You realize quickly that you're heading to an even sketchier part of town. Your walk is definitely more stilted, more thuggish than it had ever been. Damon is rambling the whole time, and maybe two weeks ago you wouldn't have known what the hell he was saying, but you could understand him perfectly.
You arrive in a narrow alley, where some hooded figures wait in the shadows. The two of you swagger up there, and Damon quietly tells you to stay back and let him do the talking. You see him greet the others, exchange words for a bit and then turn to walk away. You join him, and you notice that he's got a bag of weed in his hand.
He points to a smaller bag inside the large one. "That's all yo's," he says. "We comin' back tomorrow, so you gotta finish it all tonight." You swallow hard. You'd never so much as smoked a turkey in your life, let alone pot. At first you're totally disgusted, but as you make your way home, you begin to crave it, to really want it bad.
When you get back to the house, Damon separates your shit from his, and sprinkles something into it, presumably more of the drug he's been giving you in everything else. He sits down and rolls you a blunt, which you can't wait to take from him. He passes it and a lighter to you, and you nervously light it up. You're slow to inhale at first, but as the drug works its way into your bloodstream, the whole process begins to feel more natural, and you end up higher than a kite---and you love it.
For the rest of the day, you and Damon drink a lot, you work out some more, and you eat more of the drug-laced food he's putting out for you. The next morning you wake up to find your change has accelerated enormously--you barely recognize yourself.
The little bit of facial hair you'd had yesterday is now a full goatee, just like you'd imagined. Your muscles are all pumped more than you could have hoped for, and your body is covered in dark hair. You look over to the chair and see a much baggier pair of jeans than you'd ever been allowed before, a throwback basketball jersey, some platinum jewelry, a do rag, baseball cap and a pair of Timberlands. You put it all on and return to the mirror to see a full-on thug, a mere shadow of your former self.
Now that you've gone this far, what else can possibly be left?