Eddie’s Special Sale (Part 5)

It was later than he’d figured, and he was even slower than before. Ralph had to stop at that park again to catch his breath, smoke down a cigar, and also take a moment to shoot a load of cum in his pants, before continuing on towards Eddie’s house…but it was becoming harder to remember why exactly he’d been heading over there. Sure, the sale was still on, but he didn’t really feel like buying anything. In the back of his mind he knew that there was something else, some problem that he’d been wanting Eddie to help him out with, but the exact nature of his problem had slipped from his mind. Still, he…did want to see him, badly. He finally turned the corner of Eddie’s block, just in time to see the big man smoking a cigar, folding up his lawn chair, tucking it inside the garage, and lowering the door.

This caused Ralph to panic, though again he wasn’t sure why, and he hurried his pace as best he could, beard and hair soaked to the scalp with sweat, thighs chaffing in his sodden overalls. “Hey!” he shouted before Eddie could duck inside the closing door, and he waved at him. Eddie looked up and over at the fat, filthy man struggling up his driveway, grinned, and slipped back out.

“Ralph! I didn’t think you were coming today.”

“Sorry, I had a late night, and had a hard time getting up this morning. You closing up for the day already?”

“Already? It’s five.”

Five? Really? Ralph looked up at the sky, and saw the sun had indeed slipped much closer to the horizon that he’d thought. Had…had he had another one of his episodes without realizing it?

“It’s not really a problem,” Eddie continued, “If you wanna take a look around, be my guest, but it’s slim pickings at this point.”

“No, I mean…I…I had something I wanted to ask you, but…well, but I forgot, you see. I’m having…oh that’s…look, you know that first day? Saturday? When I fainted? Did…did anything about that seem, I don’t know, strange to you?”

“You mean, aside from you fainting?” Eddie laughed, smoke chuffing out of his mouth, and the smell of the fumes nearly made Ralph groan around his own cigar.

“I mean, did I, like, change at all?”

Eddie cocked an eyebrow and his head to one side, “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Hell, I’m not sure what I mean either, but it happened again yesterday, after I left, and…and I’m just a bit worried, is all.”

“Look, why don’t you come on inside, and we’ll…talk about it, eh?” Eddie said. “Plus, I do have some stuff in the garage I think a guy like you might appreciate–not many customers come along with your tastes, you know?”

“My…tastes?”

Eddie rolled his eyes and stepped in the garage, “Come on, I’ll get us a couple of beers, and see if we can sort out your problems.” Ralph followed him, and Eddie pulled the door down after them. Even though the day was brisk, it had been sunny and the garage was stuffy and hot. “Now give me a sec, I gotta dig the stuff out. Take a look around if you want.”

Like Eddie had said, the tables were quite bare, and Eddie, for some reason, didn’t feel much like touching anything on them. In fact, he was doing his best to not touch any of it. He could…remember before, how everything had escalated, how he’d gotten lightheaded before each time here. The only thing he couldn’t resist was a leather biker vest, which was in decent condition even though it was filthy as hell, and some chaps beside it, his heart racing a bit at the feel of the leather in his fingers. Eddie let out a shout, and materialized with a medium sized box and set it on the table. Out of curiosity more than real buyer’s interest, Ralph opened it and started digging through the stuff inside–it too was full of leather…and dildos, and lube, and elbow length rubber gloves and strange looking hoods and masks. He recoiled and stumbled back, his heart jumping into his throat.

“What…what the hell is that shit?” Ralph asked.

“Oh, you know…I was into some kinky stuff when I was a bit younger, I guess I just assumed you were too.”

“I mean, I’m not–”

Eddie set the box down and stepped closer, pushing their guts together like before, Ralph’s cock straining against his jock.

“I know how you feel, how you gotta pretend, but there ain’t no one here now,” Eddie leaned in closer. The air had become choked with their smoke, and Ralph was breathing shallow. He leaned in too, but his face slipped past Eddie’s as he collapsed face first to the concrete floor.

Eddie’s Special Sale (Part 4)

He woke up the next morning, later than even the day before, face down and snoring on his side of the room. He…didn’t quite remember what had happened the night before, very clearly. He was still dressed in his overalls, but they were…damp. Or at least the crotch was…and one leg all the way down to his socks. He only had one boot on. Next to the bed were two bottles of cheap whisky, one empty, the other nearly, which did a lot to explain his raging headache…but where in the hell had he even gotten the booze to begin with? He’d gone to eat dinner and stuffed himself for a couple hours, but when he’d finished and gone back outside to smoke…he’d felt kind of antsy, almost jittery…and walked a little ways off campus to a convenience store where he’d bought the whiskey…he thought. Yeah…he bought it all the time. Sure, he wasn’t twenty-one, but nobody fucking carded him, not with the beard and his hair and his clothes. He yawned, and felt something hard clink against his front teeth, and he covered his mouth with one grimy hand, before sticking out his tongue and feeling the piercing in the middle of it. Where in the fucking hell had that come from? Had he gone out last night? All he could remember was coming back to his room, getting drunk, yelling at his roommate when the guy came home and complained about the booze and smoke, and then nothing else.

He pushed himself up in bed, and he could smell the piss soaked into the bed. In his mind, he knew it should disgust him…and yet, his cock was getting hard in the cold, wet crotch of his overalls, and he rubbed it, unable to help himself. He stood up and looked at himself in the mirror, at the piercings studded all over his face–eyebrows, septum, lips, ears…nipples…cock–and the tattoos covering his arms and chest, and that was all he needed–he freed his cock through the fly and jacked off quickly into the palm of his hand, tugging on the thick gauge PA lodged in the head, licking the cum up afterward, and then lit a cigar, feeling the hangover easing off–finishing off the last bottle of whiskey helped too…and so did whipping out his cock, leaning back on his bed…and pissing up all over himself, feeling it soak into his shirt and coat his belly, running down into the creases of his fat, stinking body…and…and what the hell was he doing?

Seriously, what was he doing?

His body continued, but his mind felt like it had derailed. This wasn’t him, this wasn’t anyone. No one behaved like this, especially not in college. Was…was he even going to college? He had to be right, or else why was he in a dorm room? Classes started tomorrow, but for the life of him he couldn’t recall one piece of the schedule he’d signed up for during orientation the week before. This was wrong, how had any of this even happened?

Eddie. Fuck, just…just thinking of him now, he couldn’t stop himself from jacking his cock again, disturbed at his own behavior, at the volume of his moans, at the delight he was taking it rolling around in the now twice soaked bed, feeling it creak and groan beneath his massive heft. But everything had started with…with that first time he’d fainted. Maybe…Maybe Eddie knew something. Maybe he could tell him something about that, the first time, something that could help him understand what was happening to him. Yeah, he needed to see Eddie, if he could just…just talk…talk to him, he could…could…

He groaned, shooting a massive load all over the front of his overalls, his fat hands grinding it into the fabric along with his piss and sweat. He didn’t…didn’t have any time to waste, before this just got worse. Who knew when he might faint again, and what might happen to him if he does? He…he certainly didn’t have time to change clothes or anything, certainly not. He sat back up, slipped on his one lost boot, and then waddled his way out of the room without even thinking of changing his clothes, down the stairs and out onto campus, reeking of piss and cum and smoke. But Eddie…Eddie would help him. Eddie would help him sort all of this out, he was sure of it.

Eddie’s Special Sale (Part 3)

Ralph hoped that simply getting away from Eddie would be enough for his heart to settle down, but instead it just kept thumping away in his chest as he walked down the street, to the corner, and turned towards campus. He was still exhausted from the first walk, however, and by the time he was halfway home, his thighs and quads were burning from the exertion of hauling himself around. There was a park on the block he was walking past, and he decided he could use a rest–just a short one to catch his breath, get himself back under control, and then he could get back to campus, and try and forget all about Eddie. He couldn’t go back there, he knew that. Not after blowing his load like that, how could he explain that moan he’d let off when it happened? He could have sworn Eddie had seen the wet spot covering his crotch too. He sat down on the first bench he came too, heaving a sigh, trying to figure out why he felt both so tired and so full of energy, all at the same time, like something was building up in him, something he couldn’t quite explain.

He ran his hands down the sides of his jeans, trying to get rid of the sweat coating his palms, when he felt something hard in his front right pocket, along with his keys. He had no clue what it could be–he fished around inside it, grabbed in his fist, the warmth nearly making him nauseous. From the feel of it, it could only be one thing–the lighter, the zippo lighter. Had…had he taken it? Had Eddie handed it to him without him noticing? The warmth was intense, like the lighter was on fire. He kept trying to make his fist drop it–instead it clutched it even tighter, feeling the metal imprint his flesh. He certainly had to pay for it…right? He…He should…go back…pay for…

He snorted awake on the bench a short while later–he wasn’t quite sure how much later. It couldn’t have been an hour, but he was still disoriented, looking around and trying to figure out where he was. It took him a few moments to piece things together, how he’d left the garage sale in somewhat of a froth, though he was having a hard time remembering why he’d been so…crazy. He’d been walking home and tired, and he’d been craving a cigar. He’d sat down on the bench to take a break, and then…then he’d just fainted away. He must have been more tired than he’d thought.

He fished a cellophane wrapped cigar from his pocket. His lighter was already in his hand–he must have gotten it out before falling asleep. He unwrapped it, slipped it in his mouth and puffed it too life, taking a deep inhale, and sighing out a plume of smoke into the crisp fall air, slipping his lighter back into his pocket as he did. A small part of him wondered what exactly he thought he was doing; wondered where he’d gotten the cigar from; wondered about these strange fainting spells he was having all of a sudden. Those concerns drifted off in the cool breeze in the park, and he found himself squeezing his cock in his jeans, thinking about bumping bellies with Eddie, and wondering if his garage sale would be open again on Monday. He had said all weekend…maybe he could pay him another visit. That strange energy he’d felt building all morning was still lingering in his chest, but he passed it off as butterflies. Halfway done with his cigar, but feeling rejuvenated, he hefted himself up and continued on towards campus, itching his face as he went.

He got back in the early afternoon, after a short detour to a local smoke shop for another pack of cigars, since this was apparently his last one. As soon as he’d smoked it to the butt he found himself compelled to light a second; sure, he knew he shouldn’t smoke this much, but he just couldn’t…stop himself. Didn’t want to stop himself. He got back to campus and got any number of odd looks from students, and a few angry comments reminding him the entire campus was smoke free, but he brushed it off. A little smoke wasn’t going to kill anybody–but he did have the courtesy to finish before going into his dorm. His roommate was out, which was a relief again. Between the cigars and his earlier contact with Eddie, he was horny as fuck all over again…and then he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror.

Those…weren’t the clothes he’d put on when he’d left for the day. He remembered, when he’d woken up on the bench he’d had on jeans and a collared shirt, sneakers on his feet. Not…overalls, the knees crusty with mud, grungy work boots (which he swore he had seen somewhere before) and a white tank stained yellow, reeking of sweat (and…piss?) which left a bit too much flab exposed for him to feel all that comfortable. His face was odd too, his stubble thick, or was it a beard? He’d never had facial hair before in his life, or ever really been able to grow anything like a beard, but…but it looked good. His hair was too long, though. Still, if it was a bit longer he could put it in a ponytail or something, at least keep it out of his face. His…fat face. Was he fatter? I mean, he’d always been fat, but it seemed like he was even…bigger. The discomfort evaporated faster than he could process it, and when he checked the closet for some more…professional clothes, only to discover all he had was filthy workwear, it bothered him less than he knew it should. It also did nothing to help his horniness, and after he blew a wad in his jockstrap, he felt much better–aside from being hungry as fuck. He tromped downstairs and headed for the dining hall, but stood outside so he could smoke a cigar first. He felt…good, but the looks he kept getting…from the students filing in and out of the doorway…it didn’t help him shake the feeling that something had gone horrifically wrong, and there might be nothing he could do to stop it.

Eddie’s Special Sale (Part 2)

Ralph tried to not be there too early, but how early could he get there without looking suspicious? He occupied himself with breakfast–which took longer than he’d expected after three trips through the dining hall to fill his fat gut, unable to stop rubbing his hard cock as he ate himself silly and occasionally sticking his hand in his pants, feeling his damp jock, coating his hand in his precum and musk and smelling it off the palm of his hand, thinking…thinking about Eddie. Something about him, it had flipped a switch he hadn’t even known, and all night long he’d had these dreams. The most intense wet dreams he’d ever had–hell, even his roommate hadn’t been able to look him in the eye this morning, so they must have been loud–but fuck him. Or rather, fuck Eddie. Fuck, he wanted to fuck him so damn bad…or be fucked by him, or…or all of it was confusing, really. He’d never felt this way before, but it was just…just there, and he didn’t know how to turn it off or deny it. He just had to see him again. He knew there was no way a man like that, a big man like that could be interested in him, of course, but…well, the way he’d looked at him, he had a feeling that maybe, well, who really knew who was into what or why?

He finished eating at around ten, and then started walking towards Eddie’s house. It was a good distance, and the walk seemed much more difficult than it had the day before, and when he finally reached his driveway, Ralph was soaked with sweat, and he could smell his filthy jockstrap through the jeans he was wearing. Eddie grinned when he saw him coming, and waved; Ralph waved back, and then walked over to where he was sitting in his lawn chair, panting a bit. “Glad to see you made it back,” Eddie said, “You doin’ ok? I don’t need you collapsin’ at my feet again.”

“Nah, I’m…I’m good,” Ralph said, “Just a…longer walk than…I remember.”

“You need something to drink? Some water?”

Ralph nodded, and Eddie handed him a water bottle from the table next to him. Ralph drank almost the whole thing, and gave it back. His hand touched his, and something he could only call a shock raced through him, heart pumping a little faster, cock hardening, straining in his jock. He remembered from his dreams, the two of them, naked, grinding their fat sweaty bodies together in the garage, wondering if he tasted as good as Ralph had dreamed.

“You gonna take a look around?”

Ralph nodded, trying not to visibly shake, and backed away, walking into the shade of the garage and the tables, where a few older ladies were also looking at his wares. A few things on the tables caught his eye, and he picked them up as he went–occasionally, something would give off a similar spark and warmth to…to something else, something he could barely remember. Something would tell him to hold on, to cling to it, but instead he would drop it back the table like a hot coal. A half empty bottle of beard oil, an assorted collection of hair ties, a box full of thick metal rings and studs that looked like piercings; a well used pair of steel toe biker boots; a pile of red, black and yellow bandanas, all stained stiff with sweat and who knew what else; a collection of empty liquor bottles. At the back of the garage were a few racks and stands of clothes, most of it workwear in various states of disrepair and cleanliness. In fact, nothing seemed to have been washed, and the smell…it was Eddie’s smell. He leaned in close to the clothes, sniffing them, cock leaking into the front of his jeans, veins throbbing, head light, but he saw someone else shopping give him a strange look and he pulled back from it, but that throbbing, that numbing sensation was only building in him, in his chest, in his groin.

He could also sense Eddie’s eyes on him, almost constantly. At first he was worried that he made Eddie out to be a thief; but the man’s attention seemed more intense than that, like he could sense this odd energy building up inside him, but Ralph did his best to ignore him, even as his body tried to draw him closer under any pretext, his mind trying to distract himself with other objects. He felt insane, he felt like he was going to explode at any moment. He had to get free, he needed some air. The garage was too stuffy, he was too horny, and he moved down the aisles towards the garage door, where he found himself blocked by Eddie, their bellies colliding, making Ralph shiver and nearly cum in his jockstrap.

“Hey, I was thinking, and there’s something in particular I thought might interest you, Ralph,” Eddie said, and held something out to him. It was a shiny silver box–Eddie flipped it open, revealing a lighter, “I used to collect these, they’re worth a good penny to the right buyer, if you aren’t a smoker–but the way you were looking at my cigar yesterday I thought–”

“Thanks, but I need to get back to campus,” Ralph said and pushed himself past, pressing their bodies together, and he spasmed, feeling his cock release, “Got a bunch of homework, I’m not that interested…really.” He pushed past him and waddled down the driveway, head spinning. Eddie thought about following him, but decided against it. The boy had all he needed, after all, he could just wait.

Eddie’s Special Sale (Part 1)

Ralph was a bit of a sucker for garage sales. Having grown up with a working single mother, they had spent quite a few weekends going around town to different sales, where they would occasionally find some clothes are a game for him, but her real target had always been collectibles. She had a knack for haggling, and she could usually pick out some piece of glassware or ornament priced way below what she could get for it on ebay, and Ralph had always sort of enjoyed watching his mother get the best of people, sometimes with a few hundred dollars of profit to help make ends meet. Now, as a poor college student starting as a Freshman, he’d found his mother’s lessons proved more beneficial than he might have imagined, and decided he too could make some extra cash. Labor day weekend was a great time for sales, and he started early Saturday, eventually coming round to a sizable sale out in front of a rundown ranch style home. It was manned by a bored looking, heavy set man slouching in a lawn chair under an awning–easy target, if he had anything worthwhile.

He made a quick circuit of the tables, other people talking quietly around various curios, mismatched dishes, and piles of towels. Nothing seemed particularly interesting–but one table simply had rows and rows of boxes full of disorganized stuff, all of it free for the taking. There might be something of worth in there, but going through all of them would take forever. Still, he had the time, and so he started digging around, finding nothing until he reached the third box, and his hand brushed against something strange, some sort of scratchy cloth, but as soon as it brushed his skin, he felt a shiver ripple through him, his breath growing quick and shallow. He gripped the thing and pulled it free from the box, only to find a wadded up jockstrap in his hand, not a small one either from the amount of fabric, none to clean from how crispy it felt, in fact he could smell it, could smell the…the cum soaked and dried into it, the piss…he…he was feeling hot now, and a bit faint, his vision tunnelling–

“Hey–Hey! Buddy, you ok?”

He was flat on his back. What had just happened? There were a bunch of faces looking down at him.

“You alright?”

It was the man from the lawn chair, the fat guy who’d seemed so bored. What in the hell had just happened? He’d…he could remember picking…something up, but he couldn’t remember what, and then…then he’d obviously fainted or something. The guy got down on one knee with a grunt, and Ralph could see his gut hanging out the bottom of his…his shirt, his eyes fixated on it there, barely able to keep himself from reaching out to touch it, instead grabbing hold of the man’s hand, helping him sit up. It seemed to take more effort than it usually did, like something was pushing back–and sure enough, something was. He’d sprouted…sprouted a gut…or had he always had a gut? He was still feeling dizzy and light headed, but he could…could have sworn he hadn’t been fat, and yet who was he trying to kid? Of…of course he’d been fat, he told himself, he been fat all his life.

“You need to come inside for some water?”

“No…No, I’m ok, I think…” Ralph said, “Must just be the heat today.”

“No kidding. Look, at least let me drive you home. Where do you live?”

The rest of the group had dispersed, and Ralph told him he was fine, that he’d feel bad if the guy had to abandon his sale for him. The guy insisted, however, and so they shut the garage door, Ralph told him he was a college student, and the man smirked. He helped Ralph into his truck, started the engine, and headed for campus.

“I…did you tell me your name?” Ralph asked.

“Eddie’s what most people call me,” the man said with a wink, “You mind if I smoke?” he said, pulling out a cigar. From Ralph’s meek reply he could sense that Ralph did mind, but he lit up anyway. He dropped him in front of his dorm, and before Ralph shut the door, he said, “I know ya didn’t get to buy anything, but I’ll be set up all weekend. Come back by tomorrow, and we’ll see what we can find for ya, alright?”

Ralph nodded, not quite able to figure out why his cock was so hard, and trudged up the stairs to his dorm room, which was empty, thankfully. He stripped off his shirt shoes and shorts, admiring his fat form in the mirror, groping his cock through his filthy jockstrap, milking a load of cum into the pouch before climbing into bed, figuring a wank and a nap would make him feel better than anything else. He woke up feeling very refreshed, got dressed again and helped himself to a massive meal on his dining card, already excited to go garage saling again…and excited to see Eddie again, though he didn’t really want to admit to himself why.

Smoke Feed (Sketch)

“Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Will’s head was a bit foggy from the smoke, his vision too. He sucked in a bit more from the pipe, letting it out in two streams from his nostrils, hand never leaving his cock. He could see his roommate in the doorway to his room. He had, at some point while smoking, stripped naked, and he was sitting in his chair in front of his computer, jacking off. This seemed normal to him, and he was a bit annoyed at the interruption.

Steve did not think this was normal at all. “You know this building is supposed to be smoke free, you need to be outside to smoke that thing. And could you at least shut your door when you’re jacking off? No one wants to see that.”

He shut the door before Will could say anything, and shook his head. That was weird–Will had never said anything about smoking a pipe. And now that he thought about it more, something about his roommate had seemed kind of off. Will was constantly going to the gym and dieting to keep his figure pristine, but through the smoke, had he seen a gut? And a hairy one at that? That made no sense either, Will shaved religiously every day, so much that Steve usually had to yell at him once a week to unclog the shower drain.

Will didn’t emerge for the rest of the day, but it was clear that he was still smoking. Annoyed, Steve opened all the windows in the apartment and then went out to dinner and stopped by the bar; when he got back at least the air was clearer, though Will’s door was still shut. Steve knocked, but got no answer, and didn’t want to intrude. Still, they were going to have a talk tomorrow, that was for sure. He went to his room and stewed for a bit, before jacking off to some porn, and then climbed into bed and fell asleep.

It was a few hours after he’d fallen asleep that Will’s door opened, and he slipped out into the apartment, his pipe still lit and spewing smoke. It was bigger now, with a deeper bend in the wood, huffing smoke. We walked through the apartment, naked, grunting and grumbling softly, shutting all the windows Steve had opened earlier, and then crept to his roommate’s room, and cracked open the door, careful to keep the hinge from squeaking, and he crept inside. Steve didn’t wake, and Will stood by his bed, and began carefully exhaling plumes of smoke over his roommate’s face, at first weakly, watching the first tendrils slip in his nose and mouth, and then grew braver, longer streams of smoke, watching Will’s sleeping head turn towards him, inhaling deeper, whimpering, cock hard under the blankets, his body beginning to change, growing thicker and hairier, stubble and then a beard filling in across his face. He was beginning to stir and cough, but Will couldn’t slow down or stop. He leaned in closer, feeling his own heavy gut press down against his thick, hard cock, his beard brushing against his flabby chest, hair white in the moonlight. He pursed his lips inches from Will’s open mouth, and he exhaled directly into him several times, the changes happening faster now, hair growing longer, turning a dingy grey, and then, after one long inhale on the stem of his new massive pipe, he locked lips with his roommate and forced his breath into him, feeling him cough and wake, find himself lip locked with Will, and unable to force himself free.

No, not free, he didn’t…want to be free. He wanted the smoke, he wanted Will’s smoke. Not just any smoke, but the second hand, the taste of Will’s lungs in his own, he craved it, without being able to put it in so many words. But more, more than that. He pushed up his body after Will pulled away, feeling weak and frail, and saw the cock there, and crawled to it, to the edge of the bed, and swallowed it down. Will gripped his long grey hair in one hand and pumped his cock down Steve’s throat, and as he did, he felt something strange happen with the pipe, he could feel it pushing itself into his mouth, uncurling like a living being, pushing his mouth wide and worming into him, down his throat and into his lungs. He choked for a moment, and then heaved a great inhale, followed by a sigh of smoke and a blast of cum from his cock right into Steve’s mouth, feeling it overflow and run down into his beard.

Steve smoked him for the rest of the night, sucking the smoke straight from Will’s lungs, unable to stop, the addiction only growing deeper the more he sucked down, his body atrophying further. The apartment, at this point, was saturated with smoke, but neither of them minded, but it was slipping out through the cracks and into the hallway, tendrils searching out mouths and noses nearby as their neighbors began waking and preparing for the day. Many of them were aware of a peculiar sweet smoke on the air as the walked the hallway the next few days, and the men were all slowly drawn to the door, testing the doorknob, breathing a bit deeper when they were near, eyes glazed, until one day, it was unlocked, and they fought their way inside, into the fog of smoke, stripping away their clothes and lives as they did–but Will was waiting for them, he would feed them, like he’d fed Steve. He’d feed them all, and they’d be so happy together, forever.

Justin’s Lost Nights (Part 2)

Cornered, he was cornered. The heavyset man pushed his firm gut into Justin’s flat stomach. “What do you think you’re doin’ smokin’ cigars like a daddy bear, boy? Don’t you think you’re a bit young for that?” He leaned in, and through the haze of their cigars and they started sharing smoke, Justin saw the man’s tattoos shifting and moving, bear paws walking their way down the man’s chest and onto Justin’s body. Suddenly…he was feeling…aggressive. He pushed back, shoving his tongue into the man’s mouth, feeling the large man respond with both surprise, but also submission–

Justin forced himself awake from the dream, panting, his head aching. Fuck, he was too old for this Pigtown one-night-stand bullshit, he fucking knew better than to drink like he was twenty again. He heard snoring next to him in his bed, and was happy to see that the ache was worth it–he’d brought home one handsome, soft, pudgy cub. He pulled back the covers, admiring the young man’s smooth, lightly furred skin, his full, round ass. His cock was already hard again–what cub didn’t want to wake up to daddy cock, anyway? He took a moment to grab a cigar and light it, sucking it deep, stroking himself hard, lubing up, and then slid it into the cub’s hole. It was still a bit loose and greasy from the night’s activities, and the slumbering boy whimpered a bit, Justin pushing in–

Rough. Yeah, fuckin’ rough. The men were watching them, the older, chubby bear bent over, begging for “daddy’s” cock, the twink behind him, trying to imitate a gruff, older voice, making the bear beg for his thick bear cock. Justin didn’t know what had come over him–looking down, he could feel the tattoos pressing into him, see the fur starting to sprout around them, but all he could focus on was his “cub’s” ass, working a couple fingers in, sucking down smoke, and then he got to fucking. Rough–his boy needed to be taught a lesson. Across his upper back, Justin could see the thick, bold lettering of the word “DADDY”, but it seemed to be fading. At first he thought it was just the smoke, but then he felt the tingle on his back as he fucked him harder and deeper, felt the words on him, worming into his skin. The hair was all over him now, growing in thick, but rather than brown like his hair, it was looking grey like the smoke he was chuffing from his cigar. He felt bigger too, stronger, more in charge, dominant, in control. A daddy bear, through and through.

And his cub! Fuck, he couldn’t be much older than 21. He was a bit shorter now, and had lost much of his muscle, all of it packing itself onto Justin’s thick frame. Now he was chubby and soft, moaning and begging for daddy’s cock.

“Fuck yes, deeper Daddy! – Oh god, fuck, I’m gonna fuckin’ cum!”

The cub ground his cock into the bed, spasming around Justin’s cock as he dumped a load into his daddy’s sheets. “Yeah, that’s a good bitch cub, you want daddy’s seed in your guts boy?”

“Fuck daddy, you know I do…”

“Well here it fuckin’ comes!” Justin said, buried his cock in deep, and let loose, pumping the young man full, gripping his soft flab in his old hands, and then collapsed down on him, panting, letting his cock go soft in him.

“You’d make a great alarm clock, you know.”

“Fuck boy, all I wanna do now is go back to sleep,” Justin said with a laugh, and rolled off him. The cub followed, snuggling up to him, running his hand through daddy’s thick, grey chest hair, over his hard pecs, and through his inch long beard. “Did you…tell me your name?” he eventually asked, “I don’t remember…”

“You’ve just been calling me ‘cub’ and ‘boy’ all night, not that I mind. But it’s Evan, if you want to know. Can I have some of that cigar? I need a smoke.”

Justin handed him the cigar and watched the cub puff for a moment, certain he could remember a different face, an older face, but it must have just been a trick of his head and the smoke. Once they’d smoked it down to a butt, they got up finally, shared a shower, and Daddy couldn’t resist one more turn at Evan’s cub hole, not that the boy was helping, fondling Justin’s thick cock every chance he got. Justin also sucked him off in the shower and savored his cum–nothing tasted quite as good as cubcum to him. By then it was early afternoon, and Justin had avoided looking at himself in the mirror. Something about his reflection was unnerving him–he seemed…too old for some reason. Not just a little older, not like his age was creeping up on him, but like he could almost remember being Evan’s age–that dream kept coming back to him. Hadn’t he had something like that the day before?

He grew a bit distant after they shared a meal. Evan probed, but Justin said he wasn’t looking for anything serious, and the cub, a bit disappointed, left. Without him there, however, he grew a bit antsy, and wished he could have kept him there for another night or two. He jacked off, exploring his body, looking and admiring his tattoos–his smoke sleeves, the bear paws on his chest, “DADDY” across his back. He could always head to Pigtown again. He did have work tomorrow of course, but something…something told him he needed to go back again. That something wasn’t finished. He got dressed up in jeans and a tight shirt and headed over, greeting the bouncer by name, and the bartender already knew what Justin wanted to drink when he got to the bar.

Justin’s Lost Nights (Part 1)

Justin rolled over groggily in his bed. Out too late last night, and too much to drink. Still, when better to make bad decisions than while you’re young, right? He couldn’t even remember where he’d ended up. He rolled up and sat on the side of his bed, one hand collecting a cigar and his lighter from the nightstand, and he took a moment to get it lit, puffing gently, getting his first bit of morning smoke in his lungs. Much better–get rid of that fuzzy tongue and take the edge off his headache–once he takes a piss and eats something, he might feel mostly normal again. He stood up, and left a trail haze of smoke behind him as he walked to his bathroom, not really paying attention to the other person rolling awake in his bed.

He turned on the light, but it was too bright for his eyes. He pissed squinting, and managed to blink them open. He went to fill his glass for some water, say his arm, and nearly dropped his cigar in the sink. Tattoos. His entire arm and hand was covered in tattoos up to his shoulder. He didn’t have any tattoos–he fucking hated tattoos…didn’t he? As he stared at it, a memory came to him, something powerful–

The room was dark, mostly lit by the hallways and rooms next to it, the air thick with smoke. He didn’t want to be here, he wasn’t supposed to be doing this. Someone saw him, a burly guy, thick cigar wedged in his mouth, his arms coated with tattoos that looked like tendrils of smoke, with a flash of red around his wrist. Taking a closer look, it was the burning butt of a cigar, his hands also tattooed the texture of the brown leaf, and he felt himself drawn to him, drawn to his smoke.

They were making out, the man feeding him smoke, and as much as Justin didn’t want it, his body sucked it in deeply. He could feel…something wrapping around his arms and hands, something tingling. Breaking away, he gasped–seeing the tattoos unwinding from the man’s arms and winding their way around his instead, like they were alive, and he could feel the heat, but all he wanted was the man’s cigar. He took it from his mouth, and sucked the smoke in for himself, sucked it deep, so deep–

“Here you are,” a voice said behind him. Justin turned around and found himself face to face with the man he’d just remembered from the bar, except his arms were completely bare. “You really do smoke those things from dawn to dusk.”

He was trying to hold onto what he’d just seen, but it was fading like a nightmare, with just a residue of unease hanging over him. “Yeah…it’s…it’s a habit.”

“Well I think it’s sexy as fuck, especially on a young guy like you. No one your age smokes cigars like that.”

“Look…I must have had too much to drink last night. Did you…come home with me?”

The older bear nodded walking over and wrapping his arms around Justin’s body. His hairy arms felt strange against his smoother skin, the man quite a bit bigger than he was as well. Then again, Justin was smaller than most people, at five seven and 160 pounds, “Sure did, and we had quite the night. Too bad you don’t remember it. Guess that means I’ll have to give you some more to remember this morning.” The man leaned in and locked lips with him, sucking the smoke from his mouth–

They weren’t alone, people were watching, but they didn’t care. The tattoos burned, but he welcomed it, just like he was welcoming the smoke into his lungs, like a friend he hadn’t seen in years. The man shoved him down; he exhaled smoke all over his hard cock and balls, warming them, held the burning end close enough to singe hairs, feeling his shiver and spasm, and when he’d been edged to the point of heaving breaths, Justin turned him around and started blowing smoke up his ass, the bear moaning, begging him for his cock, and he slid it in, feeling the heat of his smoke and the heat of his body–

The bear was bent over the counter, Justin fucking him roughly. One tattooed arm was holding down his head while he groaned, the other holding his cigar. He took another deep breath, staring at himself, trying to remember what he’d been. Before he’d felt those tattoos snake around him…or had…had he gotten them himself? He fucking…fucking loved cigars. Couldn’t live without them. He took another deep suck of smoke, his cock close, thrust himself over the edge, and unloaded deep into the bear’s hole, both of them panting, the bathroom choked with smoke.

“F-Fuck…For a little guy, you sure don’t fuck around.”

Justin slid his cock out and stumbled back. “S-Sorry, I just, kind of lost it there…”

“I’m not complaining man, I love that shit,” the bear said, “Now, how about breakfast? My treat.”

They went out, but breakfast was an exercise in torture for Justin. Away from his cigars, the food tasting bland and uninteresting, when all he could think about was lighting up again. He made small talk as best he could, however, and managed to pry more information out of the guy–or Robin, as he eventually learned. Apparently, they’d hooked up at a bar downtown called Pigtown. It didn’t sound familiar to Justin at all, but Robin told him it was the best club in town.

“No rules man–anything goes. The health department doesn’t even know about it. The fuckin’ best.”

The best or not, Justin knew something strange had happened to him and Robin there the night before. He tried to tell him about his strange visions, but Robin found them boring. He tried to suggest they go back, but Robin had work on Sunday, so he couldn’t be out late.

“Every night at Pigtown is a late night, you know.” Robin said with a grin. “And I’ve had a few too many late nights there lately. Not even sure who I am anymore, you know?”

Justin didn’t. But he got directions from Robin, and when evening came, returned, chuffing his cigars the whole way, already thinking he’d been smoking for most of his life, and everyone there seemed to welcome him like a friend.

My Boys – Part 6

It was at least an hour later when the door to the motel room finally clicked open, and Bruce stepped into the room. His boys were still fucking, just as he’d hoped they would be–such good boys. The fur coating Nick’s entire body was matted to his skin and soaked with sweat–he hadn’t once removed his cock from his brother’s hole, and it had grown looser and looser, his cum spilling back out and onto the bed beneath them. Sean was doing his best to play with his own cock as his big brother fucked him–it had taken a while, but he’d eventually found a good grip that let him hold on tight past his huge gut. He too, had shot multiple loads. However, as soon as the door opened and their father stepped inside, the commands he’d given them ended, and Nick immediately hauled his cock out of his brother’s ass and stepped back, unable to believe what he’d been doing.

“Glad to see you two found someway to entertain yourselves,” Bruce stepped inside, and a man came in after him–the boys immediately recognized his as their uncle, but he looked quite a bit different from the fat cook he’d been before. For one, he was smoking, but instead of a pipe luike their daddy, he had a short, stubby cigar clamped in his jaw, chuffing smoke. He’d certainly grown back to his previous size, after Sean had drained him of cum, but the weight he’d gained back had been more equal between fat and muscle–he was still soft, but underneath it was obvious he was strong and hard, a real bull of a man. He’d sprouted quite a bit of hair as well, not nearly as much as Nick had, but he was quite furry, with a massive bulge in his jeans straining at the fabric.

“What…what the fuck did you do? This is fucking insane,” Nick said, “Change…change us back, and give us our dad back, you fucking–”

The cook stepped between Bruce and Nick, and gave the boy a hard smack across the face, which sent him reeling into the dresser–strong was an understatement, Nick realized, and he felt a bit of fear well up in him. “You know better ‘n tah talk to yer elders like that boy. Now apologize.”

“S-Sorry…daddy…” Nick said.

“It’s alright you two–I don’t mind boys with a bit of fight in them. It keeps things interesting, and I know you’re jonesin’. Still, you might find that your uncle is less forgiving than me, and much less willing to entertain any antics. He’s rather serious, you know–I’d be careful,” Bruce winked, and then sniffed the air, “Fuck boy, you stink. Just as good as I fuckin’ remember. Git over here Jared, smell this boy’s nasty pits.”

Before Nick could stop him, the cook–Jared, apparently–hauled up one of Nick’s arms, shoved his face in his pit, and took a deep snort, “Fuck, he’s fuckin’ rank.”

Nick hadn’t noticed, but now that his dad had pointed it out, he could smell himself, and part of him wanted to retch, and go take a shower. He started for the bathroom, but Jared grabbed him by the wrist and hauled him back, throwing him onto the other bed, while Sean struggled with his fat form to simply sit up.

“Now boys,” Bruce said, “I’m gonna have to spend a few days away–Daddy’s got some very important business to attend to, so we can have a good future together, as a family. So while I’m gone, ya’ll are just gonna be good boys, and wait here at the motel for me. Jared’s gonna be lookin’ after both a ya, so you’re gonna have tah do everything he says, you got it? You’ll do it, and you’ll like it, whether you want to or not.”

He paused a moment, looking from one boy to the other, and then picked up a plastic bag he’d brought in with him, and pulled out, first, several cans of chewing tobacco. Nick barely understood what happened next, as he took the cans from his hands, opened one, and stuffed as much of the leaf in his mouth as he could, until he had two bulging wads pushing out his cheeks on each side, and he sighed, the headache and anger he’d felt ebbing away, replaced by a calm alertness. “Fuck daddy, I fuckin’ needed that…” Nick said.

“Language, boy,” Jared said, but only glared at Nick, instead of delivering another snap.

“I know ya did–and ya’ll be needing plenty more,” Bruce said, and handed the rest of the bag to him–it was filled with tins of tobacco, and Nick resisted the urge to put even more in his mouth.

Jared had a bag of his own, which he brought over to Sean, “You boy, since ya take after me, yer daddy thought ya should smoke cigars like me, how’s that sound?”

“But I…I don’t want to smoke…” Sean said.

“Now boy, everyone in our family needs tobacco, you know that. Don’t worry, Uncle Jared is looking forward to training you–you’ll enjoy yourself soon enough. You won’t even be able to imagine having something other than a cigar in your mouth all day, every day, before too long.”

Sean opened his mouth to protest again, but Jared locked lips with him, and shoved a lungful of cigar smoke into his lungs. Nick watched them share it for a minute, his fat brother’s eyes rolled back in pleasure, and when Jared pulled away, Sean didn’t object when his uncle placed the cigar he’d had right in his boy’s teeth, and told him to “smoke up like a good boy.”

“Alright, remember, ya’ll do everything your uncle says, and most important, you wait for me. You don’t fight him, you don’t try and kill him, you be good boys, like you’d be for me, and everything will be find in a few days. I expect you two to behave. Do you two understand?”

“Yes Daddy,” they both said, and then Bruce smiled, and slipped from the room, started the car and drove off down the road with the screech of tires.

“Guess that means you’re mine boys,” Jared said, “I think we’re gonna have a grand time, don’t you?”

My Boys (Part 2)

“It’s stupid, this whole trip–you can say it, Nick, we both know it,” Sean said.

“Look, Dad wanted this for us, it’s the least we could do, really,” Nick said, but Sean was more interested in feeling frustrated than talking. He waited a moment, and added, “I have things I’d rather be doing too, you know. You’re still in school–you’re on vacation. Do you have any idea how much shit I’m going to have to catch up on?”

Sean just rolled his eyes at him, and Nick leaned back in the sagging, well worn booth. “Look, can you at least pretend to enjoy yourself a little bit? Dad needs this.”

“Dad needs to get a fucking life.”

The chef came around to take their orders–Nick got a salad, Sean a burger–and then they stayed quiet, until their new dad walked in, chuffing on his pipe, beard to his gut, saw his sons, grinned and walked over. “Scoot over, boy. Make room for your Pa,” he said to Nick.

Nick looked up, and his eyes went wide, and he looked to Sean. He had no idea what was going on either. There’s no way that this could be their dad…and yet they both knew, somehow, that this was him. He was in the right clothes, but the beard, and the hair, and the pipe smoke…

“I…I don’t think you can smoke…that in here.”

“Daddy never puts out a pipe before it’s done smokin’, you know that boy. Now scoot.”

Nick slid over slowly, and Bruce plopped down into the booth with a sigh and a grunt. “Fuck, I’m fuckin’ famished boys. What did you two order?”

“Just…Just a burger and fries.”

“A salad–everything else is too damn greasy. I have new suits I have to be able to fit into when I get home,” Nick said.

Bruce stared at Nick for a moment, and then blew a plume of smoke from his nose with a snort. “No fuckin’ son of mine is gonna be eatin’ fuckin’ salad while I’m fuckin’ alive,” he grumbled, and then called out at the chef, “Hey! My boy here wants to change his order. In fact, just bring all three a us two burgers each, and a shitload of fries, got it?”

“Sure man, whatever you want,” the chef grumbled. Nick tried to object, but before he could speak, he coughed–the smoke had gotten stuck in his throat all of a sudden. Bruce pounded him on the back a couple of times, telling him to man up.

“Dad…are you…feeling alright?” Sean asked.

“Never felt better boy–but what the fuck’s up with you two? Ya’ll look like you’re at a damn funeral,” he turned to the kitchen again, “Hey, you got beer?”

“Sure do,” the chef said.

“Give us a round.”

The chef brought out three bottles. Sean was happy for a drink, but Nick tried to object–Bruce bullied him into drinking it, and then gave him his as well.

“Damn, got my work cut out with the two of you, don’t I?”

Neither of them had any idea what that meant. Sean shrugged and looked to Nick, but his older brother had no idea what was going on either. The three of them sat in an awkward silence for a few minutes, and Nick gave a start when his father’s hand landed on his thigh, and then slipped inside his thigh, over to his crotch, groping at his cock. He kept trying to tell him off, to yell at him but his throat had sealed itself from the smoke, and the more his father exhaled in his direction, the more he relaxed into the booth. He looked to Sean, wondering if he could signal his brother somehow, but he too seemed to have zoned out, lying back against the back of the booth, mouth slack, taking deep breaths of his father’s pipe smoke.

“That’s better, you boys are just tired after a long day’s ride, right? Tired and hungry,” Bruce said, leaned in closer to Nick, “No boy of mine is gonna be eatin’ fuckin’ salad tonight–hell, you ain’t gonna be touchin’ a salad for the rest of your damn life.”

Nick’s frustration and confusion were growing into anger and fear. He didn’t understand what his father was doing, what he was saying. And why was he touching him like this? His father had never done anything like this–it was like he’d become a completely different person. Their food arrived, and all three of them tucked in, but Bruce ate slower than both of his boys, neither of whom felt hungrier than either could remember being in a long time. So hungry, that neither of them noticed when Bruce told the chef to make each of his boys another double helping of burgers and fries. Nick in particular found himself caught in a position he’d never felt before, with his father’s hand massaging his cock while he ate. He found himself…almost enjoying the act of eating in a way he never had before.

Finally, they finished eating, and the cook came around to clear their mess. Nick managed to look up and saw that the big, greasy lug looked just as dazed and confused as they were. His father reached out and grabbed his hand as he reached for his empty basket. “Hey man, those burgers were fuckin’ fabulous, just great. Thanks for all the cookin’ you were doin’ back there.”

“I…You’re welcome, sir.”

“I wanna give you a tip. Or rather, my boy there, he wants to give you a tip, don’t you boy?” he said, looking to Sean, “Go on man, let out your cock, my boy would love a load of cum for dessert.”

Sean’s eyes went wide, as did the cook’s, but neither of them could stop themselves, Sean twisting out of the booth to face the cook, who pulled off his apron and dropped his shorts to his ankles, letting the young man start sucking on his cock.

Nick started thrashing weakly. This was wrong, all of this was wrong, so fucking wrong. Bruce’s grip on his cock tightened, his other hand grabbed his son’s face and pulled him around. Before Nick could do anything, he locked lips and exhaled a full lung of smoke right into him. Nick took it in, the heat of the smoke horrible, and yet he pushed it back, and they shared it for a few moments. When he released Nick, he wasn’t struggling anymore–and when Bruce freed his cock, Nick bent over, careful of his very full gut, and started sucking his father’s cock, and Bruce heaved a sigh of smoke over all of them.