Smokin' New Life - part 8

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The baseball coach wasn't too thrilled with the fact that most of his players were all of sudden smoking cigars like chimneys, but they were winning, and that was all that mattered. Kyle, for his part, was a god among men, a supernova surrounded by stars, all of them with bodies most men would kill for.

One day Kyle was walking home from a game--a win, naturally--when his cell phone rang. It was DeShaun. He spit a line of chaw juice into the grass and flipped the phone open. "'Sup, buddy?"

"Yo, K, we got a new shorty coming over here tonight, make sure you're here."

"Sweet, dude! Fuck yeah, I wouldn't miss it. Peace bro." He closed the phone and smiled. No matter how many times it happened, he'd never get tired of seeing a -4 become a 10.

After he showered and changed, he made his way over the house. He was late, so he fired up his stogie as soon as he left the dorm so he'd be on pace with everyone else when he got there. The cigar fad that had been sweeping campus weeks earlier was now firmly entrenched, as guys and girls could now be seen at all times of day with stogies clenched between their teeth.

Jin and Jose were closest to the door when Kyle finally got there. They greeted him and pointed to that evening's "subject".

"Nice kid," Jose said in a lilting Hispanic accent, "but real shy. No confidence."

"Well," Kyle said, exhaling a stream of smoke through his nose, "I think that'll change." He considered the boy. His name, Kyle would later learn, was Matt. He was small, about 5'6" 115 soaking wet, with a completely average set of facial and body features. Kyle could see why the kid wouldn't have any confidence.

The night went as they usually do, and by the end Matt had enjoyed his requisite two black cigars and slept restlessly on a couch in the common room. Nick, DeShaun, Kyle and a handful of others had stayed around to watch Matt's transformation. "Never gets old, bro," Nick said to no one in particular.

Just like clockwork, Matt's scrawny body was suddenly wracked with activity, though Matt just kept sleeping and dreaming a chaotic dream. DeShaun pointed to Matt's chest, as it was the first thing to change. It began flat as a board, pale and home to nipples so small, calling them mosquito bites would be a gross overstatement. Very quickly, though, it looked as if layers of padding were being slipped underneath his skin, and before long Matt's chest was so big he wouldn't be able to see his feet in the morning.

The rest of his upper body quickly followed suit. Non-existent biceps appeared and expanded to softball size, with forearms thicker than anyone in the house besides Kyle, the baseball phenom. Abs materialized and quickly defined themselves as solid bricks of muscle, separated by deep canyons.

Matt's legs were next, the calves more than tripling in size and forming the perfect shape of a diamond. His thighs blew up like an explosion had gone off inside of them, and before long they were big enough that when Matt stood up in the morning, the hams would be touching.

Finally, something had to be done about Matt's face. Shortly, it was all taken care of. His nose and lips plumped up, while his ghastly white skin was very soon a rich, deep brown. But even as his hair shortened to a thin layer of wiry black fuzz, it was clear he wasn't of African origin. No, this was clearly Caribbean--Dominican, to be precise.

When it was done, Matt rolled over in his sleep, revealing an obscenely large, firm ass. Nick, DeShaun and Kyle all smiled and nodded as they finished off their stogies. "Wait 'til he wakes up," Nick said. "That shy little kid is gonna be one cocky motherfucker." And with a body like that, who wouldn't be?