“Yes daddy,” Nathan said, and Biff put the cigarette between his lips for him, Nathan holding it and smoking it while Biff lit a second one for himself.
“That’s good boy, breathe it in deep, just like I taught ya years ago. Two packs a day, just like yer dad, getting those teeth of yers good ‘n yellow. Yau reek a smoke all the time, and ya love it–makes ya horny as hell, right son?”
Nathan nodded, and kept smoking–and as he did, Greg noticed a few things change about him. For one, the stench of smoke surrounded him, like it did Greg, and he noticed that his teeth, and his fingers, were tinged yellow, just like they would be for a man who’d been smoking for ages. “Lookin’ good Daddy, now finish ‘em up.”
Biff nodded, “Alright boy, keep breathing in all that smoke, and after your next inhale, you’re going to feel completely full again, got it?”
Nate nodded slowly, took a deep breath, and as he did, his eyes refocused, and Nathan came back to himself, exhaled and coughed, unable to understand why he was smoking a cigarette. “What…what the fuck did you do to me?” he said to Greg.
“Well, everytime you cum now, Nathan, you’re going to shoot out a big chunk of yourself–of this self, all that brain and will and memories of being an uptight little prick–and your daddy here is going to get to fill you back up with much, much better stuff–anything he wants, in fact. After five or six loads, you won’t even exist anymore–you’ll just be Nate, and Nate is going to be everything Biff here could want in a nasty, perverse, disgusting pigson in the whole world. How’s that fag taste, anyway?”
Nathan looked down at the cigarette between his fingers, and realized he’d been smoking it this whole time like it was the most natural thing in the world. “No–no, I’m not a smoker, I…” Nathan said, but as he did, it felt wrong. He was a smoker. He fucking loved to smoke, and he…he loved his daddy’s smoke most of all. He looked over at Biff, and before, where he’d seen a complete stranger, he now felt an odd…affinity, or attraction. Definitely an attraction. Looking at him, smoking that unfiltered cigarette, he just wanted to kiss him and suck that smoke right from his lungs…he shook his head, trying to get rid of the thoughts, but he didn’t know where his real self ended and this new, alien person began. “You can’t do this–you fucking can’t make this happen.”
“Oh, I’m very capable, Nathan, trust me,” Greg said, “But all you have to do is not cum anymore, and there’s nothing I can do–think you can control yourself around your new daddy? Now, why don’t you two head home? I’ll come check on you in a couple of weeks, and if there’s any trace of you left, Nathan, then I’ll fix you right back–I promise. Still, I bet Biff will have you all gone here in a day, and all that’ll be left is his good son Nate.”
Nathan didn’t know how to process any of that, and just looked back and forth, cigarette hanging from his lips, wondering when they would let him in on the joke, but the punchline never came. Biff just ordered him into the van waiting outside, and Nathan’s feet marched him out to it and into the passenger seat, while Biff shared a passionate kiss with Greg on the steps, thanked his boy and master again for the privilege of raising and owning a son of his own, before getting in the driver seat and heading off, getting on the highway and heading for the city about five hours away.
The whole time, Nathan kept smoking. He’d never smoked a cigarette in his life, but every time he took it out and tried to resist inhaling from it, his brain would start screaming, and wouldn’t stop until he took another drag. He finished it in a few minutes, the air on the van cloudy and thick from them hotboxing–and he was forced to ask Biff, his daddy, for another cigarette, though he insisted he call it a fag, before Biff would give him another one, and a lighter to use.
Nathan smoked that one slower, and with the addiction satisfied, he sized up the man who had essentially kidnapped him, and wondered how he might try and escape. It was clear that Greg had some control over him, but Greg wasn’t here–that meant if he could be clever enough, he might be able to get away and get help. Certainly Biff wasn’t in any shape to fight him–he was…huge. He had to be close to 400 pounds, with a massive apron of fat hanging out the bottom of the filthy wifebeater he was wearing, stained with ash and who knew what else. He was hairy, and stank, and looked like this was the first time he’d been outside in ages. Nathan noticed, after he’d been staring at him for a few minutes, that his hand was in his crotch, groping his cock, and he tore his hand away, horrified that looking at this disgusting man was making him horny.
Biff noticed, and grinned around his cigarette. “Go ahead boy–it’s healthy fer a perverted boy like ya are tah jack off lookin’ at yer daddy.”
He felt his hand drawn back to his crotch, but he resisted the urge–while Biff had some power over him, it wasn’t nearly as urgent as Greg’s control had been earlier. He could beat this, if he kept his head about him. He didn’t reply, and averted his eyes, trying to focus on nothing in particular, and he ended up thinking about his cigarette, and how…good it tasted. He pushed out a couple of thick plumes from his nose, like Biff had earlier, and felt that horny twinge return again.
Bracken's Corner 