Business as Usual

An open ended, multipart story following the various tales of a business that has been taken over by a new CEO. However, the men working there soon discover that with new leadership, it is going to be anything but business as usual for them.

Last updated: 10/21/2019 – Part 3 is now public!

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Continue reading “Business as Usual”

Caption: Brownnoser Brother

Patrons who are on my discord server get exclusive access to all of my caption stories as I write them! This one is in three parts–here’s the first one for you. If you’d like to become a patron and support my writing, you can find out more info here!


I couldn’t believe the fucking nerve of my fucking brother, texting me out of the blue like that. I should back up a bit, I guess. He was always the black sheep of the family, four years older than I was, and he’d always hated me. Resented me is a better word I guess. Even in my earliest memories, he was always a bully, picking on me, setting me up to take the fall for shit I didn’t do, but our parents always sided with me, which probably only served to piss him off even more. When he was a teenager, shit went even more sideways–he started drinking a lot, falling in with some guys at school that were real pieces of work, probably got involved in some drug shit though I never saw any proof. He dropped out–well, he was expelled–my parents kicked him to the curb when he was 17, and that was that for a while. My dad always had a soft spot for him and kept in touch, hoping he would turn things around, but nothing ever worked, and I mostly pushed him out of mind as I went off to college. The last time I saw him, a year ago, was for my grandmother’s funeral–he looked like garbage, stank to high heaven, couldn’t even be bothered to dress up. He came because he needed money, and thought he was getting some! Even that was enough to turn my dad against him too, and that was the last I heard from him, until I got the text today, asking me for money!

He wanted 200 dollars. I told him to fuck off. Before I could block his number though, he sent me a nasty fucking insult, calling me a “faggot brownnoser,” with a little tongue emoji to go with it. It was enough to set me off really, but what could I do? I got dressed and headed into work–I’d gotten a summer internship at a local tech firm that was going really well, and I couldn’t let my brother fuck that up for me.

Still, I felt…weird all morning. Angry, sure, but like something else was off, something I couldn’t really explain. I got an email from my boss before lunch, asking me to come by so we could discuss some details of my project, and I went to his office…and that was where it happened.

My boss didn’t even wait for me to get into the office before he stood up, dropped his pants and underwear, and bent over the side of his desk. “Well come on then, you faggot brownnoser,” he said, “Get to fucking work.”

I wanted to tell him to eat shit, go right to HR and report his ass…but instead, something took hold of me, and I got down and started eating out his hole, right there in his office, my cock hard as a rock, while he kept berating me, telling me what a worthless fuck I was, that the only reason he kept me around at all, was because I loved eating out dirty holes like his. I was horrified, but I couldn’t stop–and he made me sniff his underwear, tell him how much I loved the smell of the brown streak in the back of his briefs, all the while stroking my own cock.

He turned around and shot his load across my face, and I came in my pants–then he kicked me out of his office, telling me he wanted me back after he’d had his afternoon shit, and I fled. I was so fucking humiliated, I didn’t know what to do–but I sure as hell wasn’t going to go back there. I packed my bag and left the building–horrified at myself, the words still ringing in my mind–and I realized it was the same thing my brother had called me. It couldn’t be possible I told myself–it was just some fucked up dream. I needed to get something to eat, calm down, and call HR–but my brother’s curse was just getting started.

Summer Internship (Finale)

Here’s the long delayed ending for the Summer Internship Interactive. I’ll have a new one starting next week!


“What’s wrong boy?” the sergeant asked him. He was inches from Jimmy’s face, so close that he could see the individual droplets of the sergeant’s sweat running down his face. Around him, something had happened to most of the other recruits–they’d all fallen to the ground in pairs or threesomes, the sergeant’s musk washing over them and driving them into a sexual frenzy as they tore into each other’s uniforms. Now, it was just Jimmy standing there, as strong as he could, trying to resist. He didn’t know why he was resisting so hard, just that he knew it was important, that this wasn’t real, that if he gave in…something awful would happen to him. The sergeant was staring at him, unblinking, and when he realized, at last, that Jimmy wasn’t going to break, he smirked, grabbed him by the front of his shirt, and dragged him off across the grounds, towards a little building that Jimmy realized was a bathroom.

“I think we need to loosen you up a little, boy,” the Sergeant said, and dragged him inside, and shoving him in a corner of the room. In the heat of the day, the stench in the restroom was horrific, the stench of piss and shit assaulting Jimmy’s already fragile mind, taking it apart, bit by bit.

“Please, I…I thought I was going to be a soldier…” he moaned, cock hard, hand unable to keep from rubbing it.

“You are–don’t you worry. But we have special roles for men like you,” the sergeant dropped his pants and stepped out of them, and Jimmy imagined that he was going to shove his cock in his face, and he’d have no ability to resist, not here. But instead, the sergeant turned around, bent over, and presented his unwashed asscrack and hole. “Here, piggy, piggy, piggy…” he taunted.

Jimmy snorted. He wouldn’t. No, he couldn’t. He let out another snort, and found himself on his hands and knees, crawling closer to the sergeant, the stench getting stronger and stronger, pushing out everything else, and then he buried his face in the officer’s crack, snorting and chewing and eating at it as fast as he could, like a glutton. It was rank, and disgusting, but already Jimmy knew he would need more. When the sergeant was satisfied the new pig was properly mind fucked, he pulled his ass away, went behind him, and fucked Jimmy’s ass until they both blew their loads, and then had Jimmy suck the filth from his cock for good measure.

After cumming, Jimmy could feel some of his will returning to him, but not quick enough. A collar slipped around his neck, and then a chain connected him to a metal ring on the floor. Enough length to move little, and he couldn’t stand up at all. “There–now why don’t you hang around here for a while, and make yourself useful. This is the officers’ facilities by the way, so be sure to be respectful.”

The virus had him cornered now, and in his bed, Jimmy began to change. Growing fatter and fatter, body stinking from months spent in the officer’s bathroom without a shower–aside from golden ones of course. The stench wearing away at his mind until he really was nothing more than a horny pig, barely capable of forming words, much less sentences. When the virus was satisfied, Jimmy woke with a start–300 pounds, hungry for piss and dirty ass, stinking up the entire room–and for the people sleeping in there, it was too late for them anyway, and so all of them were locked down in the room together, with the pig.

Some of them fell quickly. One of the older researchers who went down for a catnap, woke up and felt someone eating at his hole…but it didn’t disturb him. It was just…just the officer’s pigslave, after all, and he…he was an officer. He’d grown thicker and more muscular as he’d slept, his musk just as powerful as the pig’s stench, and he gave the pig a quick fuck, before turning his attention to the four or five other grunts now trapped in the room with them–but they’d all make good soldiers, the new sergeant was sure of it, and they’d all have a filthy pig to enjoy together, after training.

Arctos: Mall (Part 3) [Interactive]

Jeremy gave his belly a scratch, and wandered a bit deeper into the store. He was…still pretty hungry, even after demolishing all of the candy that Saul had given him to eat. He noticed his reflection in the display case, and had a moment of terror strike him when he saw the size of the gut hanging out over his waistline–and when he saw how poorly all of his clothes fit all of a sudden. He tugged the shirt down a bit, but it wouldn’t even stretch down enough to cover the entire gut he now had, looking more like a crop top than anything else.

“See something in there that you like?” Saul asked, coming up behind him and wrapping one of his own chubb arms around the small of Jeremy’s back, squeezing his love handle on the other side, and making Jeremy blush.

“Oh…uh, yeah, I–” he looked around quickly, not wanting to fess up to the truth, and pointed at some odd popsicle shaped candies lying in the display case. “I…don’t think I’ve seen those things before anywhere–are they lollipops or something?”

Saul chuckled, “Yeah, they’re something like that. That’s a new product, fresh out of development–they’re called asslickers.”

Jeremy just gave Saul a curious look. “That…isn’t a very appetizing name.”

“I haven’t had a chance to sell one yet, honestly, but I’d be curious to show you how they work.”

“What do you mean, how they work? You just suck it, right?” Jeremy moved in closer to the display case, and looked down at the myriad of asslickers in the case. They were all different sizes and shapes, but the outsides of them all looked the same, a white candy shell swirled with various colors. “Do…are they all the same flavor or something?”

“Oh, that outer layer dissolves once you start–the flavors inside are all a mystery. The bigger the asslicker, the more layers it has, you see. I’ve been told that the taste of them is unlike anything else around, though they are a bit…unconventional. Do you want to try one?”

“Sure, why not?” Jeremy said.

“Alright, let me get some gloves–you go ahead and get out of your clothes there.” Jeremy looked confused at him, and Saul gave his gut a slap, and winked at him. “They’re called asslickers for a reason, Jeremy–you eat them with your ass.”

Jeremy processed that information for a second, while Saul went around the counter, and pulled on some white latex gloves. “You know, on second thought, maybe I’ll have something else…” He looked around the store again, and then thought he should probably just leave–but when he turned around, Saul was there, and pushed something into his mouth, a sucker, and as soon as he tasted it, he moaned, and his eyes went a bit slack.

“Come on now, sweet thing,” Saul said, groping Jeremy’s body, “I think we both know that you could use something back there to loosen you up a bit. Now, let’s get you out of these tight clothes.”

Saul tugged the shirt up, and Jeremy let him pull it off of him, still sucking helplessly on the candy, unable to think straight–it was just too…delicious to do anything other than what Saul told him to do. His pants came off next, and then his underwear–Saul collected all of his clothes, and took them back behind the counter, and put them in the trash. “There, that’s better–you won’t need those again, I don’t think. Now bend over the counter here, sweet thing, and let Saul do his magic.”

Jeremy lumbered over and bent over the counter, while Saul selected an asslicker from the case, and set it on the glass beside him, before coming back around. He spread Jeremy’s ass, tested his pucker with a finger, and tsked him. “So tight, sweet thing–don’t worry though, Saul can open you up–I’ve been told I have a magic tongue.”

Saul got down behind him, spread his cheeks wide, and started licking at his hole, Jeremy moaning–trying to moan loud enough for the sucker in his mouth the fall out, but it refused to come loose from his tongue. He could feel his virgin hole beginning to slacken, and after a few minutes of licking, Saul tested it with one of this rubber gloved fingers, and it slid right in with no resistance. “There, see what I mean? I think you’re good and ready now.”

Saul picked up the asslicker from the glasstop, and pushed the narrow end to Jeremy’s hole. As soon as it touched his flesh, Jeremy…tasted it, the sweet, sticky, sugary rush of the outer layer, and his ass relaxed even more, allowing the sticky dildo to slide deep inside his virgin hole. It was a tight fit, but the more his mouth watered, the slicker his ass became as well, and the better the thing tasted in his mouth. Soon, he was bucking back and forth, moaning, while Saul slid the candy cock in and out, watching the outer candy layer dissolve, and revealing the first of several layers below it.


The public poll is below, and the bonus patron only poll can be found over here. You can vote up to four times in the poll, and I’ll have the most popular layers in the asslicker, with the most popular having the most extreme effect.

The Mailman’s Pup (Flash Commission)

The mailman would be here any second, and Carson couldn’t swallow the pit of dread in his stomach, the same one that was there every day now, ever since he’d received that first letter in the mail. Carson worked remotely, managing customer service for a few tech companies out of his small house, and one day, his mailman had delivered a fragile package all busted up. He’d been furious, and demanded the man’s name to report him…but when the mailman had handed him something on a sheet of paper…something else had happened instead. He’d let the mailman in, blown him, and then the man had left–all without him ever learning his name.

Now the mailman came to the door everyday, and each day he’d make Carson service him, calling him his special little pup, and he’d give him a new letter each day. He never knew what the letters said, or how they did what they did, but they would…compel him to do new, humiliating acts the next day, either to himself, or to the mailman.

He heard the gate open, and he opened the door for him–and he saw the mailman had a package with him. A sizable one. “Don’t worry pup–I’ve been extra careful with this new toy of yours–got here safe and sound.”

Carson had no idea what could be in the odd, flat box–likely he had ordered something online, as ordered by the mailman’s letters, and then forgotten about it entirely. Usually he could recall what the man had written, mostly, but other times, the man liked to surprise him. He stood back, and the mailman pushed his way inside–he was short and fat, and reeked of BO–but while that had bothered Carson at first, now it just aroused him more than anything, and he could already feel the need to service the dirty man’s feet and pits beginning to overwhelm him.

“Well come on then, open it up–I’m eager to take it for a ride,” the mailman said.

Carson found some scissors and opened the package up–and as soon as it was open, he could remember ordering it–and what it was. A rim chair. He’d…he’d ordered one, because he needed to worship his mailman’s ass–after all, a pup like him loved liking and smelling dirty holes, right?

Carson wasted no time getting the chair out of the packaging, the mailman behind him ridiculing him, telling him what a dirty pup he is, ordering a thing like this, telling him he hasn’t wiped his ass all day, reminding Carson what a perverse, horny little pup he truly is. When it was finished, the mailman got out of his shorts, and boots, but left on his socks, and sat down. “First things first pup–I’ve been on my feet all day. You know what to do.”

That had been one the early letters–making Carson obsessed with the mailman’s feet. He shoved his face into them, snorting in the man’s reeking scent, feeling his cock harden as he did–but he didn’t touch it. He couldn’t touch it in his presence, but when the mailman was gone, Carson masturbated all the time, thinking about the mailman, about what he made him do, and…and how much he enjoyed doing it all. He tugged the socks off with his teeth and got to work on the man’s feet properly, and when he was satisfied they were clean, he ordered Carson under the rim chair, and told him to get to work.

It stank, and the mailman hadn’t been kidding when he said he hadn’t wiped. He was torn between his disgust, and his desperate desire for the man’s hole–the former fading away until only Carson’s puppy lust remained, moaning as he licked at the mailman’s ring, cleaning it, working his tongue inside of it, listening to the man moan over him. He…he was doing a good job. He was being a good pup–good pups didn’t bark and yell at a mailman, they did whatever a mailman told them to do, like good boys, and Carson wanted to be a good boy more than anything.

The mailman put one foot on Carson’s chest, and the other started working the pup’s cock. “Come on you dirty pup–you’re going to cum with your dick under my foot, like a little bitch–I want to see you do it–tongue up my ass, under my feet–you’re really my bitch now, and I still have so many letters for you to read–just you wait.”

Carson tried to hold off on his orgasm, just to spite him–it was one of the few bits of control he still had. The man liked seeing him struggle though, and won in the end–Carson sprayed the underside of the man’s foot, and his own belly, with a load of cum, and he used his feet to rub it into Carson’s skin until it turned tacky.

“Alright, enough of this–get out, hands and knees–I gotta get back to my route.”

Carson wormed his way back out from under the chair, got up, and the mailman fucked him–he had a surprisingly large cock, and while Carson had hated getting fucked by him at first…now, it was really the easiest part of the entire ordeal. The mailman finished quickly, and then got his shorts and boots back on–before handing Carson the next letter, and leaving for his truck.

He tried not to open it, he fought as hard as he could, but he tore into the envelope, and pulled out the letter, and read it. Like before, he couldn’t ever remember what was written on it exactly, and when he came back to himself a half an hour later, he always found the letter burned on the stove–but the contents were sealed in his mind.

Master wanted him to be a dirtier pup–much dirtier. No more showers–and no more using the bathroom at all, in fact. From now on, he was going to do his business out back in the yard–naked of course, and always on all fours, like a proper mutt. He managed to hold it until later in the evening, so his neighbors were less likely to see him, and he crawled out of the house, over to a tree, lifted a leg and peed on it–feeling a bit proud of himself at how good he’d done on his first try, and then humped up to shit as well. He smelled it, and thought of his Master’s hole again…and even though he knew it was wrong, he was already looking forward to servicing him the next day, and the day after that–and then all day on Sunday. Sundays were his…favorite. After all, there was no mail to deliver on Sunday, which meant Master could spend all day with his pup…training him. Carson had a feeling he’d be under the rim chair a lot this Sunday–and hoped cleaning the mailman’s hole was all he’d be doing.

Cleaning House (Part 5)

I was still in Joe’s bed, surrounded by his stench, and surrounded by him, as well. He must have climbed in without disturbing me, and he’d wrapped me in his arms and fallen asleep. I felt so…safe and secure, and happy, and I could feel his hard cock pressed against one cheek of my ass…and I definitely liked that too.

Fuck, what had I done yesterday? What had we done? What had he done to me? I’d wanted that–I’d always wanted that, for as long as I could recall, but…but doing it, it had felt so terrifying. Terrifying that…that I really enjoyed it as much as I had. No one should enjoy that right? Didn’t that all mean I was broken, somehow? I didn’t want to think about it, and so…and so, I didn’t. I snuggled back against Joe, focused on him snoring gently in my ear, and drifted back off, until he woke an hour or so later.

He kissed me, groped me in bed, and then pushed me onto my stomach and crawled behind me, spread my ass and ate out my hole. It felt…fuck, it still feels amazing, whenever he does that, but better when I was tight, when him shoving his tongue in my ass made me shake and groan and writhe under him, humping the mattress until I came in my briefs. He opened me up enough that he could slide his cock into me with just his spit as lube, and he fucked me, rough, for a few minutes before he came. The fuck…it wasn’t much, but the feel of his tongue. Rimming was something I’d thought of, but always been to scared to do.

Breakfast was next, and we followed the same pattern as the night before–I helped him cook my meal, he force fed me the entire thing, and then he cooked a meal for himself while I relaxed on the couch, digesting and jacking off–he demanded two loads from me by the time he finished cooking, and then, I crawled under the table and sucked him off while he ate, and came again at his demand. My cock–it ached, and yet I was still so horny. I felt like someone had flipped a switch in me, and now…now I couldn’t stop myself.

When he finished his meal, he told me it was time I took on a new task, and I followed him back out into the front room. “I hate showerin’, boy,” he told me, “Always have–too big tah really clean up real good. So yer gonna clean me from now on–all over, with that nice tongue a yers, every mornin’.”

I gulped, and started to speak, but he told me to start with his pits…and as soon as I got a good whiff of his musk, I didn’t want to object. I didn’t really want this to stop, did I? I had my dream man here, right in front of me…I couldn’t let this slip away. I spent the next half hour cleaning his upper body, and then moved to his feet at his order. I…fuck, his feet were huge, and I couldn’t stop myself, as I came again, licking them.

I started to work my way up, but he stopped me. “Time tah change seats,” he said.

He got up, hauled a bag out of a closet, and dumped a rimchair out onto the floor, and made me assemble it. I…I’d seen them in porn before, and fantasized about them, sure…but his ass? I thought about how it had felt when he’d rimmed me earlier…and I wanted to make him feel that good too, I realized. I got underneath, and he sat down, his cheeks spread and hole right against my lips. I licked, and he groaned. I licked harder, hand in my underwear, jerking off as I cleaned his ripe, greasy crack while he played his game, and fuck, I was loving it. I felt so used, but I wanted this man to use me. He put his ashtray on my belly, and warned me not to topple it, forcing me to keep my frame as still as I could, even as I licked and proped harder and deeper into him, tasting him and his shit for the first time, and already excited that I would be doing this daily.

The fart caught me by surprise, and with two strokes my cock exploded in my briefs yet again.

“You like that boy? You like daddy’s nasty farts?”

“Y-Yes Daddy.”

“Yeah, not surprised, the way yer chowin’ down on that filthy hole. I bet ya love daddy ass, right boy?”

“Yes Daddy, I do.”

Yeah–good boy, I like hearin’ that–guess ya can spent a bit more time under there, since ya like it so fuckin’ much.”

I serviced his ass for another hour, and then finished licking his ass and thighs clean, ending at his cock, which I sucked off. My jaw ached, and I was so hungry–when he fed me lunch next, he couldn’t stuff me fast enough. That afternoon was spent on chores, and then we ate dinner again–me first, and then him, and after a night of beers, cigars, and another fuck, we fell asleep again in his bed–or our bed, since I never ended up in the guest bed again.

The Contractor’s Boy (Part 5)

They ended up driving for nearly an hour out of town, the suburbs Shane had known all his life slowly giving way to small farms and rural homes. He finished his dinner on the way, Roger making sure he ate everything he’d given him, and then offered him dessert–making Shane wedge himself under the steering wheel so he could suck him off while Roger smoked and drove. He made him pull away as he got close, and Roger finished all over Shane’s face–he allowed him to lick up everything he could reach, and left the rest of it to dry. It was late in the evening when they got to Roger’s home, a small two bedroom house on a parcel of property surrounded by trees. They went inside, and Roger showed Shane his room–little more than a closet, with a small cot inside, and told him to get some rest–they had a day off tomorrow. Those were rare, and Roger said he had a lot planned for the two of them. Shane was ordered to get up at five, and have breakfast ready by six.

He didn’t sleep well. The cot was uncomfortable, the room was cramped, and he kept thinking about the disgust in his mother’s eyes when she’d looked at him. What could Roger have done to make her hate him so much? There had to be a weakness. Maybe if he could just get them away from him, they’d become normal again. Or maybe it was an object which gave Roger this…power, and if he could just figure out what it was, he’d be able to stop him. He had to stop him though–there was no other option. If he didn’t…well, he didn’t think Roger would be letting him keep his mind mostly intact for long–and if he didn’t figure this out soon, then there probably wouldn’t be anything he could do about it. In might already be too late anyway. Eventually, the exhaustion caught up with him, but his alarm went off right at five, and he got up, found the kitchen and the fully stocked cupboards, and started cooking.

This, at least, he’d gotten better at. He had a massive breakfast made by six, when Roger walked into the room. Shane saw him smirking, as he lit his morning cigar, and asked him what was wrong. “That’s a whole lot of food, boy, and I don’t let anyone waste food in this house–so you’d better have your appetite ready.”

Shane was confused–he’d made the amount he usually did, hadn’t he? It took him a moment to realize that he’d always factored his father into the equation, but now, it was just the two of them here. Roger ate little, picking at the food, and instead made Shane gorge himself. He was so full, he could barely stand it by the time he finished, and he had to lean back in order to relieve some of the pressure.

“Damn boy, that was excellent work. You’re gonna be making at least that much for yourself every morning from now on, right?” Roger said, and Shane nodded, with a whimper. “Don’t be scared boy–you want this after all. Still, why don’t we relax for a while? I could take a load off and relax for a bit, couldn’t you?”

He could. The events of the last 24 hours were still fresh in his mind, but Shane doubted he’d be able to relax in this situation. He followed him into another room of the house, and there, along the wall, he saw something he hadn’t noticed the day before–what looked like a toilet seat propped up on four metal legs.

“This is my favorite chair, boy, but it’s been missing a key component–a nice mouth underneath it. Don’t worry, I ain’t gonna shit in ya–but man, nothin’ helps me relax after a long week a work than a hot, eager tongue on my dirty hole–and that’s where you come in. Get under there.”

He shook his head, and begged him not to, but Shane couldn’t resist. He looked up at the ceiling, with Roger looming over him and framed by the toilet seat. “Please…I don’t…why are you doing this to me, sir?”

He just chuckled, and dropped his own coveralls down and stepped out of them. “I did you a favor and wiped this morning boy–but I don’t usually keep toilet paper around. Still, you’re gonna be loving this soon enough, I promise you that,” He stepped over the seat and sat down, his fat ass descending until it was all Shane could see, and the smell…fuck, it smelled so fucking good–but then again, Sir…Sir always smelled good. “Go on boy, lick it! Like an ice cream cone–taint to crack.”

Shane did as he was told, and to his own horror…he liked it. Hell, he more than liked it, he was hornier than he’d thought possible. Soon enough, he was grunting and snorting as he licked, and Roger unzipped the front of the boy’s coveralls to let his hard cock loose. “Stroke all ya want boy–but don’t cum. I always cum first. Still, the more you stroke, the more you’re gonna love eating ass–so be careful.”

Shane didn’t care, he started milking his cock anyway. His jaw hurt, his tongue was sore, but he kept at it, now digging into the hole, tasting him, groaning out a “Thank you, sir,” as he did. He only had a dim memory of what else happened–the ashtray that rested on his chest while Roger smoked, dropping the occasional cinder onto his belly. The clamps he used on Shane’s nipples, tugging whenever the boy started to lick too slowly for his liking.

Shane found himself feeling…so much better. He loved this, didn’t he? A nice day off, spending it eating out Sir’s filthy hole, smelling his cigar smoke wafting down around him, tits aching, cock leaking…it’s what he loved, right? Something didn’t seem right about this–he should be fighting harder, or should he be licking harder? Roger was jacking off, tugging, telling Shane to go digging, and he did–it wasn’t too long before Roger came, and he gave permission to Shane to cum as well–he rubbed their cum together with the ash from his cigars, coating Shane’s growing belly, and then zipped him back up.

“Alright boy–time for a late lunch, and then we’re gonna get you started on smoking cigars yourself, and talk about my house rules for boys.”

Late lunch? When Shane got up, he discovered he’d been under the rimchair for nearly three hours. His face was greasy and wet with his own drool, but when Roger kissed him…he leaned into his Sir, sucking smoke from his mouth, and wondered if he really was home after all.