It wasn’t long before Steven got home from class. He was shy and a bit of a loner, keeping to himself in the house. Wiry and short, with medium length hair cut into bangs, he managed to hide from attention more often than not–while he honestly didn’t care much about Douglas’ smoking, he sided with the other two just to avoid conflict as much as possible. And so, when Steven entered the house and saw the thick haze of smoke, his only thought was whether he could get away fast enough to avoid dealing with whatever must be going on inside, but instead, he found the sweet smelling smoke drawing him in, and he shut the door behind him, almost in a daze. The smoke was so thick, he could barely even see, and he started coughing immediately. In his head, he knew he should turn right back around, leave, and call 911, but instead he found himself stumbling into the haze, still coughing, trying to keep the smoke out of him as best he could, pulling up the collar of his shirt over his nose and mouth.
“In here, Steve!” A voice called, and it wasn’t a voice he recognized at all. Who in the world could that even be? He…he didn’t know why, but he needed to find out. He needed to…to join them? No, why had he thought that? He froze in the middle of the living room, holding his breath, trying to focus, telling himself he had to leave, that it…it was dangerous in here. The voice called out again, “Steve! Git yer ass in here, Howie’s about tah blow his bladder all over the floor, ya pig. Unless ya wanna lick it all up–I know…I know ya wanna do that sometimes…” the voice started chuckling then, and then groaned. He realized, too late, that his legs had started moving him closer to the doorway into the kitchen, and it was…hard to see, for some reason, like something was wrong with his eyes. But inside, he saw the most disturbing sight of his life–three men, all of them covered with tattoos–the same tattoos, in fact, in the midst of of a sweaty, smoky sex session. He could smell it on the air, the musk, and…and it was making his…his piggy cock so fucking hard.
No–why the fuck was he in here? Something was obviously very wrong, but…but didn’t he need to help out Howie? He always helped out Howie, and Pete, and Doug, of course. He was frozen in place, between his good sense and this strange compulsion, when Doug walked over to him, reeking of smoke, eyes bloodshot and smirking at him. “Don’t think too hard pig–we all know ya ain’t good at thinkin’. Hell, yer fucking dumber ‘n yer dad, ain’t that right Howie? This boy a yers popped out with even fewer fuckin’ brain cells than you did.”
“Yeah boy, git yer dumb ass over here ‘n help out yer Pa with this big ol’ load a piss I been savin’ fer ya. Ya know I ain’t gonna use a toilet when mah nasty boy is thirsty, right?”
No. No, he wasn’t doing this. None of this could be real. Everything seemed so…fuzzy all of a sudden. He tried to step back, but his Uncle Doug tugged him back, and shoved his cigar in Steve’s mouth, and the smoke made his head go light, his stomach turning itself into knots. Did he want to throw up? No…No, he…he was thirsty, wasn’t he?
“Come on, you dumb fucker, git down there ‘n drink.”
Everything seemed even more hazy than before, like something was clouding up his eyes, but one thing he could se was his fat, lazy pa, sittin’ in a chair by the table, cock hanging out, and fuck, that thirst of his was only getting worse. He stumbled forward, his body feeling…too light all of sudden, like he might blow away if he wasn’t careful, but he was down in front of his dad, mouth around his thick cock head, and as soon as his dad started pissing, all his other cares just…slipped away. Why in the hell had he been trying to worry about all of that other shit before? He was no good with thinking stuff–hell, none of them were, aside from Uncle Doug, who called the shots. The smoke was getting thicker around him, and when Pete stepped up and started pissing all over his filthy cousin, he could feel the stream running down his head and his back, but all he could see was Pete’s cock–the rest of him was lost in the thick smoke surrounding them.
On the outside, Doug could see the clouds condensing around the scrawny kid who’d come into the house–he could…kind of remember him from before, like he could kind of remember all of them, but none of that really mattered. No, what mattered to him now, was family. His family. His dirty, nasty, piggy biker family, and fuck, he was so fucking horny, he could just fuck his boy’s ass again, or hell, maybe he’d take a turn with Stew’s hole–that boy’s ass was so fuckin’ loose, but then again, when you got fists shoved up there as often as he did, that’s what tended to happen. Yeah, that’s…that’s what he should do, give his nephew a good fisting–break him in right.
He barely noticed the spirit pulling him over towards the other three, all of them already disappearing into the thick clouds of smoke surrounding Steve, where he was kneeling on the ground, moaning and gulping piss. Doug got down, fished around in the haze until he found Stew’s ass–not quite wide enough yet, but he’d be himself soon enough–and started probing it with his fingers, feeling the boy shove back onto his hand, hungry to have his filthy hole filled up. The spirit was in front of him, his smoky cock right in Doug’s face, and he…swallowed it to the hilt. It wasn’t solid…but it was there. It was energy, it was force, it was…him, in a sense he could barely describe. The thing started pumping smoke into Doug’s guts, and he could feel the heat of it infusing every bit of him, burning away the last remnants of Douglas from every corner of his mind, the spirit slowly losing form, shoving its way down Doug’s gullet until it disappeared entirely, and then, Doug’s eyes–like the rest of his family–clouded over, becoming a swirling mass of smoke even thicker than the others…and he realized that he could feel them.
Bracken's Corner 