Craig launched the shortcut to his Chrome browser with a practiced click. His old, ragged office chair creaked as he leaned forward. Without thought, he opened the link to his local Craigslist section and went to the 'casual encounters' section. The young man brushed a few oily strands of thin brown hair away from his eyes as he browsed the 'women for men' listings. He picked at a few acne scars absentmindedly with his left hand while he filtered through the ads. Only once had he had luck with the site - if it could be called luck. He soon learned that if a dollar sign appeared anywhere in the ad, the lady expected to be paid for her troubles. So, rather than pay the $200 fee for an hour's worth of sex (well, to be honest, more like 5 minutes of sex and 55 minutes of working to get it up again), Craig enjoyed five minutes of verbal abuse where he learned (according to Jane Doe) that no woman would ever touch such a scrawny, pimply, buck-toothed asshole too cheap to pay for what he'd never get otherwise. She left pissed and he stayed home, still a virgin. At 24 years of age.
"Fake," he said out loud. "Holy fuck, she's huge. No. No." He paused. "Is that... is that a dick in her... oh, yeah. Tranny. No. Dammit." He nearly closed the browser in frustration but paused when he saw an ad labeled "Mary Jane Wants To Play." As naive as he was, even he knew what "Mary Jane" meant. Craig's eyes focused into the distance as he considered his options. It was a warm, nearly Summer Friday night and he was bored out of his mind - as bored as he was every single day after a shift in the kitchen of the local IHOP. He pondered. He wondered. He hesitated. Boredom won out in the end. No new games on the PS3, his one semi-friend was off at his girlfriend's house getting laid and here Craig sat. The thought of trying weed for the first time was thrilling and, he decided, why the hell not?
His email was answered within minutes with a set of prices and an address. Craig was only slightly creeped out to learn the place was a few blocks from his apartment. He knew the location and was glad it was still light out - it wasn't the best area around. The prices were surprisingly good; he'd expected to be reamed for it but it seemed like a little bag of the stuff was cheaper than going to the movies.
It took barely a moment for Craig to find a clean white t-shirt to go with his favorite pair of blue jeans and then, with keys and wallet in hand, he left. As he stepped outside, he lifted his face to the sun, eyes closed, breathing in the warm air. The wind ruffled his hair and he grinned, with his mouth closed to hide his overly large front teeth. It was a habit formed when he was old enough to realize people made fun of him for it. Craig paused at the ATM near his house and then walked the three blocks over to a small blue house with a chain link fence and bars on the window. Beer cans of random brands littered the lawn of the house like cylindrical buildings toppled in some alcoholic apocalypse. He opened the gate and stepped up to the door, knocking loud enough to be heard over the booming music playing inside.
Craig raised his hand to knock again but the door suddenly opened, unleashing a torrent of dubstep. The man standing at the door was a little under six feet tall and dressed in a black t-shirt with a white skull symbol. He had short hair, a stubble of a beard and green eyes. Craig thought he looked almost thirty years old but realized he could be way younger; he'd always been bad at guessing ages.
"Yeah?" The man asked. "What do you want?"
Craig felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. Goosebumps marched down a line from his neck to his arms. Aw man, Craig thought. Why the hell did I do this? I don't know these people. I don't know a damn thing about weed. This guy could freaking murder me and nobody would probably bat an eye. For all I know, he's a serial killer and this is how he finds his victims. Dammit. Craig stammered in sudden fear, "H... Hey - I, umm, I answered the ad. The ad on Craigslist."
The man was nodding. "Aw, yeah, man. Craig, right? Come on in. You look okay."
Craig swallowed and stepped past the man when he opened the door wider, blinking to take in the darkened room. It smelled like old soggy breadcrumbs and beer with a hint of dried pee. A large TV hung on the wall in front of a massive black leather couch. More beer cans and bags of chips hid in corners and on tables around the room. The window blinds were all closed and there was a faint haze of smoke lingering in the air. It stunk enough to make Craig's stomach feel slightly queasy.
"It's just me and John. Well, and Jenny's around somewhere. So I've been told. I'm Dave. How much you bring?" The man (Dave) shambled over to a bookshelf near the TV.
"I - sixty bucks." The throbbing music, darkness and smell of weed was disorienting and he could feel the edges of a headache coming on. The sooner he was out, he decided, the better. He hadn't planned on spending so much at once but the thought of coming back here (if he decided he liked smoking) didn't make him feel comfortable.
"Oh, cool, cool. What kind you want?" Dave dug through a few boxes on the shelves, muttering to himself about needing to buy various strains of weed before he ran out.
"I don't know. Whatever's good?"
The man turned to Craig. "Whoa, bruh, is this your first time? You never smoked before? Do you even know how?" He grinned in that particular way people do when someone is about to embarrass themselves - equal parts condescending and amusement.
"No. I just thought - don't you just roll it up and smoke it?"
The man's grin grew wider and Craig thought he caught the edge of something else in it - hunger. Hunger of a kind. "Hey man, it's cool. I got just the thing for you. Why don't you hang out and we'll all smoke together. I'll show you how it works." Dave turned to the kitchen and yelled, "Hey John! Bring some pipes, man. We gonna smoke some fuckin' weed."
Craig almost ran for it. Almost. His hands shook from the sudden adrenaline of a situation that felt suddenly even more wrong than when the front door first opened. The headache bloomed behind his eyes and he winced. "Nah, hey it's cool. I'll just-"
A slender man in shorts and a tank top rounded the corner of the kitchen. The man's (John, Craig supposed) black hair was held back in a ponytail and his angular face darted to look at Craig as he entered. He held three glass bongs in his hands and he nodded at Craig as he went to stand with Dave. "What're we smokin' today?"
"Yo, Devil Dog for us and... I know it's in here..." Dave picked through the bags in one box and then moved to another, smaller one. "Yeah. Fuck, yeah, man. I thought we had it. Pleasure Island. L.W. dropped it off last week. Remember that guy? Little freaky guy with the cigar and the fucked up name? Looked like a tweaker? What kind of accent was that, anyway? Boston? Something, anyway." Dave glanced over at Craig and then back to John. His grin was fixed and the hunger was far more pronounced. "I've been wanting to try this since then."
John looked at the bag and then at Craig. "You think it'll actually... Sure, man. I don't care. If you want to live in fantasy land, that's your ish. Pass me the Devil Dog first."
Dave sat at the edge of the couch while John opened bags. Dave turned to look at Craig and Craig felt the goosebumps crawl along his arms again. Meat. He felt like meat for inspection. Only, the feeling in the air was different. There were undertones of something he couldn't identify. Something in the way Dave looked at him that made him want to squirm and hide. The man spoke up as he patted the space on the couch between both of them. "Come on. Couch is big enough for all of us. John, yo, did Spencer pay us back already?"
"Yeah. Last week. You have shit memory. I think I'm gonna skip on this one. Mind if I hang out, though?" John handed Dave his pipe and then carefully started on a second one. Craig's eyes watered from the sudden acrid scent filling the air. Dave shook his head as he coughed. John grinned back at his friend and handed Craig his pipe. "Thanks, Dave. I need to get out of my damn room. Here you go, bro. What's your name, anyway?"
Craig took the pipe with shaky hands and nearly dropped it. "It's Craig. Do I just - do I just smoke it?"
"Yeah. Watch Dave do it. Can't really fuck it up. Just don't choke to death or throw up, all right?" John looked over at Dave. "That's all he's gotta do supposedly, yeah?" Dave nodded, his mouth full of smoke.
Not trusting himself to speak more, Craig waited for Dave to exhale and then watched closely as the man took a puff from his. John spoke from the side. "Don't swallow it. And you'll need to take several hits. It'll kick in eventually."
Craig breathed in, letting the smoke fill his mouth. He held it for several seconds before exhaling. His mouth and throat burned and he couldn't hold back a hacking cough while his eyes watered. He could almost feel the smoke creeping up his nose and into his brain. His face felt flushed and he blinked as a million tiny pinpricks marched in a wave from his scalp to his chin. Craig shivered as the feeling faded. He looked at the two men beside him and almost mentioned it but, the old instinct to not look like an idiot in front of other guys kicked in and he took another puff. And then again. And again. Eventually the burn in his throat faded so that the smoke slid smoothly along the inside of his mouth. He closed his eyes and leaned back in the couch, listening to the music. His headache had faded to a dull, distant throb.
Time passed and he took more hits. Finally, he turned to John. "When does it start doing something?" The two men around him cracked up, Dave choking as smoke billowed out of his mouth. "What? What's funny?"
John flashed a nervous grin. "That's the third time you asked us that. It's been working. Relax, man. Just relax and take a break from it."
"But I don't - oh." He could remember asking the other times when he stopped and thought hard enough. No wonder they were laughing at him. His sense of time was gone and he couldn't remember things that had just happened. Rather than feeling scared, Craig relaxed more into it. It was pleasant. His headache was a distant memory and his whole body was relaxed and buzzing. "This is good. I could get used to this." Craig scratched his stomach under his shirt, luxuriating in the way his nails felt against his skin. He didn't know it made sensations feel different but then, he was a complete novice when it came to drugs. He could feel a slight pressure in the pit of his stomach and he wondered if he was hungry.
Dave reached out to Craig's hair. "I think we got some cannabis cream you could use for your hair. That shit's oily."
"Mmmmmm," Craig answered with his eyes closed and his lips together in a sweet smile. He pressed his head against the man's hand, rubbing against it lightly.
"Oh, you like that, huh?" Dave scratched Craig's scalp slowly and Craig shifted on the couch from the feeling. He felt the tingles in his head that reached all the way down to his feet.
"Yeah. I didn't know weed did that. Didn't know it made things feel different. That's good. It's like a massage and a little tickling. Feels real good." Craig tucked his head to his chin and then around in small circles as Dave scratched around his scalp. It took several minutes to realize what was happening and, when he did, he snapped up and leaned away. "Whoa. Whoa. That's- whoa. Sorry, man. This shit's weird. I'm, shit, I'm sorry."
Dave grinned back at him. "Hey, don't sweat it. It's your first time." The man patted Craig's thigh and squeezed and Craig wriggled, leaning slightly back towards him.
The music was a continuous wall of noise but Craig grinned despite it. He felt good. Everything just felt really smooth. His hand was under his shirt again, scratching with his long nails and he moaned slightly, reaching his hands down into his pants to scratch at his pubic hair. His dick was hard and he almost grabbed it before snatching his hands away. He'd forgotten John and Dave were there with him. They just didn't exist temporarily and he'd been distracted by the itching. He tried to look at them from the corner of his eyes to see if they'd noticed what he'd done but his head was swimming. He laughed at the way his head spun lightly. His voice was nearly musical - a light giggle rather than the hacking laugh he'd always had.
"... gotta go slow and careful, man." John spoke to his side and Craig moaned. His hand was on Dave's leg, massaging and kneading the man's jeans with his nails. Dave was kissing his neck and he couldn't remember him leaning in or what John had been talking about. He just felt so sensitive. He moaned again and trailed his hand up John's leg until he felt the tip of the man's hard dick through his pants.
Craig snatched his hand back and pushed Dave off of him. "Hey. Heeeey. Hey fuck you. What are you doing?" His voice sounded wrong to his ears but it was getting hard to hear through the music. He turned to look at Dave and brushed thick brown hair away from his eyes with long fingers.
Craig stopped and took his hands away from his ears, holding them in front of himself. Female hands. The little hairs on the back of his hand and knuckles were gone, as were most of the wrinkles. His eyes went wide. "Wha... wha... what?" He stammered.
Dave was still grinning back at him. "Hey. There's our Jenny," he told Craig. "I can't believe that crazy little fucker was telling the truth. Look at her." The man leaned forward to Craig's chest and Craig felt the man's warm wet mouth on his shirt, followed immediately by an intense, nearly ticklish sensation radiating from his chest down to his erect cock. Craig moaned, cradling Dave's head against his chest. When Dave pulled away, Craig looked down in a daze. Two large nipples pressed against the tight white fabric of his shirt. The nipple on the right was puffy and erect and aching from the attention it just received. The area around the shirt was wet and cooling in the air.
Craig shook his head slowly. "No. No, this isn't right. This, aahhhh..." John's hand was suddenly on the inside of his thigh and the man was clawing at his skin. His sensitive skin. Craig's head went back and he closed his eyes. He wanted Dave's hand on his dick. He wanted to feel him pumping him, sucking on him. He wanted Dave's wet mouth sucking him off, licking the tip of his dick and then... and then... The secret thought came unbidden - he wanted his nipples sucked on again. Both of them.
"It is right, Craig," John told him. "Just relax. There's a good girl. Just relax. I can't fucking believe that little freak was telling the truth about this shit. Holy fuck, man." Craig reached out, nearly mindlessly to grab John's thigh. He rocked his hips as Dave ran his fingertips from his side to his knee and then back up to his crotch. His jeans felt tight against his body. A sudden cracking noise sounded and Craig fell against Dave, gasping for breath. His ass was aching and the jeans were cutting into his flesh. Craig reached for his jean's button, trying to work it through the hole with a woman's hand and a woman's nails.
With a double ripping sound, the jeans split along the sides and Craig moaned again. He felt an itching around the crown of his head and then a weight settled around his shoulders - the weight of his hair growing out. Brown and curly, oily no longer. His skin through the jeans was smooth and creamy white. The patches of hair and acne that scarred his body were gone. His hips were wider and the jeans still cut into his thighs and waist. His cock was pounding and aching in the remains of his pants. Craig nearly panted from the feeling bubbling up inside of him. The need for release. His long fingers stroked the smooth skin through the holes in his jeans and he luxuriated in the feel of it - warm and soft. A woman's body. He'd never touched a woman's body like this before - never had a chance and now, here he was. His own body.
"Here, sweetheart," Dave crooned. "Let me help." Dave's hands expertly worked Craig's button and zipper and Craig sighed in relief as his larger hips and ass relaxed from the sudden lack of pressure. Next, Dave tugged and pulled at Craig's shirt until it was rolled up even with Craig's armpits. Craig's nipples stiffened suddenly in the air. He could feel the skin of his nipples tug minutely. They ached for more attention. Dave was careful not to touch Craig's cock but, instead, the man ran his hands up Craig's side and to his nipples. Craig shivered from the feeling of the man's short nails on his smooth skin. He squirmed and moaned again when Dave pinched his right nipple. The skin around both nipples darkened slowly as areola formed. Small bumps rising in a circular pattern around both of Craig's fat, wet nipples.
"No," Craig told the man. "It's too hard. Can you... oh god, can you use your mouth again?" The man complied immediately. "Yessss... oh shit, that's good, man." Craig's hips rocked slowly back and forth and he twined his long fingers through the man's short hair, pressing him to his chest. It felt like a live wire ran directly down from the nipple in Dave's mouth to the head of his dick. Craig's hand had somehow made its way into John's pants and he could feel John's large, thick cock against the soft skin of his new hands. John's hands worked at his own pants and, suddenly, the man's dick was free.
Craig moaned and giggled lightly as Dave flicked his nipple. He reached to his side and found the bong they'd given him. Craig took several hits while he played with John's dick, dragging his nails along the flesh and giggling at the way John's breathing changed when he did. He'd never touched another man's dick. A small part of him quailed at what was happening but it was just a small part and the noise and smoke and dark of the room and pleasures of the flesh had him floating in an abyss of sensations. The feel of the two men's hands on his body, the way Dave's mouth felt as he licked at Craig's nipples and the way John's thick cock felt all bumpy against his soft hands were carrying him beyond reason.
On a sudden whim, Craig leaned over to kiss John, breathing out the remnants of his smoke as their tongues writhed against each other. Craig worked the man's cock up and down with his soft hand while they kissed. John's fingers pulled at Craig's long hair and then tugged him down and away from John's mouth. Down John pushed and down Craig went until the man's dick was against his mouth. No other push was needed - Craig opened his wet little mouth and took the man's cock as far as he could, choking for a moment before pulling slightly back. He'd felt it hit the back of his throat before his gag reflex kicked in. John's dick was salty and had a slight smell but he liked the way it felt against his tongue, warm and smooth with veins that moved around when he licked at them.
Craig suddenly pulled completely away from John and arched his back in pain. "Off!" He screamed in a shrill woman's voice. "Shit! I need my pants off now! It hurts!" His ribs felt like they were cracking as his chest bulged slightly in size but it was his lower back that were causing him to scream - the whole area burned in immense pain. Someone's hands were around his legs, tugging at the tight fabric of his jeans as he twisted and shrieked.
"... touching his underwear OR his dick. I'm not gay, man. Why don't..." Craig couldn't tell who was speaking. His head was a sudden bright point of pain and then everything was absolutely silent. For one brief moment, he couldn't hear anything at all. The noise of the music crashed back into him like a sledgehammer.
"... THE FUCK!" Both men stood in front of him, shocked looks on their face. His jaw ached. As he looked at the two men, he heard a series of popping sounds and watched as his nose flattened and pushed away from his face. John covered his mouth in horror but Dave just seemed confused. The skin along the elongated part of his face was covered in a light brown fuzz of hair. Under his eyes, the fuzz of hair grew into a down of fur, completely covering what he could see of his short, blunt muzzle. The fur around his mouth and nose was a lighter brown than the rest and, when he reached his hands up to touch it, it felt soft and strange to the touch. It was if he were touching someone else's body but could still feel it somehow. Craig's fingers touched along his teeth. There were so many in his new mouth and all were flat. He had no canine teeth anywhere. His head dipped slightly as he adjusted to the new weight of his face.