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Boyfriend Time :)
Rule Breakers
Eric stood in his clean white sneakers and blue shirt in a yard of full of weeds in the middle of nowhere.
“You sure this is it?” he asked his friend, Greg.
“Of course it is, there is no other place around,” Greg smartly replied. Greg was always dragging Eric to god knows where. Greg was a schemer and was always looking for ways to make “easy money” without working a real job.
Greg and Eric, both 20, had been friends for a long time but they were very different. Eric was a clean cut guy, never partied or did drugs. Greg, on the other hand, was always getting into trouble.
“How much did you say this guy was paying us?” Eric asked, annoyed.
“300 bucks, cash,” Greg grinned. Eric debated whether the amount of yard work was worth it. “Come on, let’s knock on the door,” Greg added.
The house was a little ran down, but it had potential. Greg knocked and a large, beefy man opened the door. He had a shaved head, full greying beard and was equal parts fat with muscle. He had a large cigar protruding from his mouth. When he had opened the door, a haze of smoke emerged with him.
“You must be Greg,” he said in a deep voice.
“Yup, that’s me,” Greg confirmed, “This here is my friend, Eric. He’s helping too.”
The man stared at Eric then reached out his hand and said, “Butch.”
“Umm,” Eric hesitantly reached for his hand and shook it, “Nice to meet you.”
Butch looked back at Greg, “I’m still only paying you $500. Extra help don’t mean more pay.”
Eric shot a piercing glance at his friend and Greg sheepishly agreed, “Yes, of course.”
“Well, you better get to it,” Butch suggested.
Greg and Eric starting pulling weeds in that early morning. There was an awkward silence between them.
It was about two hours in when Butch emerged from his house and offered the guys some water bottles. He still had a large cigar in his mouth.
“Thanks, Mr. - ummm…Butch,” Eric said as he took a water. Greg just grabbed the water without saying anything.
“I need to head to town for a couple of hours. You boys alright?” Butch asked as he got into his parked truck.
“Should be,” Eric responded.
“House is unlocked if you need to use the bathroom. All I ask is you don’t touch anything. Specifically my gars,” Butch grinned as he held up his lit cigar that was resting between his fingers.
“Of course, we won’t,” Eric assured.
“Good boy,” Butch said as he turned the engine on before driving off down the dirt road.
A few minutes passed and Eric finally spoke up, “You know Greg, I can’t believe you were going to short me.”
“What do you mean?” Eric defensively asked back.
“You know what I mean. He was going to pay you 500 bucks. You told me three,” Greg snapped.
“Chillax, I got it mixed up. I’ll split it evenly with ya still,” Greg assured him. Truth was, Greg was originally going to short him and was now backtracking.
“Whatever,” Eric said as he continued to work. He knew his friend and didn’t believe him.
Greg tossed his rake down on the ground. “I need to take a piss,” he shortly said as he stomped off.
Inside, the house was nicer than the outside. When he first answered the Facebook marketplace ad for yard work help, Butch mentioned that he recently bought the house was doing remodeling work. Greg had no idea though. This place was both masculine and fancy, and must have cost a bunch to get done.
After finding the bathroom, he looked around and saw the living room. It had wooden walls, oak furniture and leather seating. There was a deer head mounted above the fire place mantle. He saw a large cedar box resting there.
Being the rebel he was, he opened the box and saw several large cigars sitting inside. An idea popped in his head. He grabbed two cigars and a lighter that was sitting next to the humidor.
He had seen his uncle smoke cigars before and knew you had to cut them. He picked up a cigar cutter that was sitting on the mantle and cut each cigar poorly. He tossed the cut pieces into the fire place and quickly hurried outside.
“Look, I feel bad about almost cheating you, so I got you a present,” Greg called out as he walked back into the yard. He held up the two cigars.
“Are you fucking serious? You heard Butch,” Eric said, annoyed.
“The guy’s weird and off. He won’t notice two missing,” Greg said as he placed the cigar in his mouth. He flicked the lighter, brought it to the end and puffed on the cigar. Smoke poured from his mouth before inhaling, causing him to cough. Greg had dabbled with smoking cigarettes and other substances in the past, so he had an idea to what he was doing. He then held out the unlit cigar and lighter to Eric, “Don’t be a baby. Smoke it. Tastes expensive.”
“Like you would even know,” Eric said as he took the cigar from his friend. Eric never smoked anything before. He just stared at it.
“Come on. Don’t be a wuss like always. Smoke it and I’ll give you 250 instead 150,” Greg smirked.
“Fine,” Eric conceded, “I’ll smoke it.” Eric placed the cigar in his mouth. It tasted rich, which is not what he expected. He brought the flame to the cigar, over burning it and puffed. The smoke tasted of caramel and wood; it was actually pleasant.
“Now be a man and inhale it!” Greg demanded, not knowing you don’t normally inhale cigars.
Eric did and it caused him to cough aggressively. Greg just laughed. Eric thought he wasn’t going to do that again.
The two friends were more talkative from that point on as their cigars were an icebreaker for them. Eric was surprised at how much he was enjoying his cigar and the taste it had. He even thought about buying some on his own. Greg was also enjoying his cigar, but differently from Eric. He enjoyed the harsh smoke in his lungs and the quick buzz it gave.
A half hour went by as the two of them worked and smoked.
“Dude, I don’t feel so good,” Greg spoke up.
“You’re inhaling too much,” Eric informed him as he continued to pull weeds.
“No, it’s not that. It’s my stomach. It feels funny. And my face is itchy,” Greg said as he put his rake down.
Eric looked at him and was shocked at what he saw. Greg had a full beard. “Greg, your face! You have a beard!” Eric exclaimed as a thick cloud of smoke blew from his mouth.
“What are you talking about?” Greg asked confused. his voice even sounded a little deeper. Greg touched his face and felt fuzzy hair. He was startled. He had never been able to grow facial hair.
Greg ran to the house and Eric followed. Once inside, Greg hurried to the bathroom while Eric stayed in the living room, still smoking his cigar. He didn’t want to put it down.
Greg saw his reflection of the bathroom mirror and sure enough, a beard was quickly growing. He looked different and barely recognized himself with the beard and cigar in his jaw. Much like Eric, he didn’t want to stop.
He then noticed his hair falling out, all over the sink under him. It fell until all that was left was short hairs. It looked like he had just given himself a buzzcut.
His stomach still felt off. He looked down and saw that it appeared bloated. He left the bathroom to find Eric still smoking his cigar, but he was also now sporting a short stubble beard.
The beard was not the only thing different. It looked as if Eric had been a dedicated gym goer and weightlifter.
“Dude, you’re ripped!” Greg said even in a deeper voice.
“I am?” Eric asked as he flexed his bicep and admired it. His voice was also getting lower. “I look good!
Greg even had to admit to himself that Eric was looking good.
The two of them stood in the living room, confused with these sudden changes. They continued smoking their cigars as it was the only constant they had right now. It seemed to calm their nerves.
The two friends didn’t know what to do. All they did was keep smoking their cigars.
“What’s happening to us?” Eric asked.
“I don’t know. Why are you getting jacked while I’m getting fat?” Greg asked back.
Eric looked at Greg. His belly was getting rounder and his face was filling out. Eric thought his friend looked good as a bigger guy.
“I don’t know, but my cigar is almost done and I want another,” Eric said as he snubbed his cigar out on an ashtray that sat on the coffee table. Greg did the same and the two friends grabbed another from the humidor.
They both lit them up as if they were regular cigar smokers now.
Both Greg and Eric’s beards were getting fuller and longer. Eric’s hair was also starting to fall out, but only on sides, leaving him with a short Mohawk.
Greg let out a belch. His belly had became massive, compared to what it once was. Eric couldn’t stop flexing his new muscles. His arms were huge.
Greg watched his friend as he rubbed his belly. He liked his belly; it made him feel manly. He also liked his friend’s new muscles.
“Dude, take off your shirt! Let’s see how ripped you are!” Greg enthusiastically suggested.
“Only if you do too!” Eric exclaimed.
“Deal!” Greg agreed.
The two men took off their tight shirts. Greg had a fuzzy belly and Eric had a hairy chest.
“Dude, you look hot…erm…I mean great!” Greg said to Eric.
“Thanks man, you look hot…umm…great as well!” Eric complimented back.
The two men looked at each other, admiring, as they puffed away fiercely on their cigars.
Eric had never been attracted to guys, but Greg was looking very sexy. He felt his dick twitching as he imagined riding him.
Greg never saw his friend in this light, but he wanted to touch Eric all over and please him.
As the men got harder, they smoked their cigars harder. Then suddenly and fiercely, the two men held their cigars in their hands, approached each other and started passionately making out. Eric grabbed Greg’s ass as he started grinding his crotch against his friends. Greg moaned in pleasure.
It all came to a stop when they heard Butch say, “Looks like we got a couple of rule breakers.”
The two men stepped away from each other, speechless and shocked. Butch was watching them as he hauled hard on his cigar.
“Butch, what is happening to us?” Eric asked in a deep voice.
“You smoked my cigars and became cigar cubs. I told you not to,” Butch said as he moved in closer.
“Cigar cub?” Eric asked, confused but still horny, “What’s that?”
“Take a look at yourselves and each other. That’s a cigar cub, son,” Butch answered as he drew on his cigar, “My cigar cubs.”
“Yours?” Eric asked.
“You smoked my special cigars. That means you’re my cubs and I’m your Cigar Bear, son,” Butch answered somberly.
“But you can change us back. Right Dad…I mean, Butch?” Greg asked as he rubbed his cock.
“Sure I can, since you both haven’t shot your load yet. That is what seals the transformation in forever. But look at you son. Been hard since you lit up. Do you really want to change back?” Butch replied with a grin, already knowing the answer.
Greg looked at Eric, who looked back. They both felt great. They deep down liked who they became, and what their friend became. They couldn’t imagine not feeling this type of pleasure ever again.
“No, Dad,” Greg said.
“No, Dad,” Eric also said.
“Just as I thought,” Butch said as he took off his shirt, “Now, why don’t you cubs come sit on the couch with your Daddy Bear before we make this permanent.”
“Yes, Dad,” the two cigar cubs chimed together, looking forward to sealing their smokey fates forever.
Get ready to drool
by Sky3 for Kon2757
Sergei & Friends (Belarus)
Uncle Martin’s Cigar
Daniel had been told not to touch anything in Uncle Martin’s study.
That warning made the room irresistible.
Martin was not really his uncle, merely his father’s oldest friend: a broad, ageing man with a taste for whisky, heavy cigars and antique furniture. While Martin spent three months travelling abroad, Daniel had been asked to check the house twice a week.
On the third visit, he poured himself a glass from Martin’s best bottle, removed his shirt and stood before the great mirror in the study. Then he opened the humidor.
“One cigar,” he said to his reflection. “He’ll never notice.”
The first draw filled his lungs with dense, sweet smoke. Daniel coughed, laughed and admired himself in the mirror with the cigar between his teeth. For a moment he imagined how Martin would look standing there.
Then his stomach cramped.
He staggered into the bathroom and gripped the basin. Something moved beneath his skin—not inside his belly, but across his entire body. His smooth chest prickled. Dark hair pushed through it in a thickening mat. His shoulders softened, his abdomen lost its definition and began to swell.
Daniel stared as a heavy beard spilled across his jaw in seconds.
“No. No, stop.”
The beard vanished just as suddenly.
For one hopeful moment, his face was his own again. Then it returned thicker, rougher and streaked with grey. His stomach expanded farther, rounding over the waistband of his jeans. His arms grew softer and heavier. Years carved themselves into his face, first ten, then twenty, then more.
His hairline retreated while he watched.
Daniel clutched at it, but every touch pulled away another handful. The crown opened into a widening bald patch. Grey curls remained only around the sides and back, framing a scalp that looked decades older than the terrified man beneath it.
His beard turned almost entirely silver.
By the time the transformation stopped, a stout, balding man nearing sixty stared back from the mirror. His chest and stomach were thickly furred. A pendulous belly strained his jeans. The only thing unchanged was the horror in his eyes.
Daniel tried to call his father.
His phone no longer recognised his face. His voice, when he attempted the passcode, emerged deep, gravelly and disturbingly similar to Martin’s.
The doctors found nothing wrong. His fingerprints no longer matched his identification. His blood suggested a man three decades older. Every photograph Daniel showed them looked like someone else.
After weeks of failed examinations, he visited a barber and asked for anything that might make him look younger.
The barber studied the sparse horseshoe of hair.
“There’s not much worth saving.”
Daniel sat in silence as the remaining grey curls were shaved away. Then the beard followed, leaving only a heavy silver moustache. It did not help. Without the hair, the age in his face looked even more complete.
Months passed.
Martin never returned.
His emails stopped. His telephone number was disconnected. When Daniel finally searched the study properly, he discovered that every photograph of Martin had changed. The man beside Daniel’s father now had Daniel’s old face: young, handsome and smiling beneath a full head of dark hair.
The cigar had not simply aged Daniel.
It had traded their places.
Daniel began sitting alone in the park each afternoon, dressed in Martin’s old undershirts and loose jeans because none of his former clothes fitted. He had tried giving up the cigars, but the cravings grew painful enough to make his hands shake.
Eventually, he lit another.
The first draw calmed him immediately.
Across the ocean, somewhere under a borrowed young face, Martin was enjoying the life he had stolen. And on the park bench, Daniel slowly exhaled, his permanent new belly rising beneath his shirt as smoke curled past the moustache that now felt as though it had always belonged there.