Stoner Slob - Part 5

It was a new year, and with the new year came new rules. For the first time in state history, marijuana was now legal to use, purchase, and possess. And such a law couldn’t have come soon enough for Calvin, who was just days away from defending his thesis on the effects of cannabinoids on the human mind.

Having studied weed for most of his academic career, Calvin was looking forward to destressing ahead of his big day by actually imbibing the plant for the very first time. It seemed so odd in retrospect how he could write so knowledgeably about what neuroreceptors connect with what molecules that become distributed after inhaling the smoke of combusting cannabis without ever having experienced it himself. And now that it was legal, he could finally find out.

It would also finally provide him with a solid retort for when his colleagues poked fun at his chosen expertise. “Actually, I’ve only just tried it yesterday.” He imagined the look on his professor’s face when they found out that his work wasn’t just the fascination of a lifelong stoner.

Still, legalization didn’t bring an immediate flood of head shops to his small college town, and it occurred to Calvin that he actually had no idea where he could procure his desired product. After fruitlessly searching at several corner stores, Calvin gave up and went home to search online. A few searches shortly brought him to what appeared to be a brand new website called “Greg and Ray’s Weedery.”

Although new, the site wasn’t exactly what Calvin would call modern. The menus were just differently-colored squares, the font was all comic sans, and the background was just a tiled image of something… fleshy. Calvin couldn’t tell what it was, but it had the same hue as human skin. It was almost like he was looking at a porn site from the mid-’90s.

But it had weed. Several different strains of varying potency, from the looks of it. Calvin was expecting to see THC and CBD percentages, but instead, he was treated to a vivid description of each strains’ effects. One for watching an entire documentary at once, one for cleaning the house, one for video games, and one that was described as a good catch-all for a bit of everything you’ve come to expect from weed. Calvin chose that one, which also happened to be the cheapest option available. He wasn’t sure he’d necessarily enjoy getting high, so best not to waste cash on a whim.

The neat part about Greg and Ray’s Weedery was that they were local and even delivered same-day for people living in the city. Not an hour later did Calvin receive a knock on the door from an enormously fat man who was straining to catch his breath. Calvin lived on the fourth floor of an apartment building that didn’t have an elevator, something he credited for keeping himself relatively trim.

“Ah, man,” the obese delivery guy gasped. “Fuckin’ stairs? Shit. Give me a minute.”

Calvin felt sorry for the guy as he stood with hands on his hips, massive chest heaving as he took in great lungfuls of air. After a few minutes, he seemed to collect himself and then held up a small paper bag. “Your weed,” he said with a flourish and then departed back down the stairs. Calvin watched his vast bulk wobble its way down the fourth floor just to make sure he was alright before heading back into his apartment.

Opening the bag, Calvin found a smaller plastic bag with a few nugs of dried flower. It occurred to him that in his haste to acquire weed he hadn’t actually spent any thought on how he was going to consume weed, but luckily the bag also contained a small package of rolling papers with a note saying it was on the house. Evidently, Greg and/or Ray had figured that there would be a lot of first-time smokers in the coming weeks and had planned accordingly. Calvin made a mental note to give their site a good review on Google.

Being his first time, Calvin had never actually rolled a joint before, so he once again found himself searching online for instructions. His first two joins were utter disasters that fell apart as soon as he held them to his lips. The third finally held its shape long enough that the coarsely-cut flower inside didn’t all come tumbling out as soon as it was handled.

A lighter. Another idiot mistake--Calvin didn’t smoke. He thought about going to the store for a moment but then settled on lighting his first reefer using the gas stove. It burnt a good quarter before he could bring the end to his mouth to inhale, but when he did, all the effort he’d spent was suddenly worth it.

The high was immediate and sublime. Calvin felt all tension leave his body as soon as he exhaled that first plume of smoke. The relaxation was soon followed by a slight tingling sensation, like pins and needles gently dancing all over his body, but it stopped after what felt like a moment.

Standing in his kitchen was no way to enhance this feeling, Calvin realized, so he ambled to the living room to flop down on the sofa. Unfortunately, he realized only after sitting down that his poorly assembled joint hadn’t kept burning during transit. Not to be deterred, Calvin went to the kitchen to retrieve a small knife and then plucked a pair of tweezers from his bedside table. Then he got to work disassembling and then reassembling the joint by making the weed granules inside smaller and less densely packed. This would allow for greater airflow to keep the joint burning and make it easier to inhale.

A practiced lick to adhere the rolling paper together once more and Calvin was looking at a perfectly straight, perfectly rolled joint. He then reached over the side of the sofa and retrieved his lighter--a lighter that had never been there before.

There was a moment where Calvin’s mind understood that something was wrong, but despite his intelligence, he couldn’t quite figure out what. Then his fingers lit the spliff and brought it to his mouth almost automatically. The smoke filled his lungs and brought forth that familiar feeling of complete and total relaxation, and whatever troubling thoughts Calvin had disappeared like the smoke he’d just exhaled.

When the smoke cleared, Calvin’s room had changed. The carefully organized desk was suddenly covered in rolling papers, pipes, and filters scattered in a disorganized mess. The master’s degree in neuroscience had changed to biochemistry with a minor in botany. And the small, simple chair that Calvin had spent years typing away on had become a much larger, high-backed, and reinforced office chair.

Again, Calvin felt that something was amiss, but then he toked again and realized that he was just having a stoner moment. Of course, he needed a big chair--a big chair for a big dude, he chuckled to himself, feeling his exposed stomach with a large, hairy hand. He’d been called a gorilla in high school for both his size and his hirsute body, but the insult hadn’t bothered him too much. Cal knew he was a big ape, but he knew the truth--everyone was just a big ape on the inside.

As Cal reminisced on his academic career, how he’d almost been busted for developing a new strain of weed in his biology courses, Cal’s body shifted to fit more with the memories that came flooding into his mind. Cal’s legs grew thick and squat, powerful and muscular despite the heft he carried--or perhaps because of it. His calves bloated into solid cords of densely packed muscle that flowed into angles that were thicker than most men’s thighs, his feet so wide Cal needed to special order his shoes.

His arms became no less wide but less powerful than his legs as Cal’s studies left little time to lift as he did back in high school. He could still impress the guys with his guns though and still make his pecs dance on command. Although if he was honest with himself they were more like perky tits these days. And when combined with his round belly and bald head, Cal’s nickname in college had become “Buddha.”

“Budai,” Cal had always corrected. Budai was the fat, bald, Chinese monk. Buddha was the sitting guy with the crazy hair. Although Cal admitted, he sure did have some crazy hair. It just wasn’t on his head. Chest, belly, arms, legs, back, ass, groin--all of it became covered in dark, coarse hairs that had been covering Cal’s body since puberty.

A tumultuous puberty, Cal recalled, that had only been tolerable thanks to the introduction of his one true love: Mary Jane. Cal’d lost count of how many afternoons he’d spent smoking up and getting off. Never the popular one, Cal only discovered at the tail end of high school that the big cuddly teddy bear type was actually attractive to a lot of women… and men. In college, Cal didn’t discriminate; if you wanted to get high and have sex, he’d almost always agree, no questions asked.

That’s how he and Ray had first met. Even back in college, Ray was a huge fatass, but he was almost as big a pothead as Cal, and that counted for a lot. Combine that with an ass that was made for fuckin’, and Cal had no problem with fucking his fat stoner pal whenever they got together.

Remembering all those times plowing that enormous ass brought a smile to Cal’s face as he puffed the last of his roach before reaching into his loose sweats to haul out his hard and drooling cock. It didn’t quite measure up to Greg’s monster, from what Cal recalled of their many threesomes, but it was thick and produced plenty of lube whenever he needed.

And right now, Cal needed.

A few strokes later and Cal’s hefty rod was covered in enough pre-cum to produce a “shlick” noise with each stroke. The big man closed his eyes and began thinking of the last time the three of them had gotten together to spitroast Ray before smoking up their whole dingy apartment. Not that Cal’s was much better, with all the dirty laundry and empty soda cans lying around.

Just then there was another knock on the door. Cal grunted as he hefted himself from the sofa, his weight leaving a distinct indent on the cushions. Cal didn’t bother putting on clothes--anyone who was knocking on his door knew to expect a big, hairy greeting.

Especially Ray. Once again, Cal opened the door to the sight of Ray panting for dear life. “Fuck, man. That’s a lot of stairs.”

“How do you think I keep these things?” Cal asked, flexing his quads. The soft pillars suddenly took on a far more toned and muscular shape that got Ray drooling even as he gasped for air.

“Fuck,” Ray replied. “I want all of this, but I’m going to need a minute.”

“You can take a minute while I’m plowing your fat ass,” Cal replied as he grabbed Ray and brought him inside. Ray never really got a chance to catch his breath, before Cal shoved a spliff in his mouth and a dick in his ass. That’s why Ray loved visiting Cal--the oxygen deprivation really enhanced the experience.