just the dye added to the wood, and it was confirmed when Jared said, "That one's thirty dollars." Just then, more customers entered the store. "Oh, hey, I have to get these customers taken care of.. go ahead and look them over and see what you think." He disappeared to the front of the store.
Joey went over them again and again.. he wasn't really here to buy a pipe, and he wasn't poor but really should watch his money. These pipes were a bit much.. maybe he should go with a $20 one. It didn't have to be fancy, just get the job done... no, no, I have to watch my money. He experimented holding them, as he imagined that pipe smokers did, seeing which felt "right" in his hand. He kept coming back to the same three-quarter bend pipe.
"So, do you see anything you like?" Jared said, coming back to the counter a moment later. He smiled that smile again.
Joey opened his mouth to tell him he'd have to decide and come back. "Yes, I'll take this three-quarter bend." He blinked. He hadn't meant to do that. "Now can you recommend a good mild "starter" pipe tobacco?" What? He'd wanted to try one, and had the money on him, but this..!
Joey smiled again, his smile slightly different this time.. it was still dazzling, but now Joey was not just a stranger off the street, he was someone serious about smoking a pipe. Also, he was a sale. "Of course, right around here we have all of our pipe tobaccos, in these jars here," pointing some out. "I recommend a good sweet aromatic to start off with..." The conversation went into merits of different tobaccos, how harsh or mild, how sweet, and numerous smelling of jars to get a feel for the different scents. Joey nodded, still not able to undo the sale for some reason, and at the same time noting what Jared said with interest. There was more about pipes than he had realized, and it *was* interesting. Also, this way he could admire Jared's face and body up close (since he'd agreed to buy the pipe, Jared had gotten noticeably closer to him) and not seem like he was checking him out. But that shirt had to *go*.
Joey played it cool with Jared.. Joey wasn't sure Jared was gay, and due to some unfortunate mishaps in college about that very thing, Joey didn't approach a guy unless he *was* sure. Joey's gay radar had never been exemplary, starting with the time he'd mistaken the friendship of a football player in high school for wanting to get him into bed and most recently mistaking the attentions of the personal trainer at his gym, a local bodybuilder that Joey had lusted after since the moment he'd first seen him. That last had been humiliating, but the guy had a sense of humor and now called Joey "sweet cheeks" every time he came in the gym just to tease him about it. He also now worked Joey twice as hard in the gym as before. No animosity there, *but*...
Besides which, the kid - Joey was startled to realize he'd thought of the man that way; I'm not *that* old! he thought - was really a bit lean for Joey's taste.. Joey preferred the muscle boys, and the bulkier the better, to his mind. Ah, well..
Joey realized that Jared had stopped talking and was waiting for an answer. He cast back in his mind for the half-heard things the man had said and replied, "Well, I'm not sure I can decide.." - safe enough to say for someone not listening - "do you have one that you prefer? One that you can recommend?" Joey wasn't sure this was the last topic, but Jared answered in kind.
"Well, I recommend either Vermont Woods, it has a pleasant woodsy tone, or Chablis." He indicated a jar that was near to empty, but what was left had a sweet, almost cotton candy aroma. Joey nodded at the smell. Nice. "Unfortunately, we don't really have any Chablis right now." He looked annoyed at that. Obviously, someone in the shop hadn't done their job. "Tell you what, I could scrape out what's left of the Chablis and give it to you, since you seemed to like it. We're bound to get more in, and this will clean out the remainder."
Joey was a bit surprised at that offer, but he also caught the undertone there.. if you buy some more I'll give you this extra. Well, he liked the Chablis, so.. "Well, I'll take the Chablis.. I certainly liked it.. but do you have anything special? I want this first to be a special one. I want it to be everything I'd been waiting for." He could have bitten his tongue in half. He was *not* one to let his tongue run away from him. But then, Jared did have a nice smile.
Jared raised an eyebrow at that, but other than that didn't react. He seemed to be considering what to show Joey, and finally he said, "Well, I do have a special blend in the back. It's my own, not the store's. Would you like to see what it's like?" Joey quickly agreed, hoping his earlier gaffe would be overlooked. Apparently it was, since Jared disappeared behind a door in the back of the store and came back with a large, ornately shaped clear jar, unlike the ones in neat rows next to the pipe display. Joey looked at it rather admiringly. The jar itself was a work of art, and it almost looked hand carved. It could not be, of course, but it looked nice enough. "Here. Tell me what you think." He opened the lid.
The aroma that hit Joey's nose was like a giant wave crashing into him, stunning him and uplifting him at the same time. It was powerful and sweet, pungent and mild, and obliterated any thought he had been having... except for lust. It sent an erotic jolt right down to his dick and balls, something the other kinds had not done. He felt like the room was dissolving into white, and suddenly he was thinking he could have anything he wanted… anything at all…
It was a moment before he realized Jared had covered the jar again. A moment before he realized he was standing on the earth again. It was pipe tobacco, nothing else. So he told himself. "How.." he had to stop and swallow; was he sweating? "How much is that one?"
Jared smiled again, and this time his smile was a slightly deeper one, someone who knew exactly what had just happened. He put his hand over the lid, and actually seemed to be stroking it affectionately. "Well, the other tobaccos I showed you were $4.50 for two ounces. I don't usually sell less than two ounces at a time. This one is a bit more expensive." Joey didn't want to ask how much more expensive. Yes he did. No he didn't. Well, maybe. If you have to ask, you can't afford it! "But, since you liked it so much.." he glanced down, "I'll give you a deal on it. I'll sell a half pound to you for $5." A half pound? This was less than ten minutes after saying that a starting pipe smoker shouldn't buy more than an *ounce* at a time in case he didn't like it. But then, the tobacco *had* made him... glanced down? He looked in the same direction.
His cock had made his shorts into a tent pointing forward, and Joey was not underendowed either, so it was an impressive sight. Joey practically yelped and turned away from Jared, blushing furiously. Dammit, dammit, dammit.. I hate getting hard in front of a cute guy! That, a holdover from junior high. He reached in and frantically rearranged himself to make it more publicly acceptable. At least no one else was in the store. It was an impressive hard-on too.. Joey was wearing a jock and the jock was losing the battle, something that didn't ordinarily happen.
"It's okay," Jared said, "It happens to just about everybody who smells that jar. I get a hard-on myself about a dozen times a day just being around the pipes. There's something about a guy with a pipe." His tone was casual, completely easygoing.. and Joey's eyes widened. He couldn't be saying.. he just could not be. He finished adjusting himself and turned back around. Jared was holding the jar in front of his own crotch and Joey suspected the same thing had happened to him as well. "So, what do you think?" He opened the jar again, just a fraction, letting out the tiniest hint of aroma, before jamming the lid back in place.
Joey had his new pipe ($30), an inexpensive pipe nail and tamping tool ($1.50), some pipe cleaners (75 cents), and his load of pipe tobacco ($5) at the front counter in under five minutes. It took five minutes because Jared took four scooping out the half pound from the ornate jar. But soon enough, Joey had his sale (plus tax) in a paper bag and felt a strange thrill about having a pipe. It had nothing to do with his reaction to that particular tobacco. None whatsoever. Of course not. I mean it.
Jared finished ringing up the sale and put the bag in front of Joey with a smile. "There you go. The special blend is marked, but then it's the larger bag, so you shouldn't mistake it. I hope you become what you want to be." Joey blinked. "I mean, I hope it's everything that you expect it to be. Slip of the tongue. Say, if you're in the neighborhood tomorrow, why don't you swing by and let me know how you like it? I like getting customer feedback; it helps sales."
Joey smiled, grateful that the guy wanted to see him again, even if in a casual way. Maybe casual. He could dream, anyway. "Sure. I'd be glad to. I work around here now." Jared nodded. Joey turned to the front just as two young guys walked in and began asking Jared about the cigars.
Joey had gotten a good fifteen feet out of the store when he decided it was safe to turn back and give a glance at Jared. The two young guys were looking at three or four brands in the cigar case, and Jared was telling them about the merits of each one, but half of his looks went out the front of the store. To Joey. Joey nodded, as though he had just casually looked back, and beat a hasty retreat. He had never been good at cruising either, and in any case preferred to get to know a guy before he got into bed with him. That time in the sauna notwithstanding.
But Jared had still looked.
Joey had come to the store on his lunch break - he had such little time most days he referred to it as his "lunch minute" - and had to hightail it back there before he was missed. He wasn't, of course.. only when he didn't worry about getting back on time did someone make note of his tardiness.
The rest of the day was an exercise in frustrated enjoyment for Joey.. he enjoyed having his new pipe and took a few opportunities during the day to open up the bag and look at it, for no real reason other than he liked doing it. At the same time, he knew he wouldn't be able to touch it until that evening when he got home. It kept him on a slight fever pitch to finish work and get the hell out of there.
Finally, however, the long day drew to a close and Joey found himself sitting at this desk at home, pondering his new pipe and his new pipe tobacco. He took a small while to simply admire the pipe; the curves and shape of it. He was glad he'd gotten the three-quarter bend.. it had a beautiful curve and shape to it. Maybe a full bend later on when he'd been smoking one for a while, if he still did later on. He did like them, he just didn't feel confident smoking them.
Then he realized he had not one inkling of how to load a pipe.
Light of Heaven, what do I do now? he thought, irritated at himself. He hadn't thought of this. He thought of calling the store, but Jared might answer and Joey knew he'd never be able to ask the question. Besides, he thought the store was closed. Okay.. then we fumble through the dark and see what happens. He picked up the pipe.
First he opened the Chablis tobacco he'd been given. He wanted to save the special blend until he could smoke it properly.. it just seemed the right thing to do, with that one. First he tried scooping the tobacco with the pipe, but only ended up scattering the loose tobacco over the desk when the pipe slipped out of his hand. Then he tried pouring the tobacco from the bag directly into the pipe, with much the same effect except that now the tobacco was in his lap as well.
Grinding his teeth and now determined to get the tobacco in, he took the tamping tool and unfolded it into its three constituent parts: a tamper, a pipe nail, and a small scoop. He used the scoop to put a very small amount of the tobacco into the pipe. It worked, but it didn't seem to be very efficient.. it would take him an hour to load one bowl at this rate. Oh, what the hell! He grabbed bunches and just shoved them into the bowl. He wondered it that was all right.. it never occurred to him that there was no "official" way to do it.
He very carefully drew on the pipe.. Oh, yes, he thought, that is a mild tobacco.. I never imagined it would be so.. he came to a complete halt, his face bright red. He had forgotten to light the thing. He was grateful no one was watching this exercise in ineptitude.
He got out a box of wooden matches from the kitchen.. he preferred wooden matches when he needed matches. Probably because his grandmother had used them at one point. He lit the match and held it into the bowl.. and nothing happened. The pipe didn't light. The match went out, he lit another one, and it did the same thing. How do you get it to light? he thought, puzzled. He put the match deeper in, but it just put out the match when it contacted the tobacco. He tried from an angle and burned his finger.
Frustrated, he tried again, breathing heavily in irritation.. and amazingly, it lit! What did I do differently? He thought about it and decided to try an experiment. He lit a match, held it in the pipe and breathed in. The tobacco caught the flame, did not go out immediately, ignited, and smoke resulted. Oh, you have to breathe in! I guess that makes sense..
The pipe went out.
He lit it again, took a puff or two, and it went out again. Is it supposed to do that? He thought not, but didn't know why it wouldn't stay lit, or how to make it stay. He debated asking his internet friend, but a quick search revealed that he wasn't even online at the moment.. grr! It was enough to make him want to quit smoking the pipe, and he'd only just started.
Joey sat there depressed for a while. He really didn't know what he was doing, and was too embarrassed to ask for advice at this point, which was unlike him. This was not going to be a pleasant smoking experience, he realized. Maybe he'd should just call it quits while he was behind...
..and his eyes fell on the special blend packet. He remembered all too vividly the effect it had on him.. even now, his cock stirred at the memory of its effect. Well, he thought firmly, if I'm going to call it quits, I'm going to enjoy this first, and he reached for the packet. A bit annoyed, he emptied the pipe of the tobacco he had not been able to smoke, using the small scoop to carve out as much as he could. In short order it was as clean as it had been before he'd started.. of course, that didn't take much under the circumstances.
Joey opened the packet slowly, but the erotic scent still hit him like a brick thrown in his face. His heart raced, his temperature went up, and his cock strained to be free. This time, however, he kept his mind present on what he was doing (it was a struggle, as his cock became iron hard). Unencumbered by witnesses, he freed his cock from its confines a little. He took another deep breath from the open packet and dizzying shocks of heat went from the head of his cock to every other part of him. He raised his shirt a little and tweaked his nipples, twisting the rings he had there, and fingering his PA, which was becoming rather frothy with the amount of precum that was forming.
Nervously, and not at all steadily, he took a small amount of the tobacco and put it into the pipe, and then added more. He did not put in too much, as he did not want to waste any of it at this point.. if nothing else, he could keep it around just to smell on occasion. And jerk off.
He put the match in and inhaled.. the tobacco caught instantly and perfectly, which a part of him was surprised to see, but another part accepted. This tobacco was exceptional. He drew in and he felt the warm smoke enter into him, filling him. It was uplifting, enervating.. he couldn't think of enough superlatives, and he was an educated man. He drew again before the tobacco could go out, but he need not have worried.. it showed no signs of dying, and even seemed to be burning more furiously now. Imagination, he thought. Fantasy. Oh, the fantasies he had...
He took the pipe out momentarily and let out a thick cloud of sweet smoke.. no, it was sharp. No, tangy.. He shook it off. It could be whatever he wanted it to be, he thought, giddy. He almost thought he was smoking pot, but he knew what pot was like. He'd gone to college. This was definitely not pot. Pot was so… *dull* compared to this.
He was definitely enjoying himself at this point. He wondered if he could blow a smoke ring, and surprised himself by blowing two perfect ones in a row. He laughed at his own delight at such a mundane thing. He'd forgotten his cock in his enjoyment, but it had not softened.. it was still standing proud and was now twitching in time with his heartbeat, which was rapid. Precum oozed down the side like a waterfall. His head buzzing with the tobacco's effect, he looked at it lustily. I am so hot, he thought. My cock feels like it's a foot long.. I could cum gallons. Oh, Light.. I wish I could smoke this pipe like a seasoned pro and really enjoy it!
He wanted desperately to stroke himself off, but a more pressing issue came to mind: filling the pipe again. He was surprised to see that it had burned all the way to the bottom and nothing remained but a thin layer of ash. Blinking in surprise, he looked at the clock and discovered that almost an hour had passed! Impossible.. was I really enjoying myself that much? Stupid question; he knew the answer without even asking. Without even thinking about it, he reached into the pouch and took a large amount of the tobacco and placed it very gently into the briar, making sure it was not done too quickly, and not packed too loosely and not too tightly, which he tested with an experimental draw on the pipe. It drew firmly, with a very little resistance. Perfect.
Then, taking a match, he lit it with one stroke and placed it into the bowl, lighting evenly across the surface and drew with long, even draws, as if he were breathing. The bowl was not too hot, so he was handling it well, as he knew he would. He took another draw...
...and stopped, his eyes widening and his jaw dropping. He had to grab the pipe to keep it from falling. He'd lit the pipe. Perfectly. He knew without even checking that it was. And he knew without knowing how he knew what a perfect pipe should be like. How..? He looked at the pipe. Good technique is timeless. He blinked, not sure where the thought had come from, but it was true. Perhaps it really did come with experience. He hadn't expected it to be with this little experience, but it seemed to have worked so far. Amazing. A bit weirded out, but not extremely so, he put the pipe back in his mouth and continued to draw. He'd definitely have to tell Jared about this one. He wished he could fuck Jared.. make him bigger, the way he liked his guys to be. Ah, well.. as long as I'm wishing, I wish I were a powerlifter and Jared a competitive bodybuilder, under my control. (Joey also had a minor fetish for mind control stories.) His cock gushed forth more precum at the thought. He reached down to take care of his other urgent problem, and had his second shock.
Was he getting a tobacco buzz, or was his cock larger? It *looked* larger.. it *felt* larger.. it was by no means puny before, but it was legendary now. Oh, yeah, what a piece of meat! He grabbed it, blinded by lust, and stroked it. An erotic thrill ran up and down the length. His hand would not go around it. Un-fucking-believable! He reached down to his balls and was only half-surprised that they too were larger. Much larger. They looked to be the size of baseballs and were churning with cum. He grabbed a fist around the sac and pulled them away from himself and was a bit taken aback by how long the sac was as well. He pulled and pulled his huge, heavy balls and they extended practically down to his knees! He'd always fantasized about having *really* low hanging balls and now they were there. He laughed, knowing it was all fantasy, knowing reality would come when he opened his eyes in the morning, and not caring. He stood up, feeling strangely light and strangely heavy at the same time.
He didn't know where he was going, or why, but his thighs knocked his mammoth cock and gargantuan balls side to side as they led him to the bedroom. To the full-length mirror inside the closet door. His shorts had fallen around his thighs and his stride was hobbled a bit, and he didn't notice. He looked in the mirror.
His cock head was the size of a tennis ball. He could still see his PA, but it was practically invisible against the greatly enlarged shaft. He chuckled to himself. He'd probably need to get a full size cock ring to use as a PA ring after this. Not only had it increased in size, but has become incredibly vascular as well. There were veins and arteries running up, down, and around the shaft the size of his little finger, and pulsing with every heart beat, like some alien life form. His balls were enormously large, and now that he was standing they were indeed hanging down to his knees. He reflected that he'd need a heavy-duty jock to hold these from now on. The one in his shorts seemed so inadequate.
He moved to shuck the shorts, wanting to see his body with its new equipment, but stopped when he laid hands on them. No. If I can make *those* grow, then why take off the clothes? Smiling at his own reflection, he tweaked his nipples, his most sensitive area - and got yet another shock. They too had grown; wider and longer. He pulled his shirt up far enough to look at them and was stunned to see his nipples looking like small thumbs sticking out from his chest. The rings were hovering in midair. His mouth dropped. This is very, very strange, he thought, as he pinched them - and got an electric jolt through his whole body. Oh, boy, they had gotten *much* more sensitive too.. the precum started like a faucet when he tweaked them. He let his shirt drop. Oh, I *am* going to enjoy this, he thought. A man with an evil grin looked at him from the mirror. That can't be me; I don't smile like that. Someone did, though.
Directing his thoughts, he concentrated on his dream man, the man he wanted, the man he wanted to be... and the growth took him over. Instantly, his entire body started expanding, muscle exploding where there had been none before. His calves became diamond shaped, his thighs like tree trunks, his pectorals becoming a huge shelf against the rain, his biceps like bowling balls. He vaguely heard tearing cloth, but was too mesmerized by the sight of his own growth to even notice where it was coming from, as his shirt and his shorts - or the remains of them - fell to the floor around him. His neck expanded until he *had* no neck at all.. the muscle flared out from his ears to his shoulders in practically a straight line, the trapezius muscles like great stone handles on his torso. He'd always like guys with necks bigger than their heads. His arms were slowly elevated as his traps grew and grew, until he could not bring his arms down.
He looked in disbelief at himself and laughed, over the top from this experience. His cock and balls fit his body now, but they still stood out amazingly. But then, a big dick always does. He hit a most muscular, watching in erotic thrill as his entire body flared out like a freakish inflated crab, the sheer size beyond the biggest bodybuilder. He wasn't vascular or ripped, but he had definite muscle bulk. Immense muscle bulk. He hit a double biceps and saw the peak rise to nearly over his ears. And then he saw his stomach.
Unlike the rest of him, it had not followed the same pattern of muscle growth. He thought it would be a fantastic six-pack, or eight-pack, but no matter how hard he tried to flex, no ridges showed. How odd, he thought, the unreality of all of this still in control of him. He knew it was a dream, a pipe dream - he laughed out loud at his cleverness - so what the hell? But if it was a dream, why aren't my abs there? There was a definite difference between his waist and his chest by a substantial degree, but the abs just weren't there.
He pulled the pipe from his mouth - his arm was now so well developed it was a strain to reach up that far, but he did it - and frowned. He'd gotten what he wanted on the rest of him, so why not on the middle? He wasn't sure why, but he felt he'd gone in the wrong direction there. I wish I knew, he thought. Suddenly it occurred to him.. abs aren't what I want there. Is that it? Or is it? Well, one way to find out... He concentrated, knowing he didn't need to, but feeling it was more effective that way. Give me the belly I want.
With that, his middle suddenly started inflating outward. And outward. And outward. His mouth opened, and he jammed the pipe back in place automatically. What the fuck...! His gut was like a water balloon, getting more and more full with each passing second. He yelled out, "Stop! Stop!" but it kept growing until it was a great sphere in front of him, before it finally slowed and came to a complete stop. He looked down, and in the mirror, in stunned amazement.
He'd once seen, in a museum, what in earlier years was called a "medicine ball," that was used in health clubs for exercise. His belly jutted forward in the same shape and approximately the same size as one of these balls. But it did not sag, and when he felt it with shaking fingers, it was as hard as... well, as the rest of him now. Like soft steel. Like a pro bodybuilder off season.
His eyes narrowed slightly. A pro bodybuilder... that had to be it. He always liked the beefier guys. And the beefier guys always had roid guts. He smiled at it.. yeah, big fucking roid gut! Biggest of them all! He thumped it, and it made a sound like hitting wood. Solid. He flexed again in the mirror, and blinked at the ridges that now showed up around the immense ball of his stomach. *NOW* I have abs?! He shook his head - not very far; his traps kept his head from turning fully in either direction - but went with it. He hit the poses again, marveling at the look with the gut. Hot, hot, hot.
Someone else apparently thought it was hot too.. his cock in its great length was fully hard and pressed against the underside of his giant belly (horizontally; his belly had gotten that big), and drooling precum like a faucet, desperate to get off. Poor baby, I've been neglecting you, he though, and took the rod in both hands. It was so hard that it was an effort to press it down from his belly. Taking it in an iron grip, he squeezed and stroked, squeezed and stroked, milking it for all it was worth. The pipe made a blue cloud around his head as he inhaled and exhaled in ecstasy. I have got to get off, I have got to get off... I am so fucking hot! He alternated between looking around his own body and in the mirror and felt the flood rising. Almost, not quite, just a bit more... He flexed his muscles alternately, stroked his immense belly with his forearms while stroking his cock, swung his balls, feeling them hitting his knees and swing around his incredible thighs. Please, I want to cum!
And then he did.
He thought he was going to die when it hit him. It shot out of him like a rocket. His cum literally shot out in a continuous stream for over a minute, coating the mirror, puddling on the floor. He yelled out incoherently, grateful in agony and ecstasy.. but the cum wouldn't stop. He wanted it to go on forever; he wanted it to end right then and there. He was lost in a hazy bliss for a long time. Eventually, it started jetting out in smaller shots - meaning ounces instead of quarts - and then it finally wound to a halt. A half hour after he'd started.
He looked at himself in the mirror, out of breath. The mirror was coated with cum. He was coated with cum. The floor was *drowning* in cum. And he was a true muscle behemoth. All in all, a rather satisfactory experience, he thought absurdly.
The pipe was, incredibly, still going, and he inhaled deeply. Oh, that is incredible, he thought, feeling the rush - but now able to handle it better. I'm gonna sleep well tonight, he thought.
Suddenly fatigue overcame him. He had to get to bed immediately. He was exhausted, he had to get up in the morning… he thought vaguely about his pipe and went to get the supplies put away, but his energy seemed to be leaching out of him every second. The bed was calling his name softly, seductively…
He didn't remember when he got into bed, he was that bleary, just that he was suddenly lying in bed, naked under the ceiling fan, unable to see much past his jutting belly and puffing away on a freshly packed and lit pipe.
This is great stuff, he thought, putting it in the pipe tray next to the bed. He moved to tamp it out, but it seemed to respond to his thought: it went out the moment it left his hand. Too tired to really think about it, he moved his arm up to get the light, and just as he got to the switch, he paused and flexed his arm, watching the bulk form. Fuck. Nice.
As soon as the light was out, so was he.