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The Dangers of Smoking by Wesley Bracken

Vincent peered into his closet, unsure of what he should wear to his meeting. Mr. Mathews was one of the most important clients of his company, and he had to make a good first impression. Finally he pulled out his blue navy suit and laid it on his bed, getting out of his standard work suit to change. After stripping, he paused a moment to look over his body. His 190-pound, six-foot frame was smooth and muscled from many hours at the gym and with a shaver. Even though Vincent hated to workout, and hated breaking a sweat even more, he knew how important it was too look good as a company representative. After going to the gym, he would immediately shower, he couldn't stand being dirty for any long period of time. He also hated the hair on his body, and trimmed most of it off except for his pubic bush. His apartment reflected this tidy attitude, and Vincent spent almost all of his time at home cleaning everything. Any of the girlfriends he had had left after a few months because they couldn't stand his constant cleaning, but Vincent didn't mind, it was easier to keep everything clean when he only had to pick up after himself.

He pulled out his ironing board and pressed his shirt and pants, then put on his suit. He picked up his other clothes and tossed them in the dry cleaning hamper, and then found the appointment book where he had written down the location of the meeting. Mr. Mathews hadn't wanted to come to the office for some reason, but Vincent was ok with that so long as he got a bonus for sealing the deal. Flipping through his notebook, he saw that he had written "Bremerton Pub, 6 p.m." under Thursday with an address in the harbor district he had looked up online earlier. Vincent felt his stomach turn at the thought; any pub in the harbor district wasn't going to be anything like the upper class soirees he was used to. But the customer was always right, so he climbed into his car and drove downtown.

He found a parking spot and walked over to the pub. It was five to six, and Vincent felt out of place with the numerous dockworkers and other laborers heading home or to the bar. He had no idea why Mr. Mathews would want to meet anywhere near this place, and at a bar of all places. Vincent hated drinking; the idea of it sickened him. He had tried beer once at a college party, and never felt the need to try it ever again. The only thing worse than drinking was smoking. The stench was awful, and the way it clung to his clothes. It was impossible to get out. Not to mention all of the health risks involved. He had no intention of giving himself cancer on purpose.

He found the Bremerton pub, and was even more concerned. From the street, he could look in and see the front room lost in a cloud of smoke. Rough workers were seated at tables with pints or bottles of whiskey next to them. Had he not had an appointment there, he would have turned around and walked away as fast as he could, but heaving a sigh, he took one last breath of clean air and stepped inside.

He took a shallow breath and began to cough, waving his hand in front of his face, desperately trying to clear the air. He peered through the haze, looking for Mr. Mathews, but he saw no one anywhere resembling a civilized person. The noise was thunderous, loud, deep voices jeering and cussing, booming laughs made the whole space feel even more cramped. He looked at his watch, and saw that it was six on the dot, tentatively, he moved to a stool by the door to wait. The bartender came up to him and asked, "You want anything bub?"

"No. I'm just waiting for someone."

The bartender cocked an eyebrow, "Whatever you say. Call me if you change your mind." He turned and walked towards a man waving his arm and calling for a refill.

Vincent checked his watch. It read six o' one. Sighing, he turned towards the door and hoped Mr. Mathews would come quickly so he could leave. The door opened, but Vincent's hopes were crushed when he saw it was just another dockworker. The man looked like more of a goon than any other guy he'd seen that afternoon. His head was shaved, and he had tattoos of dragons running up and down both arms with bear paws on his upper arms. He could also see tattoos rising from under his collar, so Vincent assumed there were more tattoos there as well. His ears were pierced multiple times, as well as a septum through his nose, and a couple of barbells through his eyebrows. He was wearing a flannel shirt open with the sleeves ripped off, with a dirty undershirt beneath it stretched by the man's large gut. Hair sprouted from the top of his shirt, and he had a thick black beard. Dirty jeans and muddy boots completed the man's outfit. The man spied the open stool next to Vincent and took a seat. Vincent scooted as far away as he could on the stationary stool, and the man looked at him curiously. He pulled out a cigar and a lighter, and lit up. "So what you doing here? You look out of place. Shouldn't you be in one of those fancy office buildings downtown?" The man laughed and blew a cloud of smoke into Vincent's face making him cough. "Ha, you can't even handle a little smoke."

Vincent didn't even want to honor the man with a reply, so he just watched the door and ignored him.

"Hey man I'm sorry. Just some good humor," He stuck out his hand, "The name's Rod."

Vincent kept his hands in his lap and stayed silent.

"Geeze buddy, lighten up. It was just a joke. You know what would loosen you up? A good cigar. I bet you've never even tried one." He held out his cigar for Vince, "Here, give one of mine a try. They're a rare blend a friend of mine ships in from San Juan. I guarantee you'll love them."

Vincent knocked the cigar away from him, "Get your cancer stick away from me. Kill yourself on your own time."

"Shit man...It's gonna take more than a cigar to loosen you up. Ever thought of taking the stick out of your ass? That way shit will stop spewing out of your mouth."

Vincent turned towards the man, ready to fight, but felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket, "I hate to interrupt this wonderful conversation," he said, "but I have to take this."

He flipped open his phone and said hello.

"Vincent?"

It was his boss, Mr. Montgomery, and he sounded worried, "Hello sir. What's wrong?"

"Well, I got some bad news, Mr. Mathews just called to say he had to cancel his appointment. He says he'll reschedule for another day next week."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Yeah. I'll give you an update when you come into the office tomorrow."

"Sure."

They both said goodbye, and Vincent hung up his phone. Turning back to the man, he said, "Well, my appointment got cancelled, so I'll be taking my leave of you now." He slid off the stool and started towards the door, but the man grabbed his arm and spun him around.

He took a deep drag off his cigar, then took it out of his mouth and held it out to Vincent. He blew a cloud of smoke at Vincent and said, "You know you want to try it."

Caught off guard, Vincent breathed the smoke in deep and felt suddenly light headed. The smoke seemed less offensive than it had a minute ago, and smelled kind of enticing. Not really paying attention to what he was doing, he reached up and took the cigar and inhaled. He took the smoke in too deep and began coughing, but that didn't stop him from feeling the amazing rush. Colors took on a crisper edge, and Vincent felt energy pour into his body.

"See? It's not that bad now is it?"

Vincent inhaled again and found himself nodding.

"I thought you'd like it. How about sitting down and having a drink?"

Vincent shook his head and handed the cigar back to Rod. "I don't drink, and I don't smoke either." He turned to go, but Rod grabbed his arm and stuck a couple of cigars and a lighter in Vincent's breast pocket.

"Sure you don't." he said and pushed Vincent towards the door, "See you soon Vince."

Outside, Vincent realized that he had never told the man his name, but figured the guy had just overheard his boss on the cell phone. Although his comment of see you soon was just as creepy. Pushing the thoughts aside, he took out the cigars and lighter, walked over to a trashcan on the street to throw them away, but stopped. "That one cigar was amazing," he thought. His previous rush was dying and Vincent felt an emptiness tug at him. He didn't know if it was possible to be addicted after one smoke, but figured it was a rumor. "I'll just finish these two he gave me," he thought, "A little smoke never hurt anyone. And then I'll stop."

His conscience satisfied with the rationale, he took the cigar, lit it up on the street and inhaled. The rush swept over again, and Vincent steadied himself with the trashcan to keep from falling over as the world spun. The feeling was incredible, and increased with every inhale. When the world steadied a little, he walked back to his car with a new vigor and drove home.

By the time he got there, he had finished one cigar and was halfway through the second. He unlocked the door, and stepped into his apartment, not caring to put out the cigar before going in. It felt too good to stop; he could stop after he finished one more. It was better to get it over with. So he grabbed a bowl from the kitchen for an ashtray, and sat down on the couch to finish. He dropped the butt into the bowl and leaned back, unsatisfied. As the rush slowed, he felt his stomach knot with need. Vincent tried to relax, but the cravings got stronger. He had no idea that smoking could be so great, but he was terrified of continuing. But even stronger was the fear that he had fallen into addiction so easily. It was true what they said about the dangers of smoking: Once you started it was impossible to stop. He picked up his keys and headed for the corner store to get some more.

When he got there, he suddenly had no idea what kind he wanted. The store only had a few cheap brands. Hesitantly, he pointed to the wall of brands and asked the attendant, "So...uh...which oh those brands of cigar would you recommend?"

The teenager looked at him and scoffed, "Me? I don't smoke. Those things will kill you."

Vincent cleared his throat, and wanting to get out of there as fast as possible, picked a brand at random, and bought a couple of packets. The teenager rang them up on the register, "You really shouldn't start you know. You'll regret it later. Especially cigars. Did you know that one cigar is like smoking seventy cigarettes?"

Vincent took his package and left the store without replying. Behind him, the attendant shook his head, and went to help the next customer. Vincent hurried up to his apartment unwrapping a packet on the way, annoyed that the cigars themselves were wrapped in cellophane as well. He closed the door behind him, lit the cigar and set the rest down on the table. The feeling wasn't as strong as before, but the subtle shaking in his hands subsided. He sat down at the table and cried, smoking through his tears, unable to stop himself. He finished off two more cigars and exhausted from crying, he went to his room, threw his clothes on the floor, and collapsed into his bed.

When he woke up, his mouth and throat felt sore, and he had a slight headache. He also felt the need for a cigar eating away at him. He went out to the kitchen to get a new one, and the first inhale of the day was pure bliss. His throat still felt a little scratchy, but his headache cleared up, and by the time he had finished he felt good enough to try and function. He went into the bathroom to relieve himself, and then walked back into his bedroom, and noticed the sun streaming in through the windows. "Shit!" he said, "I overslept!" The clock on the wall read ten o' clock; he was over two hours late to work.

He hurried over to his closet and threw on a suit, not bothering to shower even though he missed one last night. Dressed, he went out to the kitchen, lit up another cigar, and then took the other pack and his briefcase and hurried out to his car. As he drove, the cigar helped calm him down a little, and he smoked it to a nub before he arrived at work. When he pulled in, he grabbed a couple cigars from the package, and started towards the building. He was about to light up when he remembered he couldn't smoke in the workplace. Suddenly what had been a respectful, clean air law was an awful hindrance, and Vincent put the cigar away in his pocket, hoping he would be able on concentrate on something other than how much he wanted a cigar. He stepped into the building, and went up to his office.

He only had time to set down his briefcase and turn on his computer when he heard his boss call his name from the hallway. Swallowing his apprehension and wishing he could have a smoke, he trudged down the hall to his boss's office. Mr. Montgomery was waiting with the door open, a scowl on his face. Vincent had to step by him to get in, and his boss wrinkled his nose as he passed. "What...Sheesh Vincent, you smell like an ashtray! Did you start smoking or something?"

Vincent didn't answer; he just lowered his head in shame.

"Don't you know how dangerous those things are? It might seem like fun now, but they will change your life, and not for the better."

"Yeah...I've just been stressed lately, and with Mr. Mathews...I've been needing something to calm me down." It wasn't the most graceful lie, but it was a better excuse than nothing. Besides, the cigars did help calm him down, and he was stressed, so maybe it wasn't that far from the truth.

Mr. Montgomery's scowl changed to one of sympathy, "You do look awful...Did you even shave this morning?"

"No."

Mr. Montgomery sighed, "Well, Mr. Mathews called and said he would reschedule for this Monday, same time, same place. Why don't you take today off? It's Friday, and you look like you could use some rest."

"Uh, sure. I'll do that."

"Good, then you have no excuse if you show up late to work on Monday. And you'd better not come in here smelling like smoke either. We strive to keep a clean professional atmosphere here, and smoking is definitely not a part of that."

"Yes sir."

"Glad you understand. Now go home and get some rest."

Vincent mumbled a thank you and left the building, lighting up as soon as he got out. The cigar calmed him down some, and he climbed into his car and drove back to his apartment, glad that he didn't have to go without smoking the whole day.

As soon as he got home, he realized what a mess his apartment was. There was ash all over the furniture, and the apartment was shrouded in a smoky haze. He hadn't bothered putting his clothes away either. But for the first time, Vincent felt apathetic. Instead of buckling down and cleaning the apartment from top to bottom, he took off his tie, unbuttoned his shirt and plopped down on the couch to watch some TV, something he rarely did, and usually then only to watch a movie or educational show. He picked up the remote and began to flip idly, finishing off the first package of cigars and starting on the second.

He flipped past a wrestling match, and flipped back. For some reason, the match had caught his interest. He put down the remote and started watching. As the two men grappled and beat each other, Vincent felt his cock growing hard. He found himself paying close attention to the close ups of the wrestlers, hoping to spot an outline of their cocks or as pulled tight in their spandex costumes. He pulled his cock out of his pants and began to stroke it slowly. He watched one of the wrestlers begin to dominate the other, knocking him to the ground over and over again. To Vincent, this was incredibly hot, and he found himself wishing he was in the ring, and the wrestler was knocking him around instead. The wrestler went for the final pin, and as the referee counted the seconds, Vincent exploded all over his shirt and pants.

As the orgasm dies away, Vincent realized that not only had he jacked off to wrestling, but he had imagined himself getting pinned in the ring and being totally dominated by another man. The thoughts sent the shakes for him, and he fumbled for a cigar. As he inhaled, his anxiety lowered. "So what if he had jacked off looking at wrestlers?" he rationalized, "It's not like it makes me gay or anything. Besides, one time can't hurt." Since the match had finished, he began to flip through the channels again, but soon realized that he was getting hungry. He wandered over to the fridge to see what he had, but nothing looked satisfying. The food was in bins, mostly vegetables, and all of the portions were small. He wanted food, and he wanted something satisfying. Digging out the phone book, he found the number of a nearby pizza place and dialed the number, ordering two large pizzas, planning to save one for later. He went back to channel surfing until the pizza arrived. He paid the guy, set the two boxes down on the couch next to him, and began alternating between eating, smoking and channel surfing.

A couple of hours passed, and Vincent realized he had finished off both pizzas and three more cigars. He knew he should stop, but he lit up another cigar anyway. He could stop wherever he wanted. He just didn't want to just yet.

In the evening, after running over to a smoke shop to pick up a humidor and enough cigars to last him through the weekend, he found a channel running a football game, and decided to watch that. He had never been into sports, thinking it entertainment for Neanderthals, but he quickly found himself absorbed into the game. Again he found himself toying with his cock as he watched the players, and he shot two more loads before the end of the game. After the post game show, Vincent looked down and saw that his shirt and pants were wet with cum, but didn't really think much of it. It was just him in the house, so he could afford to be a little messy, he thought. He smelled his armpit and briefly thought about showering, but decided not to bother. He sniffed his armpit again, and found his cock twitching; the smell was kind of arousing. He went into his bedroom, dropped his clothes on the floor and climbed into bed.

The rest of the weekend went by in much the same fashion, channel surfing, smoking, and ordering pizza whenever he got hungry. He watched football or wrestling when he could find it, and jacked off countless times watching the men grapple and tackle each other. He didn't change his clothes the entire weekend, and he never showered, finding that he liked the smell of cum and sweat. A cigar was stuck to his lip at almost every waking moment. On Sunday he considered going to the gym, but the thought didn't interest him very much. He worked so hard during the week; he should allow himself to relax on the weekends. A stack of pizza boxes piled high next to the couch, and a light layer of smoke now permeated the apartment at all hours. On Sunday night, Vincent drudgingly set his alarm, dreading the return to work the next day. The idea of sitting all day behind a desk seemed so boring now, not to mention that he wouldn't be able to smoke. He climbed into bed and fell asleep.

The alarm buzzed, and Vincent climbed out of bed to go to relieve himself and have a cigar. When he returned to his bedroom, he looked at himself in the mirror for the first time since Friday. He was still wearing the same undershirt and boxers, only now they were stiff and stained with cum and pizza sauce. But what puzzled him was that his body hair was growing in, faster and thicker than usual. Usually he only had to shave once a week, but it looked as if his hair had grown out for a month. He lifted up his shirt and saw a dark treasure trail running up his stomach. He also saw that his abs had lost some of their definition. "Probably should go to the gym," he thought with no great urgency. His beard had grown in as well, but not in the usual spotty growth. This was thick dark stubble on the verge of beard.

As he looked himself over, he actually though he looked good. The stubble made him look manlier, and he couldn't remember why he had been so adamant about shaving his body hair, because it made him look sexy. Especially with the cigar in his mouth. He examined his hair, and thought it looked like it was receding a bit, but that was ok too; it made him look more mature. He raised one of his arms and took a whiff of his armpit, feeling his cock twitch. He stripped off his boxers intending to change into a fresh pair, but before he did, he raised them to his nose and took a whiff. The smell was incredible. His cock went rock hard and he began to stroke it, sitting down on the bed to jack off. As he did, he imagined that he had snuck into an NFL locker room after the game and he had found one of the linemen's jockstraps. Then he imagined that the player found him sniffing his jockstrap and made Vincent give him a blowjob. The fantasy was turning him on big time, and as he imagined the player cumming in his mouth, Vincent let lose a huge load all over his shirt. Satisfied, Vincent stripped down and figured he should go take a shower, even though the idea wasn't very appealing.

After hosing himself off, he saw just how hairy he had become. The large amount of hair was disconcerting, but not unwelcome. He liked the feel of it under his hand as he rubbed himself. He decided that using soap was unnecessary, and climbed out. A man should smell like a man, not like a bunch of fruit and flowers. He decided to keep the stubble as well, and walked back into his room to put on a suit. He had a hard time finding one that fit well, they all seemed too tight and restricting. In fact, what he really wanted to wear was something more casual, like jeans and a T-shirt, but unfortunately, a professional job required professional clothes. Settling on a suit that he thought he could stand to spend the day in, he picked up his keys and the new pack of cigars, and drove to work.

He stood outside and finished the cigar before heading up to his office. His inbox was overflowing with fact sheets to check and accounts to balance. He set down to work, but found it hard to concentrate on working, his mind constantly drifting back to the pack of cigars in his briefcase. The math seemed more complex than usual as well, and he found himself relying heavily on his calculator. By the time lunch rolled around, he had only managed to make a small dent in the stack, and his head was screaming for a cigar. He quickly got up and shut his office door, and walked towards the elevator, but was stopped by his boss's voice behind him, "Hey Vincent! Can I talk to you for a second?"

Vincent hid his irritation and replied, "Uh sure. As long as it's quick. I was just on my way to lunch."

Mr. Montgomery came towards him, "I just wanted to make sure you were feeling better, and remind you of your appointment today."

"Yeah, I'm feeling a little better. I didn't forget about Mr. Mathews either."

"Good," Mr. Montgomery pointed towards Vincent's face, "and don't forget about our office's no beard policy."

Vincent remembered his stubble and blushed, "Sorry, I'll shave tonight."

"See that you do. Enjoy your lunch."

Vincent waited for his boss to head down the hallway idly watch the man's ass as he walked. He realized that he was checking his boss out, and left as quickly as he could, trying to hide his erection. The first breath from the cigar was pure bliss, like coming up for air after being submerged for hours. He got into his car, and drove off to find somewhere to eat lunch. The only problem was that all of his usual restaurants were non-smoking, and nothing on their menus sounded very filling. He realized that state law had banned smoking in restaurants years ago, and gave up hope of finding a smoking section to relax in. As he drove around an all you can eat buffet caught his eye. He pulled into a parking space and stepped inside, reluctantly dropping his cigar butt into the ashcan by the door. Inside, the hostess seated him, and he headed towards the buffet and piled two plates full of food. Back at the table, he devoured everything, and still hungry, went back twice more. Finally content, he saw that he had accidentally extended his lunch break by half an hour. Holding his bloated stomach, he paid the hostess and drove quickly back to work.

He managed to sneak in without Mr. Montgomery noticing his tardy appearance, and managed to get through one more report before his need to smoke made it impossible to concentrate. Giving up, he told Mr. Montgomery that he was leaving early to get ready for his appointment, and then drove home.

He thought about changing but decided he didn't really care enough to change. Shaving didn't seem necessary either. Mr. Montgomery could go stick his no beard policy up his ass. After he nailed Mr. Mathews' portfolio, he could afford to have a beard if he wanted one. He started on another cigar as he got back in his car to return to the Bremerton Pub.

It was just as smoky as he remembered it, but it didn't bother him at all as he stepped in. In fact, he welcomed the chance to smoke and not feel like a total outsider. Looking down at his suit, he wished he could fit into the crowd a little better. Everyone seemed so happy. The loud voices which had irritated him so much a few days ago now made the pub feel lively and welcoming. Not to mention that all of the men now seemed incredibly hot, especially the ones who were smoking. The hairy chests and beards were making Vincent's cock painfully hard. He moved over to the bar to wait for Mr. Matthews, trying to avoid looking at any of the men there. He didn't notice when Rod, the man from before, came and sat down next to him, "Hey there. Still smokin' I see."

Surprised, Vincent spun around to face the man, looking sheepish with a cigar putting from between his lips. "Uh...yeah. I guess it was better than I thought it would be. I couldn't resist." His embarrassment was only enhanced by how attractive the guy was. The guy was dressed in another sleeveless flannel shirt, and while admiring the tattoos; Vincent wondered what he looked like with his shirt off. He imagined a hairy chest leading down to a firm hard gut, and below that a nice firm cock. Vincent quickly pushed the thoughts aside before he followed it through.

The man slapped him on the back. "Good to hear! I knew you'd like them. So how about taking up my drinking offer from last Friday?"

"Uh...no thanks. I don't really like to drink."

Rod laughed and signaled the bartender, "Aw, come on. One beer can't hurt. Who knows, you might like it."

"Well...I guess one couldn't hurt."

"That's the spirit! Two of the usual for me and my buddy here." The man said to the bartender and slapped Vincent on the back again. As he did, Vincent caught a whiff of his armpit and the smell alone made him horny. He scooted a little closer to Rod unconsciously, hoping to catch another sniff. He felt comfortable with Rod, a camaraderie he had never experienced with another man.

"Uh...I'm sorry. But what was your name again?" Vincent asked as the bartender set a glass down in front of him.

"Rod. And you were Vince, right?"

"Actually, it's Vincent." He took another drag off his cigar.

Rod rolled his eyes. "Ah...Vincent," he said, emphasizing the "t" on the end.

Vincent laughed and picked up his glass, took a sip, and felt a calm numb surround his mind. He felt so relaxed, and as he kept drinking, the feeling just got better and better. "Wow. This is good stuff."

"I figured you'd like it. So why are you here? Waiting for someone?"

"Yeah. I'm supposed to meet a client here, but he keeps blowing me off."

"Client? Where do you work?"

"At an accounting firm downtown." Vincent finished off his beer, and the bartender replaced it with a full one.

Rod shook his head, "Man, how can you stand to work in an office all day? I know it would get on my nerves real fast. I'd much rather be using my hands. A little hard labor does wonders for the soul."

Vincent just nodded and lit up another cigar. Between the beer and the smoke, he was in heaven. He would agree with anything Rod said as long as he could feel this wonderful all of the time.

"What time are you supposed to be meeting this guy?"

"Six."

"Well, it's already six thirty. I think he stood you up again."

"Yeah, he probably did," Vincent finished his beer and went to stand up, "I should go then. It was nice--"

Rod pulled him back onto the stool, "You don't have to leave right now, do you? In fact you were just starting to enjoy yourself."

Vincent nodded and took a swig from the new beer the bartender placed down.

"I thought so."

Vincent lost track of the beers and the time as the evening wore on. As he got drunker and drunker, Rod began to look hotter and hotter. He kept losing himself in Rod's crotch, imagining what it would be like to have Rod fuck him, or to suck on his cock. Before he knew it, it was last call. Rod invited him back to his flat for a nightcap since the now very drunk Vincent was in no condition to drive. Rod half dragged, half carried Vincent the three blocks to his apartment, and let him inside. Vincent sat down on the couch and while Rod went and got a couple of beers. Vincent took out a cigar, but couldn't get his hands coordinated enough to light it.

"Here let me get that," Rod said as he set down two cans of beer on the table. He took the cigar, lit it, and handed it back to Vincent.

"Thanks," Vincent slurred back.

"No problem. What are friends for?"

"Are we really friends?" Vince asked.

"Of course we are."

Vincent leaned in a little closer, "Then can I tell you a secret?"

Rod laughed, "Of course you can Vince. What's on your mind?"

Vince took a deep drag off his cigar and gulped, "Uh...well...It's just that..." He swallowed again and blurted out, "Rod, I just want to say that you are so damn hot!"

Rod cocked his eyebrow, "Oh really?"

Vince nodded, "So, so hot. And all I want to do is have you kiss me, and then I want you to fuck me. I've never been fucked before, but I want you to fuck me so much. Will you do it Rod? Will you fuck me? Please?"

Rod took a deep drag off his cigar, and then pulled Vincent into a smoky kiss. As they passed the smoke back and forth, Vincent felt his cock getting harder and harder. When Rod pulled away he whispered, "I'd be glad to fuck you. But I need you to do a few things for me first."

Vincent nodded eagerly in his drunken stupor.

"You see," Rod continued, "I haven't had a chance to shower today." He pulled off his shirt and Vincent gaped in lust at the hairy expanse before him. It was all he could do to not burry his face in it. "So I was wondering if you'd like to give me a bath?" He lifted up his arm and the aroma of his sweat washed over Vincent.

He didn't need to be asked twice. He dove into the pit with a drunken fervor and began licking away.

"Yeah, that's good. Lick my stinky pit. You love that smell don't ya? You love the smell of my sweat."

Vincent moved his way across Rod's chest paying special attention to his nipples, and cleaned out the other pit as well. Occasionally Rod would blow a cloud of smoke in his direction, and he would inhale as much of it as he could as well.

When Vincent had finished the belly button and was rubbing his tongue over his furry gut, Rod stood up and dropped his pants. One last place I need you to clean for me." He turned around and spread his ass for Vincent, who got down on his knees and dove right in and began to lick at the hairy shit-covered crack.

It tasted even better than his sweaty pits had, and he could feel his own cock start throbbing in his suit pants. He unzipped his fly and started stroking it as he dug his tongue deeper into Rod's ass. Rod began to moan as Vincent dove deeper into his asshole, trying to lick up all that he could, so that he could finish his job and get Rod to fuck him.

When Rod was satisfied, he turned back around and as Vincent went to stand up, Rod pushed him back down. "Hold on there. One more thing to do, and then I'll fuck you. I really need to piss, you see..."

Vincent looked at him warily, afraid of where this was going, "No way Rod, I'm not drinking your piss."

"Are you sure? You might like it...Hasn't my advice been good so far?"

Vincent couldn't really deny that fact, and so he hesitantly said, "Well...I suppose it wouldn't hurt to try it..." he leaned forward and took Rod's cock in his mouth.

"Here it comes." Rod said, and Vincent felt his stream on the back of his throat. He expected it to taste awful, but it was a lot better than he had expected. In fact, it was one of the best things he had tasted in his life. He found himself gulping down the piss eagerly, milking the cock for all he could. As he began to suck, he felt it hardening in his mouth and heard Rod moan. "Yeah that's it. Suck my cock. Get it nice and hard for your ass. You're going to get quite a fucking tonight Vince, a fucking you'll never forget."

Vincent wanted to correct him about his name, but was too preoccupied with sucking to bother with talking. Soon Rod's cock began to leak precum, and Vincent found himself drinking that down as well.

Rod pulled his cock out of Vincent's mouth and said, "Ok, I'm ready now." He got up and walked to the bedroom, Vincent followed him and climbed onto the bed, ass up in the air. Rod crawled on behind him and began running his cock up and down Vincent's crack. Whenever he felt the head throbbing against his hole, Vincent let out a moan of pleasure. He thrust back, but Rod refused to enter, "You want me in you Vince?"

"Yeah, fuck me. Fuck me hard Rod."

"Ok, but remember, you asked for it." He lined up his cock and plunged into Vincent's virgin hole, causing him to scream in pain and surprise, but soon he began to moan as his hole loosened up. "Liking this Vince?" Rod asked as he fucked him.

Waves of pleasure were washing over Vincent as Rod buried his dick in him again and again. All he could do in response was moan and nod weakly.

"Figured you would. First time I saw you I knew you were a tight ass. Maybe this fuck will loosen you up a little. In fact, I'm sure it will loosen you up. Can you feel yourself loosening up Vince?"

Vincent nodded.

"Yeah, you're tired of being such a prude aren't you?"

"Uh huh."

"Relax, let yourself go a little. You want to live a little, don't you? So why haven't you?"

"I...I don't know."

"Well, let me help you out a little." He began fucking him faster. Vince was panting and groaning loudly as the assault picked up. "Vincent is such a tight name. No one named Vincent could ever relax. Aren't you tired of being called Vincent?"

Vincent nodded. He did want to loosen up a little, let go of a little stress and worries.

"Doesn't Vince sound like a much more relaxing name?"

Vincent nodded.

"Yeah I can feel you loosening up already. You like that feeling don't you? Doesn't it feel good to let yourself go?"

"Uh...uh...yeah..." Vincent grunted. He could feel his cock getting ready to shoot, "Oh god Rod, I...I'm gonna cum!"

Rod picked up speed and started panting, close to orgasm as well. "Good, let yourself go. You know you want to. On the count of three you're going to cum with me, and you'll be nice and loosened up. One...Two...Three!" He buried his cock up to the hilt in Vincent's ass and began to shoot, while Vincent groaned and covered the sheets below him in a massive load. When he finished, Rod collapsed onto Vincent, his cock slowly softening, both of them panting. "You enjoy that Vincent?"

"Hell yeah I did. But don't call me Vincent anymore, my name's Vince."

Rod laughed, "Sure thing Vince." He pulled his cock out and rolled over. Vince snuggled closer, and Rod wrapped his arms around him. Vince felt so safe in his arms, and as Rod caressed him, he drifted off, snoring contentedly.

***

Vince woke up with a pounding head. His first thought was about how much he needed to pee, the second about needing a cigar and the third about wanting a beer. He went to the bathroom to piss, then came back and sat down on the edge of the bed, trying to get his bearings. He had just had the most intense and erotic dream in his life, and it both terrified and excited him. The pounding dropped off enough for Vince to open his eyes, and realize he wasn't in his bedroom. Fear cut through his headache, and Vince felt his chest tighten. Not only had he let Rod fuck him, but he had licked out his ass and drank his piss. And it had been the most intense and amazing sex he had ever experienced. His hands began to shake and he needed a cigar bad. Pushing everything else aside for a moment, he returned to the living room, found a cigar in his pants pocket and lit up, feeling a little better. His hangover was still there, but less intense, although he figured that a beer would definitely make him feel better. He sat down on the couch to finish his cigar and think. He figured that Rod must be at work, so he went into the bedroom to see if he had left a note. Sure enough, he had.

"Vince,

Hope you enjoyed last night, I certainly did. You seem to be coming along fine. In case you don't remember how to get back the Bremerton's, when you leave the building, take a right, and turn left on Prospect. You'll run right into it. If you want to see me again, you know where to find me.

Rod

P.S. There's some beer in the fridge. I'm sure you're thirsty."

In fact, Vince was thirsty. He put the note down, went out to the small kitchenette and opened the fridge. Inside were a twelve pack of beer, and a couple old pizza boxes. He took out a beer, and checked the boxes. Inside were a few slices, so he pulled a box out, set it on the table, and started eating a piece. He opened the beer, took a swig, and felt his headache evaporate. He found himself fazing out as he finished off the rest of the pizza and another can of beer. He let out a satisfied belch, and leaned back in the chair, finishing off his cigar. He didn't really remember why he had freaked out so much earlier. Everything was going to be all right. Then he remembered that it was Tuesday. He looked over at the clock and saw that it was noon. "Shit! I have to get to work!" He leapt up and ran to the bathroom, but changed his mind. He didn't have time to shower. He ran back to the living room, picked up his pants and started to pull them on, and realized that they were too long. The pant legs dropped all of the way to his heels, when they usually stopped at his ankles, like he had gotten shorter or something. He dismissed the thought, and tried to pull on his shirt, struggling to button it over his bloated stomach. He scratched his chin, feeling the stubble, but he didn't really want to shave it. He put on his shoes and socks, and left Rod's apartment, making sure to grab a beer for the road. He ran down the street back to his car, and drove to work.

His boss was waiting for him when he came in. "Hello Vincent. Would you step into my office please?"

Vincent gulped, and followed Mr. Montgomery into his office, shutting the door behind him. As his boss sat down behind his desk, he realized just how attractive the man was. While he was getting on in years, he still had a husky build with a nice tight gut. He didn't have any facial hair, but his balding, salt and pepper hair was turning Vince on. He sat down quickly to hide his growing erection. "Look, sir. I'm really sorry about the past few days. I just haven't really been myself lately, and I'm not sure what's going on. See...it all started when this guy gave me a cigar, and--"

"Don't blame your own inadequacies on others Vincent. You have had plenty of chances to shape up. Smoking is no excuse. If you feel so bad about it than why don't you quit?"

Vince looked down in his lap and mumbled, "I can quit whenever I want."

"Ah! The classic defense. You knew the dangers when you started, so you have no excuse now, but this is completely beside the point. I was taking a look at the work you did last yesterday, and it was horrendous. Most of the figures were wrong, I mean, these are basic reports. And look at the handwriting!"

Mr. Montgomery held out one of the reports for Vince to look at. Sure enough, most of the handwriting looked as if it were an elementary school student, not an executive with a B.S. in accounting.

"And on top of that, Mr. Mathews called this morning to say that you stood him up last night, and that we're gong to lose his contract. Do you have any idea how important of a client he was? What do you have to say for yourself?"

"But I went to where he wanted the meet, the Bremerton Pub at six o' clock. I waited for hours."

Mr. Montgomery flipped through one of his notebooks, "Bremerton Pub?" He found the date, read the entry and looked up, "Vincent you idiot! He wanted to meet at the Brensen Grill up on the hill. Bremerton Pub? Please. Sounds like a dive joint if I've ever heard of one."

"But, I swear that--"

"Shut up. Vincent. Since you can't seem to prove your worth to the company, I'm going to have to let you go. I mean, look at you. You're letting yourself go. You haven't even shaved for Christ's sake! Get out of here before I call security."

Desperate, Vince got on his knees in front of his bosses desk, "Please! Please Mr. Montgomery, isn't there something I could do?"

Mr. Montgomery raised an eyebrow. "Well, there is one thing." One of his hands wandered towards his crotch and eyed Vince up and down. "My wife hasn't been giving me much attention lately. Maybe you could help me out there Vincent. If you want your job, come around here and suck my off, and I'll consider it."

"What? I would never do that..." Vince said.

"Oh really? Then why is it that whenever we have a conversation your eyes drift down to my crotch?"

Vince gulped, and realized that he should have been more careful. "Isn't there anything else I can do?"

Mr. Montgomery reached towards the intercom on his desk and pushed a button. "Hello? Security?"

Vincent yelped and crawled around the desk in front of Mr. Montgomery. "Good boy," he said, "Now mind the teeth. Your job is on the line."

He unzipped his fly and pulled out his dick. Vincent took it in his mouth and began to bob up and down.

Mr. Montgomery moaned. "Oh yeah, that's the way boy. Very nice. You make a good argument. Yeah suck on the head, nice. You're a born cocksucker Vincent, that's for sure." Mr. Montgomery grabbed the back of Vince's head and began pounding it up and down. Vince felt himself gagging, but enjoying the treatment just the same. He began stroking his own now hard cock as his boss face fucked him. Then Mr. Montgomery held down Vince's head and yelled, "Oh god, here it comes!" Vince tried to swallow it all, but felt some of it leak down into his stubble.

When he let go, Knelt back and tried to catch his breath. "A good performance, but not good enough. Get out of here."

"But you said--"

"I said you might get your job back. But I'm not about to keep a cocksucker here. Especially not one as disgusting as you. Now get out of here before I really do call security."

Humiliated and distraught, Vince retreated out of the office, trying to hold back tears. He noticed a few puzzled glances from his coworkers, and realized that he still had his boss's cum on his face. Vince just wanted to fall of the face of the planet so he wouldn't have to suffer those stares. He wiped the cum off his beard, but couldn't resist licking it up off of his fingers. His hands began to shake, and he realized he desperately needed a cigar. He practically ran out of the building, and with fumbling hands managed to get one lit. It made him feel a little better, but he could feel his head starting to pound. What he really needed was some booze. Booze would make him feel better. He climbed into his car and drove home, stopping at a smoke shop for more cigars, and a liquor store for two twelve packs of beer and a bottle of whiskey just for kicks.

Vince got home, took off his suit and sat down in front of the TV so smoke, drink and wallow in self-pity. After he'd been at it for a few hours, he felt the need to go piss, so he staggered to his feet, and made his way to the bathroom, using the walls as a crutch. He flipped on the light, pissed and then looked at himself in the mirror. Mr. Montgomery had been right; he was a mess. His face was no longer covered in stubble, but a definite beard. His hairline had receded dramatically, making him look about ten years older than 24. Wrinkles crossed his brow, and his face looked a little chubbier. In fact, now that he was looking, his whole body was chubbier. His abs were history, buried beneath a soft layer a flab, along with his once hard pecs. Curious, he pulled out his scale and stood on it, having to lean over a little more than usual so he could read it over his gut. The needle stopped and 220, he had gained 30 pounds in less than a week. Vince looked at it, astonished. "It must be calibrated wrong," he said to himself, "There's no way I could have gained that much." Then he remembered how his pants had been too long for his legs this morning, and he quickly hunted down a tape measure to see if he really had gotten shorter. He made a mark and measured five foot ten. Somehow he had lost two inches in height. Scared, Vince started panicking. "That's impossible! People don't just shrink."

In an effort to calm down, he returned to the living room and took a big drag on his cigar. Feeling better, he realized there wasn't really much reason to freak out. So he had been slacking off lately. He'd make it to the gym eventually. The loss of height was weird, but also nothing to worry about. He sat back down, and resumed jacking off to another wrestling match. The more he drank, the hornier he became, and the more he wanted to see Rod. When he was with Rod, he felt so safe. He wanted Rod to hold him, and comfort him, and fuck his brains out afterward. And maybe Rod would be able to help him out a little. He looked up and saw that it was close to six o' clock. His mind made up, he went and put on some sweats and a big t-shirt, the only things that would fit him comfortably, and headed to the Bremerton Pub.

When he arrived at the pub, Vince slid into a seat at the bar and ordered a beer. The bartender nodded and set one down for him. Vince nursed it, glancing around and watching for Rod. He was getting a little worried that he might not show when he walked through the door, looking even hotter than he had before in jeans and a wife beater. Vince waved, and Rod smiled at him. Vince felt his chest tighten when he saw the smile, and he smiled back. Rod sat down next to him. "Hey Vince. How are you doing?"

"Uh...well, not so good..."

Rod's brow furrowed, "What happened?"

"Well, I got fired today, and...and I just don't know what to do." Vince felt tears budding, and he squinted to try and stop them.

Rod reached over and put one hulking arm around his shoulders. "Hey Vince. Hey, it's all gonna be alright. Ok? Hey, look at me."

Vince sniffled and looked up. Rod's eyes were warm and reassuring.

"Look, I might be able to help. I've been looking for help down at the dock, so why don't you come work for me?"

Vince's eyes lit up, "I could do that? I mean...really?"

"Sure. I couldn't let you end up on the streets or anything. You're my friend Vince. I couldn't stand to see anything bad happen to you."

Rod saw that Vince was on the verge of tears again, so he suggested that they go back to his place for the night. Vince agreed, and they both stood up. As they were walking out, Vince noticed that Rod seemed even larger than he had before now that he was shorter. But he no longer felt intimidated; it only made him feel more secure. They chatted and smoked as they walked back to Rod's flat, Vince enjoying the feeling of closeness. When they got inside, Vince sat down on the couch and Rod brought in a six-pack of beer and set it down in the table. He flipped on the TV, but Vince wasn't paying attention. He was too bust admiring Rod. He felt something for this man that he had never felt before, and while it was scary, he was willing to admit that he loved him. He scooted closer to Rod on the couch, and Rod looked over with that warm smile. Vince felt his heart melt. Cautiously, he laid his head on Rod's shoulder, and felt even better when Rod put his arm around him and hugged him closer. Cautiously he put looked up at Rod, his eyes full of adoration. "Rod?"

"Yeah Vince?"

"I...I think I love you."

Rod said nothing, just took a deep drag off of his cigar and kissed Vince. They passed the smoke back and forth for what felt like hours, Vince welcoming Rod's exploring tongue into his mouth. Rod broke the kiss and pulled Vince's shirt off, and began playing with his nipples. They kissed again, Vince moaning softly. Vince could smell the sweat on Rod and it made him even hornier. He broke off the kiss, and began licking Rod's armpit, savoring the salty taste while Rod toyed with one of his nipples.

"Yeah Vince lick that pit. You like that don't you?"

Vince groaned in response.

"You wanna suck my cock, don't you?"

"Yeah, let me suck your dick."

"Sure thing." Rod unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock. Vince admired it, studying every little hair and dimple, from the overhanging foreskin to the hefty balls hanging below. "Well? What are you waiting for? You know you want it."

Vince didn't need any more encouragement. He took the cock in his mouth and buried it deep within his throat. Rod moaned and bucked, shoving his cock deeper. Vince relaxed his throat and allowed it to slide back, loving the feel of the head on the back of his throat. He began bobbing his head up and down, and running his tongue over the head as he did. Rod began to moan louder, grabbed Vince's head and shoved him down as far as he could. He felt the dick pulse and start shooting spunk directly down his throat. The pulsing dick and aroma of Rod's sweaty crotch were too much for Vince, and he felt his own cock shoot in his sweatpants. When the dick stopped, Vince tried to move, but Vince held his head down. "Hold on, I got something else I know you'll love."

A few seconds later, Rod began to flood Vince's mouth with piss, and he eagerly drank that down as well. When that flow had stopped, he finally let Vince up.

"That was good Vince. You enjoy that?"

"Hell yes, it was great. You're the best Rod."

"I know," Rod said as he pulled Vince into another kiss.

***

"Come on Vince, time to get up." Rod shook Vince until he got a reply.

"Ugg...but it's still dark out..."

Rod walked over and dug through his closet, "It's also your first day, so we need to find you some work clothes."

Vince sat up and swung his legs off the edge of the bed, "I need a smoke."

"All in good time buddy," Rod threw him a pair of dirty overalls and a mud-stained undershirt, "Here, try these on."

Vince put his legs through the holes, but had trouble figuring out the clasps, so Rod had to come over and buckle them, "Thanks Rod. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"No problem." Rod sat down some boots as well. "They might be a little big, but we can stop and get you some other ones on the way home if they are."

Vince pulled on the boots and meticulously tied the laces. It was a lot harder than it looked he thought to himself. They fit him well enough, so he stood up and walked into the living room to get a cigar and a can of beer. Rod followed him out of the bedroom dressed in jeans and a flannel vest and lit up as well. Vince looked up and him and smiled. He loved Rod so much, he was the most important thing in the world, and he would do anything for him. Rod blew a cloud of smoke towards him and began rubbing Vince's belly, making him moan. Then Rod gave his belly a slap making him jump, but also giving him a jolt of arousal. They shared a long, smoky kiss, finished their morning beers and then left the apartment, smoke billowing behind them.

On the site, Vince was paired up with one of the experienced workers, a guy named Harry, to teach him the job. Another towering mound of muscle with a cigar planted in his mouth, Vince found it hard to focus on what Harry was saying, because he kept found himself wondering how big the guys dick was and whether the ring on his finger was just for show. Vince caught onto the fetching and carrying quickly, although he usually got lost without someone telling him what to do. The overseer had to give him clear directions so that he would understand, but once he got it, he found the simplicity of the job invigorating. Even though he was the shortest guy on the crew at five foot eight, but he could haul as much as any of them, and he found himself competing with the other guys to show he was strong enough to keep up.

Towards midday, Rod called him into the foreman's office to see how he was doing and so Vince could give him a blowjob. He finished the day and clocked out with Rod before heading towards the pub for some drinks. As they were walking along, Rod stopped him in front of a barbershop. "We really need to do something with your hair, it's a mess," Rod said as we ruffled it up.

Vince squinted into the shop window trying to see his reflection. His hair was a mess. He was balding worse than he remembered, and what was there was long and ragged, full of rat's nests and tangles. "It is a mess," He turned towards Rod, "What should I do with it do you think?"

"Well, why don't you shave it like me?" Rod said.

"I could do that?" Vince grinned. He loved the idea of being like Rod. He'd do anything to be like him.

"Well sure. Why don't we have the barber do it now?"

Vince nodded vigorously and followed Rod into the shop. As the bell rang over the door, a voice called from the back room with a heavy Scottish accent, "Sorry! We're closed. Come back tomorrow."

"Hey Bill! It's me Rod."

A head covered in tattoos and piercings with a cigar sticking out of a big red beard popped out of the backroom, "Oh hey. You need something?"

"My friend here wants to get his head shaved."

"Is that right..."

Vince nodded, then smiled at Rod.

Bill stepped out of the backroom, revealing a body covered in tattoos as well. Many of the visible ones were of the Scottish flag, along with a bulldog on one of his shoulders. He was wearing a wifebeater and a tartan kilt. He was heavily muscled with a large gut, and as he looked at him, Vince found himself salivating. "I suppose I have some time. What's your name guy?"

"Vince."

"Well take a seat, and we'll see what I can do with that mess."

Vince climbed into a chair and Bill wrapped a cloak around him and started up the shears. As his hair dropped away, Vince was amazed at the man in the mirror, and how different he looked. For some reason, he felt like he should be thinner, and that he used to shave his beard, but that was silly. He'd had a beard ever since he could grow one.

Vince came out of his thoughts and listened to Bill and Rod's idle chat.

"So is this your new boy Rod?"

"Yeah, he's still in training though. Haven't broken him in all the way."

"Aww, you'll get him. I've never seen a man you couldn't break."

"Yeah, including you."

Bill looked up, "What?"

"Oh, nothing important. It's in the past anyway."

"Whatever." Bill switched off the shears and stepped back, "Much better. You like it Vince?"

Vince ran his hand over his now smooth head, "Yeah, it's nice. Thanks Bill."

Bill turned to Rod and asked, "May I?"

Rod nodded, and Bill moved around in front of Vince.

"Well, why don't you show me how thankful you are," He lifted up his kilt, revealing his dick with a long foreskin surrounded by a thick orange pubic bush. Vince was transfixed, watching as it swung back and forth. It wasn't incredibly long, but it was thick, with two huge balls pulled low by a stretcher.

"Well? Hurry up boy, my piss isn't going to drink itself."

Vince leapt forward, and took the head in his mouth. The acrid flow started a second later, and he greedily sucked it down. After he finished, Bill grabbed onto the back of Vince's head and slammed his dick into his mouth, stretching his jaw with its girth. He began ramming it in, deeper with each thrust, with Vince doing his best to tongue it with the little room he had. He felt it pulse, and Bill filled his mouth with a huge shot. He tried to swallow it all, but some of it leaked out and into his beard. When Bill pulled out, Vince scooped the remaining cum into his mouth.

"You did good Rod. He's got a good mouth."

"Yeah, he's one of the best I've done."

Vince was listening, but wasn't quite sure who they were talking about. Not that it really mattered. He went pack to picking the last remnants of cum out of his beard.

"Is he finished?"

"Not quite yet. I've still got a few additions to make."

"Well bring him by when you're finished, I'd love to give him a test drive."

"Sure will." Rod called to Vince, "Ok Vince, let's go get some drinks. I don't know about you but I'm parched."

The two of them walked out of the barbers, waving to Bill as they left.

"What were you two talking about in there?" Vince asked as they walked to the Bremerton.

"Oh nothing important. Don't worry about it."

"Ok Rod. I won't." Vince grinned and gave Rod's hand a playful squeeze.

***

The rest of the week passed quite eventfully for Vince. Working for Rod turned out to be the best decision he had ever made. He loved the hard labor, and how after a long day he felt a comfortable soreness throughout his entire body. But most of all, he loved that he could smoke. The whole day, he was able to keep a cigar planted in his mouth. He could even sneak a beer or two in at lunch after Rod got done fucking him on his desk. Rod was so wonderful, Vince thought, he would do anything for him. He no longer paid attention to his body, as he shrunk another inch to five foot seven, and gained another 30 pounds, bringing him up to a flabby 250, although underneath his fat he could feel muscle starting to build up as well. His dick had shrunk too, but he didn't touch it anymore since Rod had told him to stop playing with himself.

On Friday afternoon, Rod lead the way in the direction opposite the Bremerton Pub. "Uh...Rod? Aren't ya goin' the wrong way?" Vince asked.

"Nah, there's a place I want to take ya first."

"Oh, ok." Vince bounded up next to Rod and they walked down the street, Vince looking over every few seconds to admire Rod.

They came to a halt in front of a tattoo and piercing parlor. "Here we are bud. Thought you might like to have some tattoos and piercings like me."

Vince's eyes brightened, "Wow! Can I really Rod? That would be so cool!"

"Sure," He stepped inside the empty waiting room and called, "Hey Mike!"

A deep rough voice came from the backroom, "Hey Rod. I'll be out in a second. Take a look around."

Vince gaped at the multitude of patterns along the walls. Skulls, dragons, birds, symbols, Vince loved them all. "Which ones am I getting Rod?"

"You'll see when they're finished. Trust me you'll love them."

"Oh, ok. I know I'll like anything you choose."

"Of course you will," Rod said.

The door to the back room opened, and the largest man Vince had ever seen walked in. At least six foot six, Mike had a set of muscles that would have made any body builder jealous. From what he could see, every part of the man's body was covered in wild, colorful tattoos. Even his face was covered by the skin of ink. Mike walked up to Rod, and gave him a bear hug, picking him up off the ground, "Hey Rod! It's great to see ya. You need to come around more often man!" He gently set Rod back down on the ground.

"Well, you know how busy I get with work and play."

"Yeah, I know..." Mike turned and looked at Vince, "Is he the new one? Bill came by the other day talking about him. Supposedly quite the cocksucker."

Vince blushed, but was still glad he had done such a good job.

Mike laughed, "Modest too I see. Well, maybe I can take care of that. Give the guys at work something to talk about." He waved Vince into the backroom, "Come on, let's get started. This is gonna take a while."

Mike started off by putting studs through Vince's nipples and a thick ring through his septum. He finished off with a couple rings in each ear, and then he started in on the tattoos.

"It's going to take quite a few sessions to finish you all up, so we'll do these a piece at a time. How about we start with your arms?" Mike didn't wait for a nod, but started inking up Vince's wrist immediately. As the next couple of hours wore on, Vince found himself dozing on and off, watching the snake on his left arm take on shape and color. Mike eventually shut off the machine and Rod came into the room. "All finished for today. Still coming in tomorrow Rod?"

"Sure thing."

Vince went to get up, but Mike pushed him back down. "Hold on man, I have to bandage it up for now. And we still have to discuss your payment, right Rod?"

"Of course. His ass is all yours."

Vince got a little nervous, "What do you mean Rod?"

"Well, since you don't have a lot of money, Mike's going to fuck you so you don't have to pay. You know you love to get fucked."

"Well...yeah. I suppose."

Mike finished taping up the gauze, "Glad we have an agreement then. Strip boy."

Vince got to his feet and quickly took off his overalls and shirt. Mike grabbed him and bent him over a table before dropping his own pants, spitting on his hand and rubbing it up and down his hard dick. Rod came around the other side, taking out his dick as he walked. "Here Vince, something to suck on as well."

Mike lined up his dick and plowed into Vince's ass, and his apprehension about being fucked evaporated and Vince began bucking back into Mike's thrusts. Mike and Rod soon found a good rhythm, and Vince did his best to please both men. After a good hour of sex, both of them coming several times, They finally let Vince up. Exhausted, he lit up a cigar and followed Rod back to their apartment, where he fell asleep immediately, his cigar still smoldering on the bedside table.

Most of the weekend was spent at Mike's tattoo parlor, where Vince was alternately inked and fucked in the back room. Slowly the tattoos on his body began to take shape, and just as Rod predicted, he loved all of them. Snakes and dragons ran up his arms, and across his chest stretched spider webs with skulls caught within them. On his back was a roaring lion, and across the rest of the empty space were a huge variety of Celtic and Asian designs. The only words were those across his stomach, although he had a hard time reading them for some reason. He was pretty sure that one of the words was 'cock,' but he wasn't sure about the other one.

That Monday at work, Vince was the talk of the construction site. Everyone was amazed at the riot of tattoos that now covered his body. During lunch, everyone asked him if he would take off his shirt so they could see the rest of them. Happy in the spotlight, Vince was only too glad to oblige them. He unbuckled his overalls and pulled off his tanktop, and suddenly, everyone went quiet, their eyes riveted to his stomach. Disconcerted, Vince looked down, trying to figure out what was drawing all of their attention. He looked back up and said, "What?"

"Did you lose a bet or something?" Harry asked.

"No...is something wrong?"

"Well, I guess its not something many guys would have tattooed on them," another guy said.

Vince looked down at his belly again in confusion, "What do you mean?"

"Ah, it's nothing. I should get back to work." The guy got up, and the rest of the workers followed him, leaving a very confused Vince to put on his shirt and follow them back to work.

The rest of the day, Vince felt like an exhibit in a museum. None of the guys would say very much to him, but they were all watching him, and when they thought he couldn't see them, they would whisper amongst themselves. It was made worse by the knowledge that Rod was at a meeting at the central office and wouldn't be back till five. Then Juan, one of the workers, walked up to him. Vince had always been impressed by Juan. At six foot three, he had a firm hairy gut that he often showed off by wearing a cut off denim vest, and Vince also tried not to stare at his large packaged in his tight jeans. "Hey Vince, come over here a minute. I have something I need to ask you."

Vince laid down his trowel. "Uh...Sure, I guess." He followed Juan over behind Rod's trailer.

"So what did you want to ask me?" Vince asked as they rounded the corner.

Juan suddenly grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him to his kness, "Shut up bitch and suck my cock. Might as well put your faggot mouth to use." He unzipped his fly and pulled out his massive tool.

Vince started to get back up. "Wait, at work? I don't think--"

He was interrupted by Juan slapping him across the face, "Shut up and start sucking. No bitch is gonna talk back to me."

Hesitantly Vince took Juan's cock in his mouth and began sucking, and soon found himself getting into his usual rhythm, although Juan's cock was so large that try as he might, he couldn't fit it all down his throat. Juan pumped in and out of his mouth faster, and slammed more of his dick down Vince's throat before pulling out and shooting his cum all over Vince's face.

Vince raised a hand to wipe it off but Juan slapped it away. "Don't even think of wiping that off whore. I want everyone to know exactly how much of a cock slave you really are." He pulled Vince up by the straps of his overalls and shoved him back to the site, where everyone was waiting for them. When they saw Vince's face covered in cum, most of them looked disgusted, although a few looked at him with pity. Throughout the rest of the afternoon, Vince spent most of his time back behind the trailer, servicing the rest of the crew. After telling one of them that he liked piss as well, he became a urinal for the braver few. When Rod returned that evening, he was met by a chagrined construction crew and a very dirty Vince. His beard was wiry with dried cum, and his shirt and overalls were soaked with piss. But Rod didn't bat an eye. He just told everyone that it was time to quit for the day, and he'd check up on their work in the morning. Confused, they all punched out and headed home, while an exhausted Vince waited for Rod to get his stuff from the trailer.

When he came out, Rod had a bag in his hand. "Hey Vince," he said, "I got you a present while I was out today."

Vince's face lit up and he turned his attention away from his cigar, something which he hadn't been able to enjoy for most of the day because of all of the cocks that had been in his mouth, and asked, "Really? What is it?"

"Just something I'd like you to wear from now on," Vince reached into the bag and pulled out a thick leather collar, the tag read 'property of Rod', "Here, let me put it on you."

He put it around Vince's neck and then fiddled with the clasp until it snapped into place.

"So, do you like it?"

Vince loved it. He adored Rod, and now around his neck was a sign that proclaimed just how much he did. Rod owned him and he couldn't be happier. Vince beamed and gave Rod a hug.

"I have something else to tell you Vince. I'm going to give you a promotion."

Vince couldn't believe his luck, and he owed it all to Rod, "Really? What is it?"

"From this moment on, you're going to be in charge of my trailer's security," He opened the door and continued, "Come in and I'll explain your new duties."

Vincent followed him up the steps to the back of the trailer, where he noticed the carpet had been ripped up and replaced by linoleum, and thee was a drain in the floor as well. Against one wall was a freshly stocked humidor, as well as two dog bowls on the floor, one filled with beer, the other with some kind of brown mash. In the floor next to the drain was a mounted eye hook with a chain attached.

"As the new head of security, you're going to have to keep watch at all hours. To make sure you do that, you're going to live here from now on."

Vince looked at Rod, confused. "But I thought I was living with you?"

"Yes I know, but this is much more important. And you'll have everything you need right here." He picked up the chain and pulled a padlock out of his pocket, "And to make sure you stay safe, this chain attaches to your collar."

Vince looked at Rod warily, "Is that really necessary Rod?"

"Of course it is. I don't want anything bad to happen to you. The chain is for your own protection."

Vince couldn't argue with that logic, so he knelt down by the drain and let Rod hook the chain up to his new collar.

Rod stepped back to admire his handiwork. And then turned to go, "I'll see you in the morning Vince, keep up the good work."

That first night passed slowly as Vince tried to find someway to sleep on the hard tile. The chain wasn't long enough to let him stand up, so he passed the time smoking and drinking the beer in the bowl. He tried the strange mash as well, and decided it wasn't that bad either. By morning the bowls were empty and Vince had finally found a comfortable way to sleep, curled up on his side. Then the door burst open and Rod came into the room, the rest of the crew following him. Vince looked up groggily and wondered what was going on.

"As you can see," Rod pointed to Vince and said, "Vince has taken on a new position with us. Feel free to come in and have him service you at anytime throughout the day." He turned back to the crew and ushered them back outside, "That's all the news I have for today. Time to get to work."

The workers mumbled amongst themselves as they left the trailer, some of them casting lewd glances at Vince as they left. When they had all gone, Rod came over to him, "Hey Vince, how was last night? Any problems?"

"No, it was fine...but what were you just talking about with everyone else?" Vince asked.

"That's the other part of your job I didn't explain. During the day, it's your job to make sure everyone stays happy, and that means doing whatever they ask you to do. I don't think you'll mind, you love being obedient don't you?"

Vince nodded.

"Good, then why don't you open your mouth? I really need to piss."

***

The rest of day was spent servicing the rest of the construction crew. While Vince was a little nervous about his new position, he grew to love it by lunch, and every time the door to the trailer opened he hoped that it was someone to fuck or piss on him. The trailer wasn't that bad either. Rod kept the radio on so he had something to listen to, and he could smoke all of the cigars he wanted.

On the one o' clock news the announcer reported a story on a local accountant by the name of Vincent Gelling who had disappeared recently and that the police were still searching for him. Without any leads however, the search was most likely going to be given up within a few days. Vince didn't know why, but the name seemed oddly familiar. Almost like it had been his own name once. Vince looked over at Rod where he was sorting through a stack of receipts and asked, "Hey Rod...was I ever named Vincent? Cause that missing guy on the radio...I think that might be me..."

Rod gave him a puzzled look, "How could that be you? You aren't missing are you? And you certainly don't fit the profile very well. You don't seem like you would make a very good accountant."

"No, I think that is me...Why are people looking for me?"

"That isn't you Vince." Rod's voice became firmer, "You have always been Vince, and you always will be. Forget about Vincent."

Vince felt his mind began to clear up as fragments from his old life began to come back to him. He remembered dressing up in a suit every day, and keeping a clean apartment, and shaving his body hair, and a hundred other things. Rod saw that Vince was struggling against his spell, and could feel Vincent's will eroding the curtain of lies he had put up to mask him from his own transformation. He knew that there was nothing he could do, it happened with every man he had taken and made his own over the years. He unraveled his own spell and watched the awareness leap back into Vincent's eyes.

Vincent looked down at himself and screamed. Gone was the perfectly toned and shaved body, replaced by mounds of hairy fat covered in tattoos. His overalls were caked with dirt and piss; his tank top stained a dark yellow. He saw the cigar in his hand and threw it away from him before rolling over and throwing up on the floor behind him. When he had regained control, he turned to Rod and said, "What have you done to me?"

"Me? I haven't done anything to you. You did this to yourself."

Vincent pulled at the chain and his collar but could undo neither, "You can't do this. Let me go! You can't keep me here, someone will find me eventually."

"I suppose I can't keep you here against your will, can I?" Rod pulled a key out of his pocket and undid the padlock holding Vincent to the chain. He struggled up and backed away from Rod, who was blocking his path to the door. Rod saw his fear, and stepped aside. "You said it yourself. I can't keep you here. You're free to go. In fact, if you can get out of the trailer, everything that has happened to you over the past few weeks will reverse itself. You'll get your life back, no strings attached."

Vincent looked at him warily, "What's the catch?"

"Catch?" Rod said and smiled, "There is no catch. All you have to do is walk out of your own will, and you'll be free."

Vincent narrowed his eyes, and edged past Rod, staying as far away from him as possible. Then he walked quickly towards the door. He reached for the door handle, but froze.

Rod watched him. "Well? Aren't you going to leave?"

Vincent looked at the door, and tried to figure out what he was feeling. There was something he was missing, and he knew that he had to have it. He couldn't walk out that door without it.

"Are you looking for one of these maybe?" Rod asked as he held up a cigar. Vincent felt himself start salivating at the thought of lighting it up. "Sure would be a shame to let it go to waste." He looked over at Vincent and saw the hunger in his eyes, "Are you sure you wouldn't like one for the road?"

Vincent knew he shouldn't. He knew he should turn away and walk out the door and never look back. But he couldn't. He needed that cigar more than anything else. He cautiously walked up to Rod, took the cigar and lit it with a lighter on Rod's desk. He took a deep inhale, and felt himself relax.

"Why don't you have a seat while you smoke that?" Rod motioned to the chair across his desk. He moved and sat in his own chair, while Vincent slowly sat down as well. "Since you're staying to have a cigar, you might as well have a beer while you're at it. How about it? Want one?"

Rod reached into the miniature fridge next to him and pulled out a can. He waggled it in the air and watched Vincent's eyes follow it back and forth before his arm shot out and grabbed it. He popped the top and then took a big swig as though he hadn't had a drink in days. Cigar in one hand, beer in the other, Vincent leaned back, a look of contentment on his face.

"Feels good, doesn't it Vincent?"

"Yeah...I'm going to miss this."

"I'm sure you will," Rod nodded, "I'm sure there are a few other things you'll miss as well."

Vincent raised his eyebrow. "Like what?"

Rod leaned forward across his desk, "Well, for one thing you'll have to be clean all of the time. I'm sure you'll miss feeling dirty." He motioned to his clothes, "I mean, it does feel nice doesn't it? And I know you'll miss the smell of a good sweaty armpit."

Vincent looked down at himself again. The shirt that had repulsed him a few minutes ago now seemed wonderful, and the idea of dressing up in a suit again was repulsive. And he would miss the smell of sweat. He raised his shirt to his nose and took a deep breath, feeling his dick jump at the stench of stale piss and dirt.

"Doesn't that smell good?" Rod said, and Vincent couldn't help but agree. He finished off his beer and set down the empty can, and picked up the second one Rod handed him.

"Well if that smells good, imagine how good my armpit must smell." He raised his arm and breathed deeply, "I'd been saving it just for you, but since you don't want it, all that stink's going to go to waste. Isn't that a shame?"

Vincent couldn't help but agree. He leaned closer and tried to get a whiff of it himself but couldn't.

"How about it? You want to lick it? How about once more before you leave?"

Vincent knew he shouldn't, but it was just so enticing, he couldn't resist. Besides, what harm could one more armpit bath do? He stood up walked around the desk and buried himself in Rod's armpit, reveling in the stink. It was heavenly, and he figured he might as well clean all he could since this was going to be his last time after all.

While he licked, Rod continued to talk, "I know a few other things you might miss too. Like your fat. I mean, do you know how much work it takes to keep up that toned body you had before? And fat is so warm and comfortable. I know I wouldn't trade my fat in for anything. And your tattoos will be gone as well. I thought they made you look really hot and tough, but if you want to get rid of them I guess that's alright. And you'll have to shave your beard off, which is a shame, and you won't be able to keep your head shaved either."

As Rod continued on, Vincent found it harder and harder to remember why he wanted to leave. He thought that Rod had destroyed his life, but didn't he like what he was now? He thought he had been happy before, but now he wasn't so sure, especially because he would have to stop smoking, drinking, and everything else Rod had said.

"But I know what you're going to miss the most Vincent." Rod said.

Vincent stopped his licking for a moment. "What?"

"You're going to miss sucking my dick. You know you will. Think about how much you loved having it pound into your throat. And for that matter, think of how much you'll miss being fucked. Won't that be awful?"

Vincent felt his heart grow heavy at the idea. He hadn't considered the fact that when he left he wouldn't get to suck Rod's dick anymore, he didn't think he could live without that. "Can I suck it one more time before I go Rod? Please?"

"I have a better idea. Why don't you get me hard and then I'll fuck you too? You don't want to leave without one last fuck do you?"

Vincent beamed, and pulled out Rod's dick, eager to feel it slamming into his ass. He licked the shaft with as much vigor as he could, and as he did, he found himself lamenting that he would never get to suck on this beautiful cock ever again. When it was hard, he pushed down his overalls and then laid back on the desk. Rod lined up his dick and slammed into Vincent's ass. It was the most amazing thing in the world, and Vincent couldn't imagine why he would ever want to trade this for the life of some stuck up accountant. He loved being a dirty, stupid, cock slave. Then Rod slammed into him up to the hilt and Vincent felt him pulse deep inside of him as he came, and then, all too soon, Rod pulled out.

Vincent got off of the desk and pulled on his overalls again. He figured that he should probably go even though he didn't really want to. But there was one thing he had to have. "One more thing Rod...will you piss on me again? Just for old time's sake?"

"I think I can do that. Go kneel over the drain."

Vincent hurried over and knelt, mouth open. Rod concentrated for a few seconds, and then let out a thick yellow stream. He covered Vincent's face, who tried to drink as much of it as he could, before moving down and soaking his clothes too. When the stream slowed to a trickle, Rod zipped up his fly and went back to sit behind his desk.

"Well, I suppose it's time for you to go Vincent."

"Umm...well, I'm not so sure I want to..." Vincent replied still kneeling on the floor.

"Nonsense," Rod replied, "Of course you want to go. Think of the life awaiting you. You could be a successful accountant with a fantastic life. Why would you ever want to stay?"

"But, I like being here Rod..." Vincent replied.

Rod gazed sternly at him from across the desk, "I know you like it here, but I really must insist that you leave."

Vincent crawled closer to Rod, tears beginning to stream down his face, "But I don't wanna go! I want to stay here with you."

"Vincent--"

"My name's not Vincent!" Vince screamed, "My name is Vince! I'm staying and there's nothing you can do to stop me!" He crawled back to where the chain laid on the ground and fastened it back on to his collar with the padlock before taking the key and throwing it out the open window. "I never want to go. I'm a cock slave, and that's all I ever want to be!"

Rod looked at him thoughtfully for a moment before speaking, "Well, you do make a persuasive argument Vince, I suppose I'll have to keep you."

The happiest of grins spread across Vince's face. "Oh thank you Rod! You're the best."

Rod chuckled to himself, and turned up the radio a little. With Vincent banished forever, Rod picked up his stack of receipts and resumed his sorting, idly wondering who his next project would be.