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“How the...” he stammered, fiddling in the frigid fall air with the new pipe.

He almost walked by it. The trip had been rather full of activities, and so when he was with the group he only barely noticed it. A pipe. A pipe right there in the window of a shop as the group walked by. Ducking inside to quickly purchase it proved more than doable, seeing as shopping had been half the goal of that particular and aimless outing on the streets.

Now he had it in hand, packing it carefully with some included smokeable material that came in tiny pouches when he had purchased it. Already he had forgotten the price, half because it had been quite expensive, but more so because something had drawn him to the pipe far more than his saved funds once had.

And so it was that he packed the pipe, and pulled out a rather ubiquitous lighter and nearly started smoking right then and there before he stopped himself. Smoking was far from the healthiest of habits, and moreover he wasn’t even sure what it was he was about to smoke besides something beyond tobacco.

“What the hell does BEYOND even mean in that context...” he wondered to himself as he mulled over the shopkeepers words.

Second guesses only lasted a short while though, as the urge to ignite proved greater than all trepidation. Up it went, the rounded nub of the pipe parting his lips as he tried to balance both lighter and lightee together. The flames licked up towards the sky as he tried carefully to turn it over into the bowl without burning the tips of his fingers any.

It proved easy. Strangely easy. As he took a first drag of the pipe it was as though he had hit it a thousand times or more. The earthy burning taste of the mysterious smokable herb proved far more manageable than he had imagined it might. Setting the lighter to the side he finished his first pull, drawing the smoke into his lungs and out with a somehow practiced sigh.

“That was weird,” he said, failing to notice that the furrow of his brow had dipped down further than ever before upon his face.

He blinked. His eyes already altered now, one puff was all it had taken to set him on a new and peculiar path most unexpected. Across and widened they went, pupils contracting in a way which made his vision shift subtly enough. It proved simple enough to write off the peculiar sensation of his reshaping face as numbness from the cool winds of the city all around him.

Another blink preceded another pull, the smoke billowed into lungs more than expecting it now. The whole process was remarkably comfortable, and provided an inner warmth that contrasted quite comfortably with the out cold he was still experiencing there on the balcony.

How welcome those puffs were. The way they clung to the inside of the body like a nice warm hug. It was a magically charged and delightful set of sensations which seemed to make him far more comfortable in his own skin than he ever had before. That was, of course, the rub. It was not quite his skin he was growing more comfortable in anymore now was it?

Reaching around his back he scratched idly at an itch, only to find an oddly wrinkled patch of toad flesh where his still human fingers found themselves. Not that he thought it was toad per say just yet, that still eluded him for now. He did however think of it as a somewhat peculiar bit of back skin, wondering for but a moment what kind of rash he must have accumulated on his travels.

Then came the comfort once more, taking what anxiety had crept into his mind and smothering it like the flame of a pipe. His pipe however burned on. Withdrawing his hand from his backside the traveler went to take another deeper draw from the pipe, feeling the smoke bellow inside of him and rest heavy within the lungs.

The smoke seemed to cling in a way that smoke seldom does, and what breathy outbursts followed offered up so little of the peculiar package deal substance he was set upon inhaling. It perhaps would have made him more nervous if it did not feel so proper, the way it seemed to seep past the lungs and through the whole of him.

Yellowed eyes with dashed pupils regarded the city all around, the crisp late night air could not hope to banish the warmth within him now. It was here, regarding the city, that his breasts grew quite greatly. It perhaps would have made things obvious then, noticeable enough to push his mind well past the peculiar malaise the smoke had instilled so deep within him.

But it did not.

Instead, those bountiful pillows offered up a distraction of their own unto the world, calling his easily lead attention away from them and onto the lighter. Earlier, after lighting the first proper pull of the pipe, and marveling at how well lit it had remained; he had made the mistake of placing the lighter right in front of him on the metallic railing surrounding the balcony.

With the advent of that billowing pillowy bosom the lighter could not hope to stand a chance, being itself manufactured of little more than the plastic remnants of a distant past and mankind’s intimate knowledge of fire. As Prometheus’ gift plummeted to the ground, the future frog lady could do little more than grasp at the air with still human fingertips.

“Damn it,” she cursed to herself, hardly noticing that soon after the breasts had arrived so too had her cock now vanished.

It had been the afterthought of an afterthought, a slight numbness of the groin as if from sitting down at an odd angle. The peculiar tingling had coalesced into something so much more than a softened cock however, as the flesh with every pull of the pipe had begun to succumb to both an inwards and all consuming realignment.

She blinked. Her froggy vissage just persisting on the fringes of her contemplation as the joints began to pop and realign with the time that had begun to pass within her. Years upon years of experience rolled out across her body just as well as it had with the froggy skin, all wart spotted and wrinkled.

“What is happening,” she said to herself, suddenly catching a false feel for the all of it.

A glimpse. The barest of glimpses. She spotted the soft mottled orange dot her fingertips and wondered for a moment if instead of a rash she had been in some way pranked by her friends. Only then… she glanced once more at the pipe with a suspicion dotting her dashward yellow eyes. Her hair had thinned out, centralized between froggy brows that furrowed at the peculiar smoke of the pipe.

It rolled up and out of its inflamed bowl, billowing as if endlessly from some ancient dimension of fire. Just what was it she was smoking? Had she made a mistake? A step back. Then another. Her footing felt uneven because she had not yet grown accustomed to the sheer length of her toes as they were beneath her.

“This isn’t...” she started as her toady tongue fumblingly working its way around the word tobacco and found the taste of it so vulgar as to silence herself.

The thought of course was on the mark. This indeed was not tobacco, but a blessed herb grown only in five groves across the planet. Even through a regular pipe it would prove spectacular in both flavor and effect, but filtered through the peculiar pipe she had gotten her hands on. Well. More than a good time was coming to claim her by then, and in fact had already.

She turned to face the door to the balcony, mostly closed to keep the smoke from seeping back into the rented room just behind her throughout her smoking session. For a moment she even caught herself wondering whether she was allowed to smoke on the balcony, but a glance back down at the pipe affirmed that it was far too late to second guess that.

No though, what really caught her froggy eyes was the silhouette of her scantly visible reflection. Her body skewed a shape and size that seemed entirely at odds with her old bodily image. Something was deeply and profoundly different in a way that somehow kept her so focused forward she could hardly work up the courage to look down.

“I need myself a mirror,” she said, and thankfully the hotel provided such.

Out stretched the froggy hand, opening up the sliding glass balcony doors with a speedful grace. She stepped inside, the modest deep orange of the furnishings unknowingly reflecting something like the color of her skin back at her well before she got to the mirror properly. With pipe still in hand, she marched.

The hotel had happened to accommodate her long ago without their knowledge, fitting out the hotel room she found herself in with a wondrous 180 degree partial wrap around mirror arrangement recessed ever so slightly into the ground so that she needed to descend into the all around reflection as though some queen of a long lost dynasty.

“I don’t understand...” she croaked.

And she really did not. What stood before her was a heavier set form than the body she had been familiar with all her life. A toady shaped and almost grandmotherly figure whose weight both breastward and hipwise nearly spilled free of the robe she wore.

It was quite a shock, and sparked a natural glance back towards the pipe she was now most assured was packed with some manner of hallucinogen. This was however, a welcome surprise. An oddly welcome one at that, and though in her mind it felt temporary, in her froggy heart she wanted this to be forever.

Another pull. This time much more intentioned. Her wide jaw parting well for the familiar feel of the pipe on those old lips. Something about this body felt natural in ways that were impossible to put into words. She leaned back, sucking down more of the smoke than ever before despite being inside the room.

It hung heavy in her lungs, but felt good and welcome. She was more than a mere casual smoker; this body was a pro at it, and could hold in more than she ever could as a man. Out it rolled, billowing up from her like some old factory chimney, circling upon itself as though it were some fantastical drawing.

“Look at that...” she mused, smiling at the way the smoke seemed to follow the trail of her eye as she turned towards another mirror.

Her view rolled downwards, and with it rolled the smoke. A curiosity struck her that seemed to manifest in the smoke’s behavior, as it coiled its little tendrils in and around the lowest hem of her robe and began to feebly tighten its flowing grip. This should not be possible, but then, it would hardly be the first impossible thing that happened that night.

Up rose the gaze, and with it came both smoke and robe alike, plucking it up off of the now naked body of her toadish and grandmotherly visage. She clung to herself with those round tipped hands, covering her naked elderly body like Venus rising up from the deep; born anew.

She was beautiful in a way she seemed to only be able to appreciate fully now that she embodied it. Wisdom seemed to sag off of her. The fine burnished orange of her skin radiant in the gentle natural light of the day as it rolled through the similarly colored room just behind.

“Is this really it? Is this really me?” she said to herself.

Slowly it was beginning to dawn on her, pipe perched just betwixt breasts, that this was no hallucination. That no figment of imagination or whim could hope to offer up such a convincing facsimile of reality. She was indeed real. And this was indeed her.

Steadily the smoke of her final pull began to dicipate, and the robe slowly settled into the ground below it. She stood naked now, revealed to the world or at least herself, reflected back in all those many mirrors as they stood so tall in her lofty presence.

There was a power in this body. There was a power in this soul. The pipe and its mysterious substance seemed to pull it out of her, draw it up to the surface of the pond that was her life where it would remain for who knew how long and to what end.

She glanced briefly to the other packs, all the excess smokable material that had been included in the set that she had bought. Just how much power lay within these various substances, and what sort? It was a mystery on top of mysteries, and one that she found herself grinning slyly as the urge to find out grew far greater than any trepidation might have been.

Casually nude she returned to the bed, taking a seat at its end; form still revealed to her in the mirrors across the way. She idly pulled from the pipe one final time.