Date: Sun, 3 Oct 2004 03:57:22 -0700 (PDT)
From: Alistair Bentley <xformguy@yahoo.com>
Subject: Headshop; Chapter 10-Last Joint - Submission

Chapter 10: Last Joint

 I woke up with Nick's mouth on my cock. It was like a dream of manhood;
every guy in the world wants to wake up with a mouth on his cock. I pulled
back the covers and there was Nick, his buzzcut dark hair stark against his
skin, his face bobbing up an down my cock while his hands massages by huge
low-hangers, his eyes imploring me.

I spread my legs a little wider to give him access and uncovered his naked
body. With my leg I pushed him around between my spread legs instead of the
side. He moved without taking my cock out of his mouth. I sat up a little,
shoved some pillows behind me so I could half sit. And I enjoyed it.

"Worship all of me," I ordered him, knowing he couldn't resist any sexual
command. He groaned and moved off my cock to my nuts and started sucking on
those as well, taking the moment to bury his nose behind them and to inhale
the pheromone scent I was emitting. His hands played over my muscular legs,
touching all the surface of my skin in turn, rifling through the ample hair
on them. He came up for air with a look of pure lust on his face.

"I haven't cum in days," he said.

"'I haven't cum in days' what?" I corrected him.

"Sir," he blurted out, "Sir, he repeated."

The sound of the word on my ears made my cock twitch and I nodded to him. I
brought my big foot up to his face and he started licking it obediently,
hands on my ankle and heel, massaging, his face buried in the sole, mouth
circling each toe in turn. He proceeded to lick up my leg, touching the
skin to his lips and tongue, as if he could lap me up.

I reached over to the nightstand to the little wooden box and pulled out
the last of my joints. I lit up without hesitation, because, shit, it was
already way too late to worry about the effects. Nick had worked his way up
my left leg. I raised my right one, planted my foot on his face, and gently
pushed him to the foot of the bed, where he started worshiping that foot
also.

I toked up and, as if my brain got high just by the memory of the action of
inhaling, I was flying again. I felt the smoke and the chemicals seep
through my body on my blood stream. My cock hardened a bit and a dollop of
pre-cum oozed onto my belly. Nick saw this with hungry eyes, but he was
only at my knee, his hands massaging the muscles as his tongue worshiped my
limb. He stretched his body out along it and I could feel his hard-on,
pressing against my calf, humping, humping, uncontrollably.

I knew that Nick couldn't shoot until I shot in his ass. No problem, I was
gonna work my way up to that and do it right. My cock was jumping. The
horniness of the weed was ripping through me, pushing me higher and closer
to the edge than was comfortable. I didn't worry about shooting because I
knew I couldn't unless my cock was buried in a guy's ass. No problem,
Nick's was there for me at my request.

Nick had worked his way up to my nuts again and was working them over a
second time, the base of my cock in his fist, when I felt the changes
begin. It's hard to describe what it felt like . . . the closest thing I
can equate it to was . . . puberty. That weird feeling that your body is
not your's anymore, that it's under the command of a stream of hormones
saturating you, making your joints ache, your muscles restless, your flesh
insistent for something you can't quite define.

"Shit," I said, as the sensation heightened. The changes up to this point
had been gradual, something that was hard to pinpoint . . . an ongoing
experience. This was compressed, as if the agency that caused it was
impatient for my becoming to proceed. I looked down my huge, muscular body,
with its nipple rings, tattoos, thick body hair, big feet and hands,
6-pack, and enormous nuts.

My body quivered, causing Nick to look up at my face, my cock in his
view. We both watched my cock jump once . . . and then expand. It grew out
of his fist slowly, like he was extruding it from my body or molding it
like putty. He looked at it wide-eyed and so did I. The glans flared and
got enormous . . . I sighed at the sensation . . . then it's length pressed
out of his fist, inch by inch, being pulled. I rose up on shoulder blades
and heels, thrusting my hips upward as this happened, my breath catching
with the utter, sheer pleasure pulsing down my cock. I felt like I was
deep-throating god. My cock topped out at about twice what I had been
. . . almost twelve inches long . . .and then started to thicken up to
match that. It thickened until the shaft was as thick as the wide glans and
it turned out to be wider in the middle than at the base, almost like it
had become a butt plug with a narrow spot a sphincter could grasp onto.

It stopped. I collapsed back onto the bed, gasping at the pleasure. Nick
jacked it slowly one time, causing sexual sensations that made me thrash my
head back and forth. I released a JET of pre-cum, like shooting my load and
it rained down on Nick's face and my belly. He lapped it up immediately.

The changes though, hadn't finished.

My abs churned and popped out even more than they had been, giving me an
8-pack, almost a 10-pack if you count the sheath of muscle under my
pubes. My legs stretched long, a little painfully, and my shoulders and
torso widened to match. My pelvis . . . and shit! That hurt . . . widened
out to the same proportions. I felt my arms do the same. This felt the most
like puberty . . . that awkward growing stage that left one uncomfortable
with one's own body. I toked more smoke because I was high and it hurt and
I wanted it to be over with and my hands jumped and twitched, getting wider
and larger also. My feet were last, stretching out to an enormous size. I
had already been up to size 15 from my previous changes; I was looking now
at size 18 at least.

Several more jets of pre-cum spurted from my cock uncontrollably, to both
Nick and my surprise. I was coated now and started to react to the
scent. However horny I had been in the past two weeks, THIS was the
horniest. I felt something happen to my prostate, something I can't
describe. All I can say was that I was more AWARE of it now than I had ever
been in my life. It wanted attention, enough to make my ass flex and my
cock muscles jump, but all of that left it unsatisfied. I knew what was
next; I knew what this sensation was. I wanted to be fucked.

And only Sarge could do that.

I sat up. I pushed Nick away enough to access my crotch. I grasped my newly
enlarged cock and almost gasped at how intense the sensations were. It was
weird having a cock that big, almost alien. My huge hands wrapped around it
and slid up and down it, as if to convince myself it was true. My foreskin
had elongated enough in the change to cover my head at the new
size. Good. I liked my skin. I didn't want it to go away. I jacked for a
coupled of minutes while Nick looked on hungrily. I reached down past my
nuts with the intention of sticking my finger up my ass . . . and GOD! How
that registered as so alien an impulse also; this was something I had never
done and had never even contemplated. When my fingertip hit my pucker
something inside my head screamed "THAT'S FOR SARGE! LEAVE IT ALONE!" I
could not will my finger into my ass at all. Could not massage my prostate
even a little.

I fell back to the bed and growled at Nick, "Get on that cock."

He plunged on it immediately, showing me what his slave mouth was capable
of since he'd been changed and showing me what my cock felt like now. It
was incredible. I had never lost myself so much in sexual sensations, even
over the last week. I was flying, either from the pot or the blow job or
both. I grabbed Nicks head and used it like an object, guiding it up and
down my pole. I was amazed that, whatever changes to Nick's anatomy that
had taken place during his transformations, he was able to deep throat all
12 thick inches and hold it there almost a minute without gagging.

Watching his face, I could tell that he was losing it. He eyes were
watering and begging me. While he blew me, I reached over and swung his
body over mine. We were in a 69 position but, because I was now so much
taller than him, his knees were at my rib cage, his cock was on my chest
and his ass was in my face. That was fine. Without really thinking about
it, I shoved my face into his crack and inhaled. He wiggled and I reached
up and pulled his cock backward between his legs. He was leaking pre-cum
almost as much as I was.

I licked his pucker and he groaned loudly, moving up and down my cock while
one hand pulled on my nuts. It struck me suddenly that I had my tongue on a
man's ass. I had nuzzled all the parts of my former "lady" in my life, a
several other women on top of that, from their cunt all the way down and
under. THAT never seemed all that strange to me; it had been a natural
impulse and a taste that spoke volumes of erotic energy to me. Doing this
to Nick felt that natural. Here I was with his muscular globes pressed
against my face, his legs straddling my ribs and I enjoyed feeling the
weight of him pressed against me, feeling that physical contact of both of
our bodies pressed together. It comforted me and it drove me forward in my
sexual pursuits.

To touch his pucker with my tongue . . . this was perhaps the most intense
intimacy available to the human body . . . and in the moment something in
me moved, an emotion that had been ripped apart by recent events
resolidified with Nick at its center. I kissed his pucker. I pushed my
tongue into the smooth muscular ring and Nick went wild on my cock. I
jacked his cock backward, using it and his nuts as a handle to pull him
into my mouth and tongue. Nick stopped blowing me, letting my huge bone
slap against my belly; I quivered and worked my feet at the sensation.

"Jesus," Nick panted, "Please . . . please . . . I have to shoot."

I pulled off his ass and put his backward facing cock in my mouth, taking
as much as would reach into it. Nick stiffened and lowered his head to my
pubes, breathing in my scent again, licking my narcotic pre-cum and
sighed. He kept repeating the word "please" softly; he was far gone into
sexual oblivion and would have literally done anything I asked.

I stopped blowing him and shoved him over off of me. "Get the lube on the
dresser," I said. He scrambled to do this. I reached over, took the burning
joint from the night stand, toked the last bit of it up completely, then
flicked the spent roach away. I'd finished the last one; whatever I was
becoming . . . I had become it.

Nick arrived with the bottle of warming lube the proprietor had given me. I
lay back, put my arms under my head and nodded at my cock. He slicked it up
with his hand, spreading ample amounts of lube; I enjoyed the sensations of
his fingers and the warming throb that the lube made. Nick, without
direction, stood over me and lowered himself to my body, spreading his ass
with one hand and guiding my huge shaft with the other. My cock head
touched his pucker and he gasped, closing his eyes. He worked the head into
his ass and, whether just to see his face or because my own cock NEEDED to
be buried inside him, I sat up quickly, grabbed his hips and jammed myself
to the hilt. He gasped and almost screamed in some mixture of pain or
pleasure. I stayed there, his ass gripping the narrow base of my cock like
it would a dildo. I pressed my torso to his, holding him there strongly, my
feet played, his wrapped around my back, my face at his neck, biting.

It took only a moment for him to adapt and I felt the ease in his body as
he sank into my lap. I leaned back a little and got my feet flat on the
bed. I shoved upward with my hips and he gasped again. Using his body
weight as a counter point, I started bucking underneath him and this drove
him nuts. My too, actually, it wouldn't take long before I started to shoot
inside him.

And some fear gripped me. I knew . . . when I shot, Nick would become
whatever I was imagining at the time. I had to be careful. As my body when
on automatic pilot and overdrive, as Nick was bouncing on top of me, trying
to flog his cock while I pounded into him, I developed an image of him in
my head . . . somewhere between the abject slave he was now and the Nick I
remembered from college. He would still do whatever I told him to do, still
fulfill my every sexual desire whenever asked, but to everyone else, he'd
be the old Nick. I decided I liked his smooth body, and would keep it
smooth and I'd erase that "F-A-G" chest hair thing Sarge had done to
him. I'd make him shoot whenever he wanted, but when my cock was in him,
he'd shoot continuously, a huge, long orgasm of intense proportions.

I kept this in my head as I started to shoot into him, itself a long,
protracted orgasm that shot loads of cum up into his body. The instant I
was shooting, he was too, his cock pounding out loads of cum as it was
trapped between our bodies, coating up both. I held on to him, keeping my
cock inside even after I'd stopped. My cock was still huge and hard and
plugged into him. Nick quivered slightly, reeling as things happened to his
mind and body. He seemed to realize what was happening, that he'd been let
off some of the restrictions he'd had.

He pulled off me somewhat, peeling away his torso from mine and looked me
in the eye. He didn't say anything, but he bent down and kissed me deeply,
conveying some emotion he was feeling. I pushed him back a little and ran
my hand over his chest . . . the "F-A-G" hair flaking off as I went. He
sighed at this, obviously thankful; it was as if I could see the dignity
return to his face.

I stayed inside him and held him onto my lap. I could see the changes in
his face as the sexual energy in him started to build up again. While I was
inside him, he would have one long orgasm and it was starting. His cock
harded up again and his face flushed. He didn't exactly know what was
happening, but he started breathing hard. He looked into my smiling face
and I felt his ass muscles clench over my huge cock, rhythmically. He
looked down at his cock and he started shooting again, just like that. He
gasped and writhed, expecting it to pass on its own, surprised when it
didn't. He started to fall backward, but I caught him and his hips gyrated
as he kept shooting round after round onto my chest.

"ohgod," he breathed, "what's happening?"

"You'll shoot as long as I'm inside you," I told him. His ass clenched and
clenched and clenched and out came ropes of cum, a river of it. I reached
down and thumbed his spurting cock head, and he jumped and writhed, out of
control. I chuckled, a little drunk on the power I had over him. He sat
back up, head thrashing. I turned him over on his side and, in one stroke,
pulled out of him. His orgasm subsided, leaving him panting on the bed.

We both lay there for a few minutes, our bodies coated in each others'
slime. "Okay," he said, "That was insane."

"But you liked it," I asserted.

"Fuck yeah, I did," he blurted out, ". . . Sir," he added.

I finally got up enough energy and stood up. I then promptly fell against
the wall with a thump, catching myself. My center of gravity had changed
and I hadn't been prepared for it. I walked around the bed a little
unsteadily . . . this being another puberty moment, when you have to get
used to the fact that your legs are longer and your feet are bigger and you
walk around tripping over yourself.

"Christ, James!" Nick said, "You're huge."

"I know," I conceded a little sheepishly. It was hard to gauge by just how
much. Everything in the room seemed noticeably shorter, especially the top
of my dresser. I went into the bathroom and the counter came up to my
crotch. I could literally just flop my cock onto the counter without
trying. And SHIT! My cock was a huge tube of flesh, even soft it had to be
about six inches or so long; that was how long I used to be hard.

I stretched and felt my spine pop. It felt so good, I went through some
stretches, unknotting my muscles. Nick had shown up with a tape measure. He
bent down and hooked the end under one of my heels, then measured up my
back to the top of my head. He had to reach up to do that, given his head
only came up to about chest level now.

"83 inches," he said, "shit."

"6'11"," I said, shaking my head. I surveyed myself in the mirror. I'd seen
6'11" people before, mainly basketball players. When the human body gets
that tall, something happens to the proportions: everything gets a little
stretched, a little elongated. Their legs and torsos were long. Mine
proportions were different. I looked like a regular guy in shape and build,
albeit heavily muscled and very tall, but I didn't have that stretched look
at all. Nick looked like a teenager standing next to his father, especially
being all smooth.

I got in the shower and drug Nick in with me. We washed ourselves and
touched each other. His physical presence here comforted me, made me feel
normal and safe. My hands on him seemed to do the same for him. After the
shower, we both dried off; it took me two towels. Then, I went to stand in
front of my closet. I just shook my head. All of my clothes were too tight
yesterday, when I was only 6'5". It would be impossible to get into them
now that I had grown another six inches overnight. I doubted that even my
underwear would fit.

Nick found me on the side of the bed, sitting there, contemplating. "You're
gonna have to get me some clothes," I told him, "I can't go shopping
naked."

"I think you should try," Nick said facetiously, "You might get a
discount."

"Fuck you," I said.

While Nick got dressed, I went over to the dresser and picked up the glass
flask. Inside was the tiny little man that had been my "lady," sitting
cross-legged on the bottom of the flask. He glared at me through his long
bangs, covering his genitals with his hands with an embarrassment that only
a straight man could feel. His face twisted with rage, impotent as the rage
might be, and he shot me a bird. I reached down, picked up the flask, and
shook it several times, bumping him around. I slammed the flask down and
looked at him, his long hair disheveled. He stood up and beat against the
side of the glass, screaming curses at me. I just laughed.

"Seriously, though," I told Nick, "You're gonna have to get me some
clothes." He had fetched the tape measure and come up to me.

"Here," he said, wrapping the measure around my waist, "I'll need some
measurements. Shit, you know how hard it's gonna be to find clothes that'll
fit you?"

"Big and Tall stores," I suggested.

"Well, duh," he snickered. It had worked, Nick was more like himself than
before. Less the demure slave boy, more like the friend I had in college.

There was a ring at the doorbell. I look toward it and so did Nick. He was
bending down at my waist, measuring me. I kicked him gently with my knee
toward the door. I gestured toward my hanging cock. "You're gonna have to
answer that, man," I told him.

He smiled, got up and went to the door. There was some muffled conversation
and I sat back down on the bed, thumbed the TV remote and surfed some
channels to the news when he came back in, carrying two boxes.

"Delivery," he said. We set to opening the boxes and were only mildly
surprised to find clothes in them. I pulled out a pair of leather jeans and
held them up to my body. They would probably fit. Inside was a black
t-shirt, printed to look like old athletic shirts from high school; it said
"Butte Pirates Football Team" and had the logo of a pirate in a football
helmet in the center. There was a black jockstrap, basically just a thick
plastic black hard cup with elastic bands. Looks like something you'd see
as part of a hockey uniform. There were some black boot socks too. In the
other box were a pair of leather biker boots and a note.

The note had an address printed and said, "Be here. 1:00pm. It's time we
talked. -- Sarge."

"Fuck yeah, it's time," I murmured, "Well, I don't think you have to go out
and get me some clothes now."

I proceeded to put everything on. The hard cup was a little weird, mainly
because I never had worn one before, being the science geek I had been in
high school. I was surprised that it actually fit, given how huge I'd
become in the crotch. The plastic felt a little strange too, warm almost. I
put it on and I swear the cup snuggled against my genitals, seemed to mold
itself to them. The sensation was very pleasant, like having a warm hand on
them.

I reached down and rapped on the cup with my knuckles, it was hard all
right. But, when I just stood there and touched it with my fingertips, the
cup of pliable, soft, warm. I tried to pull it off my crotch and was a
little annoyed that I couldn't. When I tried, the thing contracted a little
and started to nut me. The harder I pulled, the stronger the grip got.

Nick was watching this and chuckled, "I guess Sarge has plans for you," he
said, "I'm sure HE can take it off."

"No doubt," I said, "Whatever." I stopped messing with the cup.

I pulled on the boot socks, then the pants. Nick let out a wolf whistle
when he saw me. I shrugged that off and worked on the boots, then the
t-shirt. I stood in the mirror, which now, cut me off at the neck, and I
could admit it - - I looked HOT. I flexed a couple of times, letting my
biceps out for a jaunt. The t-shirt was thankfully large enough for me to
move around.

I realized something was in the pocket of the jeans. I fished it out. It
was black key on a small dildo-shaped key ring and a small glass
marble. The marble was ostensibly clear, but seemed to glow with an inner
light. It looked like a smaller version of the of that globe that Sarge had
used to suck out some of my brain.

I was still riding high from the joint and the sex, so, I said, "What the
hell," and put the marble on my head. Nick jumped a bit at this, as if to
try to stop me, but it was too late. The cool glass touched my forehead and
in blinked. Information poured into my mind. It wasn't a lot of
information, a very specific set of skills programmed me. I absorbed them
with a gasp . . . it was a little disorienting to have this happen. My body
moved and shifted a little as I imagined performing the actions programmed,
I had the sense memories of making the motions, finding the balance point
as my body moved. None of it was painful, just strange.

After it had stopped, I pulled the marble off - - it was no longer glowing
- - and said to Nick, "Cool, I can drive a motorcycle now." I showed him
the key and winked. In the other pocket of my jeans was a new driver's
license, with my new picture on it. I checked out my height and weight and
they matched my new dimensions. I noticed too, that this license was rated
for motorcycles. I put this in my wallet on top of my old one. It was a
little taken aback by my old picture, a smaller, nerdy version of myself. I
threw this on the dresser next to the flask where my tiny former "lady"
looked on with interest.

I tapped the glass flask hard, "Fuck you, bitch," I said. I looked at Nick,
"What time is it? I'm starving."

"It's about 11:00," he said. Then he realized, "OHSHIT! It's Monday."

"Yeah, so?"

He playfully slapped my forehead, "We're supposed to be at work, moron."

Nick turned to grab the phone, but I reached out and snagged his shoulder,
"HEY! Fuckwad," I yelled at him, "You calling me a moron?"

"Sorry," he said, "I meant, moron-Sir."

"That's better," I said, smiling.

Nick got on the phone and started making up some excuse to our boss. He
wove a tale that was unusual, but plausible. I only listened to part of it,
something about us going out-of-town together, supposedly getting a flight
back this morning very early, but it got delayed, they wouldn't let us off
the plane to call, blah, blah, blah. I realized that the job meant nothing
to me now, and while I wondered how I'd pay my bills and living expenses, I
also didn't get real worked up about it. Like I said, I was starving.

We headed down stairs, leaving little "lady" on the dresser for the time
being. Parked next to me car was a Harley-Davidson XL 1200R Roadster
shining a cobalt blue in the morning light. There were two helmets, one
cobalt and one black. I sidled up to the cycle, turned the new key, and
punched the engine started. I put the helmet on and so did Nick.

"Are you sure you know how to drive this?" he asked.

In response, I gunned the engine and tore out of the parking spot, in
search of foot.