"Another day, another disaster," I sigh to myself as I'm sitting inside some bar I chanced upon on the way home after a very long day of job hunting. It's been a few weeks since I started looking for employment after being fired from my old one thanks to the lousy economy we've been having, and every single of my leads has led to Nowheresville. Today's was particularly hard on me. I really thought I had a good shot at it. Instead, here I am with a shot of tequila in my hand.
"Here's to me," I down the drink in one gulp, and almost immediately, the alcohol burns its way down to my stomach. I stifle a cough, managing to hold the fire within, and the pain of the day's disappointment is squelched away, but only temporarily. As the warmth dissipates, the cold realization that I was still unemployed rushes back in its place.
What the fuck happened to my life? This was certainly not how I expected it to be. Sure, I graduated from college years ago, but a fat lot of good that did me. Now I'm a 30-just something loser with a few thousand dollars to my name. I thought I'd be in a long-term relationship by now, but I can't even get a date to save my life, not that any guy would be interested in someone like me in the first place. I may be in my 30s but I've been told I look like I'm in my 40s. (Ouch.)
With a heavy heart, I pay the bartender and stand up to leave when a cacophony of motorcycle engines reverberate all over the room. I look outside the window and see a group of bikers rolling into the parking lot. I start to feel a bit uneasy, quite worried in fact, by their sudden appearance. I needed to get out of here, and quick.
The door bursts open, and quite a few bikers clad in leather and denim gear pour in. They're a rowdy bunch of middle-aged and young men alike, and it looks like they're regulars of the place as the bartender gives them a nod. I guess I also never noticed when I came in all the biker paraphernalia and memorabilia that lined the establishment's walls. What the hell did I get myself into?
"Beers all around!" one of them bellowed. "To Charley!"
"To Charley!" the rest of them roared. The bartender starts the tap, and the bikers distribute the mugs to everyone in the room, and afterward, they stomp towards their designated spots around the bar.
That's when the leader of the pack comes up to me and snarls, "You're in my seat."
For a second, I'm stupified by his intimidating and looming presence, literally towering over me as he eclipsed my view of the exit I desperately wanted to rush to.
"Oh... I'm, I'm sorry... I didn't know... I was actually on my way..." I stammer, trying to get out of his way.
He then belly laughs. "Hahaha! I was just kidding. Sit down and have a drink."
"T-thanks, but no. I, I really have to go..."
"Are you refusing a man's generosity?"
As much as I wanted to bolt for the door, I find myself doing exactly as he says.
"Gimme a couple of beers, Mike." The biker flashes two fingers at the bartender who promptly slides two ice-frosted mugs across the counter towards us.
"To Charley," the biker says.
"To C-Charley," I respond as I timidly grab for one of the mugs and watch in awe at the biker polishing off his drink in mere seconds. He looks down at me and expects me to do the same. I manage to take in a few big gulps before I gasp for air.
"Now, don't we feel better?" he asks, and I nod. "Funny, you were so talkative a while ago. I'm Bob," he says, offering his hand.
My hand feels so small in his. He can break my fingers off right now if he wants to, but fortunately, this doesn't seem to be the case. In fact, my apprehension about the entire ordeal has significantly lessened thanks much in part to Bob's candor. I'm not as scared anymore being surrounded by so many strangers.
"So Will, I haven't seen you here before. This your first time here?"
"Y-yeah, I was just passing through," I respond and continue drink from my mug while Mike the bartender gives Bob a fresh one. I clear my throat and somehow find the courage to ask, "Who's Charley?"
Bob replies, "He was a buddy of ours. One of the best."
"He died a few days ago. We just came from his funeral."
"Oh, I'm sorry for your loss."
"Thanks," Bob smiles. "I appreciate that. We feel that he'll always be with us, one way or another."
Mike then calls Bob, and as the two starts chatting, I take this opportunity to better study my beer-benefactor. From where I'm sitting, I can't help but ogle at the man whose clothes seem painted on his massive physique. He's not just tall and solid, he looks proportional and beautifully so. My eyes travel up from his high-and-tight butt to his wide shoulders. He has medium-length dark brown hair but not long enough to be tied into a ponytail. And now that I've calmed down, I'm actually surprised by how strikingly handsome Bob is with his speckled green eyes, his sharp nose, and a square jaw that's covered in a 5 o'clock shadow. I begin to feel a bit uncomfortable but for completely different reasons this time.
Down boy, I say to myself as I struggle to hide the growing erection in my pants. I try to distract myself from Bob by looking at his friends, but that turns out to be a mistake as each and every one of them seem to be pretty hot looking men in their own right.
A voice snaps me out of my reverie. "Doing anything later, Will?" Bob is looking at me with a smile.
"W-who, me? Uh, no... just going home. I've had a long day. Why do you ask?"
"Hmm? Oh, just wondering..." Bob replies as he sniffs something cylindrical across his unshaven face. It turns out to be a cigar. "You don't mind if I smoke, do you?"
"Uh, go right ahead." As if I was going to say no despite my abhorrence to this disgusting habit.
"Cool." He then strikes a match on the table and lights his cigar. In a couple of puffs, he gets it going, and I struggle not to cough too loudly. The smell of the smoke is... powerful. Quite overwhelming, in fact. It seems to be crawling up my nostrils, and my eyes begin to water.
I try to be polite and just smile when he asks if the smoke is bothering me, but it really is getting to me. I begin breathing through my mouth just to alleviate some of the discomfort, but the air tastes of smoke. I look around and see that Bob isn't the only one smoking. All of his friends are, and the white haze is clouding up the entire room.
I try to stand up and head towards the door for fresh air, but I feel so weak all of a sudden.
"Going somewhere?" asks Bob.
"I, I need to get out..."
"And go where? To the 'life' that you have right now? What are you going to do, go find a job you're going to spend the rest of your life hating?"
"H-huh? How... did you..." I ask, but Bob just blows a big puff of smoke all over my face, and this time I start coughing loudly.
"There, there, Will..." Bob hands me a glass of water, which I drink to clear my throat. I only realize after swallowing a few gulps that it isn't water that he's given me. It's sweet and bitter at the same time, and it hits me stronger than tequila.
I feel helpless and out of control, and my body slumps down on the counter. That's when Bob gets another cigar, which he places in between my lips.
"When I tell you to inhale, you suck in as hard as you can, understand?"
He doesn't wait for a reply. He strikes another match and places the flame at the tip of the cigar.
"Now, suck it in, Will. Don't waste it since it was Charley's last cigar, and he said he'd like someone special to have it."
And I breathe in as hard and as fast as I can like he told me. At first nothing happens, and then I try again. This time, the tip of Charley's cigar ignites into an angry red light, and smoke begins to form.
I breathe in again, and I'm rewarded by a sweet, salty, sour, bitter taste of smoke flowing all over my tongue before being sucked into my lungs where I instinctively hold it in for a few seconds, letting the smoke settle in before expelling it slowly.
"Yeah, that's the ticket, buddy."
I can only nod, my attention is being drawn more and more to the cigar that's in my mouth, and I can't quite get enough of the rich aroma, the luxurious taste. My head begins to clear a bit, and I feel my strength returning. Before long, I am able to sit up on my own on the bar stool.
"You're a natural at this. Feels pretty good, doesn't it?"
I scan the room once again and see Bob's friends are still smoking, but there's something different about them. They're half-naked, and they seem to be kissing one another.
I look back at Bob who gives me a knowing smile. "Nice, huh?"
In that moment, I become aware of and bewildered at everything that's been happening to me. What the hell am I doing? Why am I even smoking? I don't even smoke. I *hate* smoking. In one last gasp of desperation, I cry out, "P-please... I just want to go home..."
And with that, Bob steps off his seat, takes off the cigar from my mouth, and bends down to plant a deep kiss on my lips. My first instinct is to push him away, but my instincts have flown out the window and have been replaced by something more primal. I start kissing him back... hard. Although he's much bigger and taller than I am, I'm giving him as much as I can, and this entices Bob all the more.
He locks one hand behind my head and the other around my butt, and he squeezes me tight to him. I can feel his muscles pushing against mine. I feel so safe, so wonderful in his big powerful arms. My hands, on their own volition, go for his white t-shirt and pull it up to reveal a ripped six-pack. I pull his shirt up higher up on his chest, and I see his hairy pecs peeking through.
Then with a strength that surprises me, I grab his collar and rip off his shirt, leaving him half-naked and exposed. I step back and marvel at my Hercules, and if he's gotten me excited me before, he's practically inflamed me now.
"Buddy, I didn't know you had it in you," he says, growling like a tiger ready to charge its prey, and I just grunt and leap at his exposed underbelly with my tongue leading the way. My mouth latches onto one of his nipples, and I suck on it with wild abandon.
He rumbles at the pleasure I'm giving him. He maneuvers his back towards the counter so he can support himself as I go all out and all over his chest.
"Yeah... you little fucker... suck my nips," he snarls.
After a few minutes, Bob lifts me from the floor and parks my butt on the counter. He holds onto my collar and rips my shirt to shreds. He then starts kissing my chest and plays with my nipples with his tongue. Turnabout, as they say, is fair play.
As he's ravishing me, I see my cigar on the counter and reach for it. Yeah, I think, this is gonna be good.
I start smoking the cigar again while Bob makes his way down my body. It must have been such a sight: me, sitting on the counter and smoking a cigar and Bob, the big buff biker in front of me digging his face into my unfortunately-flabby abs. And it looked the rest of the room was into the action. Even the bartender has found himself a young buck to worship him.
"Uunnnnghgh..." I gasp aloud with the cigar in between my lips. My fingers are digging into the crevices of Bob's muscular back.
In the meantime, Bob finds my belt and unhooks it. Next, he goes for my pants and unceremoniously pulls it off me. He looks up at me and grins wildly before destroying my underwear, and even before my cock has a chance to jump up, his mouth quickly envelops it, and he begins to suck me off. I've had my share of blowjobs when I was younger, but none of them can come close to the one I'm experiencing now.
"Uuunhh... uuuuunnnhhh... unnnnhh...." I moan as Bob intensifies his efforts, sending me into higher levels of euphoria. "Oh God... oh fucking God... that feels so fucking good..."
I prop myself higher up on the counter to keep myself from collapsing to the floor from the pleasure. My legs are wide apart to accommodate Bob's huge frame, and my head is bouncing everywhere.
Even in the heat of the moment, I notice something strange with my voice. It's deeper... bigger...
"What the..." I speak aloud to confirm my suspicions.
I look down and see Bob busily sucking away at my cock, but I'm also seeing something else, and--oh my god--I see my body changing right before my very eyes. I look at my hands and see the fingers slowly lengthening and thickening. The same goes for my arms. I take a look at my pecs and--fuck--they're pulsing, beating like a heart and getting bigger with every pump, but instead of blood, they're being filled with muscle.
"Fuck yeah!" I shout and start pushing my cock in and out Bob's mouth. "Yeah, motherfucker, take it all..."
Bob's tongue is amazing. It knows every sweet spot on my cock--spots that I didn't even know existed--and it's massaging them, caressing them all. My breaths turn shallow in anticipation of my impending orgasm, and I feel the pressure building uncontrollably within my balls.
My head thrashes from side to side as Bob teases me closer and closer to the edge. I'm groaning indecipherables. All I can see is a bright light. My body is shaking, quivering in heat. The smell of my own sweat is turning me on.
Then... just at that very moment of imminent explosion... the feeling on my cock disappears when Bob stops and pulls away.
"What the HELL?!" I cry out and look at him pleadingly.
I see him, and he's just smiling, and for a moment I don't know what he's smiling about until I look at what he's looking at.
"Holy shit..." My cock. It's huge, enormous, and so much more substantial than before. I reach down tentatively and touch it, and immediately it shudders, sending waves of pleasure throughout my entire body. I lightly rub my finger at the vein just underneath the glans, and my cock flushes in delight and burps out more precum.
"Oooooooh," I shiver as I keep it up, and more precum oozes out of my turgid dick. There's so much blood pumping into it. It's flaring with every pulse. "Ohhh, fuck..." I moan to which Bob says, "Yeah, that's the idea."
I look up and see Bob completely naked except for his leather boots. He's everything I've ever wanted in a man and more. His muscular stature, his hairy body, his huge... fucking... cock.
"Oh my God." It's even bigger than mine. Is he... no... there's no way that's gonna...
"Don't worry, this baby ain't for you... not yet anyway," he grinned. "Yours, on the other hand, is all mine."
He pushes my hand away from my cock. The precum that has lubed my stalk makes it easier for him to slide his hand over, and I take the initiative and grab his own erection, and we slowly jack each other off as we share the cigar I've been smoking.
We look directly into each other's eyes, and we begin kissing each other. For some reason, it takes a little more effort than before, but I'm too wrapped up around his mouth to really notice. Not only are we swapping saliva, we're exchanging the smoke from our mouths, and it's as precious to me as oxygen.
We become more aggressive, fueled by the burning lust, and as we're making out, I happen to look into the mirror behind the bar and see a big, bearded and beefy stranger peering back at me. Surprised, I step back from Bob and get even more shocked when "he" does the same. It takes me a few moments to reconcile the fact I'm seeing my own reflection. I've been so into Bob I hadn't realized how much I'd changed. I'm practically twice the man I used to be, pretty much the same height but now weighing almost 300lbs.
Slabs of fur-covered meat make up my formerly-smooth chest. My arms couldn't have been smaller than 20 inches, and my forearms are bigger than most people's biceps. The rest of my torso is impressively solid with its powerlifter-type gut, but it's what past it that gets my jaw to drop.
Both of us look down at my cock, and as big as it was a while ago, it's even bigger now. It's so thick I can hardly wrap my own hand around it and so hard that despite its heftiness, gravity can't pull it down. I can't help but stare at this 13" monster that's way past my belly button. The way it looks jutting out of my body is freakish, and I still can't accept that is really my cock despite seeing it firmly rooted to my groin. I can hardly recognize it.
"I want that thing up my ass, buddy boy," Bob growls, and with a grace that belies his size, he hops on the bar stool for me to get my leaky cock primed against his hole. How the hell was I going to fit that in him, I wonder, but without so much as another word, Bob impales himself with it, and my cock is submerged into an ocean of pleasure.
It's unbelievable the way he's able to take in something so big so quickly and easily, and what's even more unbelievable is what his ass is doing to it. The undulating pressure inside his chute is nothing like I've ever experienced. It's like a dozen warm tongues licking and lapping at the same time, all of them teasing out the cum building within me.
Bob groans something about never being this full before, and I begin to worry if I'm actually hurting him when he reassures me otherwise, telling me to fuck him, and fuck him hard. With that, I throw caution to the wind and give Bob everything I've got. He's a big boy and, boy, could he take it.
It doesn't take us long to establish a reciprocal rhythm of mutual gratification with me repeatedly ramming past his prostate and him continuously constricting my cock with his tight ass. Bob eggs me on, and I oblige, bouncing my bloated balls against his butt on every thrust, and my incessant need to cum increases exponentially up to the point I can hardly hold back the burgeoning pressure.
Panting, I heave, "B-Bob... I-I can't..."
"Give it to me, you big fucker! All of it!"
His hollering takes me over the edge. My mouth drops opens, and my eyes scrunch shut. Every muscle of my body tenses up as my thoughts shatter into a thousand fragments and I lose myself completely in the moment.
I slam my cock all the way into Bob, and my balls squeeze out so much jizz that my cock swells dramatically inside him and causes him to lose control and spray our bodies without him ever touching his dick while I continue to shoot spurt after spurt even after his ass starts to leak out my cum.
I dive-tongue Bob's mouth, and we kiss each other with an intimacy that felt, strangely enough, both new and familiar. I know I should've been confused, but for some reason, I'm not. In fact, I've never felt freer in my life when I accept I'm no longer the same man who stepped into this bar an hour ago.
Eventually, the ecstasy begins to subside, and after letting it linger for a little longer, Bob and I dispiritedly separate having known what it feels like to become one. Catching my breath, I sit down on the stool beside him and survey the room of guys who are wrapping up their own spooge-fests. Guys I remember; guys I now know.
I turn to Bob who's running his meaty fingers over his cum-soaked chest and basking in the afterglow our encounter with the cigar we've been sharing. He looks at me, hands me over the cigar and smiles.
"Welcome home, Billy," he says, and I remember distinctly what he told me before all of this started and just know whom to thank for all this. I take in a long, deep draw in his memory.
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