Grandpa's Tobacco

[Muscleluvr]

Hi Folks!

This isn't my first story. It is the first one I've had the balls to post. It's a bit different from the usual fare - there's no sex, and the muscle growth takes place outside of the narrator's experience. Please, be kind.

Thanks,
Muscleluvr

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Grandpa's Tobacco
By Muscleluvr1956


I remember it all like it was yesterday. I was five years-old, visiting my grandparents for the summer, the last summer before I started 1st grade back in another state... now though, I was in rural southern Alabama - just a few miles up from the Gulf Coast.

My Grandpa was a carpenter. He was a big man - a really big man. I only saw him bare-chested once - and I was about 19 at the time - he was pushing 70, and he looked like Lou Ferrigno in that awful "Hercules" movie he made, I swear to God! He had the most amazing body I ever saw; he being an old man - it was even more amazing... but I get ahead of myself. I remember Grandpa in the clothes he always wore - navy blue or khaki work pants, a bright, white cotton t-shirt, and a blue and white striped engineer's cap. That was what this man wore almost every day of the year - come winter, he'd add an olive-drab jacket that dated from his days in WWII. As a kid, I remember marveling at the size of the man, not his height so much - he was a perfectly normal six-footer, but his arms were bigger around than my Dad's waist, and his neck was bigger around than his head. I remember seeing him re-arrange his workshop once - he'd pick up his heavy bench mounted equipment, all with cast-iron bases, using just one hand! He'd move them around as though they were dining room chairs! Grandpa also had no teeth, and refused to wear dentures, yet he could eat anything. I never understood how he did that. The only thing he couldn't eat like everyone else was corn-on-the-cob - he had to cut the corn off of the cob to eat it, but I'd seen him eat pecans, walnuts, steak, taffy, hard candy, apples, all sorts of things you normally associate with using teeth - yet his toothless gums could handle it all!

Grandma was a housewife who, quite simply, loved her husband unconditionally. There was only one thing about Grandpa she didn't like - Grandpa chewed tobacco. I remember the spittoons all over their house... a spittoon in every room! Grandma refused to empty them... that was Grandpa's responsibility. Grandma refused even, to touch them - she thought his tobacco chewing was disgusting, and she didn't hesitate to remind him of that fact every so often!

While I loved my Mom and my Dad, I thought my Grandpa and Grandma were the two coolest people in the world; especially Grandpa - perhaps it was his mammoth size, perhaps it was the smells I always associated with him (some of those smells, like Old Spice, even today will prompt an instant boner in me!), perhaps it was because he treated me as a small adult, rather than as a child - I don't know, I only know that I worshipped the man. I'd spent the last two summers with Grandpa and Grandma since we'd moved to another state... I always relished the time I spent with them - unlike with Mom and Dad, they'd pretty much let me do anything I wanted - with the exception of 3 rooms in the house I where I wasn't allowed without supervision...

One hot summer day, Grandma was making some of her homemade grape jelly - the best jelly you ever had - ever. I remember she used to seal the jars with wax before putting the lid on... it kept it fresh or something. Anyway, Grandma was busy, and Grandpa was at work. I was supposed to be playing with my new electric train that I'd gotten the year before at Christmas. The train set was boring... I wanted to look around in the rooms I wasn't supposed to go into - like my uncle's bedroom, where he kept his scuba gear, or the utility room where Grandpa kept all sorts of neat stuff, or even, Grandpa's workshop...

I started out in my uncle's bedroom. There was something about his scuba gear, and, in particular, his rubber wet suit, that fascinated me. I liked the smell and feel of it... I'd put it on, never mind that it was way, way, too big for me, just because it made me feel good 'down there'... my wee-wee would get big and it felt good. I didn't understand why it did that, and I was too young to know that other things could possibly have uh, cum from that (yeah, right at five!), but to this day, wet suits send me through the roof! Anyway, I knew I couldn't be too long anywhere without checking in with Grandma once in a while, else she'd find time to come looking for me - to check up on me. I didn't want her checking up on me, after all, I was a big boy, or so I thought. I put away my uncle's scuba suit, and left his room and went into the kitchen. Grandma was standing in front of a big pot on the stove, stirring away... I noticed she'd just made a cup of tea, that meant she was about to come checking up on me before she sat down to her tea... I'd saved her the trouble... so, back into the rear of the house I went.

The utility room was where all sorts of cool things were stored - Grandma's big chest freezer dominated this room, but the chest freezer was boring. I was interested in Grandpa's short wave radio, which he never used, or the many lanterns or flashlights that he kept on a shelf at the back of this room. His fishing tackle box was also here, but his poles were outside in a shed next to his workshop. He also had a lot of his WWII memorabilia stored in here - his old Army uniforms, his big footlocker, even his parachute! Somehow, even with all the goodies in this room, there didn't seem to be anything today that caught my interest, so I was off to Grandpa's workshop. Like I said, Grandpa was a carpenter, and he chewed tobacco, Red Man Tobacco, or, on occasion, Mail Pouch Tobacco. Because of all the power tools and equipment in Grandpa's workshop, I wasn't allowed in there without him, but every chance I got I'd sneak in there. There were neat smells in there; the smell of sawdust, stale sweat and yes, even Grandpa's tobacco - somehow these smells just said MAN to me. I wanted nothing more than to be a man - I hated being a little boy, I just hated it. I was always wishing I were a grown up - I didn't want to go to school; I wanted to skip all that. I was precocious anyway, and intelligent beyond my years (or so everyone said). Unfortunately, being precocious and intelligent weren't sufficient to keep me out of school - it was an inevitable event I would have to face, all too soon.

This particular summer day, the smell of cooking grapes was wafting through the air all around my Grandparent's rural Alabama home and I was doing the forbidden - playing in Grandpa's workshop. I never did much, I just opened up drawers, and looked in - for what, I was never sure, but somehow, I got a lot of satisfaction in being near my Grandpa's things... this particular day, I noticed a metal box on top of his bench saw... it looked sorta like the box he kept his saw blades in, but it was newer, and much, much, cleaner... I could just barely reach the top of the bench saw, but I was big enough to grab that metal box and drag it down to my level - an accident waiting to happen if it had been heavy, but as a five year-old, that never entered my mind! Grandpa had made a small wooden bench for me to sit on when he was working and I was there 'helping'... so I sat down on my bench and tried to open the box... I couldn't figure out how it opened. It didn't have a lock that I could see right away, and it was only after fiddling with it for a few minutes that I discovered two small buttons on either side of what must be the lid. I tried pressing them - no good. I tried pushing them up, then down - no good. I tried pushing them away from each other, also no good; then I tried pushing them towards each other - bingo! The lid popped open, and a pleasant smell excited me. Inside was a very pretty purple velvet bag; it had the words "Crown Royal" embroidered on it in gold thread. There was a fancy gold colored cord with tassels on the ends that closed the bag. I lifted the bag out, opened it up and looked inside - it looked like it was filled with chewing tobacco! I was never allowed to touch my Grandpa's chewing tobacco... and honestly, never wanted to - it smelled nasty, and watching him spit that stuff out was kinda nasty. This stuff didn't smell like chewing tobacco, it didn't smell like anything bad, in fact, it smelled like chocolate!

Could I get away with trying this stuff? It smelled so good, just like my favorite candy. I was five; I couldn't resist. I put my little hand into the bag and pulled out a handful, much more than Grandpa would take when he started his 'chaw'. I hesitated a moment before I put it in my mouth, but the wonderful chocolate smell got to me and I popped it in. I started chewing; it was CHOCOLATE! It was SO good. I just kept chewing and chewing, and I remember thinking how grown-up I felt chewing tobacco just like Grandpa! I knew that Grandpa never swallowed his 'chaw', he always spit it out, but this stuff tasted so good, I couldn't help myself; I swallowed it down. More, I had to have more! Could I get away with taking a bit more of Grandpa's chocolate tobacco? Would he notice it was gone, if I took another handful? I looked inside the bag again... it looked just like it did when I opened it up at first, I couldn't tell that I'd even taken the first handful out - or was that just my imagination? I reached in and grabbed another handful - this time even more than before... I stuffed it into my mouth and was eating away greedily when suddenly, I felt different. Not bad, not good, but different. I swallowed what I had in my mouth. Shortly, my stomach started to gurgle... I thought for a moment that I was going to get sick and throw up, but the feeling passed. Suddenly, though, I was hot - very, very, hot. It was a hot summer day, and the workshop wasn't air-conditioned - in fact, neither was the house, but at least there were fans inside. I decided I'd better get back into the main house and go take my nap. Maybe I'd feel better after my nap... like I said, I didn't feel bad, but I didn't feel really good either. I went inside, and as I walked by the kitchen, I spoke to Grandma, "Grandma, I'm going to go lay down for my nap, OK?" She looked at her watch and nodded... she didn't even turn around to look at me - she was too busy with her jelly... good. I went into my room, and lay down on the bed. I went to sleep immediately.

I started having dreams - wild, crazy dreams - dreams about growing up, growing up big and strong - so very strong. I dreamt of muscles, muscles like Hercules or Superman or Atlas - giant muscles like those men on the back of the comic books, only lots bigger - and strength, great strength - not Superman strength mind you, but pretty close... strong enough to lift my Grandpa's truck overhead. Then I woke up, but it was that sort of half-sleep in which you sometimes awaken. The first thing I noticed was that my wee-wee was big - real big - really, really, big - and it felt so good. Before I could understand why or even enjoy it, I fell back asleep. I don't know how long I slept, but when I woke up, I was lying in bed naked, and the bed had shrunk. My clothes were lying on the bed around me, but they looked like they'd shrunk too!

I got up from the bed, and immediately remembered those dreams... those wonderful dreams, then I realized that I was seeing the tops of things I could never see before, like the dresser, the shelves attached to the wall next to my bed - I was taller! I looked down at myself, and was surprised to see all these muscles - giant Superman muscles - everywhere! Even though I was only five, I knew such things were impossible - weren't they? I must still be dreaming, I remember thinking to myself, "Cool"!

I had to go pee, so I walked over to the bathroom, and the first thing I noticed was that I could see my face and chest in the medicine cabinet mirror! I shouldn't be able to do that - I could just barely see into the sink - but this reflection told me that not only was I tall enough, but I was a huge muscleman too - the muscles in my chest looked like giant flesh-covered pillows - the groove between them was easily three or four inches deep! Again, I told myself, it's got to be a dream. I peed, it felt good - my wee-wee filled up my hand - it was huge; much bigger than the little two finger job I really had - this was really such a cool dream! I didn't ever want to wake up.

Suddenly, I heard a knock on the bedroom door - it was Grandma... "It's time to get up - Grandpa will be home soon - you need to help me get dinner started."

She didn't wait for a reply, she knew I'd be right out, as always. I heard her walk away. I was still standing in the bathroom looking at myself in the medicine cabinet mirror, which I shouldn't be able to do! This was really some dream! I went back to the bedroom, and sat down on the bed. That's when I looked at my clothes; they were shredded!

OK, I thought, I'll see just how real this dream is... I got up, and looked through the closet for something to put on, I found some of my Uncle's old clothes that were being stored in this room; swimming trunks - perfect. I decided they'd be enough. I stepped into them, but they didn't look as huge as they should have, in fact, they barely made it over all the muscles in my legs! They were baggy in the waist, but skin tight on my legs, rear and crotch. Well, at least they wouldn't fall down.

I opened the bedroom door and instead of going straight to the kitchen as was expected of me, I went outside into the yard. Grandpa and Grandma had an old house-trailer - more like a camping trailer - it was small, kinda rounded looking on both ends - the single door had a round porthole-style window in it. It was painted a green color that I disliked intensely... the paint was so old it had a sort of powdery coating on it - if you put your hands on the paint, the oil in your hands would leave a very visible handprint, and your hands would be covered with a greenish white powder. As far as I knew, this trailer was never used for anything, I'd never seen it moved from the spot in the yard where it was parked... it had a single axle, just two wheels - the back end rested on two concrete blocks topped with some pieces of wood - the front end, where the hitch was, had a little stem with a tiny wheel on it that was jacked down to support it. Somehow, I just knew that this dream would allow me to lift that trailer! I couldn't figure out how to do it though. I looked it over, and figured out that I should first remove those concrete blocks... I walked over to them, and kicked the first - it went flying across the yard like I'd kicked a rubber ball! I was afraid the trailer would tilt and make a noise - giving me away, so I just pulled the second block out. The trailer didn't move. I walked over to the front of the trailer where the hitch was - I lifted it with one hand, and the trailer easily pivoted upwards on it's two wheels... holding the hitch up, I could see the underside of the trailer. There was a steel frame with a big X in the middle... I figured I could grab hold of that - so I squatted down, and got up as far under the trailer as I could - the axle was sort of resting on my right shoulder. I grabbed onto parts of the X on the frame, and held on - then I just stood up. The whole trailer just lifted off the ground - it didn't weigh anything! I extended my arms, and pressed it overhead several times - I couldn't believe that Grandpa and Grandma had LIVED in something this lightweight! About this time, I noticed that my wee-wee had gotten really big and stiff - it was rising up beyond the top of the borrowed swimming trunks. It felt really good - kinda like it had felt when I woke up before... wait, was this all still part of the dream?

I knew, that even in a dream, if I didn't get inside soon, Grandma would come looking for me. I put the trailer back down where I'd found it, and even went and got the block I'd kicked across the yard and put it back. I went inside - by now, fortunately, my wee-wee had gone back to normal - but I missed that feeling, and didn't know how to get it back. When I walked into the kitchen, Grandma was putting jars into a big pot for the final part of her jelly making. I spoke for the first time, "Grandma, I'm having a real good dream... I'm all big and got big muscles, and I lifted the trailer up over my head!" I noticed that my voice didn't sound like my voice - was this a cool dream or what?

Grandma turned - her eyes widened, and I caught her just as before she hit the floor - she'd fainted!

I carried her to her bedroom - I was five years old, and carrying my 135-pound Grandma (she was light as a feather)! - I lay her down on her bed. I then went to her bathroom and grabbed a washcloth and got it wet with cold water, I folded it over a few times, and placed it on her forehead. When I did that, she opened her eyes and looked at me again. "You got into your Grandpa's special tobacco. You're going to be in such trouble when he gets home!" That was all she said. She sat up, then got out of bed, and walked back out to the kitchen... she didn't say another word to me... what kind of dream WAS this?

I followed her into the kitchen where I sat down at the kitchen table and started to cry. I knew if this wasn't a dream that I WOULD be in big trouble when Grandpa got home... but I wasn't sure that it wasn't a dream... then, Grandma sat down at the table across from me.

"Son, what are we going to do with you now? What is your mother going to say? How are you going to go to school? You can't go to first grade looking like some refugee from Muscle Beach! Gawd - your Grandpa is going to take the razor strop to you for sure... I wouldn't want to be you when he gets home!" She got up to finish her jelly. She was also beginning to start dinner - she wanted to use her electric frying pan because she was going to make fried chicken. She asked me if I'd get it for her - after her fainting spell, she didn't trust her legs to go up her little step stool to get it from the top of the kitchen cabinet where she stored it. I had no trouble reaching it; I grabbed it even without the stool! When my hand touched that electric skillet, I somehow knew this wasn't a dream - I don't know why, but I knew.

Just as I was handing the skillet to Grandma - the front door opened, and in walked Grandpa. He came into the kitchen, took one look at me, and shook his head. He put his lunchbox down on the table, he made a sound like 'tsk-tsk', then he turned to leave, but he turned and looked at me once more. With just his index finger, he motioned for me to follow. He was going outside - to his workshop. I was in deep trouble - but I followed anyway - I knew if I didn't, it would only make things worse. He didn't say a word. He opened the workshop door, looked at the box - it was right were he'd left it. He opened it up, removed the velvet bag and opened it, looking inside.

"How much did you take?"

I was afraid to admit I'd taken anything, but I knew I couldn't lie about it either. "Two handfuls - I'm sorry, Grandpa" and started crying...

The look of surprise on his face was almost comical! I guess, in hindsight, seeing a 6-foot, 245-pound muscle-bound five year-old break into tears was pretty shocking.

"Son, it's OK - it's my fault. I shouldn't have left this out where you could get into it. Maybe I wanted you to find it... I dunno..." his voice faded - he was looking at the floor... I'm not sure, but I think he wanted to laugh, but was afraid it would be inappropriate.

I stopped crying almost immediately. That was it? I wasn't going to get the razor strop? I wasn't in trouble? Now I was confused - was this a dream or not? If not, then I was a grown man with lots of muscles, yet if it was a dream (it just had to be - no way Grandpa wouldn't take the razor strop to me for what I'd done!), then it was the coolest dream EVER!

"Sit down, son. Let me tell you a story."

What happened next was a long involved explanation, which to my five year-old ears was boring and confusing. It was all about some bad Germans trying to make Superman and fighting lots of people and this plant that got all it's leaves picked by Grandpa because he really liked chocolate... the plant died - it was burned, but the leaves grow on and on and on... Of course, the bad Germans were the Nazis, trying to advance their Aryan ideals by creating a race of supermen (not Superman)... they might have succeeded if it hadn't been for my Grandpa's army unit that surprised them and burned out their lab, subsequently destroying the plant they'd not yet gotten to test... Grandpa thought the chocolate smell of the leaves was nice - he loved chocolate, so he picked all the leaves with the intent of seeing if he could cook with them... it wasn't until he ate the first of them that he found out what they could do...

Grandpa and I spent the next half hour or so talking about what it was like to be so strong, muscular and virtually invulnerable. Grandpa had been this way since he was a young man, and had many years of experience dealing with it. He had lots to say to me about being careful about little things, opening a jar of Grandma's jelly for instance. If I weren't careful, I'd twist the glass jar in two and have a handful of jelly and broken glass. I told him about lifting the trailer - he didn't seem surprised - he told me that he'd lifted a Panzer tank after eating his first handful of the leaves. Grandpa had been shot a couple of times, but the bullets didn't penetrate his skin. He'd been in two car accidents that would've killed a normal man, yet he walked away without a scratch.

Grandpa didn't know how the leaves worked. He was most interested in how they reproduced; he'd been trying to figure THAT out since he picked the originals. He'd been eating them off and on - a few every several months for the past 20 years or so... he'd long since stopped getting stronger or bigger - he believed he'd reached his limits. He'd only shared the leaves once, with his son, my uncle; owner of the wet suit. He'd cut a single leaf up really fine and sprinkled it on some ice cream. Seems that my uncle was having some trouble with bullies at school... But he never gave my uncle any more because he also believed the leaves were addictive, like his chewing tobacco. He had no evidence that he needed to continue eating them nor did he have any evidence that he could stop either - he just couldn't see getting his only son addicted to the things. He just knew that he liked the things, whether addictive or not, and ate a few as a treat every few months... he'd had a few this morning before he'd left for his job site - and forgotten to put them back in their hiding place. He told me that he figured I'd reached my size and strength limitations because I'd taken so much of the stuff this afternoon. I just kept thinking, was this a cool dream or what?

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It wasn't a dream. That all happened over 40 years ago.

I have the leaves now. When Grandpa died, he made sure they were mine. I'd had some every time I visited him until his death in '81. Grandpa died of prostate cancer, that's when we figured out that while we're invulnerable to outside forces - germs, bullets, poisons, fire, etc., we're not invulnerable to our own bodies turning against us. Grandpa was diagnosed with prostate cancer at the ripe old age of 77; he managed to live four more years. He refused treatment - it's unlikely any treatment could've been given, chemotherapy would have no effect and surgery was out of the question (no incision could be made on him).

Grandpa was right - the leaves are mildly addictive. The leaves themselves are small, greenish-brown leaves that resemble those of young marijuana. They have a strong chocolate odor and taste. I've chopped them up and used them in brownies for my personal consumption, I've rolled them up and smoked them like a joint, I've made ice-cream with them, I have, on occasion, had men over who I particularly liked - men who I'd like to see with a bit more muscle, so I've shared some of these leaves occasionally - but always in miniscule doses - just enough to give the recipient a fairly good boost in strength and muscle size, never more than that.

Several years ago, I got an idea. I took all but one leaf and put them into a Cuisinart - I chopped them to a fine texture - which I then added to chocolate protein powder I bought in bulk. The protein powder 'cut' the leaves so that the dose anyone would get with an entire can of powder was the equivalent of one leaf, enough to cause some rather surprising muscle and strength gains, but not enough to cause invulnerability - even with repeat buyers. I sold my protein powder online for a couple of years. I had a few very loyal customers, and every one of them is now a major bodybuilding champion - the last 4 Mr. Olympus winners have all been my customers. As long as I always keep one leaf, the amount of leaves remains constant. When I remove all the leaves, save one, from the humidor where I now keep them, within minutes, they'll all be replaced - providing the leaves removed have been consumed or processed in some way. I've no idea what sort of plant these leaves come from, nor do I understand the process that is responsible for their constant reproduction. What keeps them growing? There is no plant or roots to feed them - nothing but leaves. These leaves were originally picked from a plant burned to the ground in 1942! I don't believe in magic, but I have no plausible explanation as to how any of this is possible.

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Oh, in case you're wondering - I was home-schooled. My parents WERE freaked, but they got over it. Mom knew about her Dad's chocolate tobacco. She was never allowed any, but she knew about it. Oh, I did get bigger, but not until after I hit puberty (which, for me, happened at age 11). When I was 11, during my usual summer visit to Grandpa and Grandma's, I had several handfuls of Grandpa's chocolate tobacco... I shot up to my final adult height of 6'8", and got up to what would turn out to be my optimum weight of 365lbs. Over the years, I've observed that my weight vacillates between 340 and 390 - I've no idea why that happens, it doesn't seem to be related to my consumption of the leaves. I just know that when I'm at 365, I'm at my optimum weight, so whenever possible, I try to maintain that weight. I don't work out - beyond the occasional lift for my own or someone else's amusement. If I were the competitive type, and chose to enter say, a bodybuilding contest or a power-lifting meet - I'd blow everyone out of the water... but I don't compete - it wouldn't be fair!

What are the measurements of a 6'8", 365-pound superman? Here are my vitals: Neck - 21", Chest - 62", Waist - 31", Biceps - 25", Thighs - 31", Calves - 20", Cock - 12"X7". Pretty impressive for a 47 year-old, huh? Damn right! It was even MORE impressive on an 11 year-old! Over the years, I've used that impressive physique to accomplish some very impressive lifts - I can lift a 747 by one wheel strut - not far, mind you - the stress on the strut and wing would be too much, but I can lift the strut, and, by extension, the wing and body a good 4 feet off the ground - with the plane fully loaded. I lifted one of those giant mining trucks - the kind that have a staircase across the radiator - they're nearly three stories tall, and weigh a few hundred tons... lifted the front end of one of those babies (fully loaded, no less) and did curls - for reps - with it! There appears to be virtually no limit to my strength, and like with Grandpa, I'm apparently invulnerable. I can't be cut, shot, pierced, poisoned, gassed, suffocated, burned, crushed, drowned, blown up, or anything else external. I've been exposed to all sorts of virii, bacteria and poisonous animals and insects yet I've not found any that can harm me. Apparently, as with my Grandpa, only cancer can cause my death, at least I know that's what killed my Grandpa, and I would suppose the same sort of thing can (and likely, will) do me in. As a footnote, because Grandpa had refused treatment for his cancer, his doctor was anxious to do an autopsy after Grandpa's death... the autopsy went without issue... apparently, when Grandpa died, his invulnerability went with him... I know this because the doctor reported to me that when he opened Grandpa up, he found that the tumor in his body was roughly the size of a cantaloupe... prior to his death, an incision would have been impossible. Again, the mysteries of this plant and the effects of it on the human body are beyond me. Can I fly like Superman does in the comics? No, but I can jump really far - I've done a running long jump that was longer than a football field... I've high-jumped a three story home. I can't outrun a speeding bullet, but I can do a mile in just over 90 seconds... I don't have x-ray vision, heat vision, or freezing breath either. In fact, once you get beyond my size, I'm just a regular looking 47 year old man... my hair started turning gray when I was in my late 30's - by the time I reached 42, my brownish-blonde hair was so full of gray that my boyfriend dubbed it 'cinnamon and sugar'. I still have more blonde than gray, but the gray will likely win out eventually; at least I still boast a full head of hair.

Have I ever shared my secrets with anyone else (beyond this document)? Are there any other invulnerable supermen walking around besides myself? Yes - a select few. A few of my very closest friends, of course, as well as a few of my best customers I've given uh, special treatment - in exchange for well, shall I say, personal favors? How 'bout you? Would you like to try a handful or two of my special chocolate tobacco? What do you have to offer?

[muscl4life]

This is a great story! I loved the way you decided to tell the story, a real great job! I really love older men muscle growth stories, you are very talented I hope to read more from you soon!

Bruno

[ctmusclelover]

If you've written lots of stories, whyever did you wait so long to post one? Your story was excellent and extremely imaginative. So open that filing cabinet and let's see some more of your work. By the way, I'd love to try some of Grandpa's tobacco.