smoketransformer

[smoketransformer]

The MAN Experiment

This report details the process and results of the Marlboro Addiction Neuroscience (MAN) experiment performed by the Fumo Transfigurator Institute (FTI).

Observation

Can addiction be formed if the subject believes they cannot become addicted?

Hypothesis

If the subject thinks they cannot become addicted to nicotine, they will not become addicted to nicotine.

Experiment

The subject will take a placebo drug each day over a hundred days. They will be placed on a strict smoking schedule over the hundred days, as follows:

Evaluation will be done to determine whether the subject is addicted. Subject is required to log with video evidence that they have smoked the required daily limit. The subject can smoke anytime during the day, but must smoke right after waking up and right before going to bed.

Log

Day 0

We met with the subject (male, 27yo). We went over the expectations of the experiment and made sure he was aware of the risks. Communication is as follows:

FTI: “Have you ever smoked before?”

Subject: “No.”

FTI: “Do your parents smoke?”

Subject: “No.”

FTI: “Do you have siblings that smoke?”

Subject: “No.”

FTI: “Do you have friends that smoke?”

Subject: “Just one.”

FTI: “What is their name?”

Subject: “His name is -redacted-.” (Friend will be talked about further in the report. From this point forward, friend’s name will be referred to as Alpha.)

FTI: “How long have you known Alpha?”

Subject: “We were friends in high school, so about 12 years. We have stayed in touch.”

FTI: “How often do you see Alpha?”

Subject: “Not often. Maybe once a month. Since he smokes and I don’t, I don’t invite him over a lot. I don’t really care for the smell. He also drinks a bit and I’m not much of a drinker.”

FTI: “You are aware of the expectations of the experiment?”

Subject: “Yes.”

FTI: “Our drug helps prevent addiction. Do you want to be a smoker?”

Subject: “No.”

FTI: “Do you believe you will become an addicted smoker?”

Subject: “No. Not with your drug and my willpower.”

The subject began the experiment the following day. Next check in

Note: Subject was paid $1,000 per week for their willingness to participate in our experiment.

Day 11

We met with the subject after the first 10 days. We went over the daily log videos. We noted that the first three days included a lot of coughing and resistance. The subject did not want to smoke them. The remaining days appeared to be easier for the subject, but the subject said he still did not want to smoke.

We noted the subject had grown a beard. We asked the subject if it was related to the smoking. Subject stated: “Smoking first thing in the morning has interrupted my morning routine.”

Prior to our meeting, the subject had smoked just one cigarette. We reminded them that he had to now smoke four a day. On a scale of 1 to 10 for addiction, the subject rated a 1. He didn’t feel like he wanted to or needed to smoke.

Day 21

We met with the subject after another 10 days of smoking 4 cigarettes a day. We went over the daily video logs and verified the subject complied with the requirements. We noted the subject rarely coughed. The subject schedule was smoking two before work and the remaining two in the evening. We noted that the subject had gained 5.6 pounds since the start of the experiment. His comment in regards to the weight gain: “I found it is easier to smoke if I’m having a beer in the evening. Also, I guess I have been splurging a little more with junk food. Guess I justify a bad habit with another. Like, what’s the point?”

The subject had already smoked two prior to the meeting and was aware he had to smoke four more today to meet the expectations. On a scale of 1 to 10 for addiction, the subject still rated a 1.

Day 31

We met with the subject after 10 days of smoking 6 cigarettes a day. We went over the video logs. We identified that the subject appeared to enjoy his smoke breaks at work and provided a sense of relief. The subject stated when we pointed this out “I guess I like to be able to step outside and the rest of the world kind of stops.”

We noted that the subject had cut his hair shorter. He stated that he was receiving comments at work about him smelling like smoke. He didn’t want them to know that he is participating in this experiment, so he thought shorter hair would prevent this as there would be less hair for the smoke to stick to.

The subject has also gained a total of 10.1 pounds since the start of the experiment. He has increased his beer and junk food intake.

The subject had already smoked 4 cigarettes prior to our meeting. He said he knows that he is expected to smoke another 4 today. The subject rated a 2 out of 10 in regards to addiction. We asked if the subject would like to quit the experiment and he said he still wants to “stick through it”.

Day 41

We met with the subject after smoking 8 cigarettes a day over the last 10 days. We observed the video logs and noticed the subject was smoking a few with someone else. This individual was his friend Alpha. The subject was spending more time with Alpha. Conversation regarding this change is as follows:

FTI: “Why have you been spending more time with Alpha?”

Subject: “One reason I didn’t hang out with Alpha was to our different lifestyles. Now that I am smoking, spending time is more enjoyable as we both outside for smoking.”

FTI: “Do you enjoy smoking with Alpha?”

Subject: “If I’m being honest, yes. It is like an added connection with our friendship.”

FTI: “Did you tell him about the experiment?”

Subject: “Yes.”

FTI: “What were his thoughts? Did he think the drug was working?”

Subject: “He didn’t think it was, but I believe that it is.”

The subject had only smoke 2 prior to our meeting but knew he had to smoke 10. He stated: “Alpha is coming over for a few beers later this evening and wanted to save majority of my daily limit today so I can smoke when he smokes.”

We identified that he refers to his daily smoke expectations as “limits” now. When asked if he would smoke more than his set scheduled expectations if allowed, he said maybe. We ensured him to stick to the schedule.

Subject’s beard has grown larger.

Out of a scale of 10, he stated he was still at a 2. We are not sure if he is being honest or is in denial.

Day 51

We met with the subject. He smelled like cigarette smoke. He said he didn’t notice the smell anymore on him. He even said he was starting to not care anymore if he smelled like a smoker. The subject even said he started smoking inside his house for convenience. The subject said he quit his job as he didn’t like having to wait for smoke breaks at work. His friend Alpha is getting him a job at his road construction company. The subject has been spending most evening drinking and smoking with Alpha. We asked the subject the following questions:

FTI: “Do you see yourself as a smoker?”

Subject: “I guess. I am planning on quitting once this experiment is over.”

FTI: “Have you enjoyed smoking?”

Subject: “Honestly, yes. I see the appeal.”

FTI: “Do you think the drug is working?”

Subject: “Yes. I can quit anytime.”

FTI: “Do you want to quit now?”

Subject: “No. I want to finish the experiment.”

We asked the subject if we could call his friend Alpha. He agreed. Our conversation went as follows:

FTI: “Good afternoon, Alpha. This is FTI - we are the ones conducting the experiment on your friend.”

Alpha: “Hi there.”

FTI: “Do you think your friend is addicted to smoking?”

Alpha: “Yeah, most definitely.”

FTI: “What makes you say that?”

Alpha: “He always suggests we take a smoke break. He lights up whenever he wants or needs to.”

FTI: “Our drug prevents addiction though.”

Alpha: “Well, your drug don’t work.”

FTI: “When the experiment is over, will you support your friend on quitting?”

Alpha: “Probably not. The man’s a smoker. I don’t see him quitting anytime soon.”

We asked the subject what he thought about his friend’s answers. He had no comment.

The subject is starting 14 cigarettes a day. When reminded of this, the subject said “Sounds good. I’m already halfway through for the day.”

The subject had gained additional weight and has shaven his head. He said his friend Alpha suggested it.

Day 61

The subject appeared hungover. He said he had a late night with the co-workers, including Alpha. He admitted that he smoked more than his “limit”. We told him he had to stick to the set schedule and he was displeased, but said he would try his best.

The subject had gained more weight from his drinking. He said he enjoys the “taste of a cold beer and a Red.”

The meeting was short. He acted like he was in a rush. As soon as we dismissed him, we watched him light up a cigarette when exiting our facility.

Day 71

The subject initially did not appear for the meeting. When called, he said he didn’t see the point anymore. He knew he wasn’t addicted, but didn’t need to prove it. He reminded us he could quit anytime. We reminded him of the payment, but only agreed to come in if we supplied him with the cigarettes he would need for the next 10 days.

The subject came in and grabbed his 8 packs of Marlboro Reds.

The subject smelled of smoke and his voice was starting to sound raspy. He coughed occasionally. We asked him why he continued to grow out the beard. He said he can sometimes smell the smoke on it and that he likes it.

Day 81

The subject told us that he thought the drug was still working, but wondered if FTI would be interested in a longer study to really prove the effectiveness of the drug. We said that the 100 days will be more than enough data. The subject appeared disappointed and said, “Oh - guess it is just 20 more days of this then.”

We asked him how addicted did he think he was. He thought about it for a while until he said “5 out of 10, but I think I can still quit.”

The scientists conducting the experiment discussed after the subject left whether it was moral and ethical to continue on. We discussed whether the subject should be given the option to quit before he became even more addicted. Our lead scientist stated, “To be honest, it is probably already too late. At the end of the experiment, we will give him resources to quit.”

Day 91

We showed the subject a photo of himself at the start of the experiment. We asked him what advice he would give himself at the start of the experiment.

Subject: “Do it man - the drug works and you get to try smoking for 100 days.”

We asked the subject if he truly believe the drug worked. He said, “Sure. I’ll quit eventually.”

We asked him if he was ready to quit after the next 10 days. His reply was “I will quit, eventually.”

Day 101

The subject came in. He still smelled like he was smoking. We asked him if he had smoked today and he said, “Yeah - but I kind of forgot the experiment ended.”

We told the subject the truth and that the drug was a placebo. We expected him to get angry, but he wasn’t. After delivering the news, we asked him to honestly rate how addicted he was. He said “10 out of 10”.

We provided him resources to call and offered him nicotine patches to help him quit. He refused both. He said he will probably quit eventually, he he just wasn’t ready. He enjoyed his new life and that he had never felt more free or manly. We asked him how many he had smoked so far today. He stated he had already smoked a whole pack and that he was looking forward to not having a limit anymore. He said he only was friends with Alpha and that his friends disapproved of his new smoking habit.

He said he needed a smoke and left the meeting. We followed him to the parking lot and said we needed one final photo. He stuck his cigarette in his mouth and smiled.

Conclusion

We conclude that a man will become addicted even when he thought he couldn’t. We stand by our research ethically because the subject did not regret starting. He even thanked us for the pleasure.

[smoketransformer]

A New Family for the Holiday

Tanner couldn’t make it home for Thanksgiving. After moving to a new city for a job, he couldn’t afford the plane ticket. He was planning of just heating up a pre-cooked meal be purchased from the store, but his co-worker Ben invited him over to spend the holiday with his friends.

Tanner didn’t speak much to Ben since he worked in a different department, so he didn’t know much about him. He just knew he was an older gentlemen in in late 50s, who had a bushy beard, was larger in size and took frequent smoke breaks. Tanner had seen him walking through the office holding a tobacco pipe as he made his way outside.

He debated on even going. As a 30 year old, he didn’t know whether he would have much in common with Ben and his friends. In the end though, he figured it was better to spend the day with people and not by himself.

Tanner approached Ben’s house with a bottle of whiskey. He figured Ben was a whiskey drinker, so he brought it as a gift as a nice gesture.

Tanner knocked and a few short seconds later, Ben opened the door. “Happy Thanksgiving, Tanner!” Ben bellowed with a pipe in his jaw. Smoke not only rolled out of Ben’s mouth as he spoked, but also out of the front door. Tanner knew Ben was a smoker, but didn’t expect this much smoke in his house.

Tanner wasn’t one for being around smoke, but it was too late to turn back now.

“Happy Thanksgiving, I got you this bottle,” Tanner said as he handed Ben the gift.

“Thanks son! Come in, come in!” Ben said as he gestured Tanner inside. Tanner never was called son by an older man before; well, besides from his own father. It made his feel odd but somehow also protected.

“My friends are already here. Hope the smoke isn’t too much. Big cigar and pipe smokers, we are,”

“It’s fine,” Tanner said trying to act like it wasn’t a big deal, but he felt like he was just breathing in smoke.

Ben took Tanner to the dining room, which was even smokier. There was a group of four other men there. They all looked like some version of Ben.

“Hey everyone, this is Tanner,” Ben introduced his co-worker.

“Hi everyone, Happy Thanksgiving,” Tanner said feeling out of place.

Ben pointed to a thick man who happened to be about Tanner’s age, but looked much different than he did. He was bald, thickly bearded and had a large cigar in his hand. “That’s Jay,” Ben added.

He then pointed to an middle aged man who was also large in size, hairy and smoking a similar fat cigar, “And that’s Jay’s partner, Dan. He owns a popular bar in the city.”

Dan got up and shook Tanner’s hand and said, “It’s called The Bear’s Den, ever been there?”

“Can’t say that I have,” Tanner replied.

“Sure you will soon enough,” Dan chuckled as he sat back down.

“Cool it, Dan,” Ben laughed, “And that is Harold.” Ben pointed to an older man who was just plain fat. He was bald on the top of his head, but still had hair on the sides. He also had a very large but nicotine stained mustache. Just like Ben, he was was smoking a pipe. “Actually met him at The Bear’s Den a few weeks ago. He’s a trucker and was lucky enough to be passing through town for Thanksgiving.”

“Howdy,” Harold said with his pipe clenched in his teeth.

“Then that is Chuck,” Ben pointed to another young man who was bald and bearded and smoking a fat cigar, “He works on my car.”

“Nice to meet ya,” Chuck said with a smile, before sticking his cigar back in his mouth.

“Nice to meet you all,” Tanner nervously said.

“Take a seat next to Chuck, sure he’ll share his stockpile of gars with ya,” Ben laughed as he headed to the kitchen.

Tanner took a seat and Chuck asked him in his deep voice, “Want one?”

“A cigar? No thanks, I don’t smoke,” Tanner answered.

“Well, I have plenty when you change your mind,” Chuck teased.

Ben came back with two beers, “Here son.” Ben handed Tanner one of the beers.

“Already calling him son, Ben?” Dan asked and grinned.

Tanner didn’t know what he was talking about, but thought it was strange.

“I said cool it, Dan,” Ben said in an annoyed tone.

Tanner took a sip of the beer, but it tasted so good that he continued drinking it to the point of actually chugging it.

All the men at the table stared and smiled. “Sorry, must have been thirsty.”

“Thanksgiving is all about indulgence,” Ben assured him, “Drink up.” Ben offered him the second beer and Tanner accepted.

Tanner made small talk with the men as Ben was bringing out the feast. He didn’t touch the second beer yet, even though it was tempting.

“You haven’t touched your second beer,” Dan said, “Is something wrong? I brewed it myself.”

“No, not at all,” Tanner replied, “Just waiting on dinner.”

Dan stared at Tanner. It made him feel uncomfortable, so he took a drink of the beer. Once again, it ended up being a chug. Dan smiled.

He was starting to feel a little buzzed and full from the beer, but was still looking forward to eating dinner.

“Got you a refill, son,” Ben said as he handed him another beer.

“Thanks, Dad,” Tanner said, “I mean, Ben.” Ben just chuckled as he sat next to him.

“I’ll dish you up, son,” Ben said as he grabbed Tanner’s plate. He was putting large quantities of everything. Once he was done, he set the loaded plate in front of Tanner. He added “Don’t worry, you can always have seconds.”

All the men made their plates and started eating, but they still had their choice of smoke. Tanner thought this was too much food, but it tasted delicious. He kept eating. A bit of gravy rolled down his chin and he used his napkin to clean it up. He felt stubble around his mouth. It startled him cause he was clean shaven. His chin also felt larger. Maybe the smoke and beer was getting to him. Maybe it wasn’t actually there. But it was.

He grabbed his beer and placed his head on top of his head to nervous play with his curly hair, but it wasn’t there.

Tanner got anxious and was about to get up, but Ben placed his hand on Tanner’s leg. “It’s okay, son. Just relax and eat. Indulge.” As Ben said this, he blew his pipe smoke directly into Tanner’s face.

“Yes Dad,” Tanner said in a relaxed tone and obliged. He kept eating.

Tanner not only had seconds, but thirds. Each helping was as large as the last. During the corse of dinner, he had two more beers. As he ate, he felt more like he belonged.

All the men ate all the food; there would be no leftovers.

Full and a little uncomfortable, Tanner excused himself to go to the bathroom. Once he got there, he had to unbutton his jeans as they were about to burst. Same with his shirt as he had to loosen the buttons. That’s when he noticed his large belly. He thought he wouldn’t be able to see his junk anymore.

He looked at himself for the first time in the mirror. He was a different man. He had a full goatee and an even fuller face. His hair was now in a buzzcut. These sudden changes should have disturbed him, but he liked what he saw. He just saw his true self now.

Tanner came back to the dinner table and plopped down. His shirt was completely unbuttoned and his jeans were only held up by the last hole in his belt.

All the men besides Ben were at the table and each had a fresh cigar or pipe going and Tanner had a sudden urge to have one himself. It wasn’t a want, but a need.

Ben came back to the dinner table from the kitchen. He not only had one pipe, but two. One of them was in his jaw and the other was in his hand.

“Here son. Brought you your pipe,” Ben said as he sat down and handed him his pipe.

“Thanks Dad,” Tanner said as he clinched the pipe in his teeth and grabbed one of the lighters off the table.

Tanner naturally lit up the pipe and the smoke was pouring out of his mouth as he was puffing away. His urge and need felt fulfilled when he took deep pull of smoke deep in his lungs.

Ben put his hand on Tanner’s leg and said, “Happy Thanksgiving, son.”

“Happy Thanksgiving, Dad,” Tanner replied. He looked around the table and saw all the men enjoying their smoke; giving into the pleasure of indulgence. He felt like he finally belonged with his new found family.

[smoketransformer]

A Bad Influence

Being single and 41 can be tough, especially when you are a gay man and live in a small town. Grant wasn’t your stereotypical gay man though; he blended in with the rest of the town folk. He rode a motorcycle, wore leather, smoked Marlboro Reds, sported a full beard and owned an auto shop. Most of the community knew of his sexual orientation and they were welcoming regardless.

Grant was sitting in the local dive bar on a Monday night, waiting for a blind date. His sister set him up with her coworker at the accounting firm she worked at. His name was Richard and he had just recently moved into town. She told him, “He’s a sweet guy. Kind of shy, but he might ‘clean ya up’ a bit.” He knew what she meant, but Grant loved his lifestyle: working on cars all day then beers and smokes in the evening.

He highly doubt it was going to work out with this accountant, but the dating pool was extremely limited in the area so he figured he might as well give it a shot.

Grant was waiting at his table, passing time with a beer, when his date walked in. A man in his forties wearing a twill business jacket and tie walked into the bar. He looked both lost and nervous.

“Rich! I’m over here,” Grant called out.

The accountant sheepishly smiled and waved as he approached the table.

“Hi - it is actually Richard, but it is nice to meet you,” the nervous date said as he reached out his hand.

Grant got up and shook his date’s hand. “Well, it’s nice to meet ya too, Richard.”

“How did you know it was me?” Richard asked in a playful way.

“You are the only one who looks like an accountant here,” Grant teased.

The date was awkward at first, as these two men seemed complete opposites. It was first filled with silence. Luckily, the bartender served them a pitcher of beer which seemed to help Richard’s nerves.

“Is that your motorcycle, out front?” Richard asked after taking a drink of his beer.

“Oh yeah - that’s my ride. Been biking since I was 16,” Grant answered, “Wanna go take a look?”

“Umm, yeah. Sure,” Richard replied, but Grant couldn’t tell whether Richard actually wanted to though.

“Cool - I needed a smoke anyways,” Grant said as the two men got up from the table, “You smoke?”

“Oh, no,” Richard quickly responded with an aggressive shake of the head.

“Hopefully me smoking isn’t an issue,” Grant lied. He didn’t care whether it was an issue or not; he was a smoker and had no plans on quitting. He loved it too much.

“Oh, I don’t mind that you do,” Richard quickly added, “It doesn’t bother me.”

“Good,” Grant said.

The two men talked outside. Richard asked questions about the Harley and how riding was. Grant was surprised that he seemed genuine interested. “You ever see yourself riding?” Grant asked.

“Oh, no. Would I like to? Sure. The way you describe it makes it sound freeing, but not sure if it is really me, you know?” Richard answered.

“You gotta be yourself. I see yourself riding one day,” Grant assured Richard. He felt bad for his date at that moment. He felt like Richard was implying he was just stuck as who he has been.

“Yeah, maybe,” Richard said doubtfully, “Guess it would give me a good reason to get a jacket like yours.”

“You like my jacket?” Grant asked surprisingly.

“Yeah, it looks nice on you. I’d wear one, but then again…I’m me, an accountant,” Richard laughed.

“Well, I think one would look quite nice on ya too,” Grant complimented his date, causing Richard to have a sincere smile. “You gotta let your hair down sometimes, Richard.”

Richard laughed. “What hair?”, he joked as he pointed to his own balding head.

After talking about the bike more and Grant having a few smokes, the two continued their date inside. They ordered another pitcher of beer and Richard seemed to be getting a bit buzzed.

The two of them were laughing and having a good time together, which surprised both of them. Before the two even noticed, the bar was on last call.

“Shit,” Grant said, “And I was having a nice time.”

“Me too,” Richard agreed, “Didn’t want it to end.”

The two men walked to the parking lot. Richard stumbled a little bit.

“You going to be okay? Driving home?” Grant asked worriedly.

“Ummm…I think so,” Richard unsurely answered.

“You don’t drink often, do you?” Grant asked.

“No - I don’t,” Richard responded, “I may walk home instead. It isn’t far.”

Grant grabbed the bike helmet that was sitting on his Harley and handed it to Richard. “I’ll give you a ride home.”

After Richard told him where he lived, Grant got on the bike. Richard sat behind him and wrapped his arms around his chest.

Richard thought he would have been scared, but he wasn’t. He trusted Grant. He felt safe around him.

Grant took it slow; he wanted Richard to enjoy his first time on a bike. He liked having Richard holding on to him. He couldn’t believe it, but he was really liking Richard and wanted to keep getting to know him.

After pulling into Richard’s house’s driveway, they both got off the bike.

“Thanks for the ride,” Richard said as he handed back the helmet.

“Anytime, stud,” Grant responded, causing a grin on Richard’s face.

“Okay, well…goodnight,” Richard said as he went in for a hug. Grant hugged tightly back. Grant was expecting a kiss, but Richard stepped back.

“Goodnight, Rich,” Grant said as Richard walked to his front door, “I mean, Richard.”

Richard smiled as he stepped inside his house.

Grant got back on his motorcycle with a lot of on his mind. “Did I blow it? Why didn’t he ask me inside? Maybe we aren’t compatible?”

***

A couple days passed by and Richard didn’t hear from Grant. He thought the date went well and he wanted to see Grant again, but maybe they were too opposite. “Maybe I am just too boring for him?” he thought.

Richard just sat there, contemplating whether he should text first. All he could think about was seeing Grant again.

He decided to text. Or call…no, text. He figured that the worst that could happen was not to get a response at all.

“Hi Grant - I really enjoyed our date the other night. Would you like to go on another one this Saturday? I was thinking of a picnic at the park.”

He hit send before he realized how lame a picnic at the park would sound to Grant. He didn’t seem like a picnic at the park type of guy.

A few minutes had passed until Richard’s phone dinged.

“Hey Rich! That sounds like fun. 2:00 work?”

Richard smiled with excitement and texted back “See you then!”

It was Saturday morning and Richard was getting ready. He was debating on whether to shave; he didn’t all week and his beard grew in. He was still recovering from his late Monday night and didn’t get around to it. He never sported any facial hair before, but thought maybe Grant would like to see him in a beard. Might make him “more interesting”.

Grant also decided to wear something more casual since it was the weekend and an outside date. He pulled on a black shirt and some jeans. He then grabbed the picnic supplies and headed out.

He was more excited than nervous, but still pretty nervous as he drove to the park. When he pulled in, he saw Grant standing next to his motorcycle while smoking a cigarette. He smiled and waved as Richard parked his car.

“Hey Rich!” Grant said as Richard got out of the car with a picnic basket.

“Hey Grant,” he replied back as he went in for a hug.

“I’m liking the beard,” Grant complimented him, “Looks good stud.”

Richard nervous chuckled, “Thanks.”

Grant took a final drag off his smoke and stubbed it on the ground. “Shall we?” he playfully asked as he motioned to the grass of the park.

Richard laid out a blanket and pulled out a few sandwiches. The two of them sat as they ate, chatting about their weeks.

When they were done eating, Richard pulled out a flask and took drink. “Want some?”

Maybe it was peer pressure or wanting to impress Grant, but Richard grabbed the flask and took a swig. It stung as it went down, but he tried to hide it.

Richard handed it back to Grant and he took another swig before putting it back in his leather jacket. He pulled out his pack of Marlboro Reds and started smoking for the rest of the date.

Richard never was attracted to smokers before. Being a nonsmoker himself, he wasn’t fond of them. However, something about the way Grant smoked was very attractive. It might have been the carefree, bad boy attitude. Maybe it was the way it looked. Whatever it was, he admired Grant’s confidence and wished he had just a piece of it.

They spent the day chatting and laughing. There was even a moment when Grant and Richard laid down to look at the clouds. Grant put one arm around Richard while the other held a lit cigarette. The smoke didn’t bother Richard, he just wanted to be close to Grant.

It was starting to get late when the two decided it was time to leave.

As they were about to say their goodbyes, Richard exclaimed, “Oh shit, I almost forgot!” Richard went to the saddlebag on his bike and pulled out a black leather jacket. “I wanted to give this to you. You liked mine so much, thought you might enjoy one of my old ones.”

Grant handed Richard the jacket. Richard looked at it, not knowing what to say.

“Well, try it on!” Grant excitedly ordered. Richard put the jacket on. It smelled of leather and smoke, but it fit like a glove. “It looks awesome on you, stud,” Grant added.

“It smells like you,” Richard teased. He liked the way it smelt.

“Good, you’ll think of me every time you where it,” Grant teased back.

“I don’t need a jacket to think of you,” Richard assured, but blushed as he said it.

Grant pulled in Richard and the two shared their first kiss together. Richard could taste the smoke on Grant’s tongue, but he liked it. It tasted like the man he had feelings for.

***

The next morning, Grant woke up in his bed. He had two things on his mind: Rich and a smoke. He grabbed his pack of Reds, his lighter and phone. He lit up a cigarette and texted Rich: “Morning stud! Plans for the day?”

Grant laid in bed as he smoked, hoping to hear back from Rich any minute now.

His phone buzzed with a text from Rich: “Good morning stud! No plans here. What about you?”

With his Red dangling in his lips, Grant replied: “Need to run a few errands. Nothing too exciting, but want to tag along? Maybe grab dinner afterwards?”

It was only a few seconds until his phone buzzed with a response, “Love to.”

Grant smoked a few more Reds in bed, with the biggest grin on his face.

Later that day, Grant rode his bike to Rich’s house. He had purchased an extra helmet since he planned on giving Rich plenty of rides in the future.

Grant knocked on the door and was happy to see Rich open it up in the leather jacket. “Now it looks like you are ready to ride!” Grant exclaimed as he handed Rich the helmet.

“Always,” Rich said as he grabbed the helmet and kissed Grant on the lips.

Rich didn’t ask Grant where they were going or what they were going to do. Grant just figured he was happy to be together.

They rode off to Grant’s first errand, which was the barber shop. Grant needed a clean up of his hair.

“Going to get shave the beard off?” Grant teased as they got off the bike.

“Thought you liked it?” Rich asked.

“I do. Any facial hair looks good on you,” Grant assured Rich.

After the barber gave Grant a small trim and cleaned up the beard, he asked Rich if he was getting a cut.

“No thanks, I’d like to keep what hair I have left,” Rich told the barber.

“Trust me, shaving the little hair you have left will look good on ya. Make you even look a little younger,” the barber suggested.

Rich looked towards Grant for some sort of approval. “It’s up to you, Rich,” he assured.

“Why not? Let’s give it ago,” Rich said as he sat in the seat.

“New you,” Grant said as he headed outside for a smoke.

Grant smoked a few until Rich stepped out of the barbershop. Rich’s head was cleanly shaved; there was nothing but shiny scalp. He had also had his beard trimmed into a goatee.

“Look at you! Looking sharp, stud. What happened to the beard?” Grant said as he stubbed out his spent cigarette. The barber was correct, it did make Rich look younger.

“Wanted to try something new. Do you like it?” Rich asked worriedly.

“No. Love it!” Grant said as he stepped closer to Rich and gave him a kiss on the lips.

“Thanks,” Rich said and smiled, “Where to next?”

After spending an afternoon of running miscellaneous errands, they headed back to the bar for a few drinks and dinner.

After they both had ate, Grant excused himself from the table to have a smoke outside.

Rich grabbed his fourth beer of the night off the table and said, “I’ll join ya.”

They took a seat on the smoking patio of the bar. It was a cool evening. Luckily they both had their leather jackets to keep them warm.

Grant grabbed his pack and pulled out a cigarette with his lips. He jokingly pointed the opened end towards Rich; but to his surprise, Rich pulled one out.

“Look at you,” Grant said between his cigarette dangling on his lips, “You must be a new man.”

“Thought I might has well try it. Never had one in my life,” Rich said as he awkwardly placed the Marlboro Red in his mouth.

Grant lit his smoke and then held the flame out for Rich. Rich leaned in and put the end of the cigarette to the flame. “Puff, like a straw,” Grant suggested as he watched Rich struggle. Finally smoke was coming out of Rich’s mouth.

“Doesn’t taste like I expect. Not bad,” Rich said as he held the Marlboro Red.

“Get use to puffing it. Then we’ll work on inhaling it,” Grant suggested, “You’ll be a smoker by the end of the night.” Both of them laughed.

“Guess now we can just sit on the smoking patio together every time we come here,” Rich said after taking another puff.

“My thoughts exactly,” Grant said.

Rich ordered another beer after trying a few more smokes. Grant enjoyed seeing Rich smoke. He thought it fit him well.

“Okay, are you ready for real smoking?” Grant asked as he pulled out two cigarettes from the iconic Marlboro pack.

“You mean I wasn’t?” Rich asked confused.

“You weren’t inhaling. After sucking the smoke in you mouth, breath in. We’ll see if you stick with smoking by the end of it,” Grant laughed and handed Rich one of the smokes.

Grant lit up and Rich followed suit. Grant sucked in the smoke and breathed in while Rich mirrored him. Grant exhaled without a problem since he had been smoking for 25 years, but Rich started coughing a little bit. Grant jokingly slapped Rich’s back, “It’ll get better.”

By the end of the smoke, Rich had stopped coughing every time he inhaled.

“So, you a smoker now?” Grant teased.

“Not sure. Might have a few more to make my decision,” Rich said as he put out his cigarette in the ashtray; his voice raspy from the foreign smoke in his throat.

“Already sounding like a smoker to me,” Grant said and both men laughed.

By the end of the evening, the men finished the pack and Grant joked that Rich owed him a pack.

***

As the two men headed outside after the bar closing, Grant asked, “Should I take you home, Rich?”

Richard started to like being called ‘Rich’ by Grant. It was almost like a pet name, or even a new identity. “Probably,” Rich replied, “But I don’t want to.”

“Want to head back to my place?” Grant suggested.

“Yeah,” Rich answered. He, in fact, never wanted to go back home again.

The two arrived at Grant’s house. It was far from what Rich was use to. There were empty beer cans and ashtrays scattered around. It was somehow both messy and organized. It felt like the place had heart and soul into it; it felt lived in. Rich couldn’t imagine Grant living anywhere else.

Grant went into the kitchen and came out holding two packs of Marlboro Reds and an extra lighter. He tossed one of the packs and the lighter to Rich, “You may need those.”

Grant started opening up the pack when Rich grabbed him and kissed him aggressively on the mouth. Grant returned the favor as the two started making out. Grant led them to his room, not stopping the tonguing of each other’s smoky mouths, and ripped off each others clothing.

The two feel onto the unmade bed in just their underwear, but those quickly came off.

***

The next morning, Grant woke up next Rich who was wide away. “Good morning, sexy,” Rich said.

“Good morning, stud,” Grant replied. He enjoyed waking up to Rich. He hoped it was the first of many.

Grant reached over to the night stand for his pack of smoke, pulled two out and handed one to Rich. They both lit up and enjoy the first of the morning smoke together.

“I could get use to this,” Rich said after a drag. Grant was surprised at how fast Rich took up the habit, but he wasn’t complaining. He always wanted a smoking boyfriend.

“Me too,” he agreed, “I better get the shop opened. My first customer is probably waiting.”

“Oh shit,” Rich said as he quickly got up, “I’m late for work.” Rich pulled on his jeans, shirt and jacket.

“I’ll take ya,” Grant quickly said as he rushed up.

Later that day at the shop, Grant was texting Rich nonstop; just checking in and seeing how his day was going.

It was about lunchtime when he was going to call Rich, but his sister ended up calling him.

“Hey sis!” Grant answered.

“What did you do?” she sternly asked.

“What do you mean?” he asked back.

“With Richard - he shows up to work late, dressed in a leather jacket and taking smoke breaks. He was supposed to be the good influence on you. Not you being the bad influence on him!” she sneered.

“Rich is a grown ass man. He can do what he wants and be who he wants to be,” Grant defensively said.

“Whatever…the boss is pissed. There was a huge client meeting and he missed it. Your boyfriend is probably going to be fired,” she pointedly said, “Hope you are happy.” She hung up.

Grant stood in his shop, quiet. Maybe he was a bad influence?

***

A few days passed and Rich didn’t hear from Grant. Rich texted and called multiple times a day. In the evenings, Rich held on to his phone, hoping to hear from him. He smoked and drank, since it reminded him of his few times with Grant.

Rich was luckily not fired from work, but he didn’t care if he did. He was too concerned with not being in Grant’s life.

The following Saturday afternoon, Rich decided to go to Grant’s. Rich knocked on the door, then pounded until Grant opened up.

“Oh, hi,” Grant greeted him. Rich could tell he was happy to see him, but that he was also trying to hide it.

“What the hell? Just going to ghost me like that?” Rich asked as he stepped inside.

“Sorry - I was just worried if I was a bad influence for you. I mean, look how much you changed in such a short amount of time,” Grant said.

“I changed because I felt comfortable and free around you. That it was okay to be me,” Rich assured him, “and I am the only one who gets to decide who is a good or bad influence for me.”

The two of them stood there in silence for a second, until they kissed.

***

Grant was looking down at a ring, a wedding band in fact, as he stood outside a convenience store off the highway.

“Think fast,” the voice of his partner said behind him. Grant swiftly put the ring in his pocket and turned around.

Rich tossed a pack of Marlboro Reds in his direction, which Grant caught. “Figured I still owed you a pack,” he joked.

Grant was admiring his partner. His goatee was thick and bushy, he had aviator glasses, wearing a silver chain and his leather jacket. He also was dangling a cigarette, which was now a common sight. For only having started a couple years ago, he smoked almost as much as Grant.

Rich was literally the man of his dreams, which was why he was planning on proposing later that evening at the cabin he had booked for their anniversary trip.

“We about 80 miles away?” Rich asked, with his usual Red dangling, as he put on a helmet.

“Just about,” Grant said as he got on his bike.

Rich then got on his own bike, started it up and yelled, “Race ya there!” before speeding off onto the highway, a bit reckless and rebellious.

Grant laughed as he started up his bike. He thought that perhaps he was a bad influence, but he was glad that he was.

[smoketransformer]

I loved the beer transformation. I want a beer than turns me into a giant muscle bear who constantly needs to drink beer and smoke cigars.

So you want to be a muscle bear that drinks and smokes? That is one of the Smoke Transformer’s specialties. The change will be sudden and permanent, so I hope it is what you really want.

Either way though, you are now mine to grow.

***

You spend your evenings at the gym with no luck in growing. You have always wanted to become a muscle bear, but haven’t seen the results you desire. Let’s be honest though - when you spend the evenings at the gym, you barely lift anything and never truly push yourself. You also barely eat, not consuming enough calories for your desired growth.

You are skinny and weak and nothing like you long to be.

One evening, the gym was empty. After lifting a few weights, you became thirsty and realized you had forgotten your water bottle.

You grabbed a dollar out of the pocket of your gym shorts and headed to the vending machine. There was a new drink in there; one you have never heard of: “ST’s Muscle Brew”.

Out of curiosity, you put in your dollar into the machine and picked it. A can rolled out and you grabbed it. Immediately, you looked at the label:

“The Smoke Transformer made this brew for you! Guaranteed muscle growth, but may include side effects. Only drink one a day.”

It didn’t list the side effects, but you didn’t care. You wanted to be big!

You cracked open the can and took a big chug. It tasted exactly like beer, but you kept drinking.

After finishing the can, you crushed it and threw it on the ground. You had an urge to lift some more.

As you were lifting, you noticed you were able to lift more. However, you also noticed your face was getting itchy. A short beard sprouted from your face.

You got thirsty again and, despite the one a day warning on the can, you purchased yourself another one.

The rich beer tasting drink was just what you needed.

You continued your workout. You noticed little hairs around you. What you didn’t notice was that they were from you. One of the side effects was hair loss. However, your growing beard made up for.

You decided one more “ST’s Muscle Brew” sounded good. You were starting to feel stronger, even if you didn’t look it…yet.

As you chugged, you started feeling an intense warmness around you. You felt pain all over. You hunched over and fell to the ground. You moaned for help, but no one was around. You felt your body ever expanding. Your skin felt like it was being stretched. You felt heavier as you laid on the gym floor.

Smoke started rolling into the gym and the lights turned off. You thought you were hallucinating, until you smelt the rich cigar smoke. It first was unpleasant, but you quickly grew to enjoy it. Even long for it. You breathed in the smoke.

You heard a deep voice in your head, “It said only to drink one. Now you are a witless muscle bear. Only wanting to work out, drink beer and smoke cigars. The effects weren’t supposed to be this intense. But now you have no choice.”

The smoke cleared out and the lights turned back on. You gained your strength back and stood back up. You saw yourself in the mirror. You were huge and muscular, just what you always wanted.

As you enjoyed looking at your large and visible muscles, you started feeling warm again. Your skin became itchy, just like your face did earlier.

Thick, dark hair was growing everywhere. The muscles you love looking at are now hidden by the fur.

You still looked big, but now extremely hairy - almost cartoonish with the amount of hair. You looked like a what a proper muscle bear should look like.

You wanted to keep working out, but you got a new urge. It was a craving from your new addiction to beer and cigars.

You headed outside the gym, still shirtless, and headed to the minimart across the street. There was a sign on the door: “No shirt, no service.” You didn’t care though. You knew no one would say something; no one would want to confront a beast like you.

The cashier worker stared as you grabbed a six pack from the cooler and a few cigars from their humidor. You didn’t care the quality of the cigars; you just need their smoke in your lungs.

You walked back to the parking lot of the gym, cracked open a beer and lit up a cigar. The smoke filled your lungs as you held it deep. This was your life now. You were going to go back and work out more after you finished a few beers and the cigar. You thought that you might need to turn some of the rooms in your house into mini gyms so that you could smoke and drink as you lifted.

For now, you will take plenty of beer and smoke breaks between sessions in the parking lot. Visitors of the gym will know you as the gym’s cigar smokin’ bear. You will love showing off what you have become.

Aren’t you glad you didn’t listen to the warning, you beer chugging, cigar smoking muscle bear?

[smoketransformer]

Frank’s Auto Shop

Frank’s Auto Shop has been in business for forty years and never once has there been an audit, so Frank himself was quite surprised when an auditor walked into his shop.

“Mr. Fuller, my name is Charlie Thompson. I’m with the IRS,” the young man said while setting his brief case down and then pulled out a government issued identification card. The young man must have been right out of college - perhaps about 22 years old and he did not seem the friendliest. He put his card back in business coat and crossed his arms.

Frank huffed and then said, “Call me Frank…or Sir. I’m the boss around here. See the sign out front?”

“Got it, Frank,” Charlie said, “I’ve came to discuss an upcoming audit of your business.”

Frank opened his shop back when he was this auditor’s age. Always ran it by himself. He built it from the ground up and he wasn’t going to let this boy or the Feds take it away from him.

“Why haven’t I been notified of this?” Frank angrily said. Frank was a big man who was bald, but made up for it with a big, bushy goatee that was starting to turn gray.

“A Ms. Buchanan should have called you. If not, I guess this is your notification. Now please, could we sit down? I have to interview you and ask a few question.”

Frank stared at the boy. “Fine. We can go into my office.” Frank motioned and started to walk to the back of his shop. “You’re lucky that it is slow now, Chuck.”

“Please don’t call me Chuck. It’s Charlie, not Chuck,” Charlie corrected him as he followed.

The two of them entered the back office. Charlie immediately noticed the haze and smell of stale smoke. Frank sat behind his desk that was covered with bills. On top of the various pieces of paper sat a large ashtray with a few spent cigar nubs.

“Now, Mr. Fuller…” Charlie started to say.

“Frank or Sir, I told ya,” Frank sternly said.

“Frank, what is your age?” Charlie asked as he pulled out a notepad and pen.

“62,” he mumbled.

“Any plans to retire?” Charlie continued as he was making notes.

“No - can’t. Gotta run this business till I’m dead. I got no savings. Everything is in the business,” Frank spatted.

“No children to take over? Planning on selling it?” Charlie asked while not making any eye contact.

“No and no,” Frank said, “What’s this got to do with anything?”

“You see mister…sorry, Frank…you owe the government a bit of money. $494,078 to be exact. You haven’t paid income taxes,” Charlie spoke up while looking up from his notepad.

“Yes I have!” Frank yelled as he stood up, his face getting red.

“Please, Frank. I’ll explain. Frank Fuller has. Frank’s Auto Shop hasn’t. You never filed as a sole proprietorship. You never submitted the proper forms. Therefore, your business and you are two legally separate entities.

Frank huffed. Running his business was tough; and running it on his own after all these years made it even tougher. It was hard to hire someone who was both auto and business savvy. All Frank knew was cars. Frank looked at the stern look of boy and that was when he had an idea.

He walked around his desk and to a humidor on shelf behind Charlie. He had been saving this for another time, but he figured now would be better than ever given the current circumstances. Frank lifted the lid and picked up a large cigar. “Mind if I smoke?” he asked as he grabbed a cutter and cut the cap of the cigar.

“Actually, I do Frank,” Charlie spoke as he stood up.

Frank placed the cigar in his jaw and brought a torch lighter to the flame and started puffing, “Remember, I’m the boss?” The cigar came to life as smoke started pouring out of Frank’s mouth. Frank took another pull from his cigar, inhaled and looked at Charlie. He exhaled the smoke straight into Charlie’s face. “I think it is time I start asking the questions. Sit.”

Charlie obeyed and sat back down. Charlie was starting to cough and Frank knew that was a good sign. It meant that some of the smoke went into his lungs. This made Frank smile with his fat cigar in his jaw.

Frank sat back into his chair with Charlie staring at him. Frank pulled on his cigar “So Chuck, do you like your job?,” Frank continued while blowing more smoke toward Charlie.

“Yes. And my name is Charlie,” he answered.

“Boy,” Frank blew more smoke, “you be honest with me. And I like Chuck more.”

“No Sir, I don’t. I hate my job. And I do prefer to be called Chuck anyways. I’m Chuck now.”

“That’s what I thought, Chuck. And that is why you are here for a new job? A new life?”

“No Sir, I’m here to…” Chuck stopped as more smoke was blown in his face. “I mean, yes Sir. I wish to become a mechanic. I want a new life.”

“My smoke and I can give you that. Do you know anything about cars, Chuck?” Frank continued his questioning while he enjoyed his cigar. Every time he exhaled, he blew the smoke in Chuck’s face.

“I do. Been working on cars since high school.” Knowledge of cars flooded Chuck’s brain. Charlie knew nothing about cars, but Chuck did.

“Did you go to college, Chuck?”

“No Sir. I didn’t even finish high school. Dropped out at 16.” As knowledge of cars filled his brain, everything he knew about accounting went away. Charlie’s memories about school and college were being replaced by new ones. New ones as Chuck.

“Good - I never finished school either. I thought it was a waste.” Frank was happy his smoke was haltering his soon-to-be employee. “You look like a mechanic. You work out?”

“Some Sir. But trust me, I enjoy my beer too,” Chuck replied. As he said this, his face grew a bit and his neck got a little larger. Frank thought he was starting to look more like a man and not a boy.

“When were you able to grow out your beard?” Frank blew a thick cloud of smoke.

“Started shaving when I was 13. Always been hairy.” As Chuck said those words, a short beard appeared on his face while his hair got shorter, as if the hair on top of his head moved to his face.

“And when did you start going bald, Chuck?”

“Probably around 16. Just embraced it at 18 and shaved it all off.” His beard grew larger and his head was completely bald.

“Well, good thing it suits a mechanic like yourself.”

“Yes Sir. Guess being a mechanic is in my genes.”

“I’d say so.” Frank took a deep inhale and exhaled the largest cloud of smoke toward Chuck. He knew the next questions would make the change permanent. “You like my cigar smoke, Chuck?”

“I do, Sir,” Chuck was breathing the smoke deep into his lungs.

“Do you smoke cigars, Chuck?”

“I do, Sir. Started when I was 16.”

“How’d you start, Chuck?” Frank was constantly exhaling more and more smoke into Chuck’s newly bearded face that will always smell of cigar smoke.

“Don’t you remember? I came here, looking for a job right after I dropped out. I always admired you. Wanted to be just like you. You said you only hire men, not boys. I said I am a man and you handed me a cigar. Told me to prove it and smoke it. Got hooked then and there. Been smoking them ever since,” Chuck said, eyeing Frank’s cigar.

“Oh yeah, that’s right. Sorry I was the reason you become a smoker.

“Don’t be sorry, Sir! I love my cigars. I can’t imagine not smoking ever again. If anything, I should be thanking you,” Chuck said.

“Yeah, you should be thanking me,” Frank laughed. “Can’t believe I forgot hiring you after you smoked one of my cigars. Old men like me forget these types of things. Which is why I called you in here. I want you to take over my business when I retire.”

“Really, Sir?” Chuck replied in shock, “I would be honored.” As he said this, his business suit turned into a jumpsuit.

“I mean, you have been a good worker the past few years. You are like a son to me.” Frank stubbed his cigar out in his ashtray. “Just know that my business has some debts that you’d have to take on. Also, I expect to still be on the payroll after you take over. This is my life savings and retirement.”

“Wow, thank you Sir. You are like a father to me as well. I’d be more than happy to keep the family business going for you,” Chuck eagerly replied and stood up to shake his boss’s hand.

“We can hug it out,” Frank pulled Chuck in and hugged him. He noticed Chuck smelling his dirty and smoky coveralls. “Need a cigar, Chuck?”

“I do, Sir. You got me craving one after seeing you smoke. Been a few hours since my last.”

Frank walked to his humidor and pulled out two cigars. He cut them both and handed one to Chuck, who eagerly grabbed the lighter from his coveralls and brought the cigar to life. Chuck took a deep inhale. “Mmm, much needed. Well, better get back to work.” Chuck clenched the cigar in his jaw and said “Thanks for giving me just what I needed.” He then walked out of the smoky office, leaving a trail of smoke behind him.

As soon Chuck left the office, the phone on the desk rang. “Frank,” he answered with his cigar firmly clenched in his teeth.

“Hello Mr. Fuller! This is Laurie Buchanan with the IRS to notify you that an auditor by the name of Charlie Thompson will be stopping by this morning to ask a few questions. Will you be available?”

“Why yes Ms. Buchanan!” Frank exclaimed while taking his cigar out of mouth. “Charlie must have came early. He has actually already left. He said I gave him just what he needed and he is now long gone.”

“Perfect, Mr. Fuller. Do you have any questions?” the woman asked.

“Actually, I am about to retire soon and just hired a new employee who will be taking over the business. Is there a form I need to submit?”

After a lengthy conversation with Ms. Buchanan, Frank walked into the smoke filled shop. He smiled with his cigar. Chuck was working on the engine of a muscle car while smoking away. Frank noticed that Chuck must have already finished his first of many cigars as there was freshly lit one in his jaw. Frank thought Chuck was adapting to his new life perfectly; but to Chuck, this was the life he has ever known.

[smoketransformer]

Forever Vacation

Vinny was a good looking guy, there was no doubt about that, and he knew it. Hooking up with chicks was easy for him. He partied all the time, which caused his grades to fall behind and he was recently kicked out of college.

This didn’t stop him for going down to Miami though for Spring Break. He was going to be staying with his billionaire uncle who was paying his way through college. Vinny was close to his Uncle Marco; after his parents passed away in an accident during high school, Uncle Marco took Vinny in for a few years. Vinny always figured he would inherit his Uncle Marco’s wealth as he was the closest family member to him. He didn’t need an education when he had Uncle Marco.

Uncle Marco had his personal driver pick up Vinny from the airport.

“Where’s Uncle Marco?” Vinny asked the driver.

“Had a work trip to go to. He’ll be back tomorrow evening,” the driver answered.

After a half hour drive, Vinny arrived at his Uncle’s mansion. It always surprised him the size of the place, and he got to enjoy it all to himself.

Vinny walked in and felt like he was back at home. It smelled of stale cigar smoke, but clean at the same time. His Uncle was a huge cigar aficionado and was almost always seen with one.

He headed to one of the guest bedrooms to unpack his things.

As he was unpacking, he noticed a note on the dresser and began to read:

‘Nephew,

The Dean informed me that you were kicked out. I’m very disappointed in you. I know you think you are here for vacation, but you’ll need to look for work while you are here since you won’t be going back. If you are going to live here, then you are going to be pulling your weight. I worked hard and you need to learn how to as well.

I will be back tomorrow evening. We will discuss your future plans then.

Signed, Uncle Marco

P.S - Stay out of my liquor cabinet and humidor.’

Instead of feeling like he disappointed his uncle, he felt anger. His uncle is retired and gets to enjoy life, but he can’t. Vinny decided he was going to live it up while his Uncle was away.

Marco got his swimsuit on, poured himself a nice glass of scotch and grabbed himself a cigar from his Uncle’s prized stash.

He only had one cigar in his life. His Uncle taught him how to cut and light it on the night of his high school graduation. His Uncle told him it was one of his “cheap” ones since he wouldn’t fully enjoy his special premium ones. Today though, Vinny was going to smoke a real cigar.

The afternoon passed as Vinny laid by the pool with his drink and cigar. Vinny was really enjoying one of his Uncle’s cigars. “I could get use to this,” he thought to himself.

The afternoon turned into the evening. After ordering a pizza and finishing off the bottle of scotch, Vinny passed out in his bed.

The next morning, Vinny felt ill and hungover. He headed to the bathroom to splash his face. When he looked in the mirror, he noticed something different.

“Did I shave last night?” he mumbled to himself. He now sported a short mustache. He was also more tan and noticed he looked a little more fuller. He chalked it up to being outside all day and drinking.

He went back to bed and after a few more hours of rest, he decided to go down to the beach and get some girls’ phone numbers. He put on his swim trunks, which seemed a little tighter, and a button up shirt. He grabbed a few of his Uncle’s cigars and placed them in the front shirt pocket. He felt like he looked like a million bucks; meeting a few hot chicks will be easy.

Vinny walked down to the beach, but it was a little tough. It was hard to catch his breath, but it must have been the heat.

Once he got to the beach, he lit up one of the cigars and smoked it as he laid in the sand.

A couple of college girls, who also were celebrating Spring Break, walked by.

“Looking good ladies,” Vinny called out. The two girls glared at him and said “Creep.”

This was unusual. The ladies never reacted to him that way, but shrugged it off.

As Vinny smoked his cigar, he got up and noticed his button up shirt was uncomfortable, so he unbuttoned it. It felt a lot better. He decided to post a selfie to instagram. When he looked at himself through the front camera, he didn’t even recognize himself. His mustache grew in thicker and larger. He even was thicker and larger. He noticed his gut was also protruding. Something was wrong.

He called an Uber to get back to his Uncle’s place. Vinny was frantic, what was wrong with him. He looked like he aged 20 years. He felt like he aged 20 years.

When the Uber dropped him off, he noticed his Uncle was already home. Naturally, he reached for the other cigar in is pocket, stuck it in his mouth and lit it up. Vinny felt a sense of relief.

He walked in the front door in a hurry but was out of breath. As he tried to catch his breath, he continued to puff on his cigar. Each pull of the smoke seemed to calm him down even more.

“Uncle?” he called out, but his voice was unrecognizable to him. It was deeper and more rough.

“I see you got into my cigars, old man,” Uncle Marco walked into view. Uncle Marco was a large man, with an even larger mustache. His skin was tan and wrinkly, from all his years on the beach and by the pool.

“Old man?” Vinny asked, worried. He still had his cigar in his hand.

“I told you not to, but I guess you don’t have to worry about working now that you are retired,” Uncle Marco tried to reassure his nephew. Uncle Marco approached Vinny and put his hands on his shoulders to turn him around to face a mirror.

The reflection of the two of them looked almost identical. They could have been brothers. Vinny was now an old man with grey hair and a large double chin.

Vinny couldn’t do anything about it. He had aged quickly. His uncle told him that his special cigars had that effect on people and that it couldn’t be undone.

It took Vinny sometime to get use to his new life, but he started to enjoy it. He got to relax out with his Uncle all the time. He needed to smoke as much as him as well, as the couple of cigars he smoked were very addictive. He didn’t care about getting chicks anymore. All he wanted were his cigars and scotch. He and his uncle would smoke 5-6 cigars a day together; they always were smoking.

He was content and happy with his new retired life. He felt that it was the forever vacation he always wanted.

[smoketransformer]

A Life on the Road

Harry Hamner had a lot going for him, but it wasn’t enough. After recently being accepted to a very prestigious medical school, he started having doubts. Was the life of a doctor, just like his parents, one that he really wanted?

Harry had always fantasized a life as a truck driver. He would be able to travel the country without a care in the world. Sure, sitting all day probably wasn’t the healthiest - but he didn’t care. He wanted to live his life the way he wanted it and he could do that on the road.

One morning, Harry woke up to the sound of a loud horn. At first, he tried to ignore it but it was consistent and close. Harry got up from his bed and looked out the window. He saw a massive semi truck parked in the driveway. There was no trailer on it, but it still looked huge.

Confused, he quickly threw on a flannel and jeans and went outside to check it out and look for the owner.

He approached the truck and didn’t see the driver. The truck was beautiful. He was painted black, but had streaks that looked like wisps of smoke around. There was a decal on the the driver side door that read “Big Ol’ Smoke Trucking Co.”

He opened the door and a thought - no, an urge - came across him. He should sit in the driver seat, just for a minute, to see how it was sitting behind the wheel. He always wanted this opportunity.

Harry climbed up and sat in the seat. It was both new and familiar. It was where he belonged. The keys were in the ignition. He wanted to hear the engine roar, so he turned them. The engine came to life with such power.

Without even thinking, Harry shifted the truck into reverse and pulled out of the driveway. He was a natural, as if he was driving large rigs for most of his life.

He shifted it into drive and drove down the road. He didn’t know where he was going, but he drove like he did.

It felt like he was driving for just a few minutes, but it actually was for hours. He turned the radio on to the old country music station; he usually liked current pop, but this just fit the mood.

He made it out of the city and was driving past acres of crops. He was driving the speed limit, but noticed some flashing blue and red lights behind him.

“Shit,” he said to himself. The truck was probably reported as stolen and this dream would end for him. He pulled over and stopped the truck. The sheriff car behind him parked behind him.

The sheriff approached the cab. He was wearing a large hat and dark aviator glass. He sported a very thick, black mustache and had a large billiard pipe sticking out of his mouth.

“Is there a problem, sheriff?” Harry sheepishly asked.

“Reports of a missing truck. One like this,” the deep voice of the sheriff replied, “License and registration.”

Harry tried to act casual by reaching over to the glove box on the passenger side. He opened it up and noticed a light brown pipe and a pouch of tobacco. He pulled it out.

“Pipe smoker as well?” the sheriff asked, with his pipe still clinched in his teeth.

“Ummm…yeah,” Harry lied, thinking maybe the sheriff would let him off easy as a fellow pipe smoker. He set the pipe and pouch on the passenger seat and grabbed the license with registration.

“Not many of us around anymore, real smokin’ men,” the sheriff added as Harry handed him the paperwork. Harry didn’t know what was on it, but was hoping it would pass.

The sheriff looked at it, still smoking his pipe. The smoke smelled nice, Harry thought. To sell the lie that he was also a pipe smoker, he grabbed the pipe. He noticed it was already packed with tobacco and placed it in his mouth. He wasn’t going to light it though, but thought this was enough pass as a smoker.

“Got turned around, I think,” Harry said between the pipe in his teeth, “This was to Duvall, right?”

“Sure is,” the sheriff confirmed, “Picking up a load there?”

“Sure am,” Harry answered.

“More than a day’s drive though. There is a truck stop on the way though. Sure you’ll find it,” the sheriff added as he handed the paperwork back, “Everything checks out, Harold. You can go on your way. Have a nice day.”

Harold? Nobody ever calls him by his birth name, not even his parents. How did the sheriff know his name?

“Umm, yeah. You too, Sheriff,” Harry said as the sheriff walked off and he was looking at the paperwork.

His license had his birth name: “Harold Hamner” and birthday: “September 23”; but that was the only thing correct. It said the year he was born was 1963, making him 60 years old. His weight was also at 285 pounds, when he was actually 160. His photo was also not of him, but of a heavy old man with a balding head and large grey mustache. How did this pass the sheriff’s inspection? But that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that it did pass.

The sheriff drove past him as he started the truck back up. Harry continued down the road, without realizing the pipe was still in his mouth.

He continued down the road and onward to the town of Duvall. He started singing along to the radio with the pipe still in his mouth. It was the first time hearing most of these old country songs, but he somehow knew every word. He had almost forgotten that the load he had to pick up in the town was a made up story, but he still was heading there.

Harry was enjoying every minute of his journey. He was so much that he didn’t notice he started puffing away at the pipe in his jaw. He didn’t recall lighting it, but it somehow was starting to release smoke.

Harry thought the smoke tasted nice and smelled wonderful. He could get use to this. He even started inhaling a bit. It wasn’t harsh on his lungs; in fact, it was soothing and relaxing.

Harry was so in tuned to this way of life, he didn’t notice that he was building some fat on him. It was as if he had been sitting in the driver seat everyday for the past several years, eating only the greasiest of diner food. His hair was also thinning and he sprouted a short mustache. The cab of the truck was starting to get hazy from his constant pipe smoking.

He probably didn’t notice these changes because thoughts of him doing this for the past 10 years flooded his mind. To him, this was just who he was and has been.

Another 10 miles went by and another 10 years gone in Harry’s mind. Harry was stuck in thought as he puffed on his pipe. He couldn’t believe that he had been driving this truck for 20 years. He loved his career as a truck driver. He could smoke all day, sit on his fat ass, snack all he wanted and enjoy the views.

Harry’s hair had started falling out only on the top of his head and his clothes were getting tight. His fatty double chin was protruding and scrunched against his shirt. His mustache now bushier and smelling of tobacco smoke.

It was starting to get dark as Harry was pulling into the truck stop. An old man like himself had to get some rest before his next day of driving. After driving for 40 years, he knew it was best to take breaks in the evening.

He parked and pulled off his flannel since it was just way too tight on him. Luckily he had a large tank top behind his seat that he put on. His skin was wrinkly and his hair was grey, almost white. The only bit of color was yellow nicotine stain in his mustache since his pipe never left his mouth.

He struggled to get out of his seat due to his size. He waddled to the truck stop bathroom, leaving a trail of smoke, when he noticed the sheriff.

The sheriff’s car was parked and the owner was leaning against the side, with his arms crossed, dark sunglasses hiding most of his face and pipe clenched tightly in his saw.

Smoke poured from the sheriff’s mouth when he said, “Glad you found your way, Harold.”

Harold’s voice, deepened by his age and years of smoking, replied “Me too, Sheriff. Me too.”

[smoketransformer]

Please turn a hairless twink like me into a real man who drinks beers 24/7

The Smoke Transformer can do this; you won’t have to stay a skinny and hairless twink anymore. All you will need to do is breath in my smoke and say goodbye to your old self, because today is the day you become a real man.

***

You were just getting out of the shower after a long day of work when you heard a distant knock from the front door. You quickly dried off and wrapped a towel around your waist to make way to the front door.

You open the door and found a small ice cooler with a note on top:

“You asked. You shall receive. Chug this crafted beer to become the man of your dreams. Warning: All changes are permanent.

From,

The Smoke Transformer”

You couldn’t believe that your request was real. Was the Smoke Transformer an actual person? Or some paranormal entity?

Either way, you open up the cooler and grabbed the single beer inside. The can was blank - no labels - but you cracked open the beer and chugged away. You didn’t care for the taste of beer, but you chugged so fast that you couldn’t even taste it.

You threw the can on the ground and hurried to the bathroom to see if the changes would happen.

Right away, you noticed some stubble on your face grow in and your hair shortened.

You got excited and tried to keep the towel on. Your beard didn’t stop growing and you became bald. You figured your beard hair had to come from somewhere. Then you notice some chest hairs growing. You were always envious of men with a hairy chest; now you are one!

There was then another knock on the door. You hurried back to open it. There was an even larger cooler with a box on top. There was also another note:

“Like the beer? Well I got you some more. Drink up, big man.

From,

The Smoke Transformer

P.S. - I also got you a new pair of pants. Also a carton of Marlboro Reds. Didn’t know if you smoked, but I personally love a couple of smokes with a few beers.”

You dragged the large ice chest inside and saw that there was all kinds of beers in there. You were now fully dried so you put the pants on, but they were way too big. You left them on though.

You tossed the carton of cigarettes in the kitchen trash - you didn’t smoke.

The beers did sound good though. You grabbed and opened a can. Wow, it did taste good. You finished it very quickly, practically chugging it.

You grabbed for another and another. Your stomach felt bloated but you kept wanting to drink. You needed it.

You then felt a new urge. A new craving. Not only for beer, but for a smoke. You reached for the carton of Reds from the trash, ripped it open and out a pack. You tapped the pack with your hand. You must have seen other guys do that before, because you knew you had to do that to a fresh pack. You ripped the cellophane off, opened it up and grabbed a cigarette. You placed it on your lips. It felt natural and right. You searched for a lighter in your pockets. Luckily, the Smoke Transformer left you a Zippo in one of the pockets.

You flicked it open and lit the cigarette. Sure, your apartment didn’t allow smoking but you didn’t care. You needed it.

You rolled the cooler full of beer to your lazy chair and sat down. You smoked and drank till you passed out.

The next morning, you felt hungover and bloated. You liked how it felt. You checked the time and you saw that you were late for work. Three hours late, in fact. But you didn’t care.

All you cared about now was drinking beer and smoking cigs. Your grabbed a fresh pack from your carton since you smoked an entire pack last night, using empty beer cans as ashtrays. Your apartment reeked of stale smoke and beer.

You walked to the bathroom to check yourself in the mirror. You placed a fresh Marlboro Red in your lips. You noticed your beard grew larger, along with the rest of your body. Your gut protruded and it was only going to get bigger. Your pants now fit, but you’ll be needing to size up soon.

You are a beer guzzling and Marlboro chaining bear now and for the rest of your drunken life.

This was what you wanted. Aren’t you happy now, real man?

[smoketransformer]

New Haircut, New You

Most men don’t go to Sid’s Barbershop; but the ones who were rugged, rough and tough. Sid matched his clients; he had grey muttonchops and with a matching grey pompadour. When he was not cutting one of his loyal client’s hairs, he was seen outside his shop, always wearing a white tank top that showed off his tattoo, while always having a cigarette dangling.

Once in awhile, not one of his regulars wonders in looking for a fresh cut - but they leave a whole new man. It was how he kept his business open; he created his clients.

As a young man who Sid had never seen before approached his shop in a hurry, he knew he was about to get one more loyal customer. Sid stood outside his shop, smoking his Marlboro Red cigarette, as the young man speed past him. The young man was moving his hand in front of his face to wave Sid’s smoke out of the way. “Excuse me,” the young man said and he quickly entered the shop.

Sid finished his smoke and walked inside, “What can I do for ya today?” His voice was raspy and deep, from all the years of smoking.

The young man replied, “Oh, you’re the owner?”

“Yup - I’m Sid.”

The young man went quiet. He looked like he was thinking and potentially weighing his options. “Look, I have a job interview this afternoon and I need a haircut and fresh shave. Every other place is booked, so you’re my only option. Can you make me look professional and not like…well, like you?”

His comment pissed Sid. He stared the young man down.

“Sorry - that was rude. Just a bit stressed. I need to look good for my interview,” the young man insincerely apologized.

“Don’t worry - I’ll make sure you will look just right for your interview,” Sid assured with a grin, “Take a seat.”

The young man sat in the barber’s chair. He had a decent sized beard and long brown hair. He smiled at Sid, but it was a nervous one.

“What’s your name, kid?” Sid asked as prepared his clippers and razor.

“Jackson,” he replied.

“Tell me about your interview. What type of job is it?” Sid pried. He wanted to know the type of life Jackson lived, so that he could cut away at it.

“For a law firm. I’m wrapping up law school and got a last minute interview at one of the biggest law firms in the city,” Jackson smugly said.

“Good for you,” Sid said as he walked to the shop door and locked it. This process needed no interruptions. Sid walked to Jackson in the chair and pressed a secret switch on the chair, causing metal straps to go around Jackson’s legs and arms.

“What the hell?” Jackson shouted.

“You see, you aren’t ever going to be a lawyer. Not after I’m through with you,” Sid said as he reached for his pack of Reds, “Just relax and look in the mirror; it will make it all that much easier.”

“Let me go!” Jackson yelled, “Help! Help!” Sid proceeded to his jukebox that sat in the cornered and then hit “play”. A deep humming come from the speakers.

Sid lit his cigarette and Jackson shot a glance in the mirror, which caused him to stop yelling. He was now in a trance.

“Now I got you,” Sid said to him, as smoke was bellowing out of his nose, “Hope you don’t mind my smoke, not that you have a choice.”

“It’s fine,” Jackson mumbled.

“Good. You actually like it, don’t you?”

“I actually do,” Jackson agreed.

Jackson was now lost. His will was in the hands of Sid.

“Now, what type of cut would you like?” Sid asked the tranced man.

“Ummm…” Jackson replied in daze.

“Didn’t you want a mohawk?” Sid asked as his Red dangled.

“Oh yeah…” Jackson mumbled as he stared at himself in the mirror. This was the last time Jackson would see himself like this, but he didn’t know that. He had no thoughts at all.

“With a nice horseshoe mustache?” Sid added.

“That sounds right,” Jackson replied.

Sid started buzzing Jackson’s hair into a mohawk. “Why were you getting this haircut again?”

Jackson was silent. He didn’t know why he was there or why he was having such a drastic hairstyle change.

“Wasn’t it for an interview?” Sid asked as he cut.

“I’m…not sure…I think so…I just don’t know where at,” Jackson answered as he was transfixed on the mirror, seeing his new self.

“Well, it must not have been that important of an interview if you can’t remember,” Sid said and then exhaled some smoke in Jackson’s face.

Jackson inhaled all the smoke in his lungs during his hypnotic state, creating a forever crave and addiction to nicotine

After finishing cutting and shaving Jackson’s hair into a mohawk, Sid moved on to his beard. He shaved only the cheeks and chin, leaving a horseshoe mustache.

Jackson was not recognizable. He was almost a new man.

Sid thought of an idea. Sure, this guy was cocky and rude, but he also just left him out of a job opportunity. He was getting a lot more business and he was getting older. He couldn’t keep up with all the chores around the shop, such as sweeping hair and cleaning around. He needed a barbershop boy.

“Jax…do you mind me calling you Jax?” Sid asked.

“No, I prefer it…” the man now known as Jax replied. Jax was starting to get angsty. He had a new craving that he needed to fill.

“Well Jax, would you like to work here for me as your boss? I need someone like you to work for me,” Sid offered.

“Yes, boss,” Jax answered.

“Wonderful,” Sid said as he pulled out a chain necklace and placed it around Jax’s neck. Jax was now collared to both Sid and his barbershop, “You’re hired.”

Sid hit the button on the chair and the metal straps retracted.

“Thanks boss for the cut, I look good,”

“You sure do, Jax. My employees have to look good for me,” Sid added.

“Mind if I bum a smoke off you, boss? Forgot my pack at home,” Jax asked as he got up from the chair.

“Take the pack out of my leather jacket on the coat rack by the door. Actually, you can have the jacket. Consider it as part of your uniform now,” Sid insisted.

Jax put the jacket on and grabbed the pack of Marlboro Reds. He naturally pulled one out with his lips and headed outside, “I’ll be back in ten after I smoke a couple, then I’ll get to sweeping.”

[smoketransformer]

The Bear’s Den

It was a busy night at The Bear’s Den; the bar was full of bears and cubs who were chatting, drinking and smoking. The brutish bartender was busy, but constantly had a large cigar clenched in his bearded jaw.

Jay stood in the street and watched from the window. He wanted to go inside, he has been wanting to for a while now, but was hesitant to. He always admired big bellied, muscular and hairy men. He wanted to be one himself, but could not grow a proper beard and had a high metabolism which prevented him from gaining any real weight. He always wanted to enter The Bear’s Den, but never felt like he would fit in himself.

Jay was working up the courage to walk in, when he heard a deep voice behind him.

“You lost, bud? Or you going in?”

Jay quickly turned around and saw a large man, both muscular and fat, who was smoking a large cigar.

“Oh, umm…yeah. I’m going in,” Jay stammered.

The large man walked past him and opened the door. He held it open. “After you,” he said.

Jay’s heart was beating quickly as he entered the bar. Was he going to get any strange looks because he wasn’t bear enough? Was everyone going to ignore him? These were the questions that ran through his mind.

Jay tried to hold his coughs as the cigar smoke lingered; many of the men were smoking large cigars. He looked around for an open table, but they were all full. He was tempted to walk out, but figured he would never return again after that. So he took a seat at the bar with a nervous smile.

The man who held the door for him took a seat next to Jay. He place his cigar in an ashtray and motioned four fingers to the bartender, who then acknowledged with a nod.

“Never seen you before here. First time?” the man spoke in his deep voice.

“Umm, yeah. Didn’t know if I fit in here. Was kind of nervous,” Jay replied.

The man chuckled that was a little raspy. “Now why would you think that?”

“I’m not bear-like. Or cub-like for that matter. Always wanted to come in here. Be like the men here. But as you can see, I can’t even grow a proper beard,” Jay said, a little embarrassed for admitting this to a stranger.

The bartender, still with his lit cigar in his jaw, dropped off four shots of whiskey in front of the man.

“What’s your name?” the man asked.

“Jay.”

“I’m Dan,” the man added as he handed Jay two of the shots, “and I say, we should change that. He raised one of the shots and Jay followed suit, “To new beginnings.” They both clinked the small glass together and shot them down.

Jay tried not to cough as it stung, but Dan took notice. “They get easier as the night goes on, son.”

Jay liked being called son by this bear of a man. Dan was large, muscular, hairy and smelled of cigar smoke. His beard was brown and massive; it made up for the fact he was bald. Jay assumed he was in his mid-forties.

“You come here often?” Jay asked Dan.

Dan let out a deep laugh as he exhaled his thick cigar smoke. “You could say that. Time for the other shot,” Dan said as he picked up the other shot and Jay copied. Both men took the shot. Jay coughed again from the sting and from the smoke. Dan slapped Jay’s back and said “You’ll get use to it. Hell, you’ll love it.”

Jay didn’t drink much, but he wanted to keep up with his new friend. He wanted to impress him.

“So you want to be a bear? Like myself?” Dan asked with a grin.

Jay was opening up to Dan, “I always fantasied it. Just don’t know if it is really me.”

“Sure it is you,” Dan quickly assured Jay.

“I tried putting on some muscle and weight, but I either give up or it just doesn’t stick.”

“Son, all you need is a few beers a night. Hey, Max - could we get two of the Bear Brew? The special ones.” Jay noticed Dan wink to the bartender named Max, but didn’t think anything of it.

“Sure you need a Bear Brew, Dan?” Max laughed and asked.

“Not for me, for my new friend Jay here,” Dan laid his beefy, hairy arm across Jay’s shoulders, “I’ll just have any IPA you have on tap.”

“You got it,” Max called back from across the bar. Max went to a door from behind the bar. Dan returned his smoldering cigar back to his jaw and grabbed a fresh one out of his shirt pocket and pointed it to Jay.

“Want one?” Dan asked clearly, despite having a huge cigar in his mouth.

“Oh, no thank you. I don’t smoke,” Jay politely declined.

“Suit yourself, but I’ll just leave it here on the bar just in case you change your mind,” Dan said with a wink.

Max returned from the back room with two pints of the beer called Bear Brew, “Two is a big change for a new guy. Sure he’ll handle it?”

“It’s what he wants. Ain’t that right, son?” Dan looked at Jay.

Jay, almost feeling a little pressure, nodded and said, “Yes.”

“Good, now chug,” Dan smiled and handed one of the pints to Jay.

“Chug? All at once? I don’t really even like beer,” Jay said, not knowing if he even could chug a whole beer.

“This will go down alright, the next one even better,” Dan assured him as he puffed on his cigar.

Jay grabbed the pint and started to chug. Some of the beer ran down the sides of his mouth, which we caused Dan to smile a bit, but he managed to finish it.

Jay gave a loud burp on accident, but Dan just laughed and patted him on the back. “Now that’s what we want to hear. Good job, son.”

Jay felt proud. Little did he know though, his clothes were getting a little tighter and his face rounder.

“Think you can do it again, son?” Dan asked.

“I know I can, dad…I mean Dan,” Jay replied. Feeling a bit more confident than before. He eagerly grabbed the other pint and chugged it once again. It was easier than the first one as Jay drink every last drop.

Dan liked what he saw. He saw Jay growing larger in size. Jay was becoming the bear he always dreamt of, but he just didn’t know it yet.

“Shall we keep the party going,” Dan suggested.

Jay let out another belch and nodded in agreement. The cigar caught his eye, but he didn’t want it. He wasn’t a smoker.

“Max, two of the Hair of the Bears drinks, please,” Dan requested.

“That’ll look good,” Max replied. Jay didn’t know what he meant. He was noticing a tightness around his body, but didn’t identify it was because he was out growing his medium sized clothes.

Max was mixing together a drink. “What is Hair of the Bear?” Jay asked.

“Max’s special concoction. They say it’ll put hair on your chest,” Dan laughed as Max set down two double shots.

Jay grabbed one, “I wish.”

As he took the shot, Dan added, “As they say, be careful what you wish for.”

The shot didn’t sting going down, but Jay noticed his face getting itchy. Jay scratched, but didn’t notice the thicker beard growing in.

“Like it, son?” Dan asked.

“Yes, dad,” Jay replied, not catching he was calling Dan “dad” now.

“Good, cause you got another,” Dan said as he handed him the other shot.

Jay wasn’t feeling himself, but he wasn’t feeling that drunk. He was feeling good. He was feeling like he was belonging. He took the shot.

His face wasn’t itchy anymore, but maybe just warmer and a little heavier. He thought maybe it was just all the alcohol, but it wasn’t. His beard had grown larger, making his face look even bigger.

“Son, you don’t look so well. Let’s go to the bathroom,” Dan suggested.

“I don’t?” Jay asked. He was feeling a bit heavy and tight around the body. His breathing was a little bit heavier than normal, but it must have been all the cigar smoke around him even though he was starting to enjoy it.

“Come with me,” Dan got up, grabbed a barstool and motioned him to the bathroom. Jay obediently followed.

They both walked into the bathroom, Dan set the barstool down and then locked the door.

“Take a seat. You look warm,” Dan said.

“I do feel pretty warm,” Jay agreed.

“Let me fix that,” Dan said has he opened up the mirror in the bathroom, which was also a medicine cabinet, and grabbed an electric shaver. He started buzzing down Jay’s hair, all the way to the scalp. The alcohol was kicking in because Jay didn’t think anything of it. He also trusted Dan.

When he was done, Dan spun Jay to face the mirror. Jay at first was shocked, but then he smiled. “What happened to me?”

“You became who you always wanted to be,” Dan assured him.

It was like the first time he was seeing his authentic self. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Anytime, son,” Dan said, “But these changes won’t be permanent unless we make them permanent. Do you want to be like this from now on?

“Yes Dad. How do we do that?”

“That cigar I offered you, the one sitting on the bar still, was a special one. You smoke that, and you’ll stay a bear. Only smoke it if you want to, because there is no turning back after. Understood, son?”

“Yes, Dad.”

The two of them emerged from the bathroom and sat back down at the bar.

Jay looked at the cigar, wondering if he will take the chance and smoke it. He wondered how this life will be for him. If he actually wanted it.

Dan knew he was going to smoke it; Jay’s fate was pretty much sealed. Most of the men here at The Bear’s Den were once in Jay’s shoes: timid, skinny, non-smoking boys. That was Dan’s goal when he decided to open this bar. As owner, he had made many men into bears and he knew Jay would seal his fate as one of the regulars here at the bar. He would be just another hairy, large, cigar smoking bear.

After a couple of minutes, Jay gave into temptation. He reached for the already cut cigar and placed it in his jaw. Dan grabbed a match, struck it against the bar and held the flame to the end of the cigar.

Jay puffed and puffed until the cigar was lit and alive. Jay eagerly puffed and greedily inhaled the thick smoke. He was now forever a cigar smoking bear.

“Welcome to The Bear’s Den, son.”

[smoketransformer]

BB Construction

Bill walked onto the construction site early in the morning to meet a potential new hire. His crew was short staffed and way behind schedule. Luckily, someone answered his job posting.

Bill entered his office, which was a trailer. He had been managing his construction company, BB Construction, for about 20 year. He started brewing some coffee and then sat down at his desk.

He pulled out his pack of Marlboro Reds from his shirt pocket, slid one out with his lips and lit it. He had been smoking for about 35 years and the best cigarette was always the first one in his work trailer with coffee brewing, right before the work day. He figured smoking in his office trailer was against some work laws, but fortunately all the men on his crew were smokers so they have never reported him.

His crew was close. His company was like a family. Some of them were roommates. Hell, a few them were even lovers. As a gay man himself, he knew how tough it was to work a blue collar job without some form of discrimination. That’s why he always hired gay men; it provided a safe place for them.

There was a knock on the door. “Come in,” Bill said as he exhaled a cloud of smoke.

A young man, barely 20 years old, walked into the smoky trailer. Bill saw him move his arm in front of his face to wave some of the smoke away. The young man walked forward with his arm extended, Bill stood up and shook his hand. “I’m Malcolm Greene.”

“Bill Burns,” he replied, “have a seat.” Malcolm sat in the chair across from Bill. Bill snubbed out his finished cigarette. Bill was hoping for someone older; someone who had more experience as they were already behind and close to not meeting their deadline.

“You got experience?” Bill started his informal interview already.

“No, not really. I did work a day in construction,” Malcolm nervously said.

“Just a day?” Bill looked annoyed, “My ad said 5 years minimum.” He reached for his pack of Marlboro Reds again.

“I know Mr. Burns, but I’m a fast learner,” Malcolm added as Bill lit another Red.

“We don’t have time to train someone as new as you, Mack,” Bill exhaled some smoke as he said.

“It’s Malcolm,” he corrected him, causing Bill to look even more annoyed, “but that is not the point. I’m willing to work hard and long to get the job done.”

Bill looked at him, thinking about his options.

“I just really need this job, sir,” Malcolm said as he looked down.

“And why is that?” Bill asked before taking another drag off his smoke.

Malcolm looked up and looked like he was trying to hold back tears, “I had plans to going to college. I’m smart and I learn fast, but my parents kicked me out and wouldn’t help me sign up for loans. I moved here into the city, using all my savings to pay for a shitty motel room in the bad part of town, but it is running out and I’ll be on the streets.”

“I see,” Bill said as he exhaled and put his finished Red in an ashtray. “You said you got a days worth of experience?”

“Yes sir, I worked for Randburg Construction for a day until they found out I was…” Malcom paused, hesitant to finish the sentence and tears started to roll down his cheeks, “They said go work for BB Construction because they hire queers like me.” Malcom was full crying now. Bill could tell he was embarrassed, but Bill felt bad for the kid. He was once in his shoes too.

There was silence in the smoky office. Malcolm started to get up from his chair, “Sorry for wasting your time, Mr. Burns.”

“Now sit your ass down. You got employment papers to sign.”

“Really?” Malcolm asked with a smile as he sat back down.

“I know what it is like. That’s why I started this business. Promised to myself that I would help any man like myself.” Bill got up and pulled out some papers from his filing cabinet. He handed them too Malcolm, along with a pen.

Malcolm started working on them. Bill was afraid that hiring this young man with no experience would put them even further behind, but wanted to help. Luckily, Bill had a backup plan. He really didn’t want to resort to this, but he figured he was helping Malcolm so Malcolm had to return the favor with some forced experience.

Bill walked to the backend of the smoky trailer and opened up a safe. In there was a construction hat and some gloves. They belonged to a former employee who had passed away unexpectedly. He knew the spirit of his former employee was in this gear.

“Here, try these on,” Bill said as he handed Malcolm the gear.

Malcolm put on the gloves and then the hat. They fit perfectly.

“So how old are you?” Bill asked Malcolm.

“I’m…” Malcom paused, trying to remember, “I’m not sure.”

Bill smiled, knowing the transformation had already started, “That’s okay, Malcolm. Sure it will come to ya.”

Malcolm started to get a bit thicker in the face, as if he spent his evenings with a couple of beers. He skin also became tanner, as if he had spent his days working outside.

“So Malcolm…” Bill started to speak when he was cut off.

“I prefer to go by Mack. Never liked Malcolm,” the transforming Mack corrected him.

“Sorry. So Mack, you enjoy the hard labor of construction work?” Bill saw Mack grow a little bit more tanner and thicker. A short goatee had also started to sprout. Mack was starting to look older, experienced and like a real blue collar man.

“I love it. I get to spend all day outside with other men, working with big machinery,” Mack answered. His voice was getting deeper and even a little raspier.

“Great to hear. You are in the right place, Mack,” Bill smiled.

By the time Mack finished the paperwork, he had became a little more weathered and older. His goatee had also grown significantly more; it was much fuller and bushier.

“So tell me everything about yourself?” Bill asked.

“Well, I’m Mack Greene. I’m 38 years old and have been doing construction work for 18 years. I work hard and do good work. I’m a proud gay man, but single. Doesn’t stop me from having fun though, if you know what I mean, Mr. Burns.”

Bill chuckled as he lit another Red, “I sure do.”

The sight of Bill lighting a Red caused Mack to search his pockets. “Fuck,” Mack muttered.

“What’s the matter?” Bill asked as he slowly exhaled through his nose.

“Forgot my pack of smokes,” Mack answered nervously as nicotine withdrawals started to kick in.

Bill opened his desk drawer and grabbed a pack of Marlboro Reds from a carton. He tossed them to Mack and then a lighter.

“Thank you,” Mack said as he started to tap the pack with his hands, as if he had been smoking for years, “After smoking for over 20 years, I should know better to leave home without them. I’ll get you a pack tomorrow.” Mack’s voice was now gruff and deep.

“Don’t worry about it. You’ll make it up with all the extra work,” Bill said as Mack pulled out a Red and lit it up. He breathed in the smoke, held it in his lungs for a few seconds and then slowly exhaled. Bill could tell the new Mack was a heavy smoker.

“Mack, you’re going to fit right in here at BB Construction,” Bill assured.

“I know I will,” Mack agreed.

Mack got up from his chair, walked out of the trailer and into his new life as a smoking blue collared man.