It was going to be another half an hour or so, before they got to the place where Wade hoped Bart still lived, deep in the woods and mountains over the town, the places you avoided unless you had grown up there yourself. In the back seat, Jeremiah whimpered for a while, and then fell silent–the first time the pup had been quiet the entire day. Wade knew he should feel bad…but in all honesty, he didn’t. He’d liked it, fucking that pup’s hole like that. Not like…at his office, where the pups who gave it up to him were usually scared and resigned–not scared of him, but scared of the army. This was the first time he’d fucked someone who was scared of him–just him, not the power he had, or his reputation, or his rank. Just…him. It was a rush, and one he hadn’t really expected, and Wade was a bit terrified of just how…complete it made him feel. He wanted to do it again…and if he couldn’t find Bart, he really was tempted to just stash the boy somewhere around here for his own devices.
He parked the car at the end of a gravel path, barely wide enough to get the car down, and got out. It would be better to approach on foot, in any case. At least Bart was a congenial enough fellow, even if he didn’t like people all that much. The chances of him shooting Wade were slimmer than most of the rest of his family around here. Maybe not much slimmer, but…slimmer. Down the path, it opened up into a clearing, where a ramshackle house stood, one that had obviously been there for quite some time, and which had been expanded over the years, growing bigger and a bit sprawling as older rooms had fallen apart and been rebuilt, as the family had swelled and then contracted. There was smoke coming out of the chimney, which was a decent sign. Off to the side, of the clearing was an acre or so of tobacco growing–most of his family out here in the sticks made what little living they did off the land in one way or another, trading and bartering and squabbling amongst themselves to make ends meet. Bart’s great grandfather had happened upon tobacco as his wheelhouse, and Bart, apparently, was still growing enough to keep everyone in the mountains well stocked.
As he approached the house, Wade saw some movement over in the field, and a head popped up from the tobacco–one that he didn’t recognize as Bart’s. The pup, whoever he was, wasn’t nearly old enough to be Bart for one thing, and for another…he didn’t even look like a hound. He looked more like a labrador, with a thick mane of golden blonde hair, a bit matted and uncared for, but handsome all the same. Wade, however, wasn’t going to take any risks, and he help up his hands, indicating that he was approaching unarmed. He didn’t know who this fella could be, but one thing was for sure–he wasn’t family. No one in his family would stoop to have anything to do with any dog other than a fellow hound, and certainly not a labrador! There were only a few reasons why he might be here–and none of them bode well for Bart, or for Wade’s luck in finding a place to stash Jeremiah that would save his own hide.
The lab just stared at him, looking a bit dull eyed and fuzzy, like he wasn’t quite sure of what to make of a visitor. He gave his head a shake, and that seemed to cause a bit of clarity to come to him–much to Wade’s surprise, the lab took a look around, and then bolted towards him through the rows, still looking around, ducking low, like he didn’t want someone to see him. Wade backed away, not at all sure of what the young pup’s intentions might be, and he fell down at his feet, looked up at Wade, and whined. “Please–ya gotta git me outta here, I…I forgot, a lot, he made me forget stuff, but I…” he whined again, obviously searching for words, “I ain’t supposed tah be here! I…Help me, please help me…”
Wade just froze, not at all sure what was going on, and before he could really appraise the situation, the door of the house burst open, and an old hound strode out, cocked a shotgun, and leveled it at Wade. “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, showin’ up here, but you best step the fuck away from mah boy, if ya don’t want a whole bunch of buckshot in that…” the hound paused, gave the air a sniff, and then squinted at Wade through the scratched glasses he was wearing, “Wait a minute, Wade, is that you? I know that fuckin’ smell anywhere.”
“Uh, hay Bart…sorry tah drop in so unexpectedly…” Wade said, still eyeing the shotgun Bart was holding towards him, until the older hound pulled it up, and he relaxed. The one person who didn’t relax was the lab on the ground between them. He was cowering, and whimpering, and shaking, and in a complete terror.
“Don’t you mind none, Wade! I always got time fer family, ya know that. Didn’t think ya’d be comin’ back, not after ya got intah the army. What was that…a couple years ago?”
“It’s…uh, more like twenty.”
Bart gave his whiskers a scratch, like he was mulling over some stuff in his head. “Fuckin’ smoke,” he muttered eventually, “Lose track of shit…Eh, two, twenty, what’s it matter! I’m just happy tah see ya…” he said, and pulled a beat up looking pipe from the front pocket of his overalls, and started filling it with some tobacco from the pouch at his waist. “As for the boy here, don’t mind him, he’s pretty fuckin’ dull, and don’t really got much sense. Just helps me out with the crop round here, is all.”
Wade looked from Bart, down at the lab curled up on the ground, and then back at Bart–and he could tell that something here wasn’t adding up right, not at all. Bart had never been one for help, or company–the only company he was interested in was a hole, usually, and now that he was standing here, looking at him…he could remember more…in fact, how in the hell had he forgotten so much of this? Bart…had liked him. Liked him a lot, liked his ass a lot, and Wade…had just let him fuck him, whenever his older cousin had asked for it, and he’d never been able to say no. Bart…had told him that he wanted him to come deeper into the mountains with him, live with him, be…his, but before he’d been able to, he’d gotten sucked up into the army in town, and he’d never been back. He’d forgotten all of this, and remembering it now, it was like some strange part of his head had opened up again, and when he looked down at the young pup, he realized something else–he realized that he knew exactly who this young lab was.
It had been about five years ago, when a young, poor lab from the poor side of town had gone missing. Wade remembered him–he’d been a new recruiter then, the war had been fresh, things had felt…hopeful, and then the young fellow had just up and disappeared overnight, and no one could find him anywhere. His mother claimed he’d been abducted, but no one had been able to explain how a strapping young lab could just be whisked off into the night with no evidence. In the end, the disappearance was explained as a runaway, and he was swept under the rug back in town…but apparently, he hadn’t run off into the city, like everyone had thought. He’d…run into the mountains? No–it was clear he didn’t want to be here, he–had Bart…
“So, what are you doing here, Cousin?” Bart asked, breaking Wade from his revelation. He’d finished packing his pipe, and was no toasting the top with a match, getting ready to light it properly.
“I…well, it’s a bit complicated. Maybe we could go inside, and talk about it?”
“It ain’t about my boy, right? He is mine, you know.”
“It’s not about him, no. I–you know what they say, blood is thick around here, Bart, it ain’t my business.”
Bart sighed, struck another match, and lit the pipe properly this time, puffing thick clouds of grey smoke out into the air around him. Some of it wafted in Wade’s direction, and as soon as he smelled it, he knew the scent. It made him sick to his stomach, it made him horny, it made him want to run, but his feet were somehow frozen to the dirt under his boots. Bart took his time, waved the match out, and then walked over to where Wade and the pup were. “I wish I could believe ya, cousin, but I don’t think your blood is as thick as you claim it is, since ya went and ran off, ya know? Still, can’t say I’m too surprised that you came running back here–I did always want you to feel safe. You feel safe here, don’t you?”
What was happening to him? Wade could…feel all of these memories swarming up around him, so much that he’d forgotten, so much that he’d wanted to forget. Going into the army, he’d been able to focus on something else, on becoming someone else, someone other than the runt running around in the woods and hills, getting into scrapes, making nothing of himself, getting sucked into whatever web Bart had been weaving, so much time spend in this…this smoke, his mind almost a constant haze for months, before he got plucked from it by a recruiter at the high school before he could drop out…
Why had he come here? It had seemed like such an obvious decision, back in the car. These woods, and these sounds and these smells…when was the last time he’d even been back here, that he could recall? Back when his mother died? Perhaps. It had always held such anxiety, but he’d never been able to piece it together, and had always just attributed it to some general resentment of his hill upbringing…but there was so much more, so much that he had forgot…
Bart walked up, waved a paw in front of Wade’s face, but the hound’s eyes were drooping more than usual, and didn’t seem interested in focusing on him at all. Bart exhaled a plume of smoke into his snout, just to be sure, and then bent down, fed a bit of smoke to the boy at Wade’s feet. “Boy, were you going to try to get away from me?”
“Y-Yes Pa, but…but I…”
“Hush boy,” Bart said, “Go down in the cellar, and get in your cage–we’re gonna have a long talk later.”
The pup started whining again, but did as Bart told him, stumbling back to the house, around the side, and down into the cellar underneath, leaving Bart and Wade alone next to the field, both of them wreathed with smoke. Bart waved a bit of it away, and snapped his paw in front of Wade’s snout, jostling him from his memories for a moment, to realize he was…still there. There as himself, not as some lanky teenage pup, terrified as his older cousin groped him in the underbrush, smoking, telling Wade how…happy they would be together. How he knew exactly what Wade needed, how Wade was going to be everything that Bart needed and wanted too. But he wasn’t there. That…was the past. It was the past, and he…he was here, later.
“Alright Wade, what the fuck are you doing here? You going to try and drag me back to town or something?”
Wade shook his head, swallowed a couple of times and tried to get the words in his head to organize themselves in a manner than could make sense. In spurts and false starts, he managed to tell Bart about Jeremiah, the pup in his car, handcuffed. The deal he had cut with him to get him out of enlisting in the army, but how the plan had gone awry, and…and what Wade had done in the underbrush, and how he’d brought him here, because…because he was safe here. Because he…he’d somehow known that his cousin would know what to do, and might be able to help.
Bart was skeptical at first, but he knew that the smoke would draw out the truth–Wade wouldn’t be able to lie with this much of it in his system, or at least, not lie well. He told Wade to show him back to his car down the path, and when they got there, Jeremiah was still in the backseat, still terrified. As soon as Bart opened the door, Jeremiah tried to kick him, but the he told Wade to help him hold the boy down, got some smoke in Jeremiah’s face, and his face eventually went a little slack as Bart’s special blend entered the pup’s system, giving Bart a chance to…admire him.
After Wade had run off, all those years ago, Bart had…well, he’d been furious at first, and then that fury had subdued to some extent, and he’d been content to just soldier on as best he could, alone, getting the occasional fuck from the boys of the family in the woods when he needed one, but…none of them had really interested him in the way Wade had. Still, that loneliness had only grown, as years had gone by, until in his desperation, Bart decided to…try something incredibly risky, something he would have never imagined doing, had he not hit a level of crushing desperation–he started going into town. Once a week, maybe, he’d get the old truck running, drive the hour or two to get there, and he would walk up and down the streets, looking at the young pups going home after school, admiring them…and then…he chose one, a runty labrador, seventeen or eighteen, who always walked home alone, and one day, Bart struck up a smoky conversation with him…and a few weeks later, the pup ran away from home, ran off into the hills where Bart picked him up, and took him home with him.
It had been…difficult, getting the boy to an agreeable state. With Wade, in their youth, the blends he’d found to work him over were powerful enough to subdue him in the moment, but hadn’t left much room for Bart to manipulate him, often because Wade rarely seemed to recall much of anything from their encounters in the brush. With this new pup, Trent, he had been able to work on his blends, finding ones that were gentler, and more insidious. The pup no longer could remember much of his youth back in town (though he still knew the vague outline of it, and knew that Bart held him here under his control) but it had been enough to suck the resistance from him, enough to let the pup out into the sun to help with the crops at the very least, though almost always supervised. Obviously he had misjudged the pup to some extent, but he was confident that could be remedied. All of this could be remedied. In fact, all of this was, as far as Bart was concerned, turning out to be more of a boon than he could have hoped. Not only had Wade returned him him after all of these years, but he’d brought a most delightful little gift along with him, one far nicer than the mangy pup he’d settled for on the streets of the town a few years ago. Not only was this one handsome, and vigorous, and even a bit plump–he was a hound! Bart had always been a bit disgusted with himself for settling for a labrador, but this–well, perhaps he might have a proper son after all.
“Alright cousin, I think I can definitely help you out with your little problem here,” Bart said, talking to Wade while he felt Jeremiah’s body with his paws, testing it, groping it, seeing how the pup reacted to him. “But don’t think…don’t think this fixes what you did, Wade, when you went and ran off on me.” Bart stood back up and fed Wade some more smoke, feeling him as well, remembering how the he had felt back then…and he couldn’t help himself, he’d thought he’d never get another chance again, but now…
“Strip, Wade, strip, and tell me how much you want my cock in that hole of yours, right here. Tell me how much you’ve missed having your big cousin fuck the daylight outta ya.”
Wade…didn’t want to do this. He’d never wanted to do this, even when he was a teenager…but the words were falling out of his mouth, and he was on his paws next to the car, pants down, Bart behind him, cock sliding free of his sheath, and then sliding into Wade’s hole. It was…hard, to try and focus. His memories kept slipping–was he a pup, or was he older? How old was Bart behind him, anyway? It felt like just yesterday that he’d been fucked by him for the first time, just was raw, just as traumatic, even as his brain and his mouth, at Bart’s prompting, told him how much he loved it, all of it, how much he’d missed this.
Bart finished quickly, something that Wade was thankful for. Then, together, they dragged the incapacitated Jeremiah out of the car and hauled him to the house up the path, and then down into the cellar as well. There, Trent was in a small cage against one wall, still whimpering and whining, and Jeremiah was thrown in with him, Bart telling them both to be good pups, behave, and be quiet. Then, he turned to Wade, told him that the two of them needed to have a chat, and then Wade could be on his way–for the moment.
It was long after sunset by the time Wade finally managed to work his way back to his car, a second load of his cousin’s cum leaking down the inside of his thighs…but things were clearer now, that they’d talked. Wade…knew why he’d come back here–why he’d brought Jeremiah here. He’d…felt so guilty, for so long. He hadn’t known it, he hadn’t even realized it, but the reason he was so deeply unhappy, the reason behind his cynicism, and his self-loathing, and his corruption, was all guilt. Guilt that he’d run away, and left Wade, all those years ago. But Jeremiah was a new start–a peace offering, and thankfully, Bart was more than happy to forgive Wade all of his sins of his youth, so long as Wade agreed to…help him out. And in return? Bart would help him too. He would help Wade too–and give him what he really needed. He needed family. He needed these woods. But mostly, he needed Bart’s smoke, and his cock–everything else would follow from there.