Wacky Weed, Part 1

Wacky Weed, Part One, also known as the section before the giantess sex

Very few people decide to become a bum. But, I, Milton Caulfield, was very few people.

I was in my third year at Carleton and had decided early on to become a philosophy major. Partly to piss off my parents, partly because it was an easy major and partly because this really cute girl with dreadlocks, Josie, was in this Sarte discussion section Freshman year and I really wanted to have sex with her. Well, two years later, my parents had stopped talking to me, I was failing half my classes, and the dreadlocks were shaved as the object of my dick?s desire was traded to the other team after she had hooked up with this anorexic blonde TA from Cleveland.

Oh, and I started smoking a lot of pot. Depression, lack of parental guidance, no poon, and weed can make you a bit intense.

In my readings for the classes I decided to go to, these dead guys kept spewing these ideas about identity, and the importance of the self. Kinda made sense to me. In one of my month long binges on this primo Norwegian Cowgirl Bud, ( supposedly it was fertilized by the processed feces of cute blond leggy viking chicks ) I decided to sell all my worldly possessions and live as a vagrant in Northfield, MN. Why Northfield? Cuz my pot connection was based there. I may have been headed towards being a bum, but I still wanted my daily buzz.

It was going pretty good. The profits from my computer and my wardrobe and my old Dave Matthews CD?s ( what was I thinking? Jesus, even a stoner has got to be able to distinguish what?s shitty music ) had been keeping me in a good supply of wacky weed and I was happy as a clam. I spent every night in this alley behind this one burrito place by the campus toking up and watching the clouds. Even when there were no clouds. I was officially a bum, one of those guys that suburban mom?s point to in order to frighten their children into paying attention in spelling and not beating up little Jimmy in the 3rd grade.

So, one day, my dealer Cowboy ( yeah, he wore a ten gallon hat and leather boots ) came up to me and handed me a bag with about a joint?s worth of weed..

?Mil, dude, you gotta try this shit. I know you?ve got that whole born again, anti-capitalistic all pleasure rasta thing going on, so you?re, like, the dude to come to to try out new shit. You?re like, a connoisseur or the cannabis, dude. The fucking pope of fucking Weed, man.?

Cowboy, in case you couldn?t notice, did a lot of speed.

?Mil, dude, you?re really nasty man. All your fucking hair and shit, with the whole bum attitude, it?ll fucking whack out your high, man. Dude, come to my crib, get cleaned up, and fucking try out this fucking weed, man.?

I agreed. I could use a shower in a major way. As a bum, I wasn?t anti-shower. It was just normally I didn?t really have access to one. So I hopped into Cowboy?s hatchback Civic and drove to his mom?s house across town. She was fast asleep and his kid sister was at a friend?s house. It was a funny family. Cowboy?s mom was actually a former Deadhead and was all into Cowboy?s means of employment. His sister Nancy, however, was more of a punk. Straight-edge, too, if you believe it. Hell, I guess I would have been straight-edge if I didn?t love pot so much. She was in her fifth year of high school. Her bitch of an English teacher had found one of her poems disturbing, since it graphically described said teacher?s death, so she had been suspended, making her fail all her last semester classes. She didn?t care too much, though. She was planning on jetting to New York after graduation to follow the music scene for a while. Become her own kind of bum, I guess. We got along pretty well, until I stopped seeing her cuz of the whole bum thing.

So, we pulled into the driveway of the house and made our way through the shin high grass to the front door. Inside it was pretty nice. Cowboy?s mom was a really good daytrader, so they were far from starving. Really nice stereo equipment was blasting out Phish as Cowboy?s mom snored upstairs in her room. I took a shower and cleaned months of grime off my body, then used Cowboy?s electric razor to give myself a nice buzz and a baby face. I looked kinda like that Wilson guy in Royal Tenenbaums after he shaved off his hair. I wish I remembered more about that movie, but I was really stoned at the time.

I threw away my ratty ass clothes and wrapped a towel around my waist. For the first time in months, I was clear headed. The shower had helped push the remnants of the last bowl I smoked out of my system. Cowboy was right, I?d be able to give a better idea of his new shit if I wasn?t still primed from my last hit.

I walked, half dripping and clean as a whistle in to Nancy?s room, where Cowboy was waiting. He always loved smoking up in her room, especially since she hated pot so much. He would blow smoke onto her pillow so she would have to go to bed with Mary Jane filling her nostrils. Fun family.

Once again, Cowboy began to talk. That was our relationship. He talked. I bought his pot. He was my best friend.

?Dude man, this shit, it?s like genetically altered and shit, man. Fucking, found some kind of natural amphetamine in the fucking rainforest and fucking bred it with good old marijuana, dude. It?s like, super reefer, man. I?m thinking of calling it Wacky Weed, man. Fucking feds burned all of it except what?s in this bag and the few seeds I got in my fucking closet, man. They say it?s too fucking dangerous. No one?s fucking smoked it before. The feds had jumped in all Bruce Lee style, burning all of it in labs, not touched by human hands. I won?t bore you about how I got this shit, but dude, if you give it a green light, it?ll totally outsell that fucking Nowegian Chick Shit weed you been toking.?

My eyes were getting less bloodshot. I really wanted to smoke. Finally, Cowboy handed me the bag and some papers and left the room. He didn?t want to breath in the smoke. He wanted me to be the very first to smoke this ?Wacky Weed.? I checked the digital clock by Nancy?s bed. 7 PM. I measured how good weed was by how long I was euphoric afterwards. I rolled a perfect little joint and lit it up.

It was like nothing I had smoked before. Like watching Waking Life on an acid trip while getting blown by Pamela Anderson. I took off the towel from around my waist and began to masturbate cumming until my balls felt empty. It was so potent and I was so high, that I actually swallowed the last of the joint as it began to die. I fell back naked onto Nancy?s bed, listening to her stereo, which I guess I had turned on while I was smoking. I kept cumming over and over again, my balls aching, my entire body shuddering. I felt like my entire body was being processed into gas and shot out my cock, but I was in too much ecstasy to open my eyes.

I awoke, completely sober, no paranoia. That was a plus. Something new. I opened my sleepy eyes and looked at the clock, which seemed a little farther away than before. 1 PM. I had been out for 18 hours. A new record. I guessed that Nancy had spent the night at a friends house. As my body awoke, I realized I was suspended in something sticky. It smelled like...cum.

My eyes fully adjusted and I hopped up onto my feet. Or I tried to. What I wound up doing was not moving at all. I was in some sort of a giant gel that smelled like cum. Maybe I wasn?t completely sober after all.

Then things began to make sense as I kept looking around, trying to crane my neck around so I could see what was going on. I noticed that the goo I was in was on Nancy?s bed. It was as if I had been...

It was as if I had been shrunk and gotten stuck in a dried puddle of my own cum.

Next time I saw him, I was going to tell Cowboy that this ?Wacky Weed? was definitely NOT going to get my green light.

Time passed and I began to accept the situation. It wasn?t too bad. It was kinda cool, actually. I guess being a bum made the whole ?my life is ruined, what am I going to do? thing seem not too important. In fact, the only thing on my mind was how to get out of my own cum. It was kinda weird.

In stomped Nancy, shaking my world. The movements made my cock shake a bit. It was still sore from the night before. She was dead tired, probably hadn?t slept all night. She was one to go to a friend?s house, chill, maybe fuck a bit, then crash back at her house for the next 24 hours. I would have guessed that this was then the weekend, but, knowing Nancy, it could very well have been a Tuesday. School was second to sex. I could agree with that.

She walked bleary eyed to her bed and noticed me. Or rather, noticed the cum stain. She reached down with a long unpainted fingernail and scratched near me. I thought I was about to be skewered on her nail. She brought her finger to her nose and smelled. That could have been me, sniffed up her nose to drown in her sinus cavity. How very strange. She knew what this stain was, and was none to pleased. I remember Cowboy telling me about times he had sex on his sister?s bed and how angry she got at him for it. I?m guessing she thought this was her brother?s handiwork again. Especially with the smell of pot in the air. She began to rub the whole stain and me with her hand with a look of vengeance in her eyes. I guess she was not a fan of random cum stains in her bed.

I was finally dislodged from the sheet after being battered by her palm and thrown through her room as she kept wiping away the dried cum. As I flew, I made a very conscious decision to lay off the pot for a little while.

To be continued.