Ralph hoped that simply getting away from Eddie would be enough for his heart to settle down, but instead it just kept thumping away in his chest as he walked down the street, to the corner, and turned towards campus. He was still exhausted from the first walk, however, and by the time he was halfway home, his thighs and quads were burning from the exertion of hauling himself around. There was a park on the block he was walking past, and he decided he could use a rest–just a short one to catch his breath, get himself back under control, and then he could get back to campus, and try and forget all about Eddie. He couldn’t go back there, he knew that. Not after blowing his load like that, how could he explain that moan he’d let off when it happened? He could have sworn Eddie had seen the wet spot covering his crotch too. He sat down on the first bench he came too, heaving a sigh, trying to figure out why he felt both so tired and so full of energy, all at the same time, like something was building up in him, something he couldn’t quite explain.
He ran his hands down the sides of his jeans, trying to get rid of the sweat coating his palms, when he felt something hard in his front right pocket, along with his keys. He had no clue what it could be–he fished around inside it, grabbed in his fist, the warmth nearly making him nauseous. From the feel of it, it could only be one thing–the lighter, the zippo lighter. Had…had he taken it? Had Eddie handed it to him without him noticing? The warmth was intense, like the lighter was on fire. He kept trying to make his fist drop it–instead it clutched it even tighter, feeling the metal imprint his flesh. He certainly had to pay for it…right? He…He should…go back…pay for…
He snorted awake on the bench a short while later–he wasn’t quite sure how much later. It couldn’t have been an hour, but he was still disoriented, looking around and trying to figure out where he was. It took him a few moments to piece things together, how he’d left the garage sale in somewhat of a froth, though he was having a hard time remembering why he’d been so…crazy. He’d been walking home and tired, and he’d been craving a cigar. He’d sat down on the bench to take a break, and then…then he’d just fainted away. He must have been more tired than he’d thought.
He fished a cellophane wrapped cigar from his pocket. His lighter was already in his hand–he must have gotten it out before falling asleep. He unwrapped it, slipped it in his mouth and puffed it too life, taking a deep inhale, and sighing out a plume of smoke into the crisp fall air, slipping his lighter back into his pocket as he did. A small part of him wondered what exactly he thought he was doing; wondered where he’d gotten the cigar from; wondered about these strange fainting spells he was having all of a sudden. Those concerns drifted off in the cool breeze in the park, and he found himself squeezing his cock in his jeans, thinking about bumping bellies with Eddie, and wondering if his garage sale would be open again on Monday. He had said all weekend…maybe he could pay him another visit. That strange energy he’d felt building all morning was still lingering in his chest, but he passed it off as butterflies. Halfway done with his cigar, but feeling rejuvenated, he hefted himself up and continued on towards campus, itching his face as he went.
He got back in the early afternoon, after a short detour to a local smoke shop for another pack of cigars, since this was apparently his last one. As soon as he’d smoked it to the butt he found himself compelled to light a second; sure, he knew he shouldn’t smoke this much, but he just couldn’t…stop himself. Didn’t want to stop himself. He got back to campus and got any number of odd looks from students, and a few angry comments reminding him the entire campus was smoke free, but he brushed it off. A little smoke wasn’t going to kill anybody–but he did have the courtesy to finish before going into his dorm. His roommate was out, which was a relief again. Between the cigars and his earlier contact with Eddie, he was horny as fuck all over again…and then he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror.
Those…weren’t the clothes he’d put on when he’d left for the day. He remembered, when he’d woken up on the bench he’d had on jeans and a collared shirt, sneakers on his feet. Not…overalls, the knees crusty with mud, grungy work boots (which he swore he had seen somewhere before) and a white tank stained yellow, reeking of sweat (and…piss?) which left a bit too much flab exposed for him to feel all that comfortable. His face was odd too, his stubble thick, or was it a beard? He’d never had facial hair before in his life, or ever really been able to grow anything like a beard, but…but it looked good. His hair was too long, though. Still, if it was a bit longer he could put it in a ponytail or something, at least keep it out of his face. His…fat face. Was he fatter? I mean, he’d always been fat, but it seemed like he was even…bigger. The discomfort evaporated faster than he could process it, and when he checked the closet for some more…professional clothes, only to discover all he had was filthy workwear, it bothered him less than he knew it should. It also did nothing to help his horniness, and after he blew a wad in his jockstrap, he felt much better–aside from being hungry as fuck. He tromped downstairs and headed for the dining hall, but stood outside so he could smoke a cigar first. He felt…good, but the looks he kept getting…from the students filing in and out of the doorway…it didn’t help him shake the feeling that something had gone horrifically wrong, and there might be nothing he could do to stop it.
Bracken's Corner 