The Desire for Transformation
Once the smoke cleared, Justin was still grunting and thrusting. It took him a second to realize he was back at his place.
“What the hell? I was almost finished,” Justin complained to the Smoke Transformer, who was sitting and staring blankly at him.
“I know, but you now must make a choice,” the Smoke Transformer informed.
Justin looked at the Marlboro Reds, the pipe and the cigar.
“So if I choose one, I will transform?” Justin asked,
“That is correct,” the Smoke Transformer confirmed, “You will begin the transformation once you start smoking.”
“Yes and no,” the Smoke Transformer answered, “There will still be enough parts of you, like your memories. You’ll still be Justin. But you will also be different - new habits and interests.”
“What will my friends and family think of this changed me?” Justin asked.
“You can’t worry about that. What matters is that you won’t care what they think of you,” the Smoke Transformer comforted him.
Justin nodded, but still couldn’t decide which he preferred. He enjoyed all three.
As the Marlboro Cowboy, he felt tough. He was a hard working man who had a habit to get him through the day.
As the Pipe Bear, he felt strong. He was a man that enjoyed his pleasures; such as good food, cold beer and a rich pipe.
As the Cigar Leatherman, he felt powerful. He was a man who knew what he wanted, which was great sex and strong cigars.
Justin sat back and thought about each of the experiences.
“Tough choice, isn’t it?” the Smoke Transformer slyly asked with a smirk.
Justin nodded. “What if I chose more than one? Is that a possibility?” he asked.
“Oh? I haven’t thought of that…I guess it is possible in theory…but no, I won’t let you,” the Smoke Transformer said.
“And why is that?!” Justin snapped, “I feel like you made this choice even harder!”
“Because if you chose two, you’ll remember less of your past life. There will be even less of you. You’ll barely be recognizable. That’s too much too soon. And if you chose three, you won’t even remember anything. It would be like Justin never existed,” the Smoke Transformer disclosed.
As Justin was barely listening, he grabbed the cigar, the pipe and the pack of Reds. Justin nervous slid out a Red and placed it in his mouth. He then shoved both the pipe and cigar in his mouth.
Justin looked at the Smoke Transformer then realized that he was being too greedy. If what the Smoke Transformer said was true, he would essentially be gone. The Justin he was would be no more.
He was about to remove them, but it was too late. With a devilish grin, the Smoke Transformer snapped his fingers. “Very well then.” He didn’t even have to bring the flame close, all three became lit.
Justin, as if it was a trance, started puffing. The mixture of smoke was strong but he breathed it in. He couldn’t stop.
Suddenly, the pipe, cigar and cigarette turned into complete smoke and disappeared. Justin had breathed it in.
“What? Where did they go?” Justin asked confused.
“In you,” the Smoke Transformer answered, “Forever now.”
Suddenly, Justin started coughing aggressively. To the point he had to stand up. He looked nervously at the Smoke Transformer.
“To be a smoker of pipes, cigars and Marlboro Reds, you must be a heavy smoker. That comes with a cough and even a shortness of breath, but you’ll get use to it,” the Smoke Transformer said nonchalantly.
The reality of the choice was setting in. His face was getting itchy as thick facial hair was growing n.
Justin fell to the floor. “What’s happening?” he asked nervously in a gruff, deeper voice.
“Justin, your body is changing suddenly - it can be a little unpleasant,” the Smoke Transformer answered, as if he was unbothered.
Justin groaned. He thought to himself, “Justin? Who’s Justin…wait…that’s me. Is it? Where am I from? I…don’t know.”
As old memories were being replaced, new ones were being created. He remembered the first Red he smoked at the young age of 13 - swiped it from his pop. Smoked ever since. He started cigars at 18 and pipes soon after at 21. He loved all three.
The knowledge of his office job, friend and family was all gone. He was now a loner who worked hard labor. The knowledge of woodworking and tools filled his mind.
Justin’s body kept changing as he laid motionless on the ground. He was aggressively gaining both fat and muscles.
The last part of Justin spoke aloud, “Stop this. Please - this isn’t what I wanted.”
The Smoke Transformer stood from the couch and spoke softly, “Oh Justin, but it is what you truly wanted. I know this and you know this. You wanted to be a completely new man and you now will be. It will be okay. It will be all over soon and you will then be happy. The transformation does take sometime, but you’ll be okay.”
Justin closed his eyes as he passed out from the transformation.
“Goodbye, Justin,” the Smoke Transformer said as he clapped his hands once and vanished, leaving behind a haze of smoke that quickly filled the room to finish the job and to prepare the apartment for the new man who will be waking up in about a week.
A man woke up on the floor of his apartment early in the morning. It felt like he had been in a deep sleep for a week.
“What the hell?” he said aloud in a deep and raspy voice. He felt groggy.
He slowly got up from the floor. His thick body was sore. He looked around and figured he must have passed out from a night of drinking. He didn’t feel hungover though, just a little out of it.
But one thing was on his mind. He was craving some smoke. The man usually started his day with a few Reds to get his quick fix. He looked around and checked his pockets - he didn’t have a pack on him.
“Fuck,” he said. He went to check the humidor that sat on his coffee table. He usually smoked a cigar a day, sometimes two. It was empty. He then walked to his office to check his pipe rack and jar of tobacco. He usually ended his day with a pipe after a large dinner. It too was empty. “Shit,” he said aloud, realizing he was going to have to swing by the smoke shop right away. He usually got his nic fix within a couple of minutes of waking up.
He hurried and changed into his clothes. He was unsure why he was wearing what he was wearing; it wasn’t his style. He slid on a pair of jeans, flannel shirt and his black cowboy boots. He decided to also wear a leather vest and leather cowboy hat. As a leatherman, he liked to wear a few pieces of gear every day.
He headed out the door. Usually on a Sunday morning, he liked to take it easy: wake up, smoke a few Reds, make a large breakfast, have a cigar, maybe cruise on Grindr and then enjoy a pipe in evening.
But today was different, he needed to stock up on his smokes and visit the local smoke shop.
He couldn’t wait though. He needed his fix. It has been 15 minutes since waking up and that was too long. He stopped at a minimart to get a pack of Reds.
As soon has he had them, he started tapping on the pack against his palm. It made them smoke better, he thought.
As soon as he stepped outside the store, he ripped it open, slipped on in his mouth and flicked his Zippo.
He instantly took a long drag and a deep inhale. He slowly exhaled through his nose. The first one was always the best of the day.
The man continued to march down to the smoke shop in his black cowboy boots. As he did, he chained another 3 Reds. He coughed a little during his walk, but that was normal.
He finally arrived at the smoke shop. It was his favorite one to visit. They had a great selection of cigars and his favorite blend of tobacco.
When he walked in, the owner who always wore a black suit was standing behind the counter.
“Welcome in! Thought I’d be seeing you today, Jay,” the owner said.
The name “Jay” resonated with the man. Because that was in fact his name.
“Howdy,” Jay said in his deep voice. He was familiar with this black suited man, almost like an old friend. “Need to stock up.”
The owner gave a devilish grin, “Of course you do. I’ll grab your usual.”
The owner grabbed a box of cigars, scooped up a pound of pipe tobacco and reached for a carton of Marlboro Reds.
“Get me one of those large cigars - an Asylum 70. Need one right now,” Jay ordered.
“Yes Sir,” the owner said as he opened up the glass humidor and handed it to his loyal customer. Jay grabbed the cigar cutter he always kept in his pocket and cut the large ring cigar. He placed it in his jaw and pulled out his torch lighter, which he also always kept in his pocket. He started lighting up the cigar and puffing away.
“Total is $324.19. I threw in the Asylum for free,” the owner said.
“Thank you,” he said with the fat cigar in his mouth. He pulled out his wallet and handed over his credit card.
The owner finished the transaction and handed over a bag with all his tobacco, “See you next week…oh, I almost forgot…” The owner handed him a flyer, “Some guy from the neighborhood is missing for a week. Some guy named Justin. Have you seen him?”
Jay looked at the flyer and flipped it around to read the back, detailing more about the missing man. He thought Justin looked and sounded vaguely familiar but said, “Sorry, never seen him. Gone a week? He’s probably long gone now.”
“Yes, I think that too,” the owner agreed with a grin.
When he left the store, people on the street looked at the large man smoking his cigar and carrying a bag of his addictions. Jay didn’t care though; he never cared about what other people think. He was a heavy smoker and proud of it.
Jay made it back home. He was feeling hungry and ordered two meat lover’s pizzas for lunch. He cracked open a beer, even though it was only noon.
That afternoon, he relaxed as he drank and smoked. He was more than halfway through his pack of Reds and smoked another cigar.
He thought about the upcoming week. He needed to find a job that put his woodworking skills to use. He thought about driving out of the City to see if a rancher needed some projects done. He thought it was a good idea, he would be able to smoke all day and enjoy being outside at a ranch.
He then remembered that this upcoming Thursday was leather night at one of the gay bars in his neighborhood. He was looking forward to gearing up and finding a sub to take home.
After a large dinner of country fried steak, mashed potatoes and gravy, Jay sat down on his couch and packed a pipe.
He knew he smoked too much, but also knew it wasn’t enough. There was no way he would ever be able to quit, even if he wanted to.
This was his life. It was the perfect blend of being a cowboy, leather bear and he lived for his smokes.
He placed the large pipe in his teeth and lit it up. He breathed in the familiar smoke into his smoker’s lungs.
He kicked back and enjoyed the smoke. He figured he’d finish the bowl and end with one or two more reds before passing out.
Nothing ever held him back and nothing ever will. He was a real man in his eyes, and felt like one too. He thought back at the missing man named Justin. He hoped he was okay. He thought perhaps he escaped a life he hated. He wanted that to be the case, but would never know.
All Jay knew was that he himself was happy. This life was all he knew. He couldn’t imagine any other life and still be happy.
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