Ted, Sam and Jerry huddled by the window outside the house, watching the party going on inside and over in the backyard.
Ted had long black hair and green eyes. He was wearing his usual-jeans and a loose t-shirt. The others around him wore something similar. He lit up the pipe, inhaled, and tried not to violently cough. The effects of weed were amazing, but glass pipes were the harshest. He paused, held the smoke in, then let it out, his lungs spasming, though he did not let his discomfort show.
Didn’t want to lose his shit in front of the guy he passed the pipe to.
Sam was a blonde-haired, blue eyed jock, very stereotypical, dressed in a polo shirt and comfortable slacks. The only reason Ted and his best friend Jerry had even been invited to the party (though not allowed to linger in the public’s eye) was because they supplied Sam with weed. Sam took the pipe, lit the weed, and inhaled. Unlike Ted, he started coughing immediately, his heavy pecs bouncing under his tight polo. But he persisted, taking another quick inhale and holding it.
Then he passed the pipe to Jerry. Jerry was rather fat and kept his hair buzz-cut short. He liked to tell Ted that he thought long hair looked girly. Ted didn’t take offense. Jerry didn’t have the right face for long hair to really work for him anyways. He figured it was just petty jealousy. Jerry was a veteran toker and kept his shit together when he inhaled.
After a few seconds, he passed the pipe back to Ted.
“I’m gonna go inside to use the bathroom, okay?” Jerry asked.
“Make it quick.” Sam said, his voice carrying a tone of command.
Ted and Sam watched the fat guy waddle off. Through the window, they could see him wander into the bathroom. They returned to the pipe, taking puffs off it. Sam was quickly getting stoned, while Ted… well, he was buzzed. The weed was pretty shit, and his tolerance was rather high.
They hunkered down in the shadows as the night darkened around them. Ted’s night-vision was pretty good. When you deal drugs, being observant was the most important thing in the world. Ted observed that he wouldn’t have to wait long for Sam to pass out. Then he and Jerry could go raid the frat’s fridge for beer and leave.
“So…” Sam spoke up, “How do you get away with smoking so much? You come into class smelling like… you know.”
“Most of them are cool with it,” Ted replied laconically. “It’s all cool man, except…”
“Except?”
“Except for—”
A heavy, furry form landed between them.
A furry, wolf-like head turned, regarded them both, then it rose to its feet and loped away. Ted swore he saw a smaller… werewolf? Clinging to the larger one, a big cock stuffed up its tailhole. He blinked, and they were gone into the woods.
Ted blinked, and turned to Sam. They stared at each other, wide eyed, then turned their heads back to the woods. A howl echoed in the night air.
“Was that…?” Sam began.
“No,” Ted said firmly.
“But—”
“Nope. Don’t say it. That was a hallucination.”
“I’m just spooked, is all. Wait, how did both of us see a hallucination?”
“Don’t think too hard on it,” Ted said.
“Alright.”
They both sat in silence, waiting for their hearts to stop pounding.
“So what was it you were saying before? Everyone at school was cool with it except…?” Sam continued, the jock rubbing his muscled arms and shivering.
“Except for my history Professor. He’s a big, mean, domineering guy. He smells me, knows I’ve smoked, then kicks me out of class,” Ted replied.
“Damn.” Sam took a drag from the pipe and handed it to Ted.
Ted was about to take a toke when a strange warmth engulfed him. He basked in it, letting the strange, gentle tingles ripple through him in waves. Yeah, this was the high he’d been looking for. Took it long enough.
Sam wandered off towards the woods, staring down at the grass.
Tracks, Ted realized. He’s looking for tracks.
He wanted to tell Sam to stop and get back here, then moaned softly as the waves massaged his head. His scalped softly tingled and Ted reached up, rubbing a forming bald spot at the back of his head. His hair receded at his touch, long black strands shortening, buzzing itself away. Ted still had hair, though it was severely receded at the front and back, with just a strip in the middle hanging on for dear life.
Ted paused, fingers still on his scalp. Why did he have a bald spot?
But the warmth gently reshaped his thoughts. It was manly for a man to lose his hair. It meant he had excess testosterone, Ted rationalized. There was something wrong with that logic, but the soothing warmth eased those worries away, instead focusing on how masculine it must make him. His cock tented his jeans as he thought of how manly he was.
His face itched and Ted scratched at it. The hairs seemed to grow under his nails, longer and thicker and denser. Scratching soothed the itch, so he scratched harder, and the growth continued, a thick, dense beard descending to rest on his chest, trimming itself perfectly. His hard cock was throbbing in his pants. Beards were very manly, after all.
Ted turned and glanced at his reflection in the window. His mind stuttered to a stop as the warmth gently tingled all over his face. His eyebrows grew bushy, and gray streaked his beard. Lines creased his face and his cheeks plumped and sagged; crow’s feet etched themselves in the corner of his eyes. Everything became blurry for a moment. Then a pair of spectacles appeared on the tip of his increasingly bulbous nose, and he could see again.
“W-what?” Ted said, his voice a rich baritone. His cock twitched in his pants as he stared at the older, manly face reflected in the glass. Ted couldn’t decide how to feel, thoughts warring between horny and proud of being so masculine and terror at looking so… old. He raised his bushy eyebrows as a few strands grayed while he watched. “Why am I looking like some old bear?”
Wait, what the fuck was he freaking out for?
Obviously the schwag weed he’d been smoking had been spiked with something. Like the werewolves he saw earlier, this was just another hallucination. After all, hadn’t he just said he hated his old history professor? And here he was watching his face changing into that of a rather imposing older man. All he needed to do was ride it out for an hour. That’s all. He chuckled to himself as he watched a doublechin swelled into existence.
The stoner just wobbled his doublechin with an increasingly pudgier hand and chuckled. It was so realistic! His clothes shifted next, jeans and shirt rippling, fabric altering, becoming a proper three piece tweed suit, a bowtie cinching itself firmly just beneath his doublechin, forcing his head forward, giving him a more dignified air.
Warmth filled his torso. Ted burped softly as he suddenly felt incredibly full, almost to the point of painfulness. The pressure rose, his stomach feeling tense. Then he let out a breath and his body relaxed, the skin stretching as fat flooded his belly. A warm feeling of relief overwhelmed him as his gut ballooned in front of him. His body bloated as well, face puffing, breasts swelling and drooping, heavy with fat. With a burp, his gut lopped over his belt, pushing his slacks down.
Suspenders looped themselves around his shoulders, bringing his pants up, his gut growing more globular with each passing second. Warmth filled his ass as it swelled, bubbling outwards, stretching the back of his pants and providing a counterbalance to the enormous gut. The flow of fat to his big caboose slowly wobbled to a halt.
Ted blinked blearily down at his self. He looked like a beached whale in corduroys. The warmth moved to his crotch and Ted moaned, his cock feeling like it was growing hard, but it kept pulsing longer and longer, a lewd crease running down the side of his skin-tight slacks. He groped it with a big, soft hand, adjusting it into a more comfortable position.
The warmth recentered on his head. At first, Ted wasn’t sure what it would do this time. He’d figured out the warmth generally signaled another strange hallucination. Ted fingered the glass pipe in his big hands and paused, looking down at it. Why was he holding a pot pipe? He hadn’t smoked for years now.
Warmth was pulsing in his head. What was he doing at a frat house? He remembered hating history class and coming here to blow off steam, but with a mental folding that had him sigh, the memory changed. Ted had loved history class, so much so he’d stopped smoking to please his stern professor. What a great role model he’d been!
His hand fell back onto his great gut, rubbing it. It was so strange, soft yet firm at the same time, his body just so big and blubbery. But the gentle warmth pulsed steadily, and he realized he shouldn’t be so surprised. Ted – or rather Theodore, as he preferred to call himself now – had a sedentary job teaching history. Years of classes piled into his head, lovely meals at local restaurants filling his belly. He settled into the weight as it became just another part of his long life. With a final pulse, his body swelled again, memories of his most recent feast filling him as it did his belly. He let out a final satisfied burp and happily patted his rotund gut.
“Ted?” Sam asked cautiously.
Theodore realized the jock had been standing next to him for some time now. He vaguely recalled someone named Sam from his college days. They would smoke pot together. This young man looked just like him.
“Sam, I… err… I…” His mind stuttered, memories of years of teaching filling it. “Who are you?”
“The pipe. Maybe you should give it to me,” Sam held out a hand.
“You can’t be Sam. No, no, that’s quite impossible,” Theodore chuckled, shaking his head. “Sam is certainly no spring chicken now.”
“The pipe is doing something,” Sam stepped forward and into view of the window. “Give it to me.”
Theodore glanced down at the glass pipe. It smelled strongly of marijuana. A sudden surge of rage overwhelmed him.
“I shall do no such thing, young man!” Theodore spat. “You could ruin your academic career if you got caught with such a thing!”
“Give me the pipe!” Sam snarled, lunging for it. “It’s doing things to you!”
Red light bathed Sam, engulfing him in a pleasant warmth.
His body stiffened mid lounge and he fell forward, smacking the glass pipe out of Theodore's pudgy hand. It fell to the ground and shattered. Theodore caught the young man in his wide arms, his fall cushioned by the Professor’s prodigious gut.
Sam didn’t understand what was happening, the warm pulses growing stronger, more intense. The lights in the Frat flickered with each pulse. The music stuttered and skipped in tandem with his thoughts. He looked up at the fat Professor, into his friend’s aged face. He wanted to help fix Ted… he wanted to help please Theodore.
“You shouldn’t smoke pot, boy,” The man’s big, warm hands caressed him gently.
Sam moaned, feeling the world around him loom larger. Was he shrinking? A pudgy hand caressed his ass, groping its firmness, then traveled under his crotch and rubbed his genitals instead. The jock was having trouble thinking straight, the warm pulse, though forceful, was nice. He felt his mouth slacken as the Professor raised him up to meet his lips.
They kissed, and Sam enjoyed the tickle of beard hair on his hardening skin. Theodore used his big hand to lift the boy’s lower body, Sam’s back bending unnaturally. Then the professor sucked in a breath, lips still locked with Sam’s.
Warmth flared in Sam’s rear, and the jock moaned hollowly, feeling something being drawn through him, into his owner’s mouth. His mind stuttered again. Owner? He was… Theodore’s pipe. He was… Nicotine washed away his thoughts. He continued shrinking, smaller and smaller, and thoughts grew harder to string together, interrupted by the older man’s puffs.
Sam could feel his memories being warmly drawn away into the Professor’s mouth. He was losing himself entirely. Fear started to rise in his chest as he realized he was becoming nothing more than a pipe, but the gentle, soothing waves of warmth quelled any panic he might felt. With a final puff, the Professor blew out the last of the pipe’s memories.
The red light shut off.
Professor Theodore Stone puffed on his new pipe contentedly. He had no idea where that foolish young man had gone, but the red light assured him it didn’t matter. Sam was exactly where a troublemaker like him deserved to be.
Then another young man wandered back around the house.
“Sam? Ted?” the rather portly young man called. “Something strange is going on. There should be tons of people here, but the house is growing empty.”
This was… Theodore tried to recall the name of the student… Jerry? It couldn’t be. Jerry had to be around fifty now, just like he was. The poor lad stumbled around in the dark, towards the warm glow of the pipe. Clearly he hadn’t adapted to the darkness yet, as he mistook the large professor for his friends.
“Ted?” Jerry stumbled forward in the dark. The skunky smell of cannabis was gone, replaced with a sweet tobacco smoke and an enticing cologne. He bumbled into the Professor’s prodigious belly.
“Can I help you, young man?” Professor Stone asked imperiously, staring down angrily at the young man.
“Oh! I’m sorry, didn’t see you there!” Jerry babbled, panic in his eyes.
Then the young man’s eyes widened more, taking in the Professor’s face. He blinked, as though not believing what he was seeing. Professor Stone wondered if the young man was as stoned as his…. other friends? But there was no one out here but him.
“Ted? What– why are you so old?”
“Stop speaking nonsense. We are not on a first name basis!” Professor Stone snapped.
“Dude, what the fuck happened to you? Do you even know who I am?” Jerry persisted.
Professor Stone rolled his eyes, the warmth in his brain tingling. The portly young man did resemble someone he knew… His memories reshaped themselves again. Theodore smiled.
“You look remarkably like my assistant.” Professor Stone leered, blowing sweet-smelling pipe smoke in the young man’s pudgy face.
“Dude, stop, I’m not your teacher’s assistant, I’m your friend…” Jerry paused, a warm red light engulfing him.
Yeah… Professor Stone was his… friend. The warmth reshaped his thoughts gently. His… boyfriend?
That– that wasn’t—! That couldn’t be right! He wasn’t even gay! Jerry tried to shake off the strange memories inserting themselves into his brain.
If he wasn’t gay, why did he remember staring at his handsome history professor, at the thick bulge, at his large belly, and feel nothing but lost for two whole semesters? Why had he taken his classes over the summer, made small talk, and gone down on the mature man when he’d whipped out his cock.
“No….” Jerry shook his head, his voice higher pitched, not noticing his short hair growing longer, more feminine.
“It’s okay,” Professor Stone said softly and his big hand reached out and brushed a long strand of hair out of Jerry’s face. “No one’s going to see us back here.”
Jerry’s cock tented his jeans at the surprisingly intimate gesture. He didn’t understand what was happening. He had to save his friend. Ted been turned into a hot polar bear professor! Where had Sam gone? Had Sam been changed too? Was he going to be next? How was any of this fucking possible? It was all too much to think about… He just wanted to bury himself in Theodore’s chest.
The Professor’s hands traveled down Jerry’s body and the tubby stoner’s form thinned under his touch. Those big, firm hands settled on Jerry’s wide ass and with a tingle, the fat shrank, and muscles toned. Professor stone rubbed more firmly, gripping and squeezing Jerry’s buns as they firmed, swelling into two perfect, bubbly domes.
They traveled to the front of Jerry’s jeans and rubbed at the bulge there. Jerry gasped as he felt pressure on his genitals. The bulge shrank with every grope until only a soft bump indicated the area where Jerry’s greatly diminished genitals were.
“P-Professor!” Jerry gasped. He knew something was wrong, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. He just wanted the Professor and only the Professor.
Professor Stone didn’t speak, just placed that big hand of his on top of Jerry’s head and pressed downward.
Jerry sank to his knees and found himself staring at the thick crease in the Professor's slacks. He reached out a trembling hand and unzipped the big man’s pants, tugging out Theodore's big, semi-hard shaft. The twink took it in his hands, marveling at its weight.
It was perfectly formed and, with the pulsing warmth in his head urging him on, Jerry took it into his mouth. It was fleshy and hot, and it twitched delightfully on his tongue. He heard the Professor moan above him and felt even more excited.
The hand pressed him firmly towards the musky pubic hair of the fat old man’s crotch. Jerry let more and more of the veiny shaft into his mouth until the fat head bumped against the back of his throat. He gagged momentarily, and then warm heat soothed his throat and it opened, accepting the bulbous cockhead. Jerry swallowed and gulped as he heard the Professor moan louder, pressing his nose against the wiry gray pubes.
Jerry breathed in Professor’s Stones masculine musk and his own cock twitched in his pants. He started to bob, slowly at first, then faster and faster. The Professor’s big, warm hand on the back of his head encouraged him. Jerry’s brain felt all tingly and nice, and any protestations he could have voiced simply failed to surface at all.
The Professor huffed and moaned, and the cock twitched. Warmth flooded Jerry mouth. It tasted bitter, but Jerry swallowed it anyways, gulping down his Professor’s cum. The dick spurted again and again, but Jerry’s mouth was there, eagerly lapping up the load.
When the Professor finished cumming, Jerry pulled off the cock and licked it clean. He carefully tucked it back into the slacks, zipped it up, and stood with the Professor’s hand assisting him.
“Good.” Professor Stone glanced around. “What the hell are we doing here anyways? You aren’t even in this fraternity.”
Jerry shrugged, unable to come up with a response. The twink honestly didn’t know why he’d come to the party. They left for Professor Stone’s villa to finish the night with a glass of brandy.