TPC – Chapter 1.9

Chapter 9 – A Virgin Smoke

Feeling like he’d dodged a bit of a bullet, Kyle took off down the driveway and onto the sidewalk, only slowing up when he’d gotten a few houses away from Dennis and Barrys’ home. “Fucking hell, I’d thought they’d be cooler,” he muttered to himself. The gay couple on the street had always held a certain mystique for him as he was growing up, even though he knew his rather conservative parents were highly suspicious of them. When Barry had come around to ask if Kyle might watch their cat while they were on vacation, he remembered how reluctant his dad had been to let him. They weren’t even going to be home, and yet somehow he was still certain his son would see something horrifying. 

Of course, Kyle had poked around a bit, but other than a few dildos, there hadn’t been anything interesting, like the sort of stuff he’d been checking out on the internet since he was fourteen. Despite protesting otherwise to Dennis back in the club, he was still a relative virgin. The closest he’d gotten at this point was an awkward threesome, oral only, with Marlon and Jimmy, the couple he’d gone to Depot with that evening. He checked his phone–no messages from them. Some friends, what if he’d gotten kidnapped or something? He sent them a message, telling them that he was home already, he’d gotten tired and bussed back home. The lie was stupid, but he didn’t really feel like dealing with the truth right now.

The stupidest part, he supposed, was that he’d always harbored a little crush on Dennis. Kyle had a bit of a thing for older, bearish guys, and while Dennis would have shuddered knowing that anyone thought he might be a bear, his dad bod and beard was the only thing around the suburb to fantasize about that seemed remotely plausible. Then, there had been the kiss. They’d never talked about it, of course, but Kyle had hoped it meant Dennis at least liked him. It had made tonight’s betrayal more stark, that his neighborhood crush had been so eager to turn him in and drag him home, to put him back in the little box Kyle hated so damn much.

All these little boxes, he thought, looking at the dark houses around him. The city felt so vibrant, that club felt so full of life, and everything around here was so dead and empty. Every adult he knew was so focused on him succeeding, and none of them even bothered to ask him what he might think success would look like for him. Kyle didn’t even know what it might look like, but it wasn’t this. He hated this. He hated hiding himself, he hated being someone that other people wanted him to be, and he kept thinking about that burly fellow, about the leather, the cigar, the smell and taste of him, what he might have shown him tonight, if Dennis hadn’t stepped in and squashed it.

He knew it was dangerous. He knew it was a bad idea. But he also knew that he wanted it, and he’d tried not wanting it, he’d tried telling himself all of the dangers, all of the bad things that might happen if he went there, but none of it had put out the fire that was in him, and so he’d gone anyway. His friends hadn’t even really wanted to, and now they weren’t even answering his texts back. Assholes. 

He let himself into his house. It was dark too, his parents already in bed. To them, a high school party wasn’t a reason to worry, and Kyle hadn’t driven anywhere, which was their big concern if he drank. It confused him, sometimes, that they could be so controlling about his future, and yet seemed so uninterested in partying, or drinking, or anything like that. Just last month, one of the football players had gotten caught buying alcohol underage, and gotten his admission and athletic scholarship revoked. His whole life was over. But that wasn’t risky, somehow, to them. He took the steps two at a time to his room, and only when the door was securely shut and locked, did he dare, finally, pull out the thing he’d felt that bear slide into his back pocket, when Dennis had shown up and interrupted them. He had an inkling of what it might be, and sure enough, he found himself holding a cigar.

Kyle had never smoked one before, but he’d always been intrigued by them. His dad wasn’t fond of smoking, and when his older brother had been caught with cigarettes years ago, he had gotten in a rather impressive amount of trouble. Kyle hadn’t wanted to repeat the same mistake. The allure was there all the same–what was the worst that could happen, really? Not in here though–the smell would give him away in the morning. He went downstairs, found a book of matches in the drawer, and then slipped into the backyard, squeaking open the door to the shed and sliding inside.

The space was cramped, but better than nothing. He looked over the cigar, saw it had been punched already, and put that end in his mouth. He knew that much at least. Then he struck a match and took a few puffs, like he’d seen guys do in a few of the videos he’d watched. It took three or four before he’d managed to get the light mostly even across the end, and he’d needed at least one break to cough a bit, after taking too much smoke in. Was this supposed to be sexy? It didn’t really feel that sexy. But then, here he was, crouched in his parent’s shed, hiding away with an illicit smoke slipped to him by a stranger in a club…nothing about this was very sexy. He was about to snuff the thing out and figure out how to dispose of the evidence, when he noticed that the cigar was putting out a bit more smoke than he thought it should be, since he wasn’t actively smoking it. He watched it curl around in the still air of the shed, and after a moment, it formed into…into a face.

“Ah, there you are,” it said, giving Kyle a wink. “Now, shall we continue from where we were so rudely interrupted?”

It was hard to tell in the dark, but from the voice, Kyle was sure, somehow, he was talking to the guy from the bar, who had given him the cigar. He went to snuff it out, certain it must be laced with something, only for the face to swoop down and stop him.

“Hold up there boy, calm down. Nothing to worry about here, trust me.”

“How…how the fuck are you talking to me?”

The head gave something like a shrug, without the shoulders. “Why don’t you keep smoking that cigar there, and then I can do something more than talk, eh?”

He hesitated a moment, then took another drag off the cigar, exhaled, and the smoke swirled around the head, adding to it, neck and the tops of the shoulders taking shape. Another drag, and he was looking at a proper bust. Another, and the man was there from the waist up. Tentatively, Kyle reached out to touch him, and felt his hand slide right through the figure–but when the man’s hand reached over gripped his wrist, and pulled his hand free, he could have sworn he was being touched by real flesh and blood. “I don’t understand how any of this is possible.”

“But you want to find out, don’t you boy?” the man said, one hand plucking the cigar from Kyle’s mouth, putting it in his own, and took a long inhale off it himself, the smoke pouring into him, filling out his body, making him appear more solid. More of him formed as well, and after a few more drags, His body was complete, including the sizable cock and balls hovering not too far from Kyle’s face. He took another drag, but held it this time, leaned in, locked lips with Kyle and exhaled it into him. The smoke was harsh, but he didn’t feel the urge to cough. It was just a sudden rush, all through his system, and he moaned, leaning back against the wall of the shed. 

“Take it easy there boy, just let Daddy handle things from here.”

The bear pushed the cigar back into Kyle’s mouth, opened up the fly of Kyle’s pants and pulled his cock free. Despite how strange the whole situation was, Kyle was rock hard, and the bear took it in his mouth and sucked. The mouth was warm, but not wet. He could feel the tongue and the throat, but nothing slick. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it wasn’t…real. It wasn’t a body. Then something pushed against the head of his cock, and burrowed down, sliding in and out, making him shudder and gasp. He tried to push the bear off, but again, his hands slipped right through him, unable to touch him.

“Easy boy, just relax. I just want to make you feel good is all,”

“I don’t…how are you doing this?”

“If you really want answers, I can give them to you. But for now, I need you to relax. Just inhale, and relax…I’m not going to hurt you. I just want you to feel good, alright?”

Kyle nodded, took another drag off the cigar, and relaxed again. The bear returned to his cock, sounding him with his smoke again, and he could feel the heat of it, the sensation. Kyle shuddered again and moaned, and it wasn’t long before his cock exploded in the bear’s mouth–or rather all over the floor of the shed, since like the rest of him, it couldn’t seem to touch him.

The cigar was dwindling at this point, and Kyle felt sick to his stomach from it. “I think that’s enough for tonight, boy,” the bear said, “I’ll be going soon. If you want to know more, go ahead and check the band–I’ll be waiting for you, if you want more.”

With that, the bear’s body dissolved back into smoke, leaving Kyle alone in the shed, still uncertain that the entire experience had actually occurred. He snuffed out the cigar and took the band off the end. It wasn’t a label he recognized, but then, he wasn’t sure why he would have expected to. He flipped it over, and on the inside, which had been against the leaf, there was something stamped. The name of a smoke shop, apparently, along with an address. If he was placing it right, it was just a couple blocks over from Depot, a little deeper into Pigtown than the club had been.

Kyle tucked the band into his pocket and got himself pulled together again. After a late night shower to get the worst of the smoky smell off him, he headed for bed, but whether it was the nicotine or the experience itself, he didn’t sleep for most of the night. He just…thought. Thought about that bear, thought about his dad, thought about college starting in a few months. Thought about what he wanted. Thought about the impossible.

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