My New Suspenders Part 2
I don’t know what happened, I just don’t know. One second, I was closing and locking the door, and then the next…the next I was back inside, but I knew time had passed, the light was different through the windows, but where had I gone?
I looked down and saw I was holding a shopping bag, but it didn’t have any food in it–apparently I’d never made it to the store. Looking inside, I saw a small wooden box, and a few pouches of some black dried plant. I thought it was tea at first, but when I smelled it I knew–it was tobacco, and in the box, a pipe.I just stared at it, and my mouth felt funny for some reason, and then I was fumbling it out of the box and hastily tamping the tobacco into the bowl, and I have just enough time to wonder what the hell I’m doing before I light it and take a deep draw of smoke…
Fuck! I’m shooting, and the room, the room is so smoky, and I’m at the computer, and I’m chatting with him again. I blacked out again I realize, and stand up, and see that I’m still dressed in what I was wearing, the cum soaking into my shirt, and try to pull the pipe from my mouth, but it won’t budge…and I feel something new–hair. I rush to the bathroom, and I see that I’m changing again–a thick beard has already filled in all over my face, but I still have most of my hair, thankfully.
My pants are tight at my waist, and I loosen my suspenders. My gut is growing yet again, and I know it won’t stop until I grow out of these clothes too. Panicking, I rush back to the computer, puffing a trail of smoke behind me, and see the last message is an address. I don’t want to go, but what choice do I have, really? He has me, and he knows it. I grab my coat and leave, hoping this whole situation doesn’t get much worse.
I find my way there, and it’s a house–nothing strange about it aside from the fact that it’s a big damn house, and I stand in the yard for a few minutes, watching it, looking for any sign of life. My clothes are tight on my body now, and the suspenders are almost at their loosest. It takes me a few minutes to realize my hand is in the pocket of my jacket, gripping a key. The house looks empty, I haven’t seen anyone in the windows, and so with a deep breath of pipe smoke (fuck I love smoking now, and it’s starting to turn me on more and more–I don’t think I can stop, even if I wanted to) and head for the door, test the key, find that it works, and step inside.
The house is indeed empty–but completely furnished. I wander through the first floor, and find a standard living room and kitchen, a dining room and den–where on one wall is a spacious rack of pipes. I go upstairs, and find a master’s bedroom with the closets full of men’s clothing. I try to adjust the suspenders again, but they’re at the very end, and I find I can at last remove all my clothes. I look at myself in a mirror on the wall–I’m fat, and hairy–so god damn hairy. I look at least forty now, and the clothes in the closet, well, they seem even older. I try to leave the bedroom, but find the door has shut behind me, and locked. I pound on it, but it doesn’t open, and I look at the closet. I know what I’m supposed to do, but I don’t want to–unfortunately, I don’t have much choice soon. My pipe is going out, and as soon as it does, I know I’m going to have to find something to smoke, and fast. What choice do I have? I start pawing though the closet, looking for something to wear.
To be continued: Part 3 incoming in a bit.